The first three days were hell, and they were the ones where we sat in his crappy room by ourselves, alone while he went out and did...I didn't really know what, but it must've been terrible.

This club, this man, this place – they were all so close to hell I could practically smell the sulfur dripping off the walls. I seriously wondered if Jackie and I died with daddy, and now we were all paying for his sins.

Escape? It wasn't even an option.

The first day he was gone, I found out fast the door was locked from the other side. Even if we'd somehow made it out, the place was always swarming with them.

Big, brutal men stomped around outside, as dangerous and foul tempered as the grizzly bears they wore on their leather vests. Sometimes, I heard them fucking their women through the walls. The girls screamed so loud I couldn't tell if they were being ripped apart by pleasure or having the life torn out of them.

Jackie ate, slept, and took long private trips to the bathroom, avoiding me so I wouldn't see her crying. Watching her kill herself to stay strong really hurt.

I was the fuckup. I'd accepted a bundle of miracle money I knew nothing about, and I'd landed us both here.

Jesus, if only I'd taken a fistful of money and woken Jackie up. We could've left that night while we sorted it out. We could've gotten away, stayed in a hotel, avoided all this. If only I'd stopped to think there'd be others after the fortune daddy left behind in vain.

Now, it was gone. Gone forever, just like any shred of hope that we wouldn't just move from one rung of hell to the next. And that was if we were lucky enough to get away from these monsters.

I was skeptical Brass had done anything more than delay what those rougher, darker men wanted to do to us in the basement. Why he'd decided to delay our doom, I couldn't figure out.

Did he really have a heart? Or was he just another demon, driven by something different than money and blood, but just as selfish?

The third evening, he came in carrying burgers and fries. I could've killed for something leafy and green, but my stomach was so empty and unsettled it wouldn't let me resist anything I shoved in my face. My stomach rumbled hard when I smelled the greasy, delicious food.

“Dinner,” he said, passing me a burger. “Try to finish it up fast because we got shit to do tonight.”

I raised an eyebrow, making sure Jackie got into her food first before I began to eat. She hadn't lost her appetite through all this by some miracle, but I wasn't taking any chances.

Little sis had me to look out for her now. Me, the big sister who'd failed to protect her, and nobody else.

“Yeah? What's that? Spraying us down with Febreze while we're rotting away in here?” A little more venom in my blood replaced the fear the big biker originally inspired every day.

He shook his head. “I'm taking you two to your new place. You've been cooped up in my room long enough. If you think it's been fun for me sleeping on the floor, you're a fucking –“

He stopped just short of saying idiot. For some reason, the weird catch brought a sour smile to my lips. He was civil, in his own twisted way. But that wasn't saying much for men who had no manners whatsoever.

“How do we know this isn't another trick?” I said, biting into my cheeseburger.

“I don't play games, babe. If I was really gonna drive you out into the boonies and off you, I wouldn't be wasting money feeding your mouths.” He smoothed his face with one hand. “Yeah, on the other hand, I guess you don't know shit. That's the way it's gonna stay. You'll just have to take my word for it and be good while I drive you over.”

“We've had plenty of practice, mister,” Jackie chimed in, munching on a fry. “Behaving ourselves is all we've been doing here, in case you hadn't noticed.”

Brass gave my sister a dark, angry look, but held himself in check. He never lashed out at her, even on the few occasions when she'd insulted him to his face. That surprised me.

It was hard to imagine any decency among these men. With the others, I didn't think we'd be so lucky, but Brass...well, he put at least some limits on his explosive testosterone.

“Fucking finish up. We don't got all day. I'd rather get you girls outta here without dealing with the brothers.” He turned, removing his food from the bag and digging in.

I watched him chew. There was no way he could've been more than a few years older than me, somewhere in his mid-twenties. The hormones whistling through his veins did far more than make him act like a barbarian.

He dripped sex. He was raw. Masculine. Real in a way I didn't know a man could be.

When he came into the room, he commanded my attention. His gravity tilted my whole narrow world to his barrel chested center, his emerald eyes I feared had x-ray vision to see what I was really thinking.

I hated – no, loathed – admitting it, but if he wasn't holding us prisoner here, wearing that ferocious beast on his jacket, he definitely would've turned my head at any bar.

