At the party in the field, I managed not to be alone with Samantha. Although she was on her own with Marley running around for all the guys, she stuck close with Kim and the other women. She seemed to get along well with all the girls, which if Marley did patch in would be in his favor. No man wanted a woman who was trouble with the other club women, because in the end, it caused him too much grief.

I shot the shit with the guys and drank way too much, but I didn’t end up searching out a piece of ass. Instead, I crashed, or maybe passed out, on the floor around five a.m. The next morning had us rising early. I wasn’t sure whose bright idea it was to have the meeting at ten after a night of drinking and partying. Although we were usually quiet when we were hungover, we were especially quiet that morning. I think we all felt the heaviness of the situation pressing down on us. So we slurped down black coffee and tried eating some from the buffet. When it was almost ten, we headed over to the boardroom. Since only presidents and vice presidents were allowed in on the meeting, Rev and Deacon slipped inside while we were to wait to be called in when it came time for our motion to be heard.

As we stood outside the meeting room door, a nervous energy popped and crackled around us. Of course, none of us would have admitted to being nervous. That would have meant we were nothing but a bunch of pussies. Raiders would rather die than show fear. Each of us tried in our own way to mask our anxiety—Boone shuffled the coins in his pocket to the tune of Bonanza while Mac chain-smoked so fast he lit one cigarette off the other. As for me, I walked around the cramped hallway.

“Would you stop pacing?” Mac grunted.

Boone chuckled. “Forget it. B always paces before a fight.”

I gave the two of them a sheepish grin. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

Mac stubbed out another cigarette. “I sure as hell wish this was just a fistfight. Somehow I think we would have better odds than waiting around to chitchat.”

“With you smoking like a fucking chimney, you’d be passed out in the first round,” Boone quipped.

“Shut up, fucker,” Mac snapped before taking another long drag on his cigarette.

As I chuckled, I felt some welcome relief from the tension. Unfortunately, the feeling didn’t last long, because just then one of the Virginia Raiders stuck his head out the door. “All right, boys, you’re up.”

Mac cursed under his breath as he threw his half-smoked cigarette to the floor. After stomping it out, he made the sign of the cross and muttered, “Amen.”

After exchanging a surprised look with me, Boone reached out to stop Mac as he started for the door. “Seriously?” Boone questioned.

“Frankly, we need all the help we can get,” Mac replied matter-of-factly.

“Good to know we’ve got such a good Catholic boy on our side,” Boone mused.

The moment we stepped inside the room, the door closed and locked behind us. Smoke hung heavy along with the smell of stale alcohol and sweaty road-worn men. Around the massive mahogany table sat the presidents and vice presidents for the Southeast states. While we represented the north Georgia chapter, there were also chapters from central and south Georgia as well. Boone, Mac, and I squeezed in to stand behind the chairs where Rev and Deacon sat.

At the head of the table sat the Southeast president, Rory “Rambo” Smithwick. With his long white hair and beard, he could almost pass for Santa Claus—if it weren’t for multicolored ink all over his neck, arms, and chest. We’d never had any issues with Rambo. Back in the day, he and Preacher Man had gotten along really well. Their bond was cemented over the fact that they had both been in the army during Vietnam. Although they were in different units, there was something to be said for a shared experience of being in combat. It made strangers into a band of brothers.

Rambo let his gaze flicker around the table for a moment before clearing his throat. “The next item to discuss is a request by the north Georgia chapter.” He paused almost dramatically. “It is their wish to go legitimate.”

At the word “legitimate,” you could have heard a pin drop in the room. I certainly had anticipated an uproar, but the silence that echoed around us took me by surprise. Rambo peered around the table. “This isn’t the first time a charter has requested to be identified as legitimate.”

“Just the first one in the Southeast, right?” Rev said with a smile.

Rambo nodded. “There’s two northern California chapters, one Utah, and one Oklahoma.” He eyed the men around the table again. “It’s certainly not something unprecedented.”

As a sergeant at arms, I wasn’t used to being in on the meeting, so I didn’t know any of the officers well. The only way I could identify them was by the patch on the front of their cut or the rocker on the back.

North Carolina’s president raised a finger to speak. After Rambo had acknowledged him, he asked, “I assume you will still wear your Raiders patch and attend Raiders events?”

“Of course. We’re not asking to disband, and trust me, we sure as hell don’t intend to give up our patches,” Rev replied.

“You intend to be present even at events where there are gun or drug deals?” east Tennessee’s president asked.

