“How is it fucking possible there’s not one woman at this damn thing?” I mutter to Diesel.

We’re all standing around a plot at the cemetery, waiting for the other bikers to file in. Diesel and I were at the back of the pack and we’re already here. The dude’s own men were in the front but they rode farther up the cemetery and are now piling in.

“Maybe they are back at the club waiting for the party?” Diesel answers, sounding like he could care less. Truth is he probably does. He hasn’t looked at a woman since the last chick he trusted fucked him over. Violet was a sweet enough chick, until it turned out that she was Diesel’s crazy ex’s sister. Too bad the fucker doesn’t like dick, because his taste in pussy sucks ass.

“If not, I’m ditching this damn thing early.”

“You can’t need laid that bad, asshole.”

“Sometimes a sweet piece can cure an ailing soul,” I tell him, grinning.

“I don’t think it’s your soul ailing. You might want to get your dick checked out if you’re feeling bad. It has a bigger chance of coming into contact with… germs.”

I flip him off and he laughs. It sounds rusty on him; Diesel definitely doesn’t spend his time laughing.

“Well hello there…” I say, ending in a long whistle as a customized Road King purrs by us. It’s a beautiful electric blue girl, a real classic with ape hangers that add to the beauty. Her pipes rack so beautifully my dick throbs, but that’s not what has my eye. No, what has it is the beauty on the back of the bike. She’s got a helmet on with a face guard so I can’t tell much about that. What I can see is the worn black leather riding outfit she’s wearing that’s clinging to her body so fucking perfectly I want to groan. She’s leaning back and you can tell she’s a natural on a bike.

She’s wearing a leather cut and it hugs those luscious tits so much I want to cry mama and latch onto them. As they pass there’s a patch on the back of her cut I read plainly and I hate it.

Property of Wolf.

“That’s the guy I had the meeting with. Wolf… he’s one lucky motherfucker,” Diesel murmurs.

“Can’t argue with that,” I answer, mostly to myself. I have no idea if Diesel hears me. I’m too busy hating the bastard on the bike.

I start walking, falling in step behind Diesel as we head toward the cemetery plot. I try to keep my gaze on his back, but instead I watch the bike park up and the girl slide off. Her ass is as fucking amazing as the rest of her. Wolf gets off and his arm goes gently around the girl’s back. Jealousy fires through me, which is a fucking alien emotion and I’m not sure I like it at all. The girl takes her helmet off and I curse the fact that she has her back to me. I want to see her face. She may never be mine, but I’d really like to know if it measures up to her body.

Wolf pulls the girl in closer, kissing her forehead gently and he leans down to whisper something in her ear. His movements show he values her, which is bad news for me, but proves the bastard knows what he’s got. Long brown hair tumbles down the girls back once she’s free of the helmet. It’s beautiful. There’s hints of dark blond and even copper shining through as the sun reflects on it. I’ve only see hair that beautiful one other time…

Torrent.

Fuck, now I am dreaming. That’s just proof I need to get laid. I thought I was getting better about leaving Torrent in my past. The very last place I’d ever see Torrent again is on the back of some man’s bike, encased in leather and attending a wake for a fallen member. I don’t know what it is about that girl that got her hooks into me so deeply—but it’s clear she still has a hold on me.

“Diesel. Good to see you here. I appreciate you coming out, man,” Wolf says clasping Diesel’s hand in welcome.

“We wanted to pay our respects. This is my Sergeant of Arms, Devil.”

“Devil, good of you to come,” Wolf says. I shake his hand, but my eyes go to the woman. Her back is still to me, but I heard a gasp when my name was mentioned. I’m even more fucked up than I thought, or…

“Do I know you?” I ask the woman’s back, ignoring Wolf, which is probably not the wisest move on my part. I can feel his tension as if it was a physical force.

“Devil,” Diesel says, and I know he’s warning me. Shit. I shouldn’t have addressed the woman—I know that—I just can’t help myself.

“Come here, baby,” Wolf says, taking the girl in his arms again and turning her around to face us. The placement of his arm and the look on his face give a signal of ownership. They’re meant to warn me away. But I don’t pay attention to that. Fuck, I barely glance at him. I’m too busy locking eyes with the woman who has haunted me. The woman with beautiful brown hair whose highlights sparkle in the sun. The woman whose whiskey eyes have haunted my dreams.

“Torrent,” I manage to say, confusion laced in every syllable of the word.

“Torrent?” Diesel repeats. “Your Torrent?”

Wolf’s growl is quiet, but definitely heard. He doesn’t like Diesel’s reference. I don’t bother saying anything. I couldn’t if I tried. I’m too busy trying to recover.

“Hi, Logan,” Torrent says and until I hear her sweet voice saying my name I honestly thought I was suffering some kind of psychotic break where my mind made all this shit up.

But I’m not.

This is her.

This is Torrent.

My Torrent.

And she’s wearing another man’s colors and another man’s cut.

“Ain’t this a kick in the balls,” I mutter, stepping back and feeling like I can’t catch my breath.

Fuck.