“You all right?” Holt asked after hammering down the chilled shot of whiskey in his hand.

I thumbed the top of my rocks glass, shaking my head. “It’s all so fucked, ya know?”

His hand landed firmly on my back then his fingers gripped at the leather of my cut for a few seconds. “We’ll get through this, brother. Abel would have wanted us to keep moving forward.” He let go, threw back another shot, and then continued, “We will make this right. Just have faith. We all need time to heal and grieve.”

Holton Walsh was one of the best men that I knew. He was the vice president of our club, wearing the patch with honor. He had dedicated his entire life to becoming the best outlaw he could be, from running the bar, to helping out at the garage, never backing down from a fight and always putting the club above himself. I truly admired him.

“I hear ya, brother. It just all feels off,” I couldn’t help but admit.

He pursed his lips and nodded. “We’ll get back onto an even keel.”

Holt shoved away from the bar to make his way over to where his son was sitting with Red, Collin, and Ozzy. We weren’t having a funeral for our fallen king; we just did what he would have wanted us to do: gather at our bar and be together.

Even though we were all together, it didn’t feel right. Why weren’t we out searching for the motherfucker who shot Abel? Why weren’t we offing every Sinners member we could get our hands on? Why wasn’t anyone mad or at least showing it? Rage pumped through my veins. I couldn’t even think straight.

Jesse slammed down onto the stool next to me with a throaty groan. “Raine, another? Please and thank you, sweetheart.”

Raine smiled sweetly with watery eyes at Jesse while opening a bottle of Bud for him. “Of course.” Without even asking, she filled my bourbon up and threw in a couple more ice cubes. “Doin’ good, Tre?”

I nodded while trying to smile at Abel’s daughter. She looked so much like him, it killed me. Her father was why I was alive; it didn’t seem right that I was still breathing and he was six feet under.

Jesse turned to me. “How’re you holding up?”

Fuck this.

I chugged the rest of my drink, slammed the glass down on the bar top, and walked away without answering.

How am I holding up? I’m fucking not.

Am I all right? Fuck no.

Am I mad as fuck? Hell yes.

I made my way into the restricted area in the back to get some privacy. I needed a shred of alone time or I was going to punch someone.

Looking into the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. I saw the shell of the man I had become. How had I gotten so lost along the way? The years had built me up, stripped me down, burned me alive. I felt like a pile of ash getting tortured by the slightest breeze.

Standing in the employee bathroom of the Unacceptables’ bar, I tried to piece it all together. Abel was dead. Regicide, the most despicable act—the lowest of the low, even for outlaws. Those fuckers were going to have to pay for what they’d done. Somehow, some way, revenge was going to have to happen. My faith in the skull and bones on my back was fading. My resolve to keep going was as well, but my brothers needed me, and I knew I somehow needed to pull my shit together for all of our sakes. I just didn’t know how to at that point.

I burst out of the bathroom and into the small office that used to be Abel’s. The fake wood paneling was fading and the dank room smells like beer and old socks. I stared at the pictures lining the walls. Abel smiling with different club members, baby pictures of Collin and Raine, pictures from Abel’s wedding day. I was about to turn to leave when one caught my eye. It was from the day I got patched in. Abel and Holt had their arms around my shoulders. Grabbing it off the wall, I removed the picture from its frame and slid it into my back pocket.

After rummaging in Abel’s desk for his electric clippers, I made my way back into the bathroom. I plugged them in and let the razor roar to life in my hand. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Line by line, my hair fell onto my shoulders and the floor. My sunken eyes bored holes in my soul as I let myself go back to my roots. I had to dig deep to see the man I once was, the broken Marine that was rescued on the side of the road by men in cuts.

It was a lifetime ago, but in that moment, it felt like only yesterday that bikers were peeling my mangled body off the concrete in a dirty alley.

* * *

“Hey man, you all right?”