Rev leaned forward in his chair. “Look, we would never judge our brothers. What your chapters choose to do is your business. For us, the heat we received is no longer worth the risk. We’ve lost too many good men to keep going at this pace. We love the Raiders brotherhood, and we’ll always defend the patch. We just want to earn our living in a different way.”

Deacon rapped his knuckles on the table. “I’m sure a lot of you think we’re a bunch of pussies for doing this. While our business ventures will change, nothing will change who we are. Just because we’re not dealing guns, we won’t come off as weak to the other clubs out there.”

“And you intend to keep your stake in the gym?” Rambo asked.

“Yes,” Rev replied.

“Will there still be gambling?”

Rev and Deacon exchanged a glance. I knew this was a sore spot between the two of them, as well as many of the other guys. Since guns brought the most heat from the feds, it was only logical to give them up. The gym, on the other hand, was able to fly under the radar. Deacon had argued that we needed to keep the gambling going to pad our bank accounts in case we needed protection money. Rev, however, wanted to be completely squeaky clean. It was an issue that had yet to be decided, but if I were to put money on it, I would wager Deacon would win. You couldn’t go legit overnight. It took time, but most of all, it took money.

“For now we will be keeping the gym,” Rev said.

“Then you won’t be completely legit,” south Georgia’s vice president said. His tone implied that he was glad we were still going to have some dirty dealings. I was sure what we were doing was rattling a lot of the old guard—the ones who had no idea how to make a living if it wasn’t illegal.

“That is true. But where it counts the most, with guns, we will be legit.”

While many of the men were nodding in agreement, a lone voice of dissent spoke up. “I have an issue with the way you disposed of your gun trade.”

All eyes turned toward a scraggly looking man with a wiry salt-and-pepper beard. Although I had never met him, I knew who he was. Easy Eddy Catcherside was the east Louisiana president. Throughout the years, he’d spent more time on the inside of a prison cell than he had on the outside. His club could be considered ragtag at best, with many choosing to patch over to the Diablos when they started sweeping through the Southeast on a forceful membership drive.

After taking a sip of water, Rev calmly questioned, “What is your issue, Eddy?”

“Before riding off into the legitimate sunset, you boys made a pretty sweet deal with the Rodriguez cartel.”

My breath hitched as I cut my eyes over to Rev’s profile. He clenched and unclenched his jaw several times before replying. I knew he was thinking about the reasons behind aligning ourselves with one of the Mexican drug cartels. It had ensured Annabel’s safety from Mendoza, the psychopath who had held her as a sex slave.

Rev stared Eddy down for a few seconds to collect himself. “Yeah, Rodriguez and I made a deal. Considering the parameters, I wouldn’t exactly call it a sweet one. It’s not like we pocketed any money from it.”

“You want to explain why you didn’t offer your gun business to your brothers first?”

“I don’t see how the deals we make are any of your business,” Deacon growled before Rev could respond.

Eddy smirked at Deacon. “I wasn’t addressing you.”

“I’m a patch-wearing member and officer, cocksucker, so anytime you question my chapter’s judgment, I have the right to answer.”

Rev put a hand on Deacon’s shoulder to both calm and quiet him. He then turned his attention to Eddy. “I haven’t tried to hide the reasons behind why I made the deal with Rodriguez. Nor do I think anyone could in good faith try to say that I have.” Rev narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps if you spent less time trying to ingratiate yourself with the Diablos and more time on the business of your Raider brothers, you would know that.”

Eddy’s face turned purple as the veins in his neck bulged. He slammed his hand down on the table, the crack echoing through the room. “Don’t you dare fucking accuse me of being disloyal to the Raiders! I was a patch member before you were even born!”

With a calm, level stare, Rev said, “While that is true, I don’t believe there is a brother around this table who doesn’t know about your friendship with them.”

Eddy shot so fast out of his chair that it went slamming back against the wall. “This isn’t about me and the Diablos. This is about you running guns to wetbacks across my territory without giving me and my boys any compensation.”

“We’re not running guns. The Rodriguez cartel is,” Deacon said with a smirk.

“But you let it happen.”

Rambo banged his gavel on the table. “Enough! Pipe the fuck down, Eddy.”

“But I—”

Jabbing his finger in the air, Rambo growled, “I don’t give two shits about what else you have to say! Take a fucking seat and respect the members of this table, or you’ll be going home without a patch!”

