Chapter 1
Present time
Padraig
“Doug,” Paddy said smoothly and shook the other man’s hand.
“Paddy,” Doug returned the greeting. “Appreciate you coming down on such short notice. Do not appreciate you feeling the need to bring security.”
He nodded at Gibson who stood slightly behind Paddy. Gibson tipped his chin in a silent greeting but didn’t respond.
“Gib and I were heading this way for a job anyway,” Paddy said, lying his ass off.
Doug was president of the Wolves MC, and they might be one of the less violent clubs, but it wasn’t as if he’d walk into an emergency meeting with a president of any MC, on that man’s turf, without anyone having his back. Doug knew this too, so he was well aware that Paddy was lying, and his words were all for show. They’d allowed Gib to enter their compound, though, and the three men were left alone, which was a clear signal the Wolves didn’t want trouble.
“Fair enough,” Doug grunted. “Gibson. Good to see you.”
“Likewise,” Gibson murmured calmly.
“We have a problem,” Doug said and indicated they were to sit down at the empty bar at the back end of the room. “Ever heard of Muerta?”
Paddy raised his brows and shook his head.
“Me neither, until late last night. New group, moving in. Drugs mostly but what I heard is they do whatever for money.”
“Muerta? South American?” Paddy asked.
“That’s the fuck of it. They’re from nowhere.”
“Nowhere?”
“Every piece of shit thrown out from whatever group they started out in is welcome, apparently. They got Americans, Mexicans, Colombians, Russians, Afghans, a few Chinese.”
“No shit?”
“I shit you not,” Doug muttered. “They even have a fucking Norwegian if you could believe it.”
“I thought those guys only skied and saved the fucking planet,” Gibson grunted.
“Apparently not,” Doug said. “From what I heard through the vine, this one’s too fat to ski but not too fat to hold a sniper-rifle.”
None of this was good news in any way at all. The men in Muerta would have ties to a lot of other groups, and some of those ties would be sour, but some would be good. Good for the assholes, and not for him, Paddy thought.
“How did you hear about them?”
“They tried to get one of my guys to scout for areas on national land where they could grow pot.”
Huh. That had been a pretty stupid thing to do.
The Wolves did not do anything related to drugs. Most of them had a Native American heritage and all were skilled trackers and hunters. They used their skills to find people who were missing. Or people who were hiding. Paddy knew they sometimes took care of what they found in ways which weren’t always in exact accordance with the law, and he did not care one bit. When it came to the clubs, the Wolves were one of the better ones, and Doug ran a tight crew. They were respected, and a little feared, and it was widely known they stayed clear of anything related to drugs.
“They’re idiots?” Gibson muttered, and Doug scoffed humorlessly.
“It appears so.”
“They’re moving our way?” Paddy asked.
"Might," Doug said. "Can’t say that they do, but the fuck is; can’t say that they won’t either."
The men were silent for a while, thinking about what it would mean if they were looking to settle in their area. They’d be a newly formed group made up of people thrown out of the cartels and mafia groups from all the fuck over, which would make them a group of seriously bad people with no organized structure. They’d have infighting as well as the other bad shit they’d bring.
Fuck, Paddy thought. Not what he wanted to head his way, but they’d deal.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m calling my marker, Paddy,” Doug returned quietly.
Fuck it. Gibson had been targeted by an asshole criminal, and he’d discussed that situation with Doug, knowing it would be resolved in a way which would be highly satisfactory to everyone involved. It had been, and now it was time to pay the Wolves back for that favor.
“What do you want?”
He felt Gibson moving beside him and gave him a glance, one brow raised. Gib settled back, and Paddy turned to Doug.
“They’ll not settle in Wilhelmine, Paddy. It’d be too visible with all them fancy skiers and hikers passing through. Too many eyes. They’re not gonna go for any of the cities either because they’re already split between other groups, or at least mostly. Not many places they can go, and my back yard is one of the few.”
“Right,” Paddy grunted and waited for Doug to continue.
“My cuz is with the tribal police. Got other friends. They’re all in, but I want the Brothers to have my back if these Muerta-assholes make the stupid decision to unpack their fucking bags anywhere near me and mine.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Paddy asked slowly.
“Don’t know yet. Hope to fuck it won’t be needed. Ears on the ground for now, and we’ll see.”
Their eyes held for a few seconds and then Paddy nodded slowly.
“You got it.”
Doug exhaled as he nodded too and turned to Gibson.
“This is not me going around that marker to ask you for a kill, Gibson. Know it isn’t your thing, and we don’t need it. We want the alliance and your strength. The strength of the five of you.”
“Six,” Gibson said calmly. “My boy moved to Wilhelmine.”
“Which one?”
“The cop,” Paddy answered, and clarified, “Callum.”
“What’s his role?”
“Enforcer,” Paddy said. “Gib’s second for now, then we’ll see.”
“No shit?”
“Apple did not fall one inch from the old tree,” Paddy murmured warningly. “In all aspects, Doug.”
When their eyes met, Paddy knew Doug understood exactly what he was doing. He was spreading the word about Cal, warning them about his strength but also spreading the word that like his father, Cal couldn’t be used for a kill.
“Glad to hear that,” Doug said. “We’re not getting younger.”
“Speak for yourself,” Gibson grunted, but his lips twitched which took the sting out of his words.