The words faded into the darkness as I fought to understand where I was, who was talking, what the fuck was going on. I tried to open my swollen eyes, tried to form words. All I could do was spit out loogies filled with blood and choke repeatedly. Moaning like an imbecile, bloody and beaten within an inch of my life, I just lay there in a gutter like trash.

“Fuck, I know this guy,” one of the men said. I knew I had heard the voice before, but I couldn’t place it. “Let’s get him back to my place,” the familiar voice continued, and I was so grateful. I had no idea who they were, how many of them there were, anything, but I was in no position to care. I needed help, and they were offering it to me.

“He’s pretty fucking banged up. Shouldn’t we take him to a hospital or something?” inquired an unfamiliar male voice.

“Nah, Ava will know what to do.” That name, Ava…I knew that name. Where do I know it from? Who is this guy? Why can’t I remember?

The men lifted me into the back seat of what seemed to be a pickup truck as I slipped in and out of consciousness. I tried to stay awake, stay alert, but it was futile. After driving for what felt like a lifetime, we pulled down a long gravel driveway.

As soon as they got me inside and onto the couch, I passed out. The pain was excruciating, the blood loss made me weak, and my head was in a damn fog from getting boot stomped over and over.

* * *

“You’re awake.” A kind smile met me as I tried to sit up a little. My eyes were still swollen to the point that I could barely make out her features other than her long hair and wide grin. “Buck! Trent’s waking up!” the woman’s voice called out.

“Do I know you?” My voice was raspy from my vocal cords being beaten.

She pressed a cool towel to my forehead. “Tre, it’s me, Ava. You served in Iraq with my brother, Kane.”

My mind was a fog. I could barely grasp the memories, just little flickers and flashes. “Buckley?” The name fell off my tongue but felt foreign.

Excitement laced her words. “Yes! That’s right, Kane Buckley. You used to always called him Buck.”

Buck and Ava…it was clicking, the gears slowly turning. Ava was a nurse. Buck was a former jarhead, just like me, and we served together for two tours. He kept his shit together; I fell off the wagon.

Right then, I realized my entire body was shaking. My bones felt like they were on fire. My skin crawled. My head was pounding.

“What happened to you, brother?” Buck’s voice came from behind me.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Last thing I remember is walking down the street.”

Ava forcefully pushed my shoulder down when I tried to sit up to look at her brother. “I don’t know if you have any broken bones yet, Trent. I don’t want you to hurt yourself more.”

“What did you take?” Kane’s question was stern.

Racking my brain, I couldn’t remember for the life of me. Heroin? It felt like I was coming down from heroin, but fuck if I knew for sure. All I knew was that I was going to need another fix fucking soon or I was going to be tweaking out like a mad man.

“I can’t remember,” I reluctantly admitted.

“Here.” Ava put two familiar-looking pills in my hand followed by three fingers of whiskey in a paper cup.

I raised an eyebrow at her before taking the small round blue pills in my hand. I rolled them around until the stamp on the back was visible. I recognized the numbers: 54 199. Thirty milligrams of Roxicodone—yep, that’d do the fucking trick like a charm. I didn’t want to take them, but I knew I needed to. I threw the pills to the back of my throat and chugged away.

“You really should be at the hospital. You’re going to need x-rays,” she said, more to her brother than to me.

“No docs, dude, please.” My aching pleas sounded so childish.

Two men I didn’t know came through the side door of Kane’s house. They were both wearing cuts matching the one on Buck’s back. It had been a little over a year since we both got out of the Marines, and even longer than that since we had seen each other. A lot can change in a year.

The taller one of the two pointed over to me. “How’s he doing?”

Buck grabbed beers out of the fridge while answering. “He’s pretty banged up, but he’ll live. Thanks for helping me get him over here.”

The older of the men sat down in front of me, looking closely at my eyes. “Think you have a concussion, son.”

Ava nodded in agreement. “We’ll keep him up for a while and make sure he doesn’t die on us.”

