A few hours in the county lockup did little to ease the tension. If anything, the confined space has only added to Torch’s fury. The moment the doors closed on the holding cell, he started with the damn pacing. Not long after that, he began ranting about getting his hands on Hammon again. Crazy bastard. Lucky for him there aren’t any cameras in this corner of the county shithole to get any of the threats on tape.

“The fuck were you thinkin’?” I snap, irritated with this entire situation.

“I wasn’t,” he fires back without hesitation. “All I could see was red.”

“Goin’ after Hammon like you did was reckless and fuckin’ stupid,” I ground out, stating the obvious. “Not how we work, Brother. You know that.”

“Not everyone can turn that shit off like you can.” Turning to face me, he stares me down. His chest rises and falls rapidly. “Sometimes a loss so goddamn deep creates a rage that never goes away. That blame, the guilt that weighs you down, is fueled over time by something or someone. For me, that’s Hammon.”

“Have to ask you to lay that out for me,” I tell him, attempting to piece shit together myself, but figuring he can fill in the blanks.

The clicking of high heels on the tile flooring has my head snapping up. Hips swaying in a tight black pants suit, Rachelle Harding tucks a file folder under her arm and struts our way. Her long blonde hair swishes back and forth with every calculated step she takes. She’s the classiest legal shark I’ve ever met. “Looks like I’ve hooked myself a leather clad twofer, and Schrader is nowhere to be found,” she says, shaking her head. “Hell has indeed frozen over.”

“Thanks for coming, Rachelle.” Leaving Torch to his thoughts, I push to my feet, and make my way over to the bars.

“It’s my job,” she says with a wink. “Made a few calls. Your bikes went to impound. Can’t handle that until morning.”

“How’s it look?” I ask, jerking my chin up the hall, where I can hear Dobbs’s bitching to someone on the phone.

She sighs. “Donovan is looking at multiple charges from both Daniel Hammon and the country club.” Flipping open the file, she skims the top page. “There was also an unregistered firearm pulled off him at the scene.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face. “What the hell, man?”

“I wasn’t packin’,” he blurts, whipping around to face us. “Told them that wasn’t mine. My piece is back at the shop.”

“I’ve already requested prints be pulled from the weapon and tested against the ones taken when you were brought in,” Rachelle explains. “As for the other charges, we can probably plead them down, but I won’t know for sure until the D.A. gets his hands on the case file.” Closing the folder, she meets my eyes. “As for you, Trent, they aren’t pressing any charges at the moment. Doesn’t mean that won’t change. It very well can if Daniel’s legal team decides to go that route.” Her bright red lips twitch in amusement. “If he pushes it, I’ll bury him with a civil suit the size of his ego. The tape is crystal clear. You never lifted a finger.”

“Fuck,” Torch hisses, coming up beside me. Grabbing onto the bars with both hands, he squeezes so tight his knuckles turn white. “What about bail?”

“You’re a risk to the public,” Rachelle replies, shrugging her shoulder. “Or, at least, that’s the picture they’re going to paint to a judge and jury. You showed up uninvited, to a venue where the current state Senator was scheduled to be speaking. You then threatened and attacked his son in front of half a dozen witnesses. It’s safe to say bail is going to be a no go, but I’ll do what I can when we see the judge,” she assures him, giving one of his hands a quick squeeze. Tucking the folder beneath her arm again, she moves her eyes to me. “They’ll be down soon to cut you loose; I’ll give you a ride back to the clubhouse.”

“Appreciated,” I say to her back as she walks away. Once she disappears through the doorway, I turn to Torch. “Back to Hammon. Don’t have much time. Start talkin’.”

“Fuck.” Yanking a hand through his hair, he sags back against the wall and looks up at the ceiling. “When Reed died, everything went to shit. Our family shattered under that weight.” His eyes go cold and vacant. “Mom checked out. Packed up her shit and took our other brother, Roman, to Florida. Reed’s identical twin. He plays the part of both sons to placate her emotional break. Lucky to hear from them once or twice a year. They blamed me. Hell, they should,” he grunts, whacking his head back against the wall. “It’s my fault. I left him alone when I knew his head was twisted up.”

