The minutes and hours pass.

I sit in the dark, the Sig Sauer on the table next to me. The curtain’s mostly closed, except for a small opening for me to see through.

I stare into the darkness. And tell myself over and over what a fucking idiot I am.

I never should have fucked Isabel. I can’t believe I let being isolated with her at Connegut get to me like that.

It was only because I was there with her twenty-four seven, and no escaping her ripe, lush curves.

It was only because she was there every second, her body practically begging me to taste it.

I’ve risked my club’s alliance with the Death Devils by fucking her.

But more than that, I’ve risked her safety.

I almost let her get taken by Fowler’s men back there. If I hadn’t been following my cock, that dead fucker never would have gotten as close as he did.

Before I can stop it, Jimmy’s young face appears in my mind, his eyes on me in a silent reproach.

Jimmy. I was supposed to protect him, too. And because I loved him like a brother, I let my emotions get the better of me. I hesitated just a second too long.

I can’t afford to have any emotions where Isabel is concerned. My job is to keep her protected and out of danger. But goddamnit, being around her is clouding my judgment. It’s a special kind of torture to be cooped up with a girl like that, trying not to look at her big brown eyes and her luscious fucking ass. Jesus, not a jury in the world would convict me for wanting her. But as much as I hate to admit it, my feelings for her go beyond just a desire to fuck her.

I think I might be falling for her just a little, too.

I must be the biggest fucking plank in the world.

I stare out into the night and call myself every name in the book. I tell myself what happened with Isabel tonight can’t happen again. I’ve got to get my dick under control. I’ve got to remember I’ve got a job to do, and I can’t let anything — or anyone — stand in the way of that.

The next morning, as soon as it’s light, I slip out the door and ring Oz. As usual, he answers on the first ring.

“Do you never sleep?” I ask him.

“Rarely.” There’s no trace of humor in his voice. I get the feeling Oz is not the joking type. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“To the fact that someone found our safe house last night. One of Fowler’s men. He was coming for Isabel. I ended him.”

Oz lets out a stream of expletives. I’m impressed. I’ve never actually heard him show emotion before.

“Where’s the body?” he finally asks through clenched teeth.

“The Lords are taking care of it. There’ll be no trace.”

I tell Oz the number that was plugged into the burner phone I found on the body. He takes it down without a word.

“Where are you now?” he asks.

“I think it’s best if you don’t know.” I glance toward the door to the motel room. “Oz. How the hell would Fowler’s man have found us? You didn’t know our location. Most of my club didn’t know where we were.”

“I don’t know.”

Anger starts to boil up inside me. “I have a hard time believing that, Oz.”

Silence.

“You’re not being straight with me,” I bark. “God damn it, Oz. How the hell do you expect me to protect your daughter without all the information?”

He hesitates. “I believe… there may be a mole in my organization,” he says at last.

It takes all the strength I have not to smash my phone into the wall of the building. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss. “And how long have you known this?”

“I haven’t known. I’ve suspected.” He pauses, and when he continues, his voice is sharp enough to cut glass. “And unfortunately, I do not know who it is. But when I find out, he will pay.”

“Fuck,” I snarl. I consider Oz’s words. If Fowler’s got one of the Death Devils talking, it stands to reason whoever it is told him someone in our club was protecting Isabel. All I can think is they managed to follow Beast to the turnoff for the safe house, and Fowler sent one of his people to check it out.

I’m just lucky they only sent one man. More than that, and I might not have been able to get Isabel out in time.

If I’m right, that means the Lords can’t help us anymore. We can’t call for help from anyone. I’m on my own to keep Isabel out of harm’s way until this is over.

“We’re going to ground,” I tell Oz, finishing the cigarette I’m smoking and grinding the butt to a pulp under the heel of my boot. “The only way I can keep your daughter safe is to take her somewhere none of you knows about. Not you, not your club, not the Lords.”

Oz weighs my words. “Yes.”

The tension in my back loosens. Because I wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Not this number. Watch for my call.”

I hang up before Oz can reply, and power off the phone. I’m fucking filled with rage that he didn’t tell me all this before. But I push it down because I have to be focused. I need to be clear in my thoughts.

I push open the door to the motel room. Isabel is sitting up in bed, her hair a mess. My cock jumps as I imagine fisting my hand in it.

“Was that my father you were talking to?” she asks in a sleepy voice.

“Yeah.”

“Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?” she yawns.

“Breakfast. Let’s find breakfast first. I’ll tell you when we’re eating.”

“I don’t think they’ll let me in like this.” She points to her feet.

“Ah. Good point. We’ll stop someplace to get you shoes beforehand. I need to make a purchase myself.”

Isabel gets out of bed. She comes to stand beside me and starts digging in her bag. She’s close enough that I can feel the bed-warm heat of her, and I turn my back so she won’t know how hard I am for her.