Not that I knew much about that. Taking care of dad and Jackie finished off what little social life I'd had as a young woman. But like any red blooded woman, big muscles and devilish ink drew my eyes, and Brass was all strength and edge, a living sculpture whose rogue looks were just the type to walk up and punch you in the face.

Bastard. I hated the little flash of heat that started low in my belly whenever I saw him, the fire that would've kept spreading down between my legs if I didn't look away. And I always did.

Avoiding him was all I had. I couldn't let him infect my mind.

We ate in silence until everyone was finished. He collected our trash and tossed it into a wastebin. We stood and followed him out into the smelly hallway. No matter how many times the door opened, my nose hadn't gotten used to the reeking tobacco and old whiskey that seeped out of everything.

My nerves shook when we walked through the bar, passing several tables with dark, savage looking men. They all stopped and eyeballed us. I could handle the ugly, lecherous looks, but my face burned with rage when their eyes ran up and down Jackie's body.

She stayed close to me, and I stayed even closer to Brass. Yeah, it was definitely bad when the devil I knew was a comfort against all these other demons.

As if sensing the unease, a rough hand reached for mine. I looked up in surprise as Brass took my hand. Refusing to fight it off was an even bigger surprise.

He led us past the bar and down another hall on the opposite side of the large building. We headed for an exit at the end that looked like it led into a big garage full of trucks and motorcycles. I could see them through the glass window in the door.

“Hey!” A rough voice hit the backs of our heads like bricks when we were almost at the door.

Brass released my hand and spun, pushed through us, and stepped forward, keeping Jackie and I behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing with these bitches, Brass? Didn't hear we were ready to release any collateral.” A big man with a bald head and beefy Popeye forearms folded his arms, waiting patiently for Brass to catch up to him.

“Blackjack said to get them outta the clubhouse, so that's what I'm doing. I'm following orders, Veep.” Brass shrugged, cool as the night breeze outside.

“Fucker should've ran it by me or Fang first. I'm not convinced these cunts aren't gonna talk. Roughed 'em up pretty good from what I heard during the debriefing. Girls don’t forget that kinda shit.” The big man he called VP grunted, showing his teeth.

“We were all there for church. I know you were paying attention, Veep, same as the rest of us. You know the older one's my old lady, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You saying I don't know how to control my own woman? Fuck, brother, I've kept 'em under lock and key every damned minute they've been in this clubhouse. I haven't done anything to hurt the club and I never would. Won't let them do it neither.”

The older man stepped forward, flexing one fist. Brass closed the distance between them, pushing his chest against the stranger, tipping his head in the air.

“Go ahead and break my jaw if you don't believe me, Crack. Missy's my fucking property now, and I know how to handle what's mine. I know where club biz begins and ends. I'm not telling her shit, and we're leaving so she doesn't stick her ears anywhere they don't belong here. Shit, I'll watch her and the baby girl day and night if I have to, just as soon as my woman's got my brand stamped on her skin.” Brass paused, sucking in a hot, angry breath. “Go ahead and knock my fucking teeth out if you got a problem with that. Just know they're gonna be yours if you do.”

I held my breath. The man had balls, and he was fighting for us in his own twisted way. I couldn't deny him that.

The older man's fist jerked – down to his side. With an angry swipe of the arm, he gave Brass a hard push. He caught himself against the wall, never taking his eyes off Crack's snarling face.

“Just get 'em the fuck outta my sight!” the VP roared. “You'd better make sure their mouths are sewn shut for your own damned sake. I won't hesitate to take you out back and use the Mauler on you myself if I hear a peep about either of those bitches going to daddy's old friends. The last fucking thing this club needs is cops sniffing around when the cartel's at our throats.”

Brass didn't say anything. He nodded once, then turned, leaving the raging volcano behind.

When he caught up to me, he grabbed my hand more fiercely this time, throwing open the door. We headed for a rusted old pickup and he opened the passenger door, waving Jackie and I inside.

I helped my sis get in and climbed in myself while he took the driver's side.

“Cover your eyes 'til we're through the gate,” Brass growled, backing the truck down a small parking strip. “Can't have either of you looking at this place and it's layout. I'll tell you when it's okay to see again.”

Jackie gave me an uncertain look. “Do it,” I mouthed silently, covering her eyes with one hand.

She struggled against me for a second, but then relented. We rode for about five to ten minutes in pure silence, listening to the truck's engine humming.

