Sleep didn't come easy. It wasn't just club politics weighing heavy on my brain – it was having her pressed up against me in too damned small a room to do anything about it. No fucking way was I gonna make a move and subject the kid sister to hearing us fuck.

But god damn my dick ached. Bad. Felt like somebody reached in and filled my balls with lead, heavy and hot, anchoring me to the sheets. Anxious lust hissed through my veins all night. I don't think my hard-on relaxed a second, pressed snug against her ass, taunting me every time Missy twitched in her sleep.

She was obviously having some bullshit nightmares. At one point, I leaned over, kissed her brow, tender as I could without making my cock rage harder.

“It's gonna be okay, baby,” I whispered. “All this shit. I'll kill them all myself for dragging you girls into this. Then I'm gonna fuck your brains out, wipe away all the nasty memories with red hot sex. I'm no doctor, but I've got a cure, and I know how to deliver it too.”

She stirred, wriggling against me in her sleep. I had to shift my hips. Having my dick on her all night was bound to drive me absolutely nuts by dawn, if I didn't wake up balls deep inside her first.

Truth was, Missy ignited a lunatic inferno in my skull, my blood, and especially below my waist. I'd never told a woman I loved her before the drive up.

Before her, that was the sappiest, most alien shit I ever could've imagined. But having her around let cupid sneak up behind me and drive his arrow deep in my back, and I wasn't gonna pull it out for anything.

It was finally all as clear as a California day.

My life had two stages: before Missy Thomas and after her. The before was complete shit, betrayal and stupidity, my family going to pieces while I was too blasted outta my skull to do anything about it. Shit, I'd helped it along, hadn't I?

What was this after, this new run just waiting for me to follow its jagged path? Remained to be seen. But I swore I'd give it everything to make it the beginning of the rest of my life; a smooth, sweet ride that meshed seamlessly with the future I'd give the babe curled up next to me and her little sis.

I had to. Fucking up again was not an option.

* * *

The ride was long and hard the next day. Woke up with a nasty bruise on one cheek, plus a few kinks in my shoulders and ribs from all the places those fuck faces hit me at the warehouse.

We all ate a quick breakfast in the hotel, checked out, and then we were on our way, second leg of the two day trip to Missoula. It all hinged on time, getting our ducks in a row back in Redding before Fang had too many of his own to snuff us out. The rest hinged on those Devil assholes cooperating.

Thinking about that shit made me want to rip everything apart. Having Shelly as his wife – or Saffron as he called her, my sis' old stripper name – was the only fucking reason Blaze agreed to talk to me at all. And I still didn't know how I was really gonna sit down with those assholes without punching their teeth out.

I'd barely kept it together during their wedding in Reno. Two Prairie Pussies, Stinger and Tank, nearly beat me to a bloody pulp the minute they saw me. Thank fuck their old ladies were there to talk sense to 'em.

We spent the next night in Coeur d'Alene. I got us all some grub at a sit down restaurant. It was strange to eat in public without my cut on over the tight gray shirt, but the Idaho panhandle was Grizzlies MC territory, and I damned well had to keep a low profile. There was no telling what the charters would do as news about the power struggle in Redding spread.

More than a few Prezes out there had axes to grind with Fang, and there was never a better opportunity. But the bastard also put plenty of loyal thugs in place over the years, far and wide, including pussy fuckers who'd stay with him 'til the bitter end while the cartel had them scared shitless.

Dinner was good. The girls both seemed happier. They chatted and smiled, a welcome thaw in the tension I'd seen between them yesterday. Missy told me about her accounting shit while little Jackie rolled her eyes in boredom. Promised right then she'd be going back to school – shit, both of them – as soon as we were clear and free.

“Brass? This is it?” Jackie wrinkled her nose when we pulled up to the only hotel with vacancies.

The kid had good reason to whine. The place was a fucking dump, and I seriously contemplated camping out in the truck for the night over staying here. Too bad a hot shower sounded like it was worth the price of admission alone.

I took a full lap around the place, looking for obvious signs of dangerous deals going down or bitches whoring themselves out. Any one of those things wasn't just bad for the kid – it could indicate a connection to the local MC. The Idaho crew made most of their money off women since the Devils' shipments west started to drain our old business.