Eddy’s beady eyes widened at the suggestion of his cut being taken. After heaving out several frustrated breaths and shooting a death glare at us, he finally retrieved his chair and had a seat.

Rambo reached into his patch for a pack of cigarettes. After lighting one up and taking a drag, he said, “I would caution all of you to remember that what is done in your territory is your business. When it affects the territory of other brothers, then it becomes an issue. Right now I see nothing wrong with the Rodriguez cartel running guns across Louisiana. At the very least, other clubs will assume all of the Raiders chapters have an alliance with the cartel, which makes us look powerful.”

Rev and Deacon exchanged a glance. I was sure neither of them had thought that the Rodriguez deal would actually have some benefit for the other Raiders.

Mississippi’s president nodded. “I agree with Rambo. I also don’t see any reason for Rev to owe anything to Eddy. We’re along the same route, and he don’t owe me a damn thing.”

Rev grinned as the other states chimed in their agreement. “I appreciate that sentiment, boys.”

“Total bullshit,” Eddy muttered under his breath.

If Rambo heard him, he chose to ignore him. “Since we’re in agreement on that, I make a motion to vote on whether to recognize the legitimacy of the north Georgia chapter.”

When I found myself leaning forward on my feet, I couldn’t help holding my breath in anticipation. One by one, the men around the table began to vote. Once the “yeas” started ringing out, the breath I’d been holding whooshed out of me.

Not too surprisingly, the only nay came from Eddy and his vice president. “Motion carried. Meeting adjourned until next year,” Rambo said. He brought his gavel down hard to make it official.

As the men rose to their feet, we started shaking hands and thumping backs. When we were the only ones left in the room, we did some hugging of our own. “After all that fucking worry, I can’t believe it all went down so easy,” Deacon remarked as he lit up a cigarette.

“Considering what happened with Eddy, I wouldn’t say it went down easy,” Rev argued.

Deacon rolled his eyes. “Screw Eddy. His days as a Raider are numbered after he pulled that stunt.”

Boone nodded. “Deacon’s right. You don’t go after your brothers or run your mouth like a fucking fool, especially not in a closed-door meeting with all the chapters present. You might as well be signing your fucking death warrant in the club.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry as hell. Let’s head down to the dining hall and get some grub,” Deacon suggested.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said.

After Rev nodded, we fell in line with him down the hallway. Just as we rounded the corner to the dining room, Eddy stepped out in front of us. He gave Rev a menacing glare. “This ain’t over.”

Rev held up his hand. “Look, Eddy, I don’t want any trouble—”

“It’s too late for all that. I ain’t gonna sit by and let this pass. I don’t care what Rambo and the others think.”

Standing toe-to-toe with Eddy, Rev towered over him. “Are you threatening me?”

Eddy’s lips curled into a smirk. “And what if I am? You gonna sic your cartel boys on me?”

“Take your threats and get out of my fucking face before I hunt down Rambo and have him drag your ass in to take your patch.”

“Pussy,” Eddy taunted.

Rev shook his head. “I won’t fight you, old man. No matter what bullshit you throw at me.” After giving Eddy one final “fuck you” look, he sidestepped away from him and started down the hall.

“What a prick,” Deacon muttered as we entered the dining room.

“Has he always been that way at meetings?” I asked as I grabbed a tray.

Rev shrugged. “I’m not sure, since I’ve only been president at the last two. I can’t remember if Preacher Man or Case ever mentioned him.”

“He probably had someone proxy for him at the meetings when he was in jail,” Deacon said.

“They should have voted his ass out a long time ago,” Mac remarked.

Deacon grinned. “Amen to that one.”

Rev exhaled a long, somewhat troubled breath. “All right. Enough about that fucker. Let’s focus on the positives.”

“Yes, sir,” Deacon replied, with a mock salute.

“Ass,” Rev grumbled.

After lunch, we headed down the hill to where the party was gearing up around a towering bonfire. Now that the business aspect was over, the rest of the day would be another free-for-all into the early-morning hours. Then after breakfast on Sunday, everyone would pack up to head home.

I was hoping that Eddy and his assholes would leave early so they didn’t kill anyone else’s buzz. Although Rev had tried changing the subject off Eddy, it was all anyone could talk about in the dining room. Apparently, all the others had heard about Eddy’s threat, and no one seemed to be taking it as lightly as we had initially. We soon learned from some of the older men that Eddy always carried through on a threat. It left a dark cloud hanging over what should have been a banner fucking day for us.