Keeping my brain from going to a thousand pitch black places was a constant struggle. I didn't want to believe he was going to hurt us or drop off our lifeless bodies – especially not after he'd put up such a convincing show – but I just didn't know.

I didn't know anything about this man except that he was a slightly smoother cog in the brutal machine called the Grizzlies MC. Trusting him wasn't going to happen – not without knowing we had our lives.

“Okay. You can open your eyes now,” he said firmly.

Uncovering Jackie's first, I looked out through the windshield into the night. We were definitely back in town, judging by all the bright lights. Just in time to watch him turn down a narrow residential street I'd seen a few times before.

We pulled up next to an old square three story building and he killed the engine, then reached past Jackie and I for the glove compartment. I watched him pull out a plastic tag and hang it on the rear view mirror.

“What're we doing here?” Jackie asked, beating me to the punch.

“Sleeping, eating, shitting. Looking pretty.” I frowned at his crude answer. “Whatever the hell you girls do in your off hours. This is your new home.”

I swallowed. It was too good to be true. Well, as 'good' as having a bland new apartment handed to us by a thug like Brass could be.

He got out and slammed his door without saying another word, stopping by the building's glass door to wait for us. I held Jackie's hand until she shook me off.

Whatever, as long as she was following my footsteps.

The place had that eighties feel, and it smelled just as old too. But after three days in the stinking clubhouse, anything was an improvement. Brass led us up a small staircase and stopped at the second door on the right.

“Number 205. That's your new place.” He shoved a key in and popped the door, holding it open for us.

We stepped inside. The biggest surprise was seeing the place fully furnished. The couch, chairs, and little dining table next to the kitchen weren't going to win any awards for fashion, but they looked clean and functional. I walked around, eyeing my new home, leaning close to the tacky brown sofa and giving it a sniff.

Thank God. The smoky old stink of the clubhouse wasn't bleeding out the cushions, so he hadn't gotten it from there.

Jackie walked straight into the little hall. I joined her a second later, wondering why she looked so perked up.

“Two bedrooms!” she chirped. “That's a lot better than the crap I thought he'd –“

She stopped, swallowing her words. Brass stood at the other end of the hall, his arms folded, looking seriously scary in the darkness.

I reached for a switch in the bathroom and flipped it on. The light did a lot to take the evil edge off him, but he still looked like he'd leave scorch marks if I got too close. He was all muscle, all fire rippling in his flesh, and he held every last key to our fate in his big calloused hand.

“Catch.” He threw me the small bundle of keys and I threw my hands out, wrapping my fingers around it.

“You're paid up through the end of the month, and I'll chip in something for next month too, as needed.” He turned.

I followed him into the living room while Jackie lingered in the bigger bedroom. She'd already claimed hers. Not something I was going to fight her about.

“The couch folds down,” he said, flopping on it in front of me. His leather cut jumped up his stomach for a second, revealing a tight set of abs I hadn't seen on a man outside underwear ads in magazines.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Does it matter? Something tells me we're not allowed to have any guests.”

“Fuck, yes, it matters. This is where I'm gonna crash while I keep an eye on you two.”

My heart sank. Of course. Just because he'd moved us to a better prison, didn't mean we were home and free.

And why not? My first instinct alone would've been to grab Jackie, head for a hotel, and spill my guts about this nightmare to the first cop I saw.

“It's been a long fucking time since I lived in an apartment,” he said, stretching his huge body out on the cushions. “You'll have the place to yourselves most of the time. Club business keeps me busy during the day, you know.”

Duh. We'd been left alone for days, never knowing when he'd blow in, or what he'd do with us. His 'business' only fed the hellish uncertainty filling our lives.

I cautiously planted my butt in the wicker rocking chair next to him. “Fine. What about school for Jackie? She's been out all week dealing with my father's death, but she's supposed to be back on Monday...”

He shrugged. “Tell 'em she's sick. I fucked off in school all the time and turned out fine. Guess I'm lucky nobody asked any questions in those days.”

I wanted to burst out laughing. Was he fucking serious? Whatever he'd been when he was young, he was an outlaw biker now!

A killer. A thief. A brute.

All the evil things it was hard to visualize when he was right in front of me, looking sexier than any criminal should.

Somehow, I held the crazed, panicky laugh in my chest. Good thing too because if it got started, I knew it wouldn't stop until I was paralyzed on the floor in tears.

