Instead of driving back to my place, I head in the direction of the clubhouse. I need some distraction right now. Hopefully in the form of some strong booze — and if I can get my head into it, some easy pussy.

But even as I think this, I know I won’t be sinking my cock into one of the club girls tonight. Just the thought of it feels depressing as shit.

“Goddamnit!” I roar into the wind, my hands curling around the grips as though I could crush them. I’m sick of this fucking shit. I’m sick of being a goddamn sap. I haven’t given a shit about any woman in years, and I’m not about to start now.

Furiously, I throttle the bike and blow past the clubhouse onto the open highway. I know If I go to the club right now, I won’t be happy until I’ve picked a fight with one of the brothers and punched somebody. I need to calm down before get there.

I need to ride.

Just outside of town is one of my favorite roads. It twists and turns through the foothills outside Tanner Springs, past fields and farms, with the mountains miles away in the background. I let my body work with the bike, leaning deep into the curves. I try as hard as I can to force Samantha’s image out of my mind. But in doing so, my thoughts turn toward the past. Toward the most fucked-up period of my life. The time I try hardest to forget. And the one person I wish more than anything I’d never laid eyes on.

I speed up a little, taking the curves faster than I should. I’m trying to outrun my thoughts, I know. I don’t like thinking about any of this. Remembering that my brother might still be here if I hadn’t fucked up so badly. If I hadn’t let my guard down and betrayed him.

I drive and drive, working hard to empty my mind of everything that’s chasing after me. After a while, I feel the tension start to ease a little from between my shoulder blades. Eventually I slow to a near-stop on the wide open, deserted road, then turn the bike around and head back into town, feeling almost human again.

On my way back to the clubhouse, I pass through downtown and happen to drive by The Lion’s Tap, one of the local dive bars. It’s just past three in the afternoon, at the beginning of early happy hour for the drunks. The usual crowd of smokers is hanging around by the front entrance.

As I ride by, a familiar figure happens to catch my eye. Before I register who it is, a petite blonde happens to turn around at the sound of my bike. We lock eyes.

Anita.

She gives me the finger, her face contorting into an ugly scowl, then sneers and turns back toward her group.

All the anger and rage I rode out of town to escape comes flooding back.

As if the universe wants to hammer home the fact that I have no business messing with Samantha Jennings.

A few minutes later I slam into the clubhouse, pushing open the door so hard I think for a second I’ve broken it. At the bar, Jewel and Skid’s old lady Rena jump.

“Jesus, Hawk,” Jewel gasps, putting her hand to her chest. “You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry,” I scowl. “Give me a beer and a shot.”

I catch Jewel raising her eyebrows slightly at Rena. “Sure thing,” she murmurs, and heads off down the bar to grab my drinks.

“Hey, Hawk,” Rena says cautiously. She’s sitting a couple of stools down. She doesn’t come into the club much, so she must be waiting for Skid.

“Hey.” It comes out louder and harsher than I want it to, and I feel bad, but fuck it.

“Okaayyy,” Rena drawls, and rolls her eyes. “I’m gonna just go over there for a while.” Her stool scrapes on the floor as she gets up. I don’t glance over.

Jewel sets my beer and my shot in front of me. I slam the shot and motion for another, which she gives me without a word. When I slam that, too, she gives me a questioning look.

“Just set the bottle up here,” I say darkly. “It’ll be quicker.”

Behind me, I can hear Rena whispering softly with a couple of the club girls. Looks like I’ve successfully scared away the women. Good.

Unfortunately, the men won’t be so easy. A couple minutes later, Thorn comes ambling up and sits down next to me. “Hey, brother, all right there?”

“Not in the mood for conversation,” I mutter.

“Jaysus, who pissed in your corn flakes?” he chuckles, undeterred. Thorn loves weird American expressions, especially when he can use them to piss one of us off.

“Fuck off, Thorn,” I bite out.

“Ah, come on. You got a drink in front of ya, you’ve got my fine company. What more can you want, then?” He raises his own beer and gives me a cheesy grin.

“I swear to God, Thorn, I will beat you to death if you try to cheer me up.”

He whistles. “Some people are just determined to see the world as all bad. Come on, lad. Turn that frown…”

“Thorn, you mother—”

“Hey, brothers,” Brick’s deep voice interrupts, probably saving Thorn from a broken jaw. “Jewel,” he calls. “Beer.”

“Careful,” Thorn warns him. “Hawk’s in a foul mood.”

Brick snorts. “What else is new?” He leans against the bar and takes the beer from Jewel. “So, have you heard?” he continues. “Rock, Angel, Ghost, and Geno met with Ozzy and his crew. Looks like they reached a deal with the Death Devils to take the guns off our hands.”

“That’s great,” Thorn nods. “When are we doing the transfer?”

“Rock set up a meet at a spot right on the border between our two territories. They’ll meet us there with a couple of their trucks,” Brick replies. “Should be in a day or two.”

Even though I’m in no mood to celebrate anything, this is good news. “I’ll be glad to get that shit out of our hands,” I admit.

“Yeah,” Thorn agrees. “Things are getting too hot right now. I keep expecting the news that Holloway’s goons have found out the warehouse is ours and raided it.”

“That piece of shit dead fish-eyed little fuck,” Brick glowers. “Every time I see his face I want to punch it.”

“You and me both,” I say, and allow myself just the slightest smile. Beating the shit out of Jarred Holloway is maybe the only thing that would put me in a good mood right now.

“There’s our boy!” Thorn crows. “All sunshines and rainbows.”

“Jesus Christ, Thorn, you are fucking annoying,” I growl, but he’s so goddamn ridiculous I find my mood lifting in spite of myself.

“Hey,” another voice says behind us. I turn to see Angel. “Saddle up. Rock wants you guys to head out to the warehouse and take inventory of what we’ve got out there.”

“Now?” Brick asked, his face registering confusion. “I thought the gun transfer wasn’t for a couple days.”

“Rock wants to get shit ready,” Angel replies. “I think maybe he’s getting antsy. Doesn’t want the Devils to change their minds. Wants to nail down the details, get it done as soon as we can.”

Good thing I’m only a couple of shots down, I think. I was working on getting good and hammered. Twenty minutes from now and I’d be in no shape to drive.

I stand up, as do Brick and Thorn. With a twinkle in his eye, Thorn grabs the whiskey bottle that was sitting in front of me. Then three of us head outside and drive out to the warehouse, to take stock of the guns.