Staring up at the popcorn ceiling, I sighed.

Morning light was inching its way through the cracks in the venetian blinds, and the sounds of the city waking up were amplified through the open window. Man, it was hot in here. Hot, sticky, and uncomfortable.

Last night had been awkward as hell. I didn’t know who Marini was anymore. I didn’t know much about him in the first place, but he’d seemed to have gotten more violent and erratic than ever. I was living easy right now. He’d made that clear and also reinforced the fact I had no power here.

That was where he was wrong. He’d underestimated the Hollow Men, and he’d underestimated me.

I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he realized he’d lost his life’s work to his daughter. The daughter he was going to sell off for scrap.

Rolling out of bed, I dragged myself into the shower, scrubbing the sleep from my body. I pressed my forehead against the tile and thought about Chaser. If I closed my eyes and thought about it hard enough, I could feel him step into the spray behind me and press his body against mine. The hard plane of his chest, the heat of his erect cock sliding against my ass, his hands kneading my breasts, and his fingers pinching my taut nipples.

It was easier to handle being apart from him during the day. Other people were around. But when darkness fell and I was alone in bed with my own thoughts…that was when I missed him the most.

Today was yet another day we had to spend apart, but it was also a day closer to getting what we wanted.

After I’d gotten dressed and succeeded in avoiding Sam—I seriously didn’t know who was avoiding who after our post-Harley bashing conversation—and scrounged up some cereal in the kitchens, I went out to the garage.

I was on the outs with the other women after the pool cue incident, though I knew it was more to do with their relationships with their men and Fortitude than it was to do with right and wrong. They gave me the cold shoulder out of loyalty to cock and the safety that being one-half of a biker duo provided. Couldn’t blame them. Survival came at a premium around here.

Standing in the middle of the empty garage, I wiped the back of my hand over my sweaty forehead and breathed in the smell of grease, rubber, and oil. Doing a lap, I examined the car Spike had been working on the other day, had a look over the motorcycles in various stages of their builds, and peered into the room where someone had been spraying metallic red paint onto a pair of bike fenders.

Being a mechanic wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind when I enrolled in online college, but it was something. A life skill, you could call it. Everyone should know how to change a flat tire and make sure enough oil was in the engine. And something about radiator fluid. The most I’d ever known was how to fill up the little bottle of water that cleaned the windshield. Besides, who knew how long I would be here? This seemed to be a great way to integrate into the club, for better or worse.

“Well, here’s a sight for sore eyes.”

I turned as Gasket emerged from the office, his muscles accentuated by the loose tank top he was wearing. He’d become ripped in his old age. Even more than I remembered. Gasket had always been a tough SOB, but he was leveling up to Yoda as more gray appeared in his hair.

“What brings you out here at this shithole of an hour?”

“Marini said I could hang out here,” I replied. “I know you talked to him about me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You call him by his first name now?”

“It doesn’t seem right to call him dad.” I shrugged and glanced around the garage. Chaser’s bike was gone.

“Marini sent him on a job last night,” Gasket said.

I snorted and turned my attention back to the biker. “So what do you want me to do around here? Is this an apprenticeship?”

“You want to be a mechanic now?”

“Life skills.” I made the peace sign with my fingers.

“What were you doing before?”

“Working a bar and going to college on the Internet.”

Gasket scowled, looking rather disappointed at how average my life post-Fortitude had become. Pouring Johnny Walker in a strip club and studying Political Science—because I legitimately didn’t know what I was interested in—at a fast-food restaurant in my downtime wasn’t exactly the glamorous ‘better life’ I’d hoped for, but anything was better than the fate my father had planned for me.

“Gasket, what did you think I went and did? Become a Wall Street banker?” I rolled my eyes. “I had to keep a low profile.”

“What did you do?”

“If you really want to know, I had to live on the street for a year before I got enough cash together to get fake IDs. Then it was another couple of months before I got a job and enough to rent my own place.”

“You should’ve let me help you,” Gasket said with a growl. “Given me a way to contact you. I would’ve given you money.”

“You did enough.” I narrowed my eyes in warning as the door to the compound opened, and Spike walked in. “The kicker is he always knew where I was.”

“Hey, Sloane,” Spike said, raising his hand.

I nodded his way and glanced back at Gasket. “So, where do I start…boss.”

“The office.”

“I’m not going to be your little bitch of a pencil pusher,” I said with a pout.

“Let her get her hands dirty,” Spike said. “That’ll be something to see.”