I sit down and wait until she’s through in the bathroom. Then I go in and take a piss, and brush my teeth. When I’m finished I come back out and zip up my duffel. “Ready?” I ask.

“Ready,” she nods.

I toss the room key on the table and we leave the motel. In the SUV, I turn left onto the road we came in on, in the direction of the next town. It turns out to be a medium-sized place, big enough to have a Wal-Mart and a string of chain restaurants along the highway. I pull into the Wal-Mart and park the car close to the door but off to the side of the lot.

“What’s your shoe size?” I ask Isabel as I reach for the door handle.

“Why can’t I come in with you?”

“You said yourself. You don’t have any shoes.”

Isabel snorts. “If there’s one place I can think of where people won’t bat an eye that I’m in stocking feet, it’s Wal-Mart.”

We go in together, and she’s right — no one even looks twice at her. We go to the shoe department and I wait as she picks out a few different pairs of trainers and tries them on. She finally chooses one, and laces them up as I stand there scanning the store for any strange activity. When she’s finished, she picks up the box to take with us. “Okay, I’m good.”

I lead her to electronics and grab a couple of burner phones. Then we head to the cashiers to pay. By the time we’re walking out the door, Isabel’s stomach is growling audibly.

“Looks like we’d better get you something to eat,” I say dryly.

“I’m starving,” she confesses.

I drive us to the first chain place that serves breakfast. Isabel orders an omelet and coffee. I get eggs, bacon, and toast.

“So,” she says when the waitress walks away with the menus. “Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until you’ve had something to eat?”

“No,” she replies firmly. “I’m sick of being kept in the dark, Thorn. It’s scarier than just knowing the truth.”

I lean back in the booth tiredly and take a swig of coffee. The sleepless night I just spent is starting to get to me. “All right,” I nod. “Where do you want me to start?”

“How about with who that man was last night at the cabin, and what he was trying to do to us?” Isabel’s chin trembles for a second, but she sets her jaw bravely.

“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” I sigh. “But it’s likely he’d been sent by a man who’s out to destroy your father.”

“Destroy him?” Her face turns concerned, but not extremely so. Isabel is clearly the daughter of an MC president. She’s used to Oz being in danger.

“Yeah. I don’t know what the disagreement is between them. Oz never said. But what he told me is that Fowler — that’s the name of the man — likes to get at a man slowly. Indirectly. By going after his loved ones first. Family.” I pause a beat and look Isabel in the eye. “Especially the women.”

Isabel swallows. “Oh,” she says in a small voice.

Our food comes, and I continue to talk. I avoid some of the details that Oz told me had happened to other women Fowler came after. They’re likely to scare her to death. All the same, her face grows pale as I talk, but I force myself to keep going. After all, Isabel asked me. And at this point, I’m through hiding it from her.

“So, all of this is real?” she asks. Her voice is devoid of expression, but I can still hear the fear she’s trying to mask. “It’s not just the product of my father’s overactive imagination?”

“Hardly. This is very real. And you’re in a lot of danger.”

“And you, by extension.”

“Maybe.” I shrug.

“And my father asked your MC to protect me instead of his… because he wanted me kept away from anyone with a direct connection to him?” she guesses.

“That’s right.”

She sits for a moment, digesting this information. “So…” Isabel picks at her half-eaten omelet with her fork. “How did they find us?”

“Oz thinks there’s a mole among the Death Devils. Someone who found out that Oz asked the Lords of Carnage for protection for you, and fed the information to Fowler.” I push down the violent thoughts of what I’d like to do to whoever that motherfucker is. Oz had better find him, and make him pay, or I swear to God I will. “Fowler might have had people tailing the members of our MC. Looks like they got lucky and followed one of the right ones.”

“Beast?”

I nod.

We finish our breakfast mostly in silence. Isabel stares down at her plate and doesn’t manage to eat much more. When she’s finished her coffee, I toss a couple bills on the table and we get up. Isabel has to go to the bathroom, so I come with her and stand watch outside the door, just in case.

When we’re back in the car, Isabel is more subdued than I’ve ever seen her. I don’t know if she’s just trying to take it all in, or if she’s frightened, or if she’s angry. Maybe a little of everything.

I turn the key in the ignition, stifling a large yawn. Isabel blinks, snapping out of her reverie, and looks at me.

“I can drive, if you want,” she offers.

“No. I’m driving.”

“What, do you think only men are good drivers?” she smirks.

“I’m driving,” I say again, louder this time.

Isabel rolls her eyes. “Fine, caveman.”

The fact is, as tired as I am, there’s no way I could be a passenger right now. I’m much too antsy. Driving will give me something to focus on. A way to think out our next steps.

I pull out of the parking lot and back into the snarl of chain fast-food places, auto parts stores, and fuckin’ nail salons. As I turn onto the highway to head out of town, Isabel speaks up again.

“Where are you going to take me?” she asks.

I turn to look at her.

“Honestly?” I say. “I don’t have a clue.”