“And Hammon?” I ask when he pauses, knowing there’s a lot more to this story he isn’t telling me.

“Mom and Roman were away at some college weekend tour shit at the University of Virginia. I was supposed to crash at the house with him. I bailed on him for a hook up and went straight to work the next mornin’ from her place.” Pain fills his eyes. Yanking a hand through his hair, he blows out a hard breath. “I called Henley on my way and asked her to check in on Reed and bring him breakfast. She found him in his bed. He’d swallowed an entire bottle of our mother’s anti-psychotics with a bottle of Jameson.” Closing his eyes tightly, he blows out a ragged breath. “Hammon showed up about the same time I did. Started pointin’ fingers. All of ‘em at me. It didn’t take much to create a wedge that pushed me out of my own goddamn family. Mom was in no shape to question anything he said. Losing Reed like that was the final blow to her unstable sanity. The only one who didn’t turn their back on me was Henley. She may be a stubborn pain in my ass, but for whatever reason, she never fully bought into the bullshit Hammon was spewin’ about me.”

“You think he’s behind what happened to Henley?” I ask, hearing a door open at the other end of the hall.

“Fucker always rubbed me the wrong way, but I can’t see what he has to gain by killin’ her,” his answer is almost immediate. “I want to put it on him more than you know, but I can’t say for sure what part he played.” Dropping his head, he opens his eyes to look at me. “What I can say is I know in my goddamn bones that if he’s not behind it, he knows who is.”

“Agreed,” I nod, moves that need to be made already beginning to click into place in my head. If Hammon or one of his thugs had a gun planted on Torch, that pushes us to act before knowing for sure if he hired Wheeler or not. Something like this requires action. Justice. Hammon knows that. Which leaves me questioning exactly what his motives are and what the bastard is trying to prove.

Henley

Waking up in Colt’s bed alone is disappointing, to say the least. I had fully planned to get my hands and mouth on him the moment we woke up. I want to unravel his control, to watch his eyes as I suck his cock. My body warms at the thought. His eyes on me, my name growled from his lips as he fists my hair in his large, rough hands.

Shy yelling and banging on the door like Feds during a drug bust leave me little time for fantasizing. Throwing clothes on quickly, I crack the door. “Is there a fire?” I ask, arching a brow.

Looking me up and down, she smiles huge. “No, it looks like Colt finally managed to put that out.”

“Fuck a duck,” I breathe, feeling my face flame. “Is it that obvious?”

“Oh yeah,” she laughs. “Schrader joked about checkin’ the building for structural damage.”

“He’s not kiddin’,” I groan. Releasing my grip on the door, I head back over to the bed and sit down. “That beast damn near fucked me comatose.”

“Really?” Kicking the door closed, she waggles her brows. “Did you bite into that ass like Ms. PacMan?” she teases, using my words from our conversation at the hospital the day she found out she was pregnant. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“Not exactly,” I shrug, but find it hard to hide my smile. “But it’s on the to-do list.”

“Good,” she says, sounding satisfied with my answer. “Colt needs someone who’ll give as good as they get.”

“Have you and Colt ever…” My words trail off. I’m not a jealous woman, or someone desperate for a man to commit after I’ve hit the dick. I only want to know what to expect now. Hell, even the word commitment has me ready to break out in hives.

After Daniel, the last thing I thought I’d ever do is entertain being with someone else again. The thing is, if Colt and I are doing this, which the fuckfest earlier makes it pretty clear that we are, I sure as hell want to know what I’m walking into. Especially, if he is regularly dipping his wick in other wax.

“Bumped uglies?” she asks, finishing my thought. “Three years now. Every Tuesday night.”

My eyes widen, jaw damn near landing in my lap. Shy laughs. “Gotcha!” Tossing the baby monitor in her hand to the bed, she walks over and sits down beside me. “I think we both know that’s not Colt. He’s not wired for random pussy.”

“That’s the vibe I get,” I admit, tampering down my momentary crazy.