I looked high and low, searching for skanks or unassuming bikes parked within a couple blocks. Nothing. Missy was leaning on my shoulder.

Stroking my arm, she whispered in my ear. “It's cheap. It's a warm bed. Let's just take it, Brass. Seriously. We've had worse.”

I nodded, parked the truck, and got out ahead of the girls. My ears matched my eyes – the place was eerily quiet.

Yeah, this is the time when most dudes would get in the truck and gun it, or else get gnawed to pieces by some fucked up thing in a bad horror movie. I'd stopped being afraid of anything worse than the murderous freaks I'd run into over the years.

Missy and Jackie hung close while we checked in, right where I wanted them. It took a few rings to rouse the old goat from the back. He spoke in a thick accent – maybe Russian or Polish or some shit – and took my cash without even giving me the stink eye for skipping the card like most decent hotels.

I didn't like the way the fuck's eyes wandered. One of them looked artificial. The other kept skipping me entirely and sinking to the side, staring at Jackie while she messed with a vending machine on the other side of the shitty lobby.

“Something else you need?” I growled, wishing he'd hurry the fuck up.

The jackoff looked down sheepishly and shook his head, reassuring me everything was in order.

Soon as he passed me the keys, I grabbed Missy's hand and walked over to the little girl. “Let's get the fuck inside and rest for a few hours. Don't forget to check for bed bugs.”

My girl gave me a worrying look. Jackie just laughed. The room was cramped, a little smoky, but surprisingly not bad.

The women showered, one after another, and then it was my turn. However shitty the place was, it had a working water tank. Feeling the hot jets racing down my muscles felt fucking amazing after two days of pure hell. Only thing better would've been having Missy there with me, wet and slippery and sexy as the time I took her at the apartment, the first time we fucked.

Fuck, my cock throbbed like mad. Had to fight hard to resist jerking it. No, I wasn't resorting to that teenage shit. Didn't care how many hours were left before I fucked my woman – I wasn't gonna do anything but fucking when the time came.

Truth time: I hadn't jerked my dick in years when there was always pussy waiting for it. But no pussy was more perfect than hers, and the need to be inside it almost put me in a straight jacket.

I was practically drooling by the time I stepped out, toweled off, and dried my hair. When I came out, the girls were already crashed out in two beds, exhausted after the day long drive.

I stayed shirtless and climbed in next to my old lady. For a few minutes, I laid there, listening for anything fucked up going on outside the room, any sign I should pass on sleep and meet the Prairie Pussies tomorrow with bloodshot eyes.

My fucking body didn't want to cooperate. The sandman yanked my eyelids like cheap shades. I ended up falling asleep without even realizing it.

I dreamed about anger, violence, and sex. Same shit that always rattled my brain at night. It was more feverish than usual, and at some point I rolled, opening my eyes.

The bed next to us was empty.

Fuck!

I shot up like a lightning bolt and reached for Missy first. She was still there – thank fuck – rolling sharply when she felt my arm sweeping over her. She moaned, rubbing her eyes.

“Brass?” She said, full of grog.

“Stay right there, babe. Don't fucking move. Take this.” I reached onto the night stand and took the switchblade, handing it to her.

It was her turn to panic when she sat up and saw what was going on. The covers went flying off the bed and she stood, desperately scanning the room.

“Where's Jackie!?”

“Don't fucking know, but I'm gonna find out.”

She called after me, but I was on the move. I'd seen enough shit to know every single nano-second counts in a situation like this. My blood roared like a lion's at his breaking point. Fuck, if anybody took her and plucked a single brown hair outta her head, I'd gut them faster than they could beg for their miserable life.

Outside, it was still pitch dark. Several lights were burned out, and the place was quiet as ever.

No, there was something coming from below. Moaning. A bed creaking. Somebody fucking.

Loud shouts. A woman screamed – this time, not in pleasure.

I didn't bother with the stairs leading down from our second floor room. I hopped right over the fucking rail and fell several feet, hitting the pavement hard. Ignoring the fire in my knees, I headed for the noisy room and threw myself threw the door.

The couple in bed was greasy, disheveled, and ugly as sin. They'd stopped fucking because of the jackass rolling around on the floor, the asshole with the lazy eye who'd checked us in.