“You want to work in here, you start at the bottom like everyone else,” Gasket said like he was delivering a philosophical lesson. Like wax on, wax off from that movie The Karate Kid. Striding over to the shelf, he took down a black plastic bottle, a pair of rubber gloves, and a scrubbing brush. Pushing the load against my chest, he smirked.

“What’s this?” I scowled at Spike, who was stifling a laugh.

“Stuff in here goes on there.” Gasket tapped the black bottle, then pointed to an oil stain on the concrete.

The men, who’d multiplied to six by then, laughed as I let out a wail. Knowing this was a test—like when poor kids got sent to the hardware store for left-handed hammers and spotted paint—I got to work, dumping some of the solution from the black bottle onto a nasty grease stain. When scrubbing actually worked, I knew there was no such thing as a fake scrubbing brush trick. Not in this garage, anyway.

Losing myself in the task, I thought about Chaser. Where had he gone? What was he doing for Marini? He hadn’t actually talked about what he did around here, not any specifics, anyway. I’d assumed he roughed people up who owed Fortitude money, but the further we’d gone on our road trip, the more I suspected it was something more sinister. The scars on his body had told a different story to the one that had passed his lips.

Chaser was a mystery I wasn’t sure I would ever completely unravel, but at least I knew where his loyalties laid.

Knowing he was out potentially murdering someone for my father didn’t sit well. It made me positively sick, and it had nothing to do with the chemical fumes, either.

I made it halfway across the garage floor before Gasket relieved me of my duties.

“Go and have some lunch with the boys,” he said, laughing. Pointing to the sparkling concrete, he added, “You’ve done a good job.”

I sighed and pulled off the gloves. “This apprentice thing is hard work. I can’t feel my knees.”

“Welcome to Fortitude, woman.”

“Sierra is going to kill me,” I muttered, inspecting my nails. “Beauty and I weren’t meant to mix.”

“You’re beautiful, Sloane,” Gasket said. “I know all the men chase you. You went and grew all the way up.”

“Gross. You’re old enough to be my dad.” I frowned, the emphasis he placed on the word chase not going unnoticed.

“Outside,” he said, pointing to the roller door. “Don’t try anything, either.”

I smiled sweetly and fluttered my eyelashes. “Who, me?”

“Yes, you.”

Wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans, I wished I had some shorts. The weather seemed to have worsened since yesterday, and the compound was one big sweltering cesspool of eternal stench. Picking myself up from the ground, I screwed up my face as my joints ached…and I’d just gotten over the beating on the train.

Glancing at Gasket in the office, I turned toward the outside world where I could hear the men talking and laughing among themselves. Were these guys any different from Pube Face Bailey, Blue Eyes, or any of the men that had hunted Chaser and I on the road? What was I doing?

I closed my eyes and said a prayer, but I couldn’t help the image of blood and broken skulls that invaded my mind’s eye. It would catch up with me eventually, all the horror, but not today. Not yet. Chaser…

Outside, a slight breeze had picked up.

“Hey, Sloane,” Spike called out. “Wanna beer?”

“Fuck, yeah.” I walked over to the group of bikers and took the bottle Rhodes offered me.

Rhodes, Watts, and Raw were three guys I’d seen around but hadn’t had the chance to get to know. Not like the others who worked in the garage. Though they’d gotten to see a great deal of my ass today, so there was that. If Chaser had walked in and seen me like that, he would’ve blown up and gone on a rampage. The thought made my heart swell. His alpha-asshole jealousy was sweet considering the kind of affection he liked to show. Which was none.

I sat on a free patio chair and put on my aviator sunglasses. The ones with the blue lenses I made Chaser buy me way back when all this first began. How long was it now? A month? Time flew and all that.

Watts raised his eyebrows, his gaze going to my thumb. He was a quiet kind of guy, thoughtful and sharp by the look in his eyes.

Grabbing the bottle opener off Spike, I popped the lid off my beer and took a mouthful. It wasn’t that cold, but several degrees south of boiling was better than nothing in this heat.

“Ugh, I forgot how hot it gets here,” I said, attempting to get the conversation going again.

“East coast soften you up?” Rhodes asked, looking me over.

“Who said I was out east?” I made a face and leaned back in the chair, the plastic creaking.

“It’s the furthest point away from here that’s not Canada or Mexico,” Ram shot at me.

“Whatever.” I kicked my feet up on the overturned crate they had set up as a coffee table. “I just scrubbed half the garage floor.”