“Brass, she's fourteen years old. Her father just died from cancer and her older sister led her right into a pack of –“

Devils. Fuckers. Assholes.

No words were adequate for how the Grizzlies treated us. And I still got angry and sad every time I thought about daddy too.

Leaving us with nothing would've been better than what he'd dropped in my lap – why the fuck did he think I'd have any idea how to handle this? Why did he die painting a target on his daughters' backs?

Because the cancer rotted his brain. Or maybe desperation did. I didn't like that answer. It filled my skull with cruel cement.

Brass threw his feet on the floor and straightened up. “What were you gonna say? You don't have to self-censor here, babe. I've heard it all. You think calling me a rude name's gonna hurt my widdle feelings?”

Bastard. He made a puppy dog face and grinned. I shrugged, guessing it was better than having him jump on me and throw his hand on my throat for the stifled insult.

“We both know what happened,” I snapped. “There's no need to resort to name calling. I don't need to sink to your level.”

He laughed. A low, rich, smoky baritone sound, older sounding than his face suggested.

“Sure wish you would. Might help you blow off some fucking steam. Christ, I know I need to. If you think I like having to deal with this shit – hostages – you're wrong. Deadly fucking wrong. I'm doing the best I can to make my brothers happy and keep you alive.”

He had me there. After bringing us here, I was starting to believe his bullshit, and that made me hate him even more. I shot daggers out of my eyes as I looked at him, annoyed that his face looked too handsome to cut.

If only he could've been a total gargoyle...feeding the hatred would've been so much easier.

Damn it, why did he look so different from most of the other guys in his club? Rude, savage bikers who acted like demons shouldn't wear the faces of angels.

“You've done enough. I don't like this crap, but I'm not an idiot, Brass. I won't go out. I won't say anything unless I get your permission, sir.” I practically stuck out my tongue when I said it. “But Jackie...I can't give up on her when she hasn't gotten started yet. She needs an education.”

Brass stood up, growling. He moved fast, pacing the room like a frustrated tiger in its cage. I wondered if he was about to kick over the brand new coffee table next to my legs when he stopped next to me and reached for his wallet.

“Here!” Crumpled up bills landed at my feet. “It's all I got 'til the next share comes in from the club. Pull the girl outta school and buy her some fucking lessons. Five hundred's gotta get something. I can't fucking risk her breaking down and tattling to teacher. You'll listen to these lessons and make sure she doesn't say anything she shouldn't.”

I was frozen in disbelief for at least a solid minute, looking at his dark, angry eyes. Jesus.

He was very, very good at making it hard to hate him, especially when the way he'd given me the money should've made it easy. Hell, five hundred dollars didn't make a dent in the two million we'd lost.

It wasn't yours, a sad voice in my head reminded me. You didn't do anything to deserve it, and whatever your father did was evil.

Ignoring the sly voice in my head, I scooped up the money, stuffing it into my pocket. Brass took two more long walks through the room, shaking his head. It was like watching a grenade having its pin stuffed in before it went off.

“Look, I'm really fucking sorry all this shit had to come down like this. I know it was your daddy who sold us out and not you. You and your sis got in the way. The guys are so fucked up and stretched to their limits they would've killed you if I hadn't been there...I stopped it. I saved you.” He held up a hand as I opened my lips. “I'm not looking for any gratitude, so you can shove that shit right back down your throat. I'm just looking for an understanding, babe. You gotta tell me you get what I'm trying to do here. This little tango is all that's gonna save all our lives – including mine – because I'm the lucky fuck who's responsible for you two. You fuck up, hurt the club, and we all die together.”

My eyes burned hard, just looking at him, thinking even harder.

Ugh. He'd never stop being a bastard, but right now, he was right.

“I understand, Brass. I hate to admit it, but I do. I'll try to cooperate.”

“Try?” He snorted. “You're gonna have to do better than that, babe. If you ever wanna go free, you're gonna have to prove to the club you can be trusted.”

No! There's no fucking way...

My head started spinning all over again. “And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“You saw the state the clubhouse was in – shit, you smelled it.” He paused. “You need money, right? I talked to Blackjack, and he's willing to have you around to clean shit up. We'll pay you two or three times what some maid would get because you've got extra incentive to keep your pretty pink mouth shut.”

I was shaking my head before he finished. Started shaking it even harder when he added that last part.