He was thrashing around in pain, grabbing his crotch. Jackie was backed into a corner, her clothes messed up, eyes red with tears, shaking. Just like a cornered cat.

Hot air hissed out my lungs. If the fuck managed to do anything, she wouldn't be dressed. I charged like a bull, jumping on the bed, ripping off the covers.

The couple were just as nasty underneath the sheets. They screamed, rolling on the floor, trying to get away. Or that's what I thought at first, before the pudgy asshole who'd been fucking the hag started to laugh.

I looked at the nightstand and saw a familiar arrangement. Smack, ice, several joints half-burned to a crisp, a nine millimeter with its clip laying next to it. Typical junkie shit. I grabbed the drugs in a fistful and threw it on the bitch, who was shaking and moaning, halfway outta her fucking gourd.

These motherfuckers wouldn't say shit. If the motel wasn't deserted, somebody else would've been standing at the door I'd kicked in after all this commotion, but there was no one there except –

“Missy. Take your sis and go. I'll handle this.”

My girl looked like she'd seen a fucking ghost. Well, she'd definitely seen some demons. I walked to the corner, took Jackie's hand, and led her out to her big sister.

“I hope you busted his fucking balls, girl. You did the right thing. Don't feel bad for a single goddamned second. I'll do the rest,” I whispered in her ear and ran my fingers through her hair before handing her off.

Reaching into my pocket, I handed Missy the keys. “Get the truck warmed up and wait for me. Change of plans. We're heading out early and not stopping 'til we hit Missoula.”

I waited 'til I heard the truck's growl to shove the door shut – at least as much as it would close on the busted hinges. Then I walked to the asshole on the floor, reaching for my gun, the lazy eyed fuckface who'd tried to make an innocent girl part of this sick orgy.

He saw me coming, reached into his pocket, and haphazardly flashed a hunting knife. I rolled my eyes, stomping his hand flat with my boot. The knife and his fingers crunched underneath my foot. Didn't let up 'til I had to lean down and silence his screams.

“Lemme go, Mister! I didn't hurt her...ow! Honest, honest – fucking honest! Just wanted to have a little fun...make a little movie...”

I saw the bag behind him on the stand by the bathroom, clearly holding a camera. Good. That would come in handy in a minute.

No, I hadn't gotten an epiphany about peace and forgiveness. The fuck was as good as dead the second I walked in here, but now I had an idea. Skinning his ass was gonna help me out, and maybe my brothers too.

I looked to my side, glancing at the old TV that looked like it's best days were in the late eighties. “You know, I can handle the peeling paint and the old sheets. But there are some things you really should've upgraded here.”

He looked at me like I'd lost my mind. It was the last look the fucked up worm would ever give anyone. I reached down, grabbed his hair, and picked him up, throwing him face first into the TV with all my might.

Funny how broken circuits and glass can drown out a man's screams. He was too shocked to howl or struggle as I picked up his hunting knife and drove it into his back, stabbing him repeatedly 'til he stopped moving. His carcass slumped halfway to the floor and stopped, held up by the TV still attached to his head.

The skank on the floor between the beds was looking at me, trying to process what she'd seen through her druggie brain. I still had a couple little baggies of shit I'd scooped up off the table in my pocket.

Her eyes lit up when I approached, holding the small pack of ice in front of her face the way you tease a dog with a treat. “You want this shit?”

“Yeah! Just give it to me. My man's hogged enough for one day...” Over on the other side, the fat man groaned, totally blasted.

“I'd say he has. It's all yours, if you tell the camera who killed this fucker with his head in the screen.” I pointed.

It took her a moment to follow my hand. “Who? Who? Who killed you, Joey?”

I let that shit sink in, listening to her mumbling like a demented owl as I picked up the camera, took it outta its case, and gave it a quick look. Everything seemed fine. It was old, still had a tape, but I knew how to use it. Now, I just hoped the piece of shit I'd thrown through the TV wasn't so sloppy it was broke.

“This is a hit ordered by Fang, bitch. Say it. Fang, President of the Grizzlies Motorcycle Club, California. You tell 'em I left the fucking message with you, right after I threatened to cut your throat. I came, I saw, I fucked him up for stealing from the club. Drugs, bitch – that ice you're hankering for –

understand?” I used my best interrogator voice while I unscrewed the cap. “Now, repeat that back to me.”

