Kansas was playing over Quickie’s sound system when I pulled up, and the music paused as I was getting out of my truck.

The gas clerk’s voice came over the speaker: “Just for you, Channing. Saw you coming in.”

I waved. “Thank you, man.”

The guy gave me a nod through the window and a thumbs-up before putting the music back on.

“You’re a rock star in Fallen Crest too?”

Shit.

I hadn’t noticed them, but looking across the pumps, I now saw Dex Richter and some of his usual guys with him. I blamed the post-pussy bliss of being with Heather for my distraction, because it was blaringly stupid of me not to notice the Harleys.

Stupid and dangerous.

“Richter.” I greeted him exactly as I felt about him—like he was a permanent pinecone up my ass, because he was. He didn’t care for me either.

Maybe it was because he was jealous I was so much prettier than him. By far. Or maybe it was because my crew kept his motorcycle club from dominating Roussou, or maybe—I had no idea. I’d kicked his ass a few times when we were young. It could be that. The prick had a memory that didn’t let go of anything, including grudges.

His club wanted in on Roussou. I was stopping him.

We would war one day.

But he was not someone I wanted to deal with today. I’d just left Heather. We were on good terms, so far.

I had things to do. People to see.

After first tracking down my little sis to make sure she was still living and hadn’t killed anyone or gotten pregnant (not totally joking there), I needed to check in with my cousin. Heather wasn’t the only prestigious business owner in my life. Tuesday Tits, the bar I ran with my cousin, might cater to a rougher crowd—okay, significantly rougher crowd—but it was profitable.

But this guy…this fucker… I had a sinking feeling all those productive plans were about to go up in smoke.

His biting laugh confirmed it as he walked around to my truck, putting a foot on the back end and resting his arms over the corner, his hands dangling. His entire stance was casual, as if we were friends.

We weren’t friends.

“You don’t sound too thrilled to see me. What’s the problem, Monroe? My guys are some of your regular patrons.”

They were, but that was at my bar where there were rules they had to follow. You enter Tuesday Tits, you’re in my world. You play by my rules. No violence. No MC politics.

“I appreciate their business. I do.” I flashed him a grin. “Speaking of Fallen Crest, this isn’t your usual stomping grounds. What are you doing over here?”

Richter and his guys, along with about fifteen others, made up a local chapter of the Red Demons. They were based out of Frisco, a neighboring town thirty miles northwest of Roussou and northeast of Fallen Crest. While they stopped in Roussou regularly, I knew they didn’t mix it with the elite in Fallen Crest.

“You’re not the only one with relations here.”

“Yeah?” I reached for the pump.

“I have a cousin who got married today.” He indicated his guys. “We were just at the service.”

“Really?” I skimmed them over. They wore their usual jeans, boots, and leather cuts. “You guys dressed up, huh?”

Richter narrowed his eyes.

I couldn’t stop myself, though I needed to. I had no backup if something went down, and I doubted the gas clerk could help. I was a good fighter, but there were five of them, and two looked over three hundred pounds. If they got a hit in, it’d stun me. And that was if, a big if, they didn’t just pull out a gun.

“Saw your little sister at a party recently.”

He said that so casually, like we were discussing the weather.

I hadn’t known how much I hated the word sister coming out of his mouth until he said it.

“Really?” I cooled my tone.

He nodded, a grin flaring for a second. “Oh yeah. I was surprised, but she and her guys rolled right in. They partied for a while. She’s tight with that Shaw kid, huh?”

“They’re in the same crew.” Why is this asshole talking about my sister? “What’s the angle here, Richter? What are you doing? You’ve got kid sisters. You want me to start telling you about them?”

There it was.

The smugness faded. His jaw tightened, and he straightened up from my truck.

“I can do that, if that’s the game you’re playing,” I added.

He swallowed, and his pasted-on smile came back. He held his hands up and made a point about stepping back.

“I’m not intending anything. I swear. I was just mentioning them because they remind me of you and Jax. I remember how you two were back in the day.”