I couldn't go to that stinking, filthy, evil place again. And I definitely didn't need this sick attraction going both ways.

“No.” Brass blinked in surprise after I said it. “I'll wait this out. I'll find a different job. I can't go back there again...I just –“

“You can, and you will,” he growled. “Babe, much as I wish I was offering you a real choice, it's a fucking illusion. You're gonna do this for me, and you're gonna do it right. If we're lucky, we'll be too busy focusing on our war to get in your hair. If the guys believe you're really my old lady, they won't give a shit if you fade into the background, and neither will I.”

Old lady? He'd said that word before. It was strange – crude like everything else that came from his wicked lips.

“Okay, you need to tell me what that means. You talked about me with that man, Crack, like I was your...” The word stuck in my throat. I had to force it out. “Property. Does old lady mean slave, Brass?”

“Slave to the heart, maybe. Being claimed is the best damned thing a girl can hope for hanging around men like us. You become an old lady, you get special privileges. You're not like the rest of the whores and sluts.” He grunted, struggling to explain, his face turning red as he eyed the confusion on mine. “I didn't marry you or nothing, babe. But if you still don't get it, taking a wife's the closest equivalent in your world.”

My heart skipped a beat. Shit, maybe ten.

I started to slump back in the chair, feeling the tremor rising in my body. Horror, rage, and hate shot to my throat. I coughed once to push it down. No use.

“You can't be serious! And you waited until now to tell me this?” I shook my head for the hundredth time that night, feeling blood rattle in my temples. “You're sick. This whole fucking thing is. God, I'm starting to wish you'd let the rest of those animals pull the trigger.”

Brass moved like lightning. The rocking chair was tipped back and he was face to face with me, all rage, a rough glint in his dark green eyes that turned my skin into goosebumps.

“Shut the fuck up. I know you don't mean that shit, but I'll be a goddamned devil before I let you say that fucking bullshit to my face again. You'd better learn to control your tongue, babe, or someone a whole lot shorter fused than me's gonna cut it right off.”

I stopped thinking. My hand went up and grazed his face, slapping him across the cheek.

I didn't care what happened anymore. This hot and cold, good cop-bad cop act had to die, or else I would first. I flew out of my chair before he could grab me and hit the couch.

Rolling, I wondered why he wasn't holding me down, laying into me with words or worse.

What the hell? Brass wasn't even looking at me.

He was staring at Jackie, who'd just come into the room and stood staring at us, one hand clenched on the corner of the wall.

“It's okay!” I spat, twisting my feet to take a normal sitting position. “We were just talking about work...a job opportunity...”

I looked at Brass, hoping he'd give me a little support. His face was completely cold, if it wasn't just pure fire.

“We're done talking. I'm heading out 'til later.” His eyes drilled deeper into mine. “I gave you some shit to think about and said everything I needed to. You're gonna mull it over and find a tutor for your sis while I take care of business.”

He turned, heading straight for the door, and slammed it behind him without another word.

I hated him even when he was gone. He'd just forced me into this hell's tightest corner: trying to convince my sister everything was all right when I didn't believe it for a second.

* * *

I didn't hear him come in that night. When I woke up and padded to the bathroom in the morning, I saw the lumpy blanket thrown across the couch, but he wasn't there either.

It wasn't until I went into the kitchen to check and see if we had any food that I finally saw him. He was leaning on the counter, shoveling a bowl of food into his mouth with a spoon.

“Eggs, hash, and sausage. There's more underneath those lids on the stove if you want it. You find a tutor for your sis, or what?”

“Just barely started looking,” I said. “Had other things on my mind.”

It had taken an hour just to calm down and convince Jackie everything was okay. By the time I got on the crappy old computer he'd left us and started to look, my brain was overwhelmed with my own selfish problems.

Rock met hard place the instant I held Brass' dirty money in my hands. The bastard made me realize there was no way out unless I did exactly what he said. I hated it, and hated even it more that I couldn't deny it.

Brass finished his last bite and dropped his bowl in the sink. It landed with a clatter that made me jump. Annoyed, I straightened my long pajama shirt and looked at him.

“Listen, I thought about what you said last night...” I waited until he looked up. “Your club's full of the most disgusting pigs I've ever seen. But that doesn't mean I want to live like this forever. I can't be a prisoner, and neither can Jackie. If I have to clean up their messes to get away from this and get on with my life...I'll do it.”