Camera on.

“Fang did this. The Grizzlies. Bikers...biker bastards. You...you threatened to cut me open...” She sniffed, eyes more vacant than ever. “This is for drugs...drugs! Shit, where's mine?”

I let the camera pan around the room, focusing on the dead man. Sooner or later, some boys in blue would find this fucking mess, but my junkie “witnesses” would be long gone by then. They wouldn't know what the hell because it wasn't meant for them.

I had it all mapped out in my head. This was Plan B, a backup in case too many charters outside California sided with Fang. Once they saw this sloppy shit, he was one lame fucking duck.

“You killed him! You and your Grizzlies,” the junkie screamed, recognition flickering in his eyes. “All over my sweet crystal...”

I teased her, giving the baggie in my free hand a shake. She slapped her fists on the ground, truly upset, rolling her head back and letting tears slide down her cheeks. Perfect.

Switching the camera off, I stuffed it in its case, and then threw the ice in her lap. Turning my head away from her for the last time was a fucking relief. I'd need a couple long, hard nights with Missy to forget those saggy, bruised tits.

“Snort up. Don't use it all in one night.”

I heard her laughing behind me as I stepped out and closed the door. By some small miracle, I'd barely gotten Lazy Eye's blood on me when I did him in. Just had his hunting knife with me, and it'd be getting cleaned up and dropped in the trash at the nearest remote place we found on our way to Devils' territory.

Missy got out of the driver's seat and slid over when she saw me coming. I got in the truck and felt her hand on mine.

“How's our girl doing?” I asked, looking across her at Jackie.

“Just fine. He didn't touch her. He never got the chance. He forced her downstairs with a knife...came into our room when we were fucking sleeping.” Rage filled her voice.

I nodded, taking the wheel and steering the truck onto the road. “It's all over, babe. We got lucky this time.”

“No,” Missy snapped. “You did this. You protected us both.”

She squeezed my arm something fierce. “God, Brass. We'd be dead or worse several times over if it wasn't for you.”

“You can't sell your sis short, babe. Jackie's strong, just like her big sis. I like hearing how awesome I am, just like anybody else, but fuck me if you're not holding your own. Both of you. And I need you to keep it up.”

She leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. “We'll try.”

“Fuck yeah, you will,” I growled, tapping the accelerator to catch some speed on the highway. “You'll stay strong because that's the way I like my woman. If I didn't think you could, I wouldn't have kept you as mine, even with that smoking hot bod.”

She smiled, leaned in, and kissed my arm. Over in the darkness, Jackie was glancing our way. I really felt bad for the kid. She'd been through so fucking much. Couldn't catch a break wherever we ended up.

But that little glimmer in her eye said she approved. She understood. She was catching up to Missy, becoming a woman in her own right, forged in the fire no teen should have to face.

And after we got to Montana, I was gonna make sure she never had to again.

The Lazy Eyed fucker I'd killed and greedily recorded had gotten too damned close to wrecking everything. Anger pumped in my veins, and even having sweet Missy's skin on mine wouldn't calm it just now.

There was no pulling back. No letting my guard down. Nothing but red hot rage was gonna serve me 'til I saw Fang's lifeless eyes and my girls finally had a place to settle the fuck down.

They deserved a home, somewhere to rest without having to worry about who'd be at their throats the next day. God willing, I'd deliver home and a lot more. This shit between us – all three of us – went beyond convenience and love.

They were part of me. They shared my suffering. For that, they'd soon be showered with everything I could give 'em. I'd run my crazy ass ragged so they never had to suffer a damned thing every day they drew breath.

* * *

My eyes burned when we got to Missoula, but I wasn't tired. No fucking way was I surrendering to the thing that nearly fucked me over 'til I was good and sure my work was done.

When we got into town, I pulled into a rest stop. Kept a close eye on the girls while I placed a call to Blackjack. Let him know I'd be sending a copy of the video his way in the next day or two.

Back in the truck, Missy was leaning on me a little more with every mile, staring into my eyes.

“You're sure we can trust these men, Brass?”

“No.” She looked at me like I'd lost my mind as soon as I said it. “But I do know they don't hurt women and children. The Devils are notorious for picking up strays and nursing 'em back to health. Just in case, I'm not taking any chances...”