While I’d managed to avoid Samantha for the better part of the weekend, I couldn’t help searching her out now. She and Kim were working the kegs and getting beer for a long line of thirsty Raiders. When she looked up to see me staring, she waved. After I waved back, she grabbed a cup and headed over to me.

“Need a beer?” Samantha asked.

“While I’d prefer some Jack or Patrón, it’ll have to do.”

She smiled as she handed me the red Solo cup. “Did your meeting not go so well?”

“Meeting went good. It’s more about the bullshit that happened afterward,” I replied as I gulped down some of the foamy liquid.

“The mood must be catching, because the other guys seem a little edgy.”

“Edgy is a good way to put it.” I looked up from my cup to find her staring intently at me. “Look, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“That might be true, but if you’re upset, I want you to have someone to talk to. Especially since it doesn’t seem like you can with the rest of your brothers. You know, since they’re feeling the same way.”

I sucked down the rest of the beer before shaking my head at her. “It’s nice of you to offer, but I’m going to decline.”

“Still having trouble with the emotional stuff?” she questioned with a smile.

“No. It’s more the fact that the meeting dealt with club business, and you, sweetheart, ain’t a member.”

“Ah, so it’s all part of the secret society stuff, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets.”

“Pity there’s not a pool table for you to hustle some answers out of me, huh?”

Samantha laughed. “Yep. Where’s a pool table when you need one?”

As I craned my neck around the bonfire, I asked, “How’s Marley?”

“Running his ass off. I don’t think he was in the tent two hours last night before his phone was blowing up with requests.”

I chuckled. “Nothing fucking blows quite as bad as the prospect period.”

“Yeah, but Marley is working himself to death, and he’s just a hang-around.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that one. If he keeps working as hard as he’s done this weekend, I don’t see any reason why we can’t fast-track part of his prospect period.”

Samantha’s eyes widened. “Really?”

With a shrug, I replied, “Sure, why not? He’s obviously proving himself to be a real asset, and I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

“That’s awesome. He’ll be glad to hear it.”

“So we don’t jinx anything, why don’t we just keep it between you and me?”

Sam gave me a suspicious look. “I hope that doesn’t mean if I don’t tell him, then it’ll be easier for you to bullshit me.”

Holding up my free hand, I said, “Easy there. I’m not trying to pull one over on you. I just didn’t want Marley to hear that and start slacking or something. You know, like he had it in the bag.”

The fierce expression on Samantha’s face lightened. “Oh, I see.”

“Why do I have the feeling you wouldn’t hesitate to bring out your claws?”

Samantha laughed. “You probably have that one right. But only when I think that I—or someone I care about—am being taken advantage of.”

“I can promise you right here and right now that I’m not going to take advantage of you or Marley—and neither are any of my brothers.”

She slowly nodded, and I could tell she didn’t entirely believe me. “Okay.”

“Hey, Sam!” Kim called.

Glancing over her shoulder, Sam replied, “Yeah?”

“Quit flirting with Bishop and get your ass over here and help me!”

Instead of being embarrassed by Kim’s claims, Samantha grinned. “Yes, Captain. I’ll be right there.” She turned back to me. “Since I’m being paged, I better get back to work.”

“You’re a good woman to help out. The fact that Marley will have you for an old lady can only benefit him.”

Her smile seemed to stay frozen in place. “Yeah, we’ll see.” She then hurried back over to Kim and the keg.

Not wanting to dwell on Sam’s reaction to what I had said, I ambled around the bonfire, talking to brothers from different chapters. As the afternoon heat began to wane a bit, I took a seat in one of the folding chairs next to Rev and Deacon.

Both of them had their phones out and were texting frantically. “Pussies,” I muttered under my breath.

“Yeah, well, if I ever want to get any pussy again, I know to check in with Alex to see how she’s doing.” Deacon peered up from the phone to give me a look. “Being stuck with the kids all weekend is rough, especially since Mama Beth is gone on that retreat.”

I slowly shook my head at him. “Jesus, you’re not just a pussy—you’ve grown a vagina.”

“Fuck you,” he muttered as he went back to texting.

Just as I was debating getting a beer or having Joe or Marley get me one, a surge of electricity crackled and popped its way through the air, causing the hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms to stand up. It was a sixth sense sort of feeling I got from time to time when something bad was about to happen. Since bad shit often went down in my world, I had learned to roll with it. The last time I had felt this way was on the way home from our meeting with Rodriguez’s men. I had ended up shot, and Rev had been kidnapped by Mendoza.