“Want a medal?”

“Yeah. A real fucking big one.” I smirked and threw my head back with a laugh, causing the other guys to chuckle.

The air was clearer after that.

Ratchet and Butcher appeared, joining the little group, and for the first time, I didn’t feel like a prisoner locked away in a hornet’s nest. It was a moment of bliss that was short lived when Butcher leveled his gaze at me and asked about the one thing I didn’t want to talk about. Chaser.

“What happened out there?” the big, beefcake asked.

“Out where?” I tilted my head to the side.

“Chaser got knifed,” he said. “Lost a lot of blood. You knew what you were coming back to. Had a chance to ditch the guy. But you scraped his ass off the floor and brought him back here.”

“It’s like you said. He got knifed.” I stared right back at him, my hand tightening around my beer.

“So?” Ram asked, tossing in his own line of questioning. “Everyone knows you wanted out. That’s why you ran away.”

“Everyone knows shit,” I snapped. “You know a rumor, Ram.”

“Then explain it, Sloane.” Butcher.

“Leave it,” Ratchet said with a groan. “What’s it matter? She’s Marini’s kid. Orders are orders.”

“Says the asshole who tattooed her and got his face beat in,” Spike said with a snort.

“It’s no secret I ran away,” I said, picking at the label on the bottle in my hand. “But I am my father’s daughter. Your president’s flesh and blood. Instead of selling me off to the highest bidder as a hole to be raped and abused, you know what he should’ve done?”

Ratchet smirked and nodded his agreement. He got it. We’d already had our one-on-one time.

“You are your father’s daughter,” he said.

“I’m also my mother’s daughter.” I raised my bottle, held it high, and waited.

Ratchet nodded and bumped his battle against mine. His boldness gave the others courage, and one by one, every bottle clinked against my own. Butcher, Spike, Ram, Watts, and Rhodes.

“Sloane.”

Looking over my shoulder, I saw Gasket lingering at the garage door. He crooked his finger, calling me inside.

“Boss is callin’,” Rhodes drawled.

“I’ve got another fifty square feet of concrete to scrub,” I said with a groan. He was so not calling me inside for scrubber duty but best to play coy.

Leaving my empty beer bottle with the bikers, I went inside. The moment we were out of eyesight and earshot, Gasket grabbed my arm and shoved me against the wall.

“Hey!” I exclaimed.

“What are you playing at?” he asked, hissing at me.

“I’m playing at keeping myself alive,” I retorted. “I won’t let what happened last time happen again.”

“You’re fishing…”

I made a face. Is that what they called it around here? Fishing for allies in the sewerage pipe of life.

“I don’t know what Marini’s go going on with the Hollow Men, not all of it, but Fortitude can’t help you,” he went on.

“That’s where you’re wrong, old man,” I said, anger rising. “Fortitude can help me by me helping Fortitude.”

“By taking it over, you mean.”

I stared blankly at him, but he was far too smart to be fooled by an emotionless stare. He’d been playing this game for his entire life. Playing people, exploiting their weaknesses, beating the shit out of them, killing when ‘reason’ didn’t get through. Gasket wasn’t innocent.

“He brought this on me,” I murmured, the chill in my voice alarming even me. “The Hollow Men, the abuse, the manipulation. My mother’s murder.”

“Sloane…”

“Don’t you Sloane me.”

Gasket let go of my arm and ran his hand over his face. Cursing under his breath, he turned away.

“What are you going to do?” I asked his back. “Tell on me?”

He cursed again and faced me, his eyes full of something as far from anger as he could get. Was it regret? Resignation? Who knew?

“Even if your father is out of the picture, they’ll still come after you,” he said. “You know that. The deal he made with them won’t end with his death or dethroning. The deal was made with Marini, and Marini is Fortitude.”

“Believe me, I know how this works.” They all had to go, lest the one left alive out of mercy came back to avenge what they’d lost. I was going for complete and utter annihilation.

“Be careful, girl,” the big biker said. “Be very careful.”

I nodded, those three word echoing the same sentiments I’d been having since I arrived.

As Gasket walked away, and the garage fell into silence, I knew I could trust him with my life. Just like that night seven years ago when he’d helped me get out of the compound the night before I was going to be sold. Gasket’s loyalties would always be to Fortitude, but that didn’t mean they would always be with Marini.

Fortitude was more than one man.

It was time for a woman to remind them of that.