The gas finished, and I turned to take the nozzle out.

I finished and glanced back. “You don’t need to be talking about her either.”

A forced laugh. “Holy fuck, Monroe. You’re testy. I’m not angling for anything.”

“You’re not over here to shoot the shit with me. I know that much. You’re bringing up my sister, then Heather. You’re talking like she and I are done, and you know that’s not the case.”

My eyebrows went up. “Is this about your woman?” I shot back. “Lynna was in Tuesday Tits last week, but I didn’t notice her going home with anyone.” I paused. “That night.”

He’d tensed up at her name.

A second later, he shook his head, moving back another step. “I came over to start a conversation. That’s all.”

I studied him.

“You’re probing.” I spoke clearly. “Why are you probing?”

His eyes narrowed. Just then, the bell on Quickie’s door jingled, and one of his guys came out from inside.

Our “conversation” was done almost as quickly as it had started up.

His guy grunted his name as he walked past us, and all of them got on their bikes. They paused, but Richter waved them on. One by one, they pulled out of the lot.

Richter held back, staring at me, but he was edging toward his bike now. And like other times, a different look came over him once his MC was gone. The sliminess faded, and he sounded genuine when he said, “I know you and I don’t…” He hesitated. “…work well together.”

Work wasn’t the word I would’ve used.

He was smart. He was connected. That made him dangerous.

He’d been circling the waters for a long time now. This was just the first time outside of Tuesday Tits that we’d talked in years. The last time had been across battle lines a few years ago when I told him his MC could drive through Roussou. They could eat in Roussou. They could drink in Roussou, but they couldn’t claim Roussou as one of their territories.

It wasn’t anyone’s, but if it had been, I’d have had to step up and claim it. I just hadn’t because I didn’t want to. That road would be violent. People would die.

“Look, Channing.” His hand gripped the back of his neck. A frustrated vein stuck out from his forehead. “I’m not the enemy you seem to think I am—my guys too. We like Roussou. I have family in Fallen Crest. I don’t understand why there’s this rub between us.” He shrugged, a small smile appearing as he put on his sunglasses. “Who knows. Maybe one day we could become friends?”

Friends.

“Your MC beat up one of my crew two years ago,” I pointed out.

He shrugged. “You guys got us back. You beat up one of my guys.”

I flashed him a hard grin. “I’m thinking that’s why we can’t be friends—and the whole thing where you want to run drugs through Roussou. There’s that too.”

He got on his bike. “Yeah. That too. But other than that, I think we should grab tea one day.” He laughed, starting it up and held up two fingers in a salute, heading out.

Watching him go, an uneasy feeling settled in my chest. That war might be coming sooner than I’d realized.

He’d just given me a warning, in his way. He knew my weaknesses: Heather and Bren. He was letting me know he knew.

I was still standing there when I heard Quickie’s greeting bell again.

“You need me to call the cops?” It was the gas clerk, standing outside the door, holding it open.

I almost laughed. Even if I’d had a bullet in me, I wouldn’t have wanted that. I started for him. “Nah. They went to 10. They don’t know the cops started ticketing there last week.”

The clerk laughed, easing up as I got to him.

He went inside first and moved behind the counter. “Lots of speeding tourists around these parts.”

Yes. Yes, there were. I went to grab a Red Bull before I paid. As I was returning to the front, a black truck roared into the lot, and two idiots jumped out from the back. I say idiots because normal, rational, thinking people wouldn’t be back there, not when the truck was going so fast it had to careen to a stop.

Actual smoke lingered over the tire tracks.

The guy was ringing me up when the door pushed open, and the kids who entered saw me. They braked suddenly.

“Channing!”

Her eyes were wide, but they weren’t scared.

They should’ve been scared.

Inside I cursed, but outwardly, I just sighed and said, “Bren.”

My sister had just entered the building.

“Hey.”

Her three crew guys came in after her. She stopped in front of me, and they all traipsed around her. Each gave me a different head nod. The taller one moved his head down, “Channing.” A note of awe was in his voice, but he kept it going.