I swallowed hard as I rose out of my chair. My gaze spun frantically around the field as I searched for an imminent threat. While my heart pounded out of my chest, I saw nothing out of the ordinary—just people laughing, talking, drinking, and eating. No one was arguing or fighting; no one had any weapons drawn. Realizing all seemed well, I exhaled the breath I had been holding. I brought my hand to my chest and rubbed my shirt over where my heart still beat erratically. Maybe it was all just a false alarm. Maybe what had gone down with Eddy had made me paranoid, which was the last fucking thing I needed.

“You okay?” Rev asked.

When I looked over my shoulder, his expression was grave. He had seen firsthand when I got the heebie-jeebies, as he and Deacon called them. “Just a false alarm.”

But when I turned to sit back down, the sound of tires screeching caused me to freeze. I jerked my gaze from the people laughing and talking in the crowd to the hillside. When a black-paneled van crested the top of the hill, my stomach lurched into my throat. “Get down! Get down!” I screamed.

Just as the words left my lips, the sound of machine-gun fire echoed through the air. I didn’t stop to think about Deacon and Rev—I knew they could take care of themselves. Instead, I searched through the crowd for her. I could barely believe what I saw. Instead of falling to the ground to protect herself like some of the others around me, she was shoving children under the food tables. A scream tore from my throat when the man helping her was hit in the back and fell to the ground.

Breaking into a sprint, I closed the short gap between us. I had no other thought in my mind but making sure she was safe, even if it meant sacrificing my life for hers. I dove on top of her, toppling her to the ground. As the gunfire and screams continued going off around me, I shielded her with my body.

She once again surprised the hell out of me by pounding her fists against my chest. “Let me up! We need ambulances in here. Stat!”

I figured she was going into shock from the way she was talking. I hoped and prayed that it wasn’t from her being shot and losing blood. I had taken her down so fast I hadn’t had the chance to see if she had been wounded.

When the gunfire finally ceased and the tires squealed off, I slowly rose to look at her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. But I need—”

Before I could think better of it, I leaned down and bestowed a quick kiss on the top of her forehead. When I pulled back, she stared at me wide-eyed. “Sorry. I’m just so fucking glad you weren’t shot or hurt.”

Unblinking and unmoving, Sam continued staring at me. “You saved me.”

“Yeah.”

Sam started to say something else, and then her eyes went wide. “Marley!” she cried. After she pushed me off her, she jumped to her feet. Before I could grab her, she became lost in the chaos around me.

As I stood there frozen like a statue, it felt as if I had been dropped into the middle of a war zone. In that moment, I knew I would never forget the sounds of the screams. They would haunt me and my sleep for years to come. They were screams of agonized pain, screams of crippling fear, and screams of life-altering grief. Over the years, I had been in a lot of fights and fought a lot of battles as one of the Raiders, but nothing compared to the full-scale carnage around me. I didn’t think there was a chapter that hadn’t lost somebody.

At my side, Deacon was on his cell phone talking to a 911 operator. Rev pushed ahead of us to go to a hysterical woman whose husband or boyfriend lay in a pool of blood. I don’t know how long I stood frozen as I surveyed the horror around me. Finally, I began to animate again.

Slowly, I put one foot in front of the other. It felt as if I were trudging through thick mud. Although I should have been searching for my fellow Raiders, I could think only of Samantha. While I continued walking, moments of relief came as I saw my brothers. Breakneck barked out orders to those around him to help some of the wounded. Kim and several of the women gathered a group of kids to take back to the motel. Boone limped along with his arm over Mac’s shoulder. When I met his gaze, he gave me a nod to let me know that while he might’ve been hit, he was okay.

One by one I saw each of my Raiders brothers, and I heaved a sigh of relief that besides a few minor gunshots, we hadn’t lost anyone.

Or so I thought.

At the far end of the clearing, I finally found Samantha crumpled on the ground. I broke into a run to get to her. But when I grew closer, I skidded to a stop. She wasn’t alone. She was huddled over Marley’s blood-soaked body. From where he had fallen, he had borne the brunt of the gunfire coming over the hill.

“Sam?” I questioned.

Her cries momentarily ceased. She jerked her head up from Marley’s chest to whirl around. Just as I would never forget those screams, I would never, ever forget the look of icy hatred that burned in her eyes. I didn’t have to ask her how Marley was. I knew right then and there that he was dead, and in Samantha’s eyes, I might as well have killed him myself.