“Right.” Blowing out a breath, she faces me. “I’ve lived under this roof my entire life. Can’t remember many times when Colt wasn’t hangin’ around. Even before he patched in he spent some time here. His mom’s a friend of the club. I think she handled the bookkeeping or some shit. As for your question about Colt, I’ve never looked at him that way. He’s like a friend, a brother even. And I sure as hell have never seen that man look at anyone the way he looks at you.” She pats my thigh. “I thought he saved that dark ravenous look for meal times.”

A rap on the door takes my attention away from the butterflies and nerves jumbling in my stomach at Shy’s admission. The door opens and Ro steps into the room. Closing the door behind her, she sags back against it. “Something went down,” she says, her eyes shifting between Shy and me. “Schrader came storming in a couple minutes ago, looking ready to rip off someone’s head.”

“Did he say anything?” Shy says, pushing to her feet.

“Nothing I could hear,” she replies, shaking her head. “They’re at the table now. Except for Colt and Torch.”

“Shit,” Shy and I say in unison. “Where the hell are Colt and my idiot brother?” Standing up, I grab my phone, checking for any messages or calls from Donnie or Colt. Nothing. Calling Colt, it goes straight to an automated voicemail. Same with Donnie.

“Let’s go.” Scooping up the baby monitor, Shy heads for the door.

“What the hell are you planning to do, Cheyenne?” Ro asks, grabbing her arm to stop her. “You going to walk into the chapel and demand a seat at the table?”

“Please,” she laughs, opening the door. “Like I need a cut and a vote to get to the bottom of what those two knuckleheads have gotten themselves into.”

Determined, Shy storms up the stairs so fast Roanne and I can barely keep up. Scanning the room, she quickly shoots a glance at the closed double doors and heads down the hallway. Just as I suspected she would, Shy flings open the door to her brother’s lair. Heading for the wall of computer screens, she laces her fingers and cracks her knuckles.

“Let’s see what big brother was digging into before he was called away to the table,” she says, taking a seat.

“How the hell do you still have his passwords?” Ro asks, keeping watch on the door. “No way he didn’t lock his shit down like Fort Knox after we pulled that shit with Ivy.”

“Oh, he changes his passwords more than his underwear,” Shy snorts, her fingers clicking away on the keys. Reaching beneath the desk top mat, she pulls out a blue post-it note. “He also has a memory so bad he could plan his own surprise parties.” She waves the piece of paper in the air like a victory flag. “So, he writes everything down.”

Shy types in the password and the screens unlock. Several tabs and sites are opened from the various local news channels, police scanners, and a few other things I can’t decipher. There is so much going on it is hard to focus on one thing. Until I see the image that use to hang above the fireplace in the home I shared with Daniel.

Our wedding photo.

“They’re digging into my ex,” I blurt, even though I know I shouldn’t be surprised they checked him out after the way things went down the night he showed up at my apartment. What does shock me is I’m not only pissed off that this has been done behind my back; it’s like a slap in the face by my brother, by the club, and most of all, by the man who told me I could trust him with my life. I feel betrayed, hurt, exposed, and violated. They’ve dug into parts of my life that I don’t want to relive, let alone share with just anyone.

And here it is, my biggest mistake, now common knowledge, being discussed openly by everyone in the damn clubhouse like a reality television show.

God fucking dammit all to hell. If this isn’t more of a pain in the ass than an un-lubed fist, I don’t know what is.

“Looks like he was checking out the Michaelson Country Club events calendar.” She clicks a few things and the screen zooms in on today’s date. “There was a ribbon cutting ceremony on the grounds this morning. Special speaker was Senator Hammon.”

“Why the hell would Jinks give a shit about a political photo op?” Ro asks, stepping up beside me.

“Because Hammon was my father-in-law,” I explain, my eyes fixed on the screen filled with photos of Daniel and me. “And where the Senator goes, Daniel isn’t far behind.”

“They’re going after him,” Roanne breathes, nodding her head slowly.

“Going as in past tense,” Shy corrects her. “Scanners from County say units were dispatched for an assault on the grounds. Two male suspects were taken into custody.”

Pressing a hand to my forehead, I curse under my breath. “So help me, I’ll kill them both.”