She narrowed her pretty eyes, beaming more questions my way. I refused to answer 'til we were right at their gates. The grinning devil on the building behind their fence leered out, a full blown mural with the guys and their infamous logo painted on it.

The gate didn't open. A tall man with short, spiky hair walked up, and I instantly stifled a growl. It was Blaze, the bastard who'd married my sister. The giant named Tank and the shorter, leaner guy who served as his VP, Stinger, was coming up behind him.

“Stay here!” I heard my girl yell to her kid sis, joining me at the gate.

Fuck, I didn't like her there, right in the open, but I wasn't gonna fight it.

“Hold up,” Blaze snapped, throwing up a hand. “Wait here while we open up. Gonna have my Sergeant-at-Arms pat your asses down and make sure you're not fucking with us.”

“Nope.” Blaze's whole body twitched at my reply. “I'll stand here. You can pat me down, and me only. Lay a hand on my old lady or her kid sister in the truck, and I'll turn this fucking thing right around and take my chances alone back in Redding.”

Blaze snorted, shaking his head. “You gotta be shitting me. You're the fuck who's come to my doorstep begging, remember? My clubhouse, my rules.”

Stinger gave a stern nod. Behind him, Tank glowered, flexing his cannon-sized arms. The big fucker still wanted the blows he hadn't gotten back in Reno, when the old ladies held him back from smashing me to mush.

Missy reached over and smoothed her hands over my arm. “Brass...”

One look at her soothed the anger, if only a notch. Fuck. If I was alone, I wouldn't have hesitated to stand here all day and argue with these fucks. But nothing was easy since my old lady and the kid came into my life.

“All right. You're an asshole, Blaze, but I know you're a reasonable man. I know Blackjack talked to you by now about safe harbor for my girls...you give me that up front, right now, and I'm yours. The fucking gorilla behind you doesn't even need to pat me down nicely. You know, unless he's into that.”

Tank grunted angrily, taking a step forward. Blaze spun, gave him the evil eye, and then turned back to me, clenching his fists on the iron bars.

“And you're a junkie asshole I don't trust within an inch of my life,” he growled. “Too bad you're also my woman's only blood, or we wouldn't be having this talk right now.”

His eyes shifted to Missy. Nervous anger and uncertainty showed in her tight face, but she held his gaze.

Blaze let out a long sigh and lowered his face for a second, before bringing it back up. “Fuck. Okay. Here's how it's gonna go. The girls get out, stand off to the side, and I'll have Sting search the truck. If you're not hiding anything fucked up, you hand your chick the keys and she goes on her merry way, straight to the hotel we've got arranged. Nowhere else. I'll keep two guys posted to make sure nobody unexpected shows up.”

I didn't like it, but I could live with those terms. I nodded.

“Tank.” Blaze called his name and he stepped forward, punching the code on their side.

The gate slid open. Stinger marched out first, shooting me an uneasy look, heading for the truck. Missy ran ahead of him to collect Jackie.

Goliath stood next to me like a statue. Knew the fucker was waiting to get through searching the vehicle before he had his fun.

Stinger combed everything over thoroughly. Blaze made me grind my teeth and rage on the best day, but I had to admit, the asshole sure knew how to pick his crew. He had more skilled, level headed guys under him right now than Redding had seen for years, despite being a whole lot bigger. Sting's search was all over in a couple minutes, cold and efficient.

“It's clear, Prez. Nothing in there I wouldn't expect to see after a long road trip,” the VP said, saluting with a huge smile.

“Okay. Grab Moose and get your bikes to escort this fucking rust bucket home.” He turned to me. “Now's a damned good time to hand over the keys. You packing any heat, you hand it over right now.”

We locked eyes. I couldn't tell whether or not the fucker was enjoying this, but he was deadly insistent. Growling, I reached into my pocket while Tank eyeballed me, throwing my keys and wallet to Missy first.

“Go, babe. You'll both be fine. I'll get over there as soon as I can later,” I said, pulling out my nine millimeter and passing it to Blaze.

She gave me one last, longing look, and then took off. I watched her climb into the driver's seat, waiting for the Prairie Pussies. A couple bikes roared out through the half-open gate a second later, Stinger on one, and a fat bearded dude with an eye patch on the one behind him.