The shorter one looked up at me, his eyes widening, but he lifted a finger to his forehead in a small salute. He followed the taller one. Finally Bren’s best friend paused next to her. Cross Shaw looked between the two of us.

She shook her head, just slightly, and he nodded to me too. “Hey, Channing.”

He moved along, but Bren’s eyes lingered over my shoulder a second before looking back up. I had a feeling Shaw was standing a short distance behind me, making sure she didn’t need his backup.

Her mouth pressed together before she cleared her throat. “Hey.” She was wearing a leather coat, jeans way too fucking tight, and a tank way, way too fucking tight.

She was Heather, but with a bigger chip on her shoulder and darker hair. And she didn’t smoke. Thank God.

I wanted to give her my jacket so it’d be like a straitjacket around her, but instead I offered her a closed-mouth smile.

“Were you in Frisco last weekend? At a party?”

She didn’t move. She barely blinked.

She showed no emotion, but I’d surprised her. I knew my sister. She was stone cold, but she wasn’t a big partier, and if she’d gone to Frisco, I needed more information. That wasn’t normal for her.

I waited.

A few seconds passed. She wasn’t going to answer.

“Bren.”

She shrugged. “Not as far as I remember. Why?”

Her crew had gotten their drinks and food. They came back, standing around us. Shaw stood the closest to her. The shortest one went to the register, with the taller one behind him, but both were paying attention to our conversation.

“Did you guys party in Frisco last weekend?” I asked them.

I wasn’t paying Shaw any attention. He was like Bren. He wouldn’t give anything away, but the others shared a look.

The taller one narrowed his eyes, his tone confused. “Yeah. Just Zellman and me.” He nodded to Bren. “B didn’t. She hung back with Cross.”

“Why are you asking?”

Cross was the one who’d asked, but I spoke to Bren. “Richter said he saw you there.”

At the name, all of them straightened up. They were more alert now.

They were well aware who Richter was, and what it meant if he or any other Demon brought up their name. It was a challenge and a threat rolled into one.

I sighed internally, because there wasn’t much else I could do.

Bren did her own thing. She wasn’t a kid I could put structure on. If I did, she’d bolt. She knew it. I knew it. Everyone in her crew and this town knew it. She wasn’t a smart-mouthed teen, or a sarcastic brat. She’d just seen way too much for her age, and I knew I’d contributed to that.

Love her, I reminded myself that again. Just love her. She needed all the unconditional support I could give her, and I hoped to hell I could pull her back into being my kid sister, because as it was—I glanced at her crew. She was more theirs than mine, and the reason was pretty damn simple. They were there for her. I hadn’t been.

But I would be now. Fucking hell, I would be now. I had been.

“Be safe.” I waited until they nodded their response before I moved around to the register. I gestured to them. “I got their stuff.”

The first two whooped. The taller one, Jordan, lifted his fist to pound my shoulder, realized who he was about to touch, and moved his fist up in a half-salute. “Thanks, Channing. You’re the best.”

“Hells to the yee-ah.” Zellman, the shorter one, pumped his energy drink at me, backing out of the store with Jordan following. They had bags of food in hand too.

Shaw held back. He did the same thing as before, glancing to Bren before holding up his coffee. “Thank you.” He followed his friends out to their truck.

Bren was the only one who hadn’t grabbed food or anything to drink. Her hands slid into her pockets and she murmured, “Thank you.”

She started edging back out the door.

“Bren.” I stopped her. “Get something to eat.”

Without meeting my eyes, she snagged whatever was closest to her and tossed it to the clerk. He scanned in the candy bar, and she took it back.

Without a backward look, she joined her crew outside.

“That’ll be $85.63.”

I cursed, but handed over the credit card. I forgot they’d filled up with gas.

Shaw and Bren jumped into the back of the truck, with the other two in the cab, and after a second wave to me, they tore out of there.

For the Roussou badass I was known to be, I felt like the biggest pansy at that moment.