“Trent, this is Rave and Abel. They’re the president and vice president of my club’s charter in North Carolina. They’re going to take you back with them.”

“What? Why?” My eyes flew open. Who did Buck think he was making decisions like that for me?

“Because you need to dry the fuck out and you’re not going to be able to do it in Killeen. Trust me, brother, this is for the best. Once you’re good to travel, you’re heading east.”

* * *

Sitting in church the next day, around the table without Abel sitting at the head was all too surreal. In his place sat Ryder, his son-in-law.

Bear cleared his throat. “As the president of the Atlanta charter, I want to officially extend my condolences to each and every one of you. Abel was one of the best men I had the pleasure of knowing and he will be missed immensely.”

Holt nodded to Bear. “Thank you, brother.” He turned to look at the rest of us before continuing, “There is a lot that has been kept form this club but the secret end now. Ryder, Bear and I have spoken a great deal about everything that happened leading up to Abel’s death and it needs to be shared with the club.”

Ryder put his hand on Holt’s shoulder and then added, “This information should not affect your memories of our fallen king. Abel was a great man and always had the best interest of this club in his heart.”

Bear stood and started to pace. “This is not going to be easy for me to explain but I am going to do my best. Before I begin, please know not all dealing having to do directly with this tragedy have been terminated by myself, Holt and Kane Buckley. For those of you who do not know Kane, he is the president now of the charter in Killeen, Texas.”

My mind tripped back to my old friend and that day that he saved my life with Abel and Rave. I had no idea that he had moved up the ranks that quickly.

Bear continued, “I got wind of a heroin and cocaine shortage up the coast. I set up suppliers and delivery systems but it was all too much for just my chapter to be able to handle. Abel came into this deal as my number two. I had no idea that the Sinners were the original suppliers in y’all’s area. This is and will always be on me. Their retaliation was in response to a number of situations, but mainly the loss of the drug business and that income. Abel and I became aware of their involvement when one of our larger shipments went missing.”

He hung his head, sucking in a deep, sharp breath. “I should have stopped all dealings then and figured out another way to clean up this mess, but we just kept working our deals and my guys were able to recover that lost shipment before it left Georgia. That was when I decided to come up here and help y’all out. Abel and I still thought we had it under control. We should never have been so arrogant to think that we could handle this on our own. Holt was not even aware of most of the things I have just told you.”

He took his seat again and lit a cigarette.

“Fuck you!” Red leapt to his feet. “You’re the reason Abel is dead and you think that just because you wear the same patch as us that you can sit at this table.”

“Red, sit you fucking ass down.” Ryder’s eyes were narrowed. I could see his hands shaking a bit.

“We all have done things that we regret. Most of us have done even worse shit than this in our lifetimes.” Holt was always the damn voice of reason. “We need to move forward, not go at each other’s throats. That’s how those sons-of-bitches will actually win.”

“What is the plan?” I asked.

“We are going to lay low. We will not continue this violence now. There is too much at stake and we are wounded. We all need time to heal and pick the pieces back up. Bear is going to head back to Atlanta. If he hears of any other threat or something related to this, he will report directly to me on the matter and I will bring it to this table right away. No one will be kept in the dark from this moment on. We will keep moving forward and play out the cards as they are dealt.” With that, Ryder slammed the gavel down onto the wooden table and that was that.

“Hey handsome, want a lap dance?” I glanced up over my shoulder at a lanky middle-aged woman. In the dimly lit club, all I could tell was she had a decent rack, pounds of eye makeup on and long blonde hair that nearly touched her ass cheeks. She seemed cute enough and the dancer that was on the stage was not doing it for me.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” I asked, having to shout over the loud thumping of bass. I grabbed her hand, pulling the petite stripper onto my lap. She plopped down, making her tits nearly pop right out of the dark purple bra that was at least a size too small.