The truck started up and followed the Harleys down the road. Soon as we were alone, the whole world shifted.

Tank picked me up like a measly branch and slammed me into the brick wall next to the gate. My torso hit so fucking hard it sucked the wind outta my lungs. I grinned and tried to laugh, but nothing would come out. Grinning and baring it was all I could do to avoid signing my death warrant, swinging around and throwing my fist into his thick jaw.

His fat hands thumped hard down my back, then rounded my sides. When he got to my boot, I remembered I'd forgot to take out my blade.

Shit!

“Hey, big guy, there's a –“

Tank practically tore my leg off. I hit the ground and he was still pulling on it, growling as he undid the strap with the holster.

He held it up, drawing out the knife, smiling in the faint evening sun. “Figured as much. Looks like it's just this knife, boss. Wouldn't have done us no harm.”

Blaze nodded, satisfied. He stared at me on the ground, stepping closer. Finally, he extended a hand.

Shaking his hand like this brought the whole fucked up reality home. I had to swallow all the bitter rivalry as he helped me up. I was used to venom and bullets from Devils, but fucking handshakes?

“Come on.” He gave me a rough shove as soon as I was on my feet. “I'll give you a minute to say hello to your sis, and then you don't step one foot outside the meeting room 'til I say so.”

I nodded. There. That felt a lot more like the Devils I knew, and I could relate to it a lot more than that alien nice guy shit.

* * *

“Jordan!” Shelly came running toward me before I got two steps into the clubhouse.

She was working at the bar, and she threw herself at me, practically bowling me over on the floor for the second time that day. I couldn't resist locking my arms around her.

Hard to believe so much shit happened in just a couple months since the wedding.

“Hey, sis. It's Brass here around these boys,” I reminded her.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Just like you're gonna suck it up and call me Saffron?”

Damn. Hearing that fucking stripper name was always like a shot in the chest, but right now we had more important things. I hugged her one more time and then stepped back, nodding.

“Whatever you wanna be called, it's damned good to see you again. We'll catch up later when business is done.”

“We'll be the judge of that,” Blaze growled, slamming a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Let's go. You've said your piece.”

Shelly gave him a disapproving look. Blaze shrugged.

“Club business, baby. You know that.” He paused, flashing my sis a knowing smile. “Don't worry. We won't scratch a hair on his head unless he gives us a damned good reason to. All the boys are under orders not to. Even Tank.”

She nodded, relief shining in her face. “Make sure you bring him back here when you're finished. We barely got to talk at the wedding.”

Great. More drama for later. Didn't have a fucking clue how to tell her I'd picked up an old lady who almost killed my ass at first, plus a little girl.

Being marched into the large Devils' meeting room with Blaze behind me was almost a relief. Everybody was there waiting for me, a buncha guys I'd seen before, sans Stinger and Moose.

Blaze filed in behind me and pointed to a chair in the middle of the table. I sat, watching as he took his place. Typical Prairie Pussy bravado. The other guys looked like they'd suck his dick, all except Tank, who seemed like such a heavy bastard in his own right he didn't need to fawn over anybody.

Still, there was something in their eyes I'd never seen with Fang. True respect. Brotherhood.

They looked at their Prez like a worthy leader, not a man they ran favors for on fear alone.

“All right, bros, let's get this shit started,” he said, picking up a small gavel at the head of the table and slamming it down. “Church is in session, and we have a guest. Never thought I'd see a motherfucking bear at this table.”

He shook his head. I snorted. The disbelief was mutual. It was surreal as shit being here, staring at the faces of these men and their devil emblems, everything I'd been trained to destroy.

“Seems there's a power struggle in the Grizzlies MC,” Blaze continued. “Worse than the shit we've been hearing about their brush fire war with the cartel. Fang's reached his limit, and that's pretty fucking serious news for our club, seeing as we've always been on edge since Throttle sealed the truce with the bears.”

The two national Presidents putting blood aside seemed like eons ago – right here in Montana, no less. But it was really less than a year and a half ago, back when easy pussy and pushing sweet fire in my veins was all I had to worry about.

“Fang's a fucking idiot,” I growled. “Traitor to his own club.”