He cocked his head. Red shame flooded my cheeks. Jesus, who was actually saying these words? I felt disembodied.

“Good. Had a feeling you'd come to your senses eventually. Go clean up, babe. You're heading in with me today.”

Panic clogged my throat. “But...Jackie doesn't have a tutor yet...”

“So? You said you're working on that,” he said, taking a step closer. “I trust you're not shitting me about the girl talking, right?”

Part of me wished she would. If it wouldn't mean changing our names and hiding like rats for the rest of our lives, I wanted Jackie to freak out, run to the police. Anything to get this apartment and their clubhouse raided. My heart swelled with grim satisfaction when I imagined all the Grizzlies clapped in irons and loaded into a SWAT team's van.

Everybody except the bastard standing in front of me. For some unholy reason, imagining him in handcuffs tugged at my heart, filled me with a thick, sickly guilt.

Stepping up to him, I closed the distance between us, standing on my tip-toes until we were eyeball-to-eyeball. “I keep my promises. Neither of us will say anything to anyone. She can stay here...just let me talk to her before we leave.”

I turned before he could say anything and headed for her room. Knocking several times on her door gave no response. I grabbed the doorknob and pushed it open, finding her halfway awake, sprawled out on the narrow double bed.

“What's going on?” My sister sat up, her eyes wide. There'd been too much bad news lately not to panic when these unexpected visits happened.

“I'm going out for awhile. I need you to stay here. There's games and reading to do on the computer. I'd really appreciate it if you can do some math or history while I'm trying to get you the teacher we talked about.”

She wrinkled her nose and sat up, throwing off the covers. “You're working for him, aren't you? Are they even paying you, Missy, or are we just total slaves now?”

My lips tingled, ready to throw sisterly venom back at her. God damn it. It would've been so much easier if the question didn't strike so deep.

“We're working off daddy's debt. Think of it that way,” I said, sitting on the bed next to her. I reached out to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away, looking at me like I was covered in stinking motor oil.

“Is that why they took all the money and threatened to kill us? Was it all about the cash in that bag?” She leaned forward, clawing at the blanket. “You're treating me like shit! I'm not a little kid. I can handle the truth, Missy. Why won't you give it to me?”

Because some truths are so fucking brutal it's blinding to look at them head on, I thought. I had to think fast, scramble to find my words, something to shut down the battle brewing.

“I already told you. Before he died, dad made some big mistakes. Terrible mistakes. The cancer really screwed up his head. He took some things from people he really shouldn't have. I don't like them either – they're bastards. But they've got their reasons for being pissed...”

Jackie closed her eyes and shook her head, annoyed with all my half-answers. If only she knew the half-assed answers really were the best ones I had. I didn't have a clue what was going on with Brass' MC, the cartel, and the money, not to mention all those phantom whispers about a war. A big part of me didn't even want to know why we were in this shit storm.

What did it matter? Knowledge wasn't power here. Right now, all I cared about was clawing my way out, and dragging Jackie with me to the safe, distant shore.

“Reasons?” Jackie repeated, rolling the word sarcastically on her tongue. “They must be pretty fucking good to go along with this and live here with this asshole like nothing happened.”

My face tightened. “Knock it off. Daddy wouldn't approve of that language, and neither do I. You've still got some growing up to do, sis. I know this doesn't make sense right now. One day, it will. I'm trying to do what's best and it's really fucking hard.”

I ran a hand over my face. So much for leading by example.

Jackie turned away from me, pulling her feet up to her chest. It was over. When she went fetal, I knew we were done talking.

Damn. Not at all the way I wanted this to go, but staying here trying to reason with the most flawed logic in the world wasn't going to help us get away from the Grizzlies' claws faster.

I got up and padded to the door, stopping one more time on my way out. “Stay here. Be good. I promise I'll keep working on the tutor thing so you'll have something to pass the time without thinking about this crap.”

No response. I pulled the door shut behind me and headed for the bathroom. It was a quick shower, cranked up as high as the building's water heater could manage. I let the hot droplets steam off my skin, ignoring the tears mingling with the shower near the end.

When I cleaned up and changed, Brass was waiting for me near the door.