“I’m Diamond. What’s yours, stud?” She giggled, batting her eyelashes.

“Tre,” I said flatly.

Her flirty grin twisted as she rolled her fingers over the patches on my cut. “Are you a Sinner?” she asked, her eyes wide.

I shook my head no. “Is that a problem?”

“Actually, it’s fantastic.” She bit her lip.

She started to grind a little on my lap, biting my neck a few times.

“Why is it good that I am not a damn Sinner?” I pushed her away a little. I had been drugged once in a strip club, I wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“Come with me.” She stood up, grabbed my hand, trying to drag me out of the back door.

I stopped her before she could push the metal door open. “Mind telling me what the hell is going on?”

“They can’t know I’m talking to an Unacceptable,” she whispered and motioned for me to follow her.

I reluctantly followed her as she rounded the corner and starting down a vacant backstreet. She stopped under the street light next to a dumpster that reeked to high heaven. The yellow lighting revealed a fading shiner covering her left eye that went all the way down her cheek to her jawline.

Grabbing her chin, I asked, “Need me to take care of the cocksucker that gave you that?” I turned her head to get a better look before she pushed my hand away.

“I want you to take care of him for so much more than this fucking nothing of a bruise.” Disdain dripped from her words like viper’s venom. “I know who killed your president a few months back.”

Without even thinking about it, my fingers wrapped around her throat and I threw her into the brick wall. I got within an inch of her face, barking at her, “Do not fuck with me, sweetheart. It will be the last thing you ever do.”

Her tiny fingers pulled at mine as she gasped. “I swear—my husband did it.” She had tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

I released her throat. “Tell me everything,” I snarled.

“All I know is a few months ago he came home in the middle of the night with some of his friends, bragging about how he killed the unkillable, the fearless leader of the Unacceptables. They had been trying to off him since the bullshit with the last president. He thought I was asleep but I heard everything.”

“What is his fucking name?” I asked.

“Ralph.”

Ralph? What a twit of a name. “Do you know where he is?” I gripped her shoulders. I was scared if I let go of her, she would vanish into thin air and it would all be a sick twisted dream to fuck with me even more.

She nodded. “I’ll even give you a key to the house and a picture of the bastard.”

* * *

“Red? Man, ya in here?” I slammed my boot into the door, practically taking it off its hinges. In the back of the mechanic shop, there were a few rooms we had available in case any member needed a place to crash. Red’s old lady had finally had enough with his drinking and fucking around, and had kicked his ass out.

I heard him groan.

“Dude, get the fuck up.” I kicked the side of the mattress, ripping the covers off of him.

“Go the hell away, fucker, before I shove my boot so far up your ass it comes out of your fucking mouth. It’s the middle of the damn night for Christ sake.” He scoffed before rolling over and throwing a pillow over his head.

“I found him.” My sinister tone sliced through the air as the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. After months of searching, the Sinner who took Abel’s life was finally going to have to pay for what he had done.

“Him? Like the him?”

“Fuck yes, brother.”

Red shot up from bed like a bat out of hell, grabbed his jeans, and started to get dressed. “Have you called Ryder or Holt yet?”

“They’re not answering.”

“Let’s go then.” Red’s cut was the last thing he threw on before we stomped out to our bikes where they waited in the gravel lot at the back of the shop.

Rocks and dirt flew from the spinning of my back tire as I hauled ass to Ryder’s house. I knew busting through his front door at three in the morning was probably not going to go over well with our new president or his old lady, but I didn’t fucking care at that point.

Red was right on my tail. We weaved down the winding roads, taking turns way too fast, running stoplights and nearly flying off the side of a mountain.

I kicked out my Dark Horse’s stand and flew up the porch steps. I tried the doorknob but the damn thing was locked. Banging as loud as I could, I called for Ryder.

Within seconds, he was throwing the front door open. “For fuck’s sake, Tre. What could be this important right now? Raine is sleeping for crying out loud.”