A tall, muscular dude around my own age snickered several chairs over. Blaze shot him an angry look. The Devil froze, pivoting his lip ring on his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, Roller. I'm not gonna disrespect this asshole's colors as long as he doesn't shit on ours.” Blaze looked at Tank next to him, and then at me. “Now, Brass, you gonna tell us why the fuck Blackjack sent you racing up to our territory?”

I told them everything. How the fucked up war with the cartel weakened the whole club, fanning tensions that were simmering for years. Told them how they'd tried to kill me, how I shredded that psycho's face who'd tried to kill my girl, how Blackjack believed the club could turn itself around if it just burned away the cancer at the top.

When I was finished, Blaze leaned back in his chair, his jaw clenched thoughtfully. He turned to Tank.

“What do you think?”

“It's a real sad story, boss,” Tank said. Not something I ever expected to hear from the giant. “But having this boy here's a real load of bullshit.”

There. That's more like the Prairie Pussy badass wannabe I know. I looked at Goliath and grinned.

Blaze folded his hands and leaned forward, all his attention on me again. “I'm inclined to agree. Look, Brass, we appreciate you giving us a head's up about this shit. Mostly so we can stay the fuck out of it. What were you hoping to do with this little knock and talk?”

Fuck. Typical selfish Prairie Pussy bastard. I balled fists underneath the table, trying not to let the anger in my eyes flood everything.

“Blackjack and I are trying to save both our asses. Can't you fucking see that? I know this club's been through the grinder ever since you started this charter, Blaze. The last thing you wanna do is strap on your knee highs and go wading through our cesspool.”

“Damned straight,” Blaze said with a smile.

“And you're a fucking idiot if you let the past blind you to what's coming.”

Blaze's smile melted. Tank rose, slow and angry, ready to choke the life outta me for insulting his Prez in their own clubhouse.

“Wait, wait,” Blaze said, putting up his arm over Tank. “Let's give him one chance to qualify that before we shut his ass up for saying such stupid shit.”

“This shit will spill over into your club, Blaze. What I didn't get a chance to tell you is Fang thought I was a rat for the Devils. Not the cartel.”

“Fuck!” Tank growled, settling back into his chair.

“I know. We had a major shipment fucked up in Washington last week. He doesn't believe the Mexicans would slip so far north and hit us past Redding. Didn't take him long to draw a target on the Devils, thinking you'd double-crossed us while we've been busy.”

“Bastard!” Blaze's fists hit the table. “If that dumb motherfucker wants a war on his northern flank, we'll give him one. We'll ride through Sacramento with his fucking head on our bikes before the Mexicans can get to it.”

The Devils Prez was shaking. Hot headed as usual, but for once, I didn't blame him for having such a short fuse.

“Dunno, boss,” Tank said, eyeing me warily. “There's only eight of us, maybe double if we put in a call for reinforcements from the Dakota boys. That's enough to take Redding with Brass and his splinter group, but it's not shit if we gotta battle dudes from every other Grizzlies charter too.”

Blaze shook his head. “I hate to say it, but you're fucking right. Having this club on your side isn't gonna mop up every charter from Coeur d'Alene to San Diego. Besides, it sounds like the cartel's got your man on the ropes. Maybe we'd be better off here, beefing up our defenses, waiting for your evil empire to fall.”

I laughed. He really didn't see the full picture, and it was like talking to the goddamned wall trying to pry his eyes open.

Don't give up. This is the end of the line, boy. One more try, or settling down with Missy's gonna be the least of your worries.

I couldn't ignore the persistent voice in the back of my mind. I tried to stay calm as I looked at Blaze and stood, hands on the table, not even looking past him when Tank got up and began sizing me up.

“You're totally fucking wrong, Blaze. I wouldn't come here asking you for favors without holding an ace.” This time, I looked at Tank, the fiercest skeptic in the room. “He botched a hit a couple weeks ago. Some druggy with an old personal vendetta. When the fucker wouldn't pay up, he sent his boys after the guy. Ended up with a dagger in his back.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Tank growled. “Give us something we can chew on or shut the fuck up, bear.”

I grinned. “Fang doesn't take trophies like Devils do. He likes to see it all go down on video. Some guys recorded the crime scene. Even got some junkie bitch holed up in the room to squawk about what happened on film. Go ahead and fucking guess who's brought the tape to Big Sky country.”

Silence.