We got on his bike and headed for the clubhouse. It was getting easier to keep my small hands around him, secretly admiring his taut muscles beneath my fingertips. Of course, I hated myself for loving anything at all about this asshole taking me to a job I never asked for.

Just before we hit the highway, he told me to cover my eyes. The man still didn't trust me to see where his clubhouse was. I did what he asked, tucking my face deep into his back. Hot, angry breaths steamed up around his neck, and I knew he could feel them when his skin rippled, the stubble on his face brushing my cheek several times.

Monsters shouldn't feel this good.

When we pulled into the massive garage, I got off and followed him inside. Brass led me to a small closet in the smelly hallway. I found a bunch of long neglected cleaning crap inside, but at least it contained all the gear I needed to make a dent in this place's filth.

“You know how to use this shit?” he asked.

“I'm not a moron. I mopped floors and wiped toilets part-time for my college before I quit. I don't think cleaning up after bikers is worse than a man with terminal cancer either...”

Brass nodded. “Got you. Well, start on the floors and then hit the bar. Fucking thing hasn't been wiped down since well before I got here. If anybody gives you any shit, tell 'em you're Brass' old lady.”

We shared an awkward look. Brass looked like he was about to say something else, but then he turned and left just as mysteriously.

The day went about as well as I expected. By afternoon, my shoulders were aching, but the entire clubhouse had gotten fresh Pine Sol swept over its floors. Everything except the rooms where the men smoked, slept, and fucked. I looked at Brass' room and cringed, amazed we'd stayed there for three days.

I couldn't help but wonder what else went on in there when we weren't around.

The men weren't shy about sex. Doors opened and closed at odd hours, releasing men with sweat still shining on their foreheads, or half-dressed girls barely older than me.

They all headed to the bar to pick up whiskey and water, hauling it back to their rooms to resume the insatiable passions happening inside. Some of them looked like they were drugged out of their minds. It was late when I finally started on the bar counter.

I cleared off the bottles, gingerly wiping them down, when I heard footsteps behind me. I would've preferred just about anything standing behind me except for the nasty freak with the barbed wire tattooed on his face.

“Whiskey, bitch,” Serial barked.

I held up my hands. “I'm not a bartender. Brass didn't tell me to touch any of this stuff –“

His arms twitched, and then his palms slapped the counter like lightning. “You fucking heard me. Don't make me ask again. I want a bottle of Jack to go, and I want it right fucking now.”

His eyes were stranger than the pitch black pools I'd seen on the night he wanted to kill us. They were brighter, but still so vacant, like light reflecting off a marionette's marble eyes.

His sleeve was pushed up. Several patches of skin were gray, discolored, dull red holes along their edges. Unmistakable bruises left behind by a junkie shooting up. I'd seen it plenty of times on ride alongs with daddy as a little girl.

This wasn't a man to reason with sober, let alone tripping out of his mind. I reached for the nearest whiskey bottle I could find and shoved it across the counter.

He popped the cap and took a long swig, pouring the crap down his throat like it was cream soda. “You remember who you're working for. I would've blown your girl's brains out if Brass and Blackjack hadn't pussied out. You're here at our mercy. This club doesn't need any parasites when it's fighting for its life. We fucking own you, and your little girl. We can stomp you both like a fucking flea any time we choose.”

He winked, and pointed his free hand at me like a gun. “BANG BANG! You're dead, cunt. Think I'd start on little sissy first, though.” he growled.

Pretty sure my heart stopped then. My fingers trembled as I heard his death threat echoing in my head, the cold, calm closeness to murder. I was still pinching the rag in my burning fingers when he was finally gone.

“Missy.”

I nearly hit the ceiling. I threw the rag on the counter and spun. Angry, shaken, and ready to face trouble. Brass was there on the other side of the bar, one hand braced against the granite.

“How'd it go?” he asked, smooth as an assistant manager checking in on me at some bullshit job.

“Your friend with the thorns on his face just told me how much he'd like to kill Jackie. How the hell do you think?”

Anger roiled his face, a more violent, masculine mirror of mine. “Fuck. Don't listen to that shithead. He's always been a twisted little fuck since the minute I got to Redding. Come on. Let's fucking go.”

He grabbed the rag and cleaner off the counter and held them for me while I quickly pushed dusty bottles back into place. I'd have to pick up on this nightmare job tomorrow.

When our stuff was put away, we left, riding along the bluish fading horizon on his Harley. This time, I practically jabbed my nails into his stomach, trying to hurt him whenever he made a turn.