Doug grinned and started talking about Muerta, mentioning names and places he’d heard through his sources. Paddy listened and began making plans to protect his home and the people living there. When they were done, Doug leaned back and relaxed.
“Heard you got yourself domesticated, Gibson?”
“Yup,” Gibson confirmed, but didn’t elaborate.
“I miss Maleena,” Doug said, and Paddy felt his brow go up before he could stop them.
Doug’s wife had died eight years earlier, and he never talked about her. They’d spent her last ten years battling cancer, and when they lost the fight, Doug disappeared. Came back six months later, looking the same and picking up his life as if nothing had happened. But he never talked about her.
“Yeah,” Paddy said.
“Miss my woman, but I also miss having an old lady,” Doug went on.
What the hell was he angling for now? It wasn’t like they usually sat around and talked about their private lives like a group of gossiping women. Paddy also knew that Doug might not have someone permanently in his bed, but the parties in the Wolf compound were well known for being far beyond rowdy. He’d been to a few, and there were always plenty of women in attendance. Doug had first pick and used that right often.
"How’s Jenny Tucker these days?" Doug asked suddenly, and both Paddy and Gibson straightened.
“Don’t think that’s any of your business, Doug,” Paddy said, with none of the calm humor left in his silken voice.
“Is that so?” Doug asked. “We haven’t seen her in a while.”
What the hell?
“Is that so?” Paddy asked back.
“You didn’t know?” Doug said with a smirk which he didn’t like, and he liked it even less when Doug continued, “She comes here sometimes, parties with us.”
He felt the muscles in his belly tighten and had to fight to keep his hands relaxed. Jenny partied with the Wolves?
“Yeah?” Gibson muttered when Paddy didn’t say a word. “She’s her own woman, Doug.”
“And a fine, fine woman at that,” Doug said. “Taken some of my men to her bed.”
“Don’t you start –”
“Paddy,” Doug cut him off harshly. “No one is badmouthing Jenny. Not me. Not a single one of the men. Everyone knows what kind of woman she is, and my men were fucking beside themselves when she ended things, all of them. Crying on my shoulder like fucking pussies.”
What in the fucking hell? He hadn’t thought about it much because it was something he did not want to have in his head, but of course, Jenny would have… Shit. He couldn’t even think the word sex in relation to her without feeling how his pulse started beating.
“You need to stay away from Jenny Tucker,” he ground out.
Gibson moved slightly, which was a clear warning for him to calm down but the thought of Jenny and the man in front of him had his blood boiling. Doug was his age, and Paddy knew women found him handsome with his long, jet black hair in a braid at the nape of his neck. His Native American heritage was written all over him and Doug was not a young man anymore, but still muscular and agile the same way Paddy was. He was also a good man. And he needed to stay the fuck away from Jenny.
“You’re not related, Paddy, so you have no grounds for warning me away from her,” Doug said, suddenly hard-faced and serious. “Unless…”
***
Paddy was speeding into Wilhelmine holding on to the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. There was a strange buzzing sound in his ears and he had to fight to keep his focus on the road in front of him.
“Pad,” Gibson said.
“Do not talk to me,” Paddy barked.
They’d had this exact conversation five times since they walked out of the Wolves’ compound and it had ended the same way each time. In silence.
When they reached the big, white sign with the name Jenny’s in simple letters, Paddy parked the car half on the street and half on the sidewalk, making a man take a quick sidestep to get out of the way. The man worked on Paddy’s crew and was about to call out, but he caught the look on Paddy’s face and walked away immediately.
All Paddy could see was the door to the diner and then the entrance to the kitchen, and he stalked through the place with long steps.
Jenny was stirring something in a huge pot, and Lee was sitting on a table to the side, laughing at whatever they talked about. He’d seen them like that often, but this time, he didn’t let the warm, soft feeling of their friendship wash over him. He focused on the tall, slim woman with her back toward him.
"The Wolves, Jenny?" he barked and watched her back straighten. "What the fuck?"
She turned and hissed at him, but he kept walking.
“What the fuck, Jenny?” he roared.
"Paddy," Gibson said quietly behind him, and he heard Lee move.
“Get out, both of you,” he barked without turning.
Lee was saying something, but it faded away, and he knew Gibson was moving them out of the kitchen. Jenny was scowling at him, but all he could focus on were her big green eyes. Eyes he’d seen in his dreams since he was a small boy.
“Jenny,” he said warningly.
“You do not get to come to my place of work and start shouting about shit that is none of your business, Paddy Callaghan,” she snarled at him.
What the hell was she angry about? It wasn’t him who had – well, okay. He had been to those parties and had taken women to his bed at them. Or wherever since the festivities were not prudish in any way. But this wasn’t about him, it was about Jenny.
“I sat down with Doug Hanes today, Jenny,” he growled.
“So?” she asked and tilted her head back to glare up at him.
“You like him?”
“He’s a good man,” she said.
What the hell did that mean?
“You want to be his old lady?” he ground out, wondering what the hell he’d do if she said yes.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Answer my fucking question!” he roared in her face.
“No,” she yelled back, but lowered her voice as she hissed, “I do not want to be Doug’s old lady.” She took a step back and said angrily, “I don’t want to be anyone’s old lady.”
He followed her until she had her back against a huge fridge and he was towering over her.
“That’s too fucking bad, Jenny. Because as of this afternoon, you have the choice of being his old lady…”
He leaned in even closer and saw her eyes widen when he did.
“Or mine.”