“Get fucking dressed!” I yelled, barging into his front room with Red behind me.

“Not until you tell me what is fucking going on.” Ryder stood at the bottom of the staircase with his arms folded over his bare chest. He was freaking stark naked and didn’t seem to bat an eyelash at it.

Red’s face was flushed as he gripped the doorjamb. “He found the guy. He fucking found him, Pres.”

The color drained from Ryder’s face. “Are you sure? Are you positive you found him?”

I nodded as I started to pace in the small foyer.

“Get everyone to the bar. We need to have a meeting and plan this shit out right now. Let’s go hunting.” Ryder’s face twisted into a ominous smile as he made the declaration.

“Aye, brother.” Red turned and marched down the front steps, making a few phone calls before he got back on his bike.

“I’ll get Holt. See you at the bar,” I stated to Ryder before he started to head back up the stairs to get dressed.

“You’ve done good, brother. I appreciate this. I know Raine will as well.”

* * *

Sitting at the round table with Ryder holding the gavel was still not sitting well with me. I trusted him for the most part, knew he loved the club as much as any of us did, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. I didn’t like change. I didn’t like taking orders from someone years younger than me who was so much less experienced than I was when it came to war in general, but I had to blindly follow my new leader—that’s what a good soldier does.

“How do we know your source is credible?” Jesse asked from across the table.

I slammed my fist down on the old wood. “I’ll bring her scrawny ass in here right now so she can tell you all of it herself if you want.”

Holt cleared his throat. “I’m with Jesse. How do we know this whore isn’t just sending us out to do her dirty work and off her abusive ex-pimp?”

Ryder looked over at me. “You sure we can trust her? Her name is Diamond for fuck’s sake.”

I leaned back in my chair. “She said her husband came home that night bragging about it with his buddies. She ran away a few weeks ago after he threw her down some stairs.”

“Fucking dirtbag deserves to die no matter what, if ya ask me,” Ryder remarked. “Any man that lays a hand on his old lady like that should have to eat his own balls.”

Holt rubbed the back of his neck for a few seconds before speaking. “I have a strong feeling that Abel would have wanted us to stop the bloodshed. Son, we talked about this.”

Ryder looked over to his number two, not like a son would, but a superior. “This club needs to feel the sweet glory of victory to truly heal. We gave it time, we need this. All in favor of hunting down this son of a bitch and bringing justice to our club?”

In unison, everyone yelled, “Aye!” Even Holt agreed.

Ryder slammed the gavel down on the worn wood, sending a crackling through the air. “Let’s go teach these motherfuckers a lesson they will never forget!”

We went into autopilot.

Kevlar vests—check.

Zip ties—check.

All the guns we could carry—check.

Knives—check.

String—check.

“Collin.” Ryder put his hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder, stopping him from getting onto his bike when the rest of us did. “You need to head to my house and get Raine. Take her to your mother’s place and watch them. Ozzy will go with you. If this goes south, I don’t want them to be in danger too.”

Collin and Ozzy did as they were told without question, though I could tell Collin was pissed the fuck off to not be allowed to go avenge his father.

“I can go watch Crickett and Raine if you want Collin on this run,” I offered, putting my skull bucket on.

Ryder shook his head. “Collin is too green for this. I don’t want him to blow it. We got one shot at this shit, and he’ll get over it.”

It didn’t take long for us to find the house off of Old Hill Road, the red one in the back, just like Diamond had explained to me. We stashed our bikes down at the end of the street and hoofed it through the woods.

Ryder handed me a ball of string. “Ya ready to do this?”

I grabbed my knife out of my boot before answering. “Let’s make this a bloody night these fuckers will never forget.”

I unlocked the back door and we all filed into the small house quietly. There were two guys passed out, and I glanced down at the photo Diamond had given me then shook my head at Ryder and Holt. They slit the men’s throats in one swift motion. The light sounds of gurgling and gasping turned into our soundtrack as we checked the rest of the house as stealthily as possible. There was only one other man in the house, and he was a dead ringer for the guy in the picture.