Tank and the younger guys eyeballed me like they wanted to drag my ass out back and put a bullet through my head. Blaze drummed his fingers on the table, angrily digesting the bitter pill I'd just forced down his throat. He knew damned well how restless other club Prezes got when shit started to fall apart. One more bombshell that made the head honcho a target for the Feds was one straw too many, one last kick that would bring the whole rotten structure down.

He didn't need to know I'd killed the fuck myself and bribed the junkie to spill what I told her. He didn't need to know the twisted bastard was just a convenient kill I'd made for Jackie, warping the murder into a weapon against Fang.

I swore I'd bring his ass down. Any white lie, any kill, any fucked up stroke of luck was on the table.

Only trouble is, Blaze still didn't look convinced. Shit. I had to head him off before he could open his angry mouth and breathe selfish fear back into all his guys.

“Look, I get it. Calling in your support means a battle, even if there's hardly anyone left standing by Fang's side. But it's a battle that must be fought. This shit doesn't end any other way – not even if Fang ends up with his neck on some Mexican's machete. It's not over 'til my club's removed its cancer and starts to heal. Don't you see it? If the Grizzlies fall apart, guess who's next in line for the cartel?”

I gave him a chance to answer. He didn't.

“Those boys from south of the border don't fight like MCs. There's no code, no club charter holding 'em back, no mercy. It's all about green to them. Green money and red blood.” I rubbed my fingers together. “My club has a lot of fucking problems, I'm not blind to that. But we didn't fall apart over night either. We were kicking your asses, barely raising a finger, back before the cartel started bombing, shooting, and raping everything in sight. They're taking the Grizzlies down, piece by piece, and we're a helluva lot bigger than your club. What the fuck do you think they're gonna do when we're dead and buried? When there's nobody left to fight them tooth and nail between Mexico and Montana?”

Blaze opened his mouth to give me more hell, but nothing came out. He closed it, his lips twitching angrily, drumming his fingers on the table.

“This is the kinda shit that needs to go up for a vote,” he said quietly. “You're not a voting member, Brass. Kindly get the fuck out. I need all the brothers here so we can make our decision.”

“You mean I'm free to walk?”

“Wherever you won't trip on our club.” He looked past me. “Let's recess, bros. I'll tell Sting and Moose to bring this fucker's girls back around. They can hang out in the bar with him while we make our decision.”

Blaze looked at me, and I nodded, exiting the room before his gavel clapped the wood. I headed for the bar to see my sis, wondering if it was really possible we'd just come to some kinda fucked up understanding.

* * *

Missy ran to me when they got in. Jackie followed cautiously behind her, taking a seat at the bar.

I dropped the strong man act in my rival's lair just long enough to grab my girl's ass and press her to me. Fuck, her lips tasted good.

There'd been too much drama and too much Jackie around to fuck her like I wanted. Christ, after this vote, I needed to get in her again. Every second my cock wasn't buried in her pussy was a shitty one.

“Did they treat you right?” I asked, shifting my eyes on the two man escort strolling toward the meeting room.

“They were great!” Jackie chimed in before her big sis could answer.

“Yeah.” Missy smiled. “Jackie got a kick out of Moose talking like a pirate. He's the one with the –“

“Eye patch,” I finished for her. “I know.”

I hadn't heard how their Treasurer even lost his fucking eye, but it must've been recent. Still, hearing the good news put me a little bit at ease. The Prairie Pussies were assholes, but I wasn't worried they'd steal my women and cut their throats. It was nice to relax, if only a little bit.

“Who's this?” Saffron said, heading for the table with a pitcher of beer like I asked.

Missy looked at my sister, and I had a weird flashback to me and Blaze sizing each other up. My girl spoke first, studying Shelly's old lady jacket. It had a big PROPERTY OF BLAZE on the back, standard for claimed women in most clubs.

“I'm Missy Thomas, and this is my sister, Jackie. I'm Brass' old lady, and proud of it.” She stuck out a hand.

“Brass? Holy shit!” Shelly looked at me for a long time before I finally took the pitcher outta her hands and she took my girl's palm, giving it a shake.

Jackie laughed.

Fuck.

Wasn't sure what was worse: waiting to see if the Devils behind the wall voted to save our asses, or trying to explain to my little sis that I finally had something in my life worth living for.