I’ve never really had a home before and as strange as it sounds—even to me—Marcum and his club felt like a home. That’s the overwhelming feeling I experience as I leave them behind. I do need to go, though; there’s no getting around that. I know it. To stay would be insane. Marcum’s moods shift with the wind. And now…with my attraction to him in the mix—it’s really just too dangerous for me to stay.

I don’t think I could handle seeing him with one of the club women. Not after having felt his gentle touch. I’ve dreamed about him. I’ve kissed him—even if it was mostly chaste. I couldn’t handle not having that and watching another woman get it in place of me.

Then there is the club itself. I’ve lived most of my life with a dangerous man. I don’t need to be living in a clubhouse full of them. I need to get away, to start over far away from everyone here in Crescent City. Even as I say that, I know. I have to leave Florida all together. That’s the only way to see peace from my father… and to not risk running into Marcum again.

The longer I walk, the sadder I get. I rub the sides of my arms. I keep getting the feeling someone is watching me. When I look around, I don’t see anyone and again I just mark it down to nerves. As I near the old road I can hear a vehicle running. This is almost over. Once I get away and put Florida—and Marcum—behind me, everything will be better.

When I make it through to the clearing there’s an older woman sitting behind the wheel of a red convertible. She’s really pretty. Her red hair falls in waves with just enough curl that it looks beautiful. She’s got long slim fingers that have red painted nails that match her lipstick. She’s looking around nervously and then she spots me. She studies me for a minute and then smiles.

“You must be Weasel’s girl Toi,” she says.

I swallow, but nod my head.

“Well, come on. We need to get going if we’re going to make it to the Greyhound station in time.”

A sense of disbelief hits me. I expected a double cross. I came prepared to fight for my life and there’s nothing…

Could it be possible that my father didn’t lie?

My legs are frozen in place for a moment, so great is my shock. Then when I do start walking it’s to hear the ringing of motorcycle pipes. I can’t hear the woman, but I can read her lips when she yells.

“Shit! Hurry!”

I stumble, but I’m at the car door when a hand slaps against it, stopping me. I turn around to see Ghost standing there. He followed me. There’s no other explanation.

“I don’t think so, Toi.”

I might have tried to respond, but the motorcycles arrive that we heard and there’s Marcum and he’s looking right at me. Fear flutters through me at the look on his face. I think it might all be directed at me, but it’s not. I know that absolutely when he stops by the car and looks at the other woman.

He knows her.

I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does.

“Well, I sure as fuck didn’t expect this,” Marcum growls. He looks over at Topper. “Don’t let her leave,” he orders, his voice low. Then he walks around the car to me. Ghost moves away and there in front of me is the man I desperately needed to leave. The man I didn’t want to leave. The man whose anger I can almost reach out and touch right now.

“I have some shit to handle here, Dragonfly,” he says, and as mad as he is… his voice is softer when he talks to me. “I know what you had planned.”

“I didn’t—” I try to reply, not sure of what I will say, but feeling like I should say something.

“Let me deal with this, Toi. I’ll help you leave when I’m done, you have my word,” he says and his words hurt me. Why they do, I don’t know. I should be glad he’s giving in like this. It should make me happy. But the pain is so intense that I have to fight to keep from crying. Then he turns around, motions Topper and Ride. They walk over in the clearing away from the car and Ghost joins them. My legs are weak, so now that I can, I open the door and slide in it. If I don’t sit, I’m going to fall down. I look up and find Ghost’s eyes on me. Marcum is looking this way too, but he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the other woman.

“Fuck, I have to try and salvage this. If you got my ass caught…” she grumbles at me, and I look over at her. I have no idea what I’m going to say to her, because I don’t know this woman. She doesn’t give me the chance, however. She hops out of the car and hurries over to where Marcum and his men are.

“Marcum, honey, what’s going on here?” she asks, putting her hand on his back. I’ve never been jealous. Mostly, I’ve never had something to be jealous over. Marcum most assuredly is not mine, and yet the sight of her hand on him makes jealousy burn deep inside of me. I don’t like it. I can’t even tell you the reasons I don’t. I just know that in this moment I’d gladly scratch her eyeballs out.

“Cherry, back the fuck away. I’m talking to my men and then you and I will discuss how you’re helping Weasel betray me.”

Cherry.

I may not know her, but I definitely know that name. Butterflies seem to take flight in my stomach. I heard his kids talk about Cherry and how much they missed her and how much their daddy loved her. I would have been glad never to see her.

She’s beautiful. More Marcum’s age, but she carries it really freaking well. Her hair is beautiful and maybe her best feature. It’s rich in color and tones that are either all natural or costs a fortune to get touched up every month. Sadly, there’s not a sign of gray in it. She’s tiny. Her body is sleek and athletic, with perky breasts that are either natural or the woman has a hell of a knack for picking out bras. I feel mousey compared to her and my ass suddenly feels like it’s five sizes bigger.

I make myself look away. I have to. I can’t handle the sight of them talking together. That’s when I see it. A flash of metal reflecting in the slowly dying sun. I blink a few times, trying to figure out what it is. That’s when I see the barrel of a gun sticking out from the tree line, and my own father holding it. He’s got his hand on the trigger and it’s trained on… Marcum.

I want to scream. I try a few times. But my voice isn’t loud enough to carry over the raised voices of Cherry and Marcum. I could blow the horn but I’m not sure Marcum would move. More than likely, he will turn to face me and make an even broader target for my father to hit. I make a split second decision and slide over the console of the car and get in the driver’s seat. I yank the car into drive, and then I floor it. The car’s back tires squeal and I fight the wheel to keep it from fishtailing.

I thought I could hear someone screaming my name, but probably not. Between the screaming of the car’s tires and the thumping of my own heart—I doubt I could hear anything. My father sees me and he pulls the gun away from Marcum—and aims it at me. I have the gas pedal on the floor and I’m aiming directly at my father. I don’t know what kind of person I am, but I don’t feel remorse for what I’m about to do. I’m just scared I won’t do it in time to save Marcum.

I can’t let him die….

I can’t let my father kill Marcum.