I motioned to Red, who hit the guy hard in the temple with the butt of his sawed-off twelve gauge, knocking him out cold. Ryder and Holt looked at the photo in my hand and checked the guy out.

“Let’s get to work, boys.” Ryder looked like a fucking kid on Christmas morning.

We made quick work of it, stripping him down and dragging his limp, naked body into the kitchen. After using zip ties to cuff his forearms and ankles to a wooden chair, I put a noose around the base of his balls. Cutting off circulation, I looped the end of the string around his neck. If he struggled, it’d get tighter.

“Wake his ass up!” Holt yelled, slapping the guy across his face.

Ryder took his knife, slicing down his right arm. “Ralphy…oh, Ralphy. Wakey, wakey. It’s fucking Christmas and you’re about to shoot your eye out.”

I chuckled at Ryder’s fucked up A Christmas Story reference. “I got this.” I grabbed a cleaver from the kitchen counter—how convenient that it was just sitting there for me to play with. I pulled back and didn’t even consider stopping myself. I chopped off the side of his left hand, taking the thumb with it.

A bone-chilling wail leapt from the man’s throat and he started to thrash around. “What the fuck? You all are going to fucking pay for this. Fucking cock-sucking pieces of donkey shit.” Sweat and tears started rolling down his face as he continued to cuss and whip around. Blood sprayed all over the linoleum floor.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jesse hissed, punching the guy in the stomach.

I spit in his face. “This is for Abel.” I put the dude’s thumb into his mouth. “Stop crying. Here, suck on this, you fucking baby.”

“Who the fuck is Abel?” he mumbled the best he could with his mouth full. He tried to spit his digit out of his mouth but I slammed it shut so Ryder could duct tape his jaw.

Holt grabbed the cleaver from my hand, slashing the top of our hostage’s thigh as deep as he could get the blade. “He was our president and you shot him in the back of the fucking head like a goddamn coward. You’re a woman beater, a kidnapper, a murderer. You’re going to have to pay for what you did.”

Ryder took his camo Gerber pocketknife out of his back pocket and slowly carved the words king killer and woman beater into his chest in big block letting. Line by line, he slid his blade over the man’s flesh, fileting the message in deep. In that moment, I started to heal. As fucked up as it was, I was finally starting to feel at peace with what had happened to Abel. Revenge was so fucking sweet.

“Holt, will you do the honors?” I asked, handing him the serrated bread knife I had brought with us.

“Gladly.” He looked the fucker right in the eye as he slowly started to saw his balls off. The shrill that emanated from his panic was music to my ears as his manhood was stripped from him.

I put the severed testicles into a plastic bag then gave them to Ryder. “I think this is going to be the perfect present for our fucking friends.”

The three flights of stairs up to my apartment always felt never-ending after a long night shift at the hospital. I loved being an emergency room nurse, but the long hours of being on my feet all night, running around like a chicken with my head cut off were starting to really wear on me.

Finally, I trudged up the final couple of steps, huffing and puffing. I bent down to retrieve a small box that sat on the welcome mat next to my front door before going inside. Victorious was an understatement for how excited I was about making it all the way up to my place. I threw my bag and the box down on the coffee table.

I stripped down right there in my living room, threw my white sneakers to the side, and left my teal scrubs wadded up in the middle of the floor. I lived alone—who the fuck was going to care?

Being naked in my place was so freeing for some reason. It wasn’t like I was a nudist or anything—I still had my thong and bra on—I just didn’t want to be restricted by work clothes one more minute than necessary. It was nine in the morning and I was walking around my apartment exposed and fixing to fill up a giant glass of wine and sink into a tub filled with lilac bubbles.