I never asked for any of this shit. And I definitely wasn't cut out for it – not for dealing with these animals.

It was just my first day on the 'job' – and calling it that was being painfully generous – and I was totally ready to lose it.

Jackie's words stabbed deep in my mind over and over. Slaves. That's exactly what we were, shackled to work with these brutes until we were dead or they finally got tired of us.

And what then? I thought about Serial.

BANG BANG!

I pressed my hands tight around Brass' waist. Rage churned in my veins, so potent I refused to recognize how seductive his stupid sexy abs were beneath my hands.

What if we never came back? Jackie would eventually break, leave the apartment, and run, wouldn't she?

I chewed my lip, seriously considering hurling my fingernails into Brass' eyes, making him wreck the bike before we got off the highway. But killing him and snapping my own neck wouldn't get us out of this. Not without giving my sister more hellish memories that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

I wanted it to be easy with him. Just once. I wanted to treat him like one of them, an easy target for my hatred, my pain, my will to survive.

Brass parked the Harley next to the apartment and switched it off. Quickly climbing off, he faced me, ripping off my helmet before I could work off the strap myself.

“Fucking shit, babe. I thought you were gonna tear a hole in my guts the whole ride here. What's eating you?”

I turned away. The painful lump in my throat made it impossible to speak – not without crying, anyway.

“Don't do this, Missy,” he growled, throwing one strong hand on my shoulder. “I need you to either keep it together or let me know what the fuck's going on so I can fix it. If you're upset about Serial, I'll break his fucking nose next time I see him. Brother or no, I'm not gonna let that psycho fuckwit shit all over my old –“

“Don't say it!” I snapped.

He tried to hold on, but I was too quick and his grip too tentative. I ripped myself away, climbing off the bike, throwing my hands into my pockets for the apartment's keys.

He knew better than to follow me inside when I was this upset. Jackie was locked in her room, refusing to respond every time I knocked. I left her a thick sandwich I threw together and a tall water bottle outside her door.

Then I cleaned up and turned in. The stink of cleaner and old smoke came off easy enough, but the putrid reek of bad luck didn't. Practically scrubbed my skin raw, wishing I could wipe away every trace of evil.

But it wasn't all on the outside, was it? Of course not, because that would be too convenient.

The real problem was the corruption inside me, the way Brass had gotten underneath my skin. I had my chance to kill him for Jackie's sake, and I knew there'd be more. Maybe there'd be a dozen chances, and I'd pass them all up, wouldn't I?

All because I didn't have a clue how to relate to this asshole who should've disgusted me just as much as Serial.

It was fucking sick. And so was I. My pussy betrayed me every time I got close to him, tingling while my nipples hardened, begging to be fucked by King Asshole.

Unfortunately, this asshole saved us. He'd delayed our doom while he continued to drag me back to his sick brothers every fucking day. He was the last little thread that held me together, kept me from lashing out, doing something stupid and getting us all killed.

I shouldn't care. Much less about him. Nothing should've mattered except freeing my sister, even if it cost me my own life.

And I shouldn't have the kinda thoughts I did while riding this bike, imagining what it would be like to run my hands on his stomach without leather and denim between his skin and mine. I shouldn't sweat and shake when his green eyes bathed me in his teal fire, wondering what his glare would look like only inches apart, watching me as I lost my mind on his cock.

Stockholm Syndrome. Wasn't that what they called it when a woman starts admiring her captor? What the hell did they call it when she was way past admiring, aching to run her tongue down his chest, and then even lower?

I wasn't sure, but I sank a little more into its one-way grasp every minute I was around him, and that scared the shit out of me.

God, I had a better idea how to handle my slave work with the Grizzlies and the dead eyed killers milling around the clubhouse. Serial's evil words hurt, but they didn't leave me confused, wrecked, disembodied. The hatred between us was a clear wall, keeping him away from my world, and me out of his as long as I watched my step.

I didn't have that luxury in my own fucking home, if I wanted to call this apartment that. I didn't have anything – much less my sanity – while I was forced to live here with him.

No protection. No safety. Not even the comfort black and white hate provided.

I never heard him come home, as usual. Whenever he finally dragged himself in and crashed on the sofa, I was already long asleep, my red eyes spinning in their nightmares after crying me to sleep.