Church is fucking grim.

The men take Sarge and Horse’s deaths hard. The thirst for blood is in the air. Outlaw Sons blood. Iron Spiders blood. The fact that we ended all the fuckers who ambushed us isn’t enough. They want full-on annihilation.

Bullet’s in the chapel with us, his wound patched up by Smiley. He’s greeted as a hero.

Angel pounds the gavel to calm the angry shouting and the calls for revenge. “All right. This war the Sons started. We will end it. We will end them.” Shouts of approval greet his words. “But the Lords aren’t gonna fight a bunch of fucked up street scuffles. When we’re finished, the Outlaw Sons and what’s left of the Spiders will be wiped off the face of the earth. But until that day comes, we plan. We make them sweat. We need to find out the full extent of their operations. Where their compound is. Who they do business with. Where their weak links are.” He looks down the table. “Tweak. You’re in charge of intel. Recon. Tell me what resources you need, and you’ve got them.”

Tweak nods. “You got it, boss.”

There’s a small ripple in the room. This is serious shit. And Angel’s in charge. Rock’s absence is felt, but Angel doesn’t give us time to think about it.

“I’m gonna talk to Axel,” he continues, referring to the president of our chapter to the south. “Tell him about everything. Let them know they need to watch their backs. And I’m gonna get in touch with Oz. Tell him we might need their help.”

Oz is the president of the Death Devils, a club to our east. Our clubs have a solid alliance these days — not the least of which reason is his daughter Isabel is with our brother Thorn now.

“You think we need to go into lockdown?” Lug Nut asks.

“No. Not yet. I don’t want the old ladies to be too alarmed.” Angel scans all of our faces. “This is the new reality. Life during wartime ain’t gonna be easy. We need to make sure it ain’t any rougher on the families than it has to be.”

We talk security, and Angel tells all of us to watch our backs and to not travel outside our territory without letting him know. He ends the meeting with a final, hard bang of the gavel. The men file out, silent and grave.

“Angel,” I say to him as he stands. “I gotta talk to you.”

“What is it?” He looks like he’s aged five years in the last three hours.

“Brooke. The fed. That was the woman talking to Jewel when we came in.”

“She was here?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yeah.” I have to tell him the truth. “It ain’t the first time, either. I brought her here a couple days ago.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Angel explodes. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this. Why?”

“Temporary insanity,” I sigh.

I tell him it started out with me tryin’ to help Brooke get the Ukrainian girl some second-hand clothes to wear for when she got out of the hospital. Jewel was the first person I thought of to ask. “I don’t know that many chicks who don’t dress like hookers,” I grunt. “Thought Jewel might have some stuff. So, I introduced Brooke to her.”

“And now the FBI agent you’re fucking knows where our goddamn clubhouse is,” he sneers.

I don’t say anything. I royally fucked up, there’s no getting around it. But at that moment, I wasn’t seeing Brooke as a fed. I was just seeing her as… Brooke. The girl I knew so long ago. The woman whose tears I couldn’t help but want to dry.

The woman whose bed I wanted to be in.

And now, shit’s all fucked up. She’s in my head all the time. And even though I know deep down she doesn’t give a shit about what our club does, the fact remains that her investigation is getting her uncomfortably close to the Lords.

“I’m gonna go find her,” I say. “I’m gonna get her to tell me what the fuck she was doing here today. But I think you need to talk to her. You and I both know our club ain’t mixed up in the shit she’s uncovering. But she needs to hear it from you.”

“I ain’t talkin’ to no fed,” Angel insists.

“I don’t see as how you have a choice, brother.” My jaw clenches as I look at him. “This is the only way to keep control of the situation. If she thinks we’re hiding something, she’s gonna go lookin’ for it.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Beast, what the fuck have you brought into the club?”

I don’t say anything. Because damned if I know.

As Angel and I walk out of the chapel, there’s a commotion outside. We go out into the main room to see Rock standing in the middle of a group of our brothers, looking angry. About ten feet away is Trudy. She’s crying, and shouting at him, shaking with rage.

She’s wearing large dark glasses. But that can’t hide the fact that her face is swollen and purpling. Her lower lip is busted.

“You’re fucking out of my house!” she screams, flinging a set of keys at him. “Don’t you come back again, ever! I’m changing the locks, and you will never touch me again!”

“Shit,” Angel murmurs.

“Get out of my fucking way, all of you!” Trudy howls, turning on us. “You can keep this son of a bitch! He is a sick motherfucker, do you know that? And I have put up with his fucked up shit for the last time!”

The men standing near her clear a path as she grabs a chair and hurls it at Rock, narrowly missing him. Then she storms out of the clubhouse, still sobbing. After the door slams behind here, there’s a moment of eerie silence.

“Fuck that gash,” Rock growls. “She was more fuckin’ trouble than she was worth. Good goddamn riddance.”

I’m fuckin’ stunned. I’ve heard Rock be sharp with Trudy before, but usually she gives as good as she gets. But I can’t believe he was hittin’ her. Only goddamn pussies hit women. I look around at some of the other brothers, who look as shocked as I am. Gunner and Thorn glance at each other and shake their heads.

“So, I’m back!” Rock bellows, raising his arms wide. “Your prez is back!”

In any other circumstance, the men would be yellin’ and clappin’. But other than a couple of subdued whistles, the Lords don’t say much.

If Rock notices anything is off, he doesn’t show it. “We got a lot of shit on our plates, brothers. But first, it’s time to party! I been cooped up for far too damn long. It’s time to do something about it!”

He gets a few more claps and murmurs, but a lot of the guys just stand there.

“Come on! I need me some goddamn whiskey,” Rock shouts. “And a goddamn hummer. Where the fuck are the club girls? Where’s that young one? Bree, ain’t that her name?”

Angel steps forward and puts his hand on Rock’s shoulder. “Glad to see you back, prez,” he says smoothly. “Look, how about we get you set up in your apartment first? I got a couple things I want to talk to you about.”

Rock mutters something and angrily shrugs Angel’s hand off, but he climbs the stairs to his apartment all the same. I feel some of the tension release in my shoulders.

“Jesus fuck,” Thorn sighs next to me. “This is a hell of a development.”

“Yeah.” We should be happy to see Rock up and around, but this is some fucked up shit. He’s likely to have another heart attack in the club, goin’ on like this. And the way he’s acting right now makes me less than thrilled to have him at the helm at the beginning of this war with the Outlaw Sons.

I need to go talk to Brooke. I want her to meet with Angel soon. We need to get that situation resolved, so we can focus on all the other shit going down right now.

I leave the clubhouse on my bike. The engine roars as I speed through the streets to Brooke’s hotel. When I get there, I don’t wait for the elevator. I go to the stairwell instead and take the steps two at a time. I push the fire door open and go into the brightly lit hallway with its swirling pattern of red-orange carpet.

There’s no one in the hall besides me, but through the quiet I hear some noises coming from one of the rooms at the other end of the hall. It almost sounds like someone’s throwing around furniture or something.

Then, I hear a woman scream.

And I realize it’s Brooke.