With a full-to-the-brim glass of pinot grigio, I sank down onto the couch to open the box. I dug my keys out of my purse and sliced open the tape. The smell was what hit me first, then I saw the blood that was everywhere. In the small white box was a poorly wrapped head of a dead cat. I threw the package across the room and rushed to the kitchen sink. Hurling into the stainless steel, my mind started racing.

How did he find me again?

Why is this happening to me?

Why won’t he leave me alone?

I thought about calling the police, but I knew they wouldn’t be able to do anything more than what had already been done. I rushed into my bedroom and grabbed the bag under my bed. I got dressed in shorts and an old tank top before I emptied my drawers into the duffel. After doing the same with everything essential in the bathroom, I ran out the door. Ray Clyde was about to run me out of yet another home, but I didn’t know what else to do. I peeled out of my parking spot as fast as I could and just started driving.

I hated that I was leaving Boston. I had really started to enjoy it, especially since I was finally beginning to know the city and make some friends. I had finally found a good job that I loved, and now that was all flying out the window. Oh well—it was better to be running again than fucking dead.

I threw my cellphone out the window when I was a few miles down the highway. I knew I needed to check my car for wires, but I needed to get some distance between me and the city before I could calm down enough to do a thorough sweep.

“Fucking bullshit!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I slammed my fists into the steering wheel. Tears of rage cascaded down as I fought to be able to see the road. Thankfully it was the middle of the morning and most of the traffic had died down.

I had no plan, and barely any money left. Where was I going to be able to go to finally be rid of my scum-of-the-earth, crazy, stalker of an ex-boyfriend? The image of the cat head in the box haunted me as I sped down the interstate. At least it wasn’t a dead dove like the last time—doves were my favorite. He knew animals were my weakness, and it seemed he was slowly going to send me corpses of every damn critter on the fucking planet.

I drove for over twelve hours. Even though my body was crashing, my adrenaline was keeping me going. I was in North Carolina, winding through some of the most breathtaking mountains and foothills I had ever seen.

My head started to bob as the tiredness took over. I strained to read the sign in front of me: Vilas – 5 miles. I could make it five miles. I started to slap my cheeks lightly, blasted the cold air, cranked up the radio, and bounced in my seat. I was coming in on fumes, but I made it. I pulled off into the gravel parking lot of what looked to be a biker bar. I didn’t care where the fuck I was—I just needed to sleep. I put my car in park, grabbed my sweatshirt from the back seat, reclined my chair, and dozed off.

* * *

A light tapping on my window woke me up. The sun was shining bright as I forced my stinging eyes to open.

“Ma’am? You all right?” a pregnant woman called through the glass. She had a sweet smile and kind eyes.

I rolled down my window, squinting from the sunlight. “Yeah, just had to pull off the highway last night before I fell asleep while driving.”

“How about you come on inside and grab a bite to eat before you head back on the road? You look like you could use a good, hot meal.”

I couldn’t argue with her; my stomach felt hollow. “Yeah, all right.”

I followed her into the bar after she unlocked the front door. “It’ll only be a few minutes for me to open up and everything. Why don’t you just take a seat and look at the menu while I run into the back real quick?”

“Thank you.” I did as she instructed. I stared down at the laminated page, not reading a damn word. I was still in shock that I was in the middle of the mountains in North Carolina because of my damn douche canoe of an ex. What a fucking joke.

“So, where are you headed?” she asked, making her way behind the bar.

I shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Just not back to where I came from.”

“Well, Vilas is a town filled with people running toward things and away from them. I’m Raine.”

She offered me her hand. Shaking it, I replied, “I’m Sloan.”

“It’s nice to meet you. There’s a motel right up the road if you need to crash somewhere other than your car for a night or two while you’re trying to figure out what the hell you’re going to do. It’s cheap and a bit dodgy, but it’s the only one in town.” She filled a glass with ice and water, setting it down on a coaster in front of me.

“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” The water tasted better than anything I’d ever had in my life—probably because I hadn’t had anything to drink or eat since the previous morning.

I chugged down two glasses of water and ordered a cheeseburger with a fried egg on top. It seemed so odd to me that someone as sweet as Raine was working behind the bar of such a dump.

She set my food down in front of me with a caddy full of condiments. “Enjoy,” she stated with a kind smile.

“What time is it?” I asked. It was odd that I didn’t have my phone. Moments like that really showed me how dependent our society had become on technology.

Raine glanced over at the bar’s register. “Almost noon.”

I ran my fingers through my long greasy hair. I wasn’t sure how long I had slept, but it was definitely at least twelve hours. Even so, my body was still exhausted. I knew I needed to set a game plan before I made any other moves, and I still needed to check my car for tracking devices and wires.

After I’d taken a couple delicious bites of my messy burger, a few men wearing leather vests walked in. I had only seen bikers on TV and in the movies, and I would have been a liar if I didn’t admit that it was thrilling to see them in person.

Two of the men sat at the far side of the bar while the third walked around the back. It was adorable how much Raine’s face lit up when the guy scooped her into his arms and kissed her. Now it made sense why she was working there—she was part of their lifestyle.

Raine walked down the bar, hand in hand with her guy. “Sloan, this is my husband, Ryder.”

They were a young couple and seemed so much in love. It radiated from them in the simplest of ways—the way he touched her, the way she smiled at him, the way he glanced at her when she wasn’t looking.

We shook hands. “It’s a pleasure, darlin’. Raine says you’re just passing through, but if you need anything while you’re in town, we’d be more than happy to help.”

I bit my lip. Why are these people being so kind to me? It’s so sad that when people are actually being genuinely nice and trying to help out a stranger, the first reaction is to question their motives. I had always thought one-percenters were scumbag vigilantes who treated women like shit and had a total disregard for the law. In only minutes, this couple was proving my assumptions to be wrong.

“Nice to meet you. Could I actually get directions to that motel? I think having a home base for a day or two would be smart.” Right as Ryder was about to explain how to get to my destination, one of the other members walked up behind me.

“I’m headin’ in that direction, I could point it out to you on my way.” He was tall, big—not in a bad way, just muscular and wide—and had stunning ice blue eyes and a smile that could melt any girl’s panties on the spot.

Get a grip. You’re already running from one psycho of an ex.

“That’d be great.” I threw some money down on the wooden bar top. Turning to Raine, I thanked her for everything. “I really do appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. You know where I’ll be most of the day if you decide to come back in for dinner or something. It’s not often we get women in here, and it’s kind of nice to not be the only set of tits in this place.” She giggled as Ryder eyed her for a second.

“You’re not a set of tits, babe, even though this pregnancy thing really has them looking nice these days.”

She hit her husband in the shoulder before waving goodbye to me.

“Ready?” the other member asked.

As I started to follow Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick out of the bar, he turned to me. “I’m Trent, by the way.”

I walked through the door he was holding for me. “I’m Sloan.”

* * *

Want to read more? Untouchable is available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited!

Bestselling author, Kristen Hope Mazzola, lives in the suburbs of Tampa soaking up the sunshine while watching hockey or football at beach bars. She writes contemporary romance ranging from steamy romantic comedy, angsty new adult, all the way to sports romance – with dirty bikers, hot military men, and swoon-worthy rockstars in between. A portion of her royalties goes to the Marcie Mazzola Foundation.

* * *

UNTOUCHABLE

Copyright © 2017 Kristen Hope Mazzola

Published by Kristen Hope Mazzola

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

Published: Kristen Hope Mazzola 2017

Cover Design: Kristen Hope Mazzola

Cover Images: 

© Fxquadro (stock.adobe.com)

© tverdohlib ()

Formatting by: Kristen Hope Mazzola

Editing by: 

C. Marie:

Jordan Bates:

Proof Reading by:

Patti Correa: [email protected]gmail.com