CHAPTER ONE

Sofia Cruz held on tight to the crazy man steering the motorcycle as they zoomed down the dark highway. She really didn’t have an option. After he’d manhandled her onto the back of his bike and pulled her arms around his ribcage, he’d handcuffed her wrists together. He was strong, yes, but how had it been so easy for him to do it?

Her shaking body automatically leaned with his through the curve. The cold wind blasted them with each mile that passed. She huddled to his warm leather-covered back. Her jeans, sweatshirt, and light jacket were not enough for a wild ride at night. Though the temperature during the weeks before the Christmas holidays in Alabama were mild, going eighty miles an hour on a motorcycle quickly chilled a girl to the bone.

She had tried shouting for help, or at the very least, cussing the man who kidnapped her, but the wind snatched away the sounds. Her biggest fear was crashing. If they did, chances of surviving were nil to none, especially as they didn’t wear helmets.

All she had wanted was to pick out a Christmas tree that evening after a full day of shopping for presents. As a newly divorced woman, she’d cherished the chance to do it alone. Her choice without complaints about the cost or the mess it would leave later. So she’'d gone to the Boy Scouts Christmas tree lot, knowing once she picked the right one, they would lift and strap it to the top of her SUV. Her cousin should be at home to unload it. If not, surely a neighbor would help. For the first time in years, she actually looked forward to Christmas.

She’d been threading her way around the trees in the massive lot, loving the scent of pine and the cheerful voices of children playing among the lower branches. Out of the greenery, strong arms wrapped around her and squeezed her back to a broad chest. A calloused hand covered her mouth.

“Scream and someone will get hurt,” he said with a bone-melting drawl into her ear.

That man could read the newspaper and make her weak in the knees, but not this time. Instead, her anger took over. Why was Wolf Savalas scaring her? She’d fought him, but he’d easily subdued her. By the time they were riding hell-bent out of Brook Hill, he’d taken her mobile phone, pocketed it.

As they slowed down and leaned into another curve, her anger quickly meshed with fear again. Where was he taking her?

He turned off the highway and pointed the bike down a small back road until he reduced speed even more and turned once again. The headlight’s beam bounced over the rough dirt road, almost jarring her teeth out. He drove as if familiar with the numerous potholes, dodging the larger ones.

As the bike dropped to a near crawl, she checked out the area. Pine, oak, and sweet gum trees leaned over the road. They were out in the middle of nowhere. What was he planning to do to her? She didn’t want to think about the possibilities, only a few of which she could live through.

She’d rarely left the city limits of Brook Hill and certainly not into the rural areas. Out of the darkness, a hunk of a gray house emerged. The windows and doors boarded up. Dead grass slapped at their feet and calves. Tree limbs hung low in their path.

He shut off the engine and rolled the bike a few more feet until he stopped on a small patch of cement behind the house. Probably at one time the house’s back patio. He kicked the stand down and spread his legs to steady the bike.

“Let me go, Wolf!” She pulled on the handcuffs.

“Hush! Stop that. Dammit, I’ll explain in a few minutes.” He grabbed her hands where they dug into his stomach.

“You had no right taking me like that. My cousin’s going to be worried and so very mad. I hate to think what he’ll do to you.” She heard the scrape of the key in one of the locks.

Although she was presently pissed at Wolf, she had to admit he looked sexy and gorgeous. His hair, mussed by the ride, fell over his eyes, emphasizing the light color between the dark strands. He knew women found him fascinating, and he used it to his advantage. Added to that, he was a dangerous outlaw biker. That meant he did whatever the hell he wanted. Yet, none of that compared to the terror of her cousin, Hector, finding out that Wolf had kidnapped her. She didn’t want Wolf to die. No matter how mad he made her.

She quietly sighed as her shoulders rose and fell in aggravation.

Her cousin loved her. Sure, everyone knew him as Toro, the boss of the Thirty-Second gang, the bitter enemies of the Brothers of Mayhem MC.

“I had to.” Finally, the key clicked.

Relieved that he unlocked the cuffs, she jerked her hand back, but he held tight. Then she heard the click again.

No, he didn’t!

He lifted his arm. Only one handcuff remained around her wrist. The other circled his.

“Have you totally lost your mind?” She shook her wrist. Surely, he was joking.

“Sofia, please give me a few minutes and I’ll explain.”

She wouldn’t call his tone pleading. She imagined Wolf never begged for anything. He sounded put out, irritated even.

“It better be good.” She was quickly reminded about the handcuffs when she tried to cross her arms and his hand hit her boob. A little embarrassed, but refusing to show it, she glared. “Talk away.”

At that moment, the trees swayed, and the few leaves still clinging rattled from a strong breeze. She shivered and wished she’d worn a thicker jacket. How in the world could she have known that a lunatic would force her onto a motorcycle during a cold snap?

“You’re freezing.” He folded her against his chest with his other arm. “Let’s go inside. I’ll build a fire and we’ll warm up.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, but he ignored her as they clumsily made their way into the house. It proved difficult to walk handcuffed to someone, especially when he was a head taller and acted as if she weighed no more than the saddlebags he slung over his shoulder.

The boarded up backdoor easily opened. The two-by-fours had been hammered into the door but not the frame. Misleading anyone into believing it was sealed tight. The house smelled musty and mildewy. No one had lived there in a long time. Only a few pieces of furniture remained. A table with two chairs and a dingy couch faced a small fireplace.

“Aren’t you worried about breaking and entering?” she asked in a whisper as if she were afraid of waking someone up.

When he didn’t say anything, she looked up and caught his sardonic grin.

“Whatever!” she huffed. “I agree it was a stupid question to ask a Mayhem Brother.” They weren’t like the ninety-nine percent of motorcycle clubs in the U.S.: law-abiding and riding for fun. They were one-percenters. A club that believed in living by its own laws.

She’d met Wolf a few weeks ago in, of all places, a grocery store. He’d been staring at several frozen turkeys with utter confusion written on his face. Thinking back, he’d looked out of his element and so adorable. The thought made her laugh. Calling him adorable was like calling a grizzly cuddly.

He’d noticed her standing a couple of feet away with her hand over her mouth, trying to hide her laughter.

“What the hell’s the difference between a glaze, rub, and brine? I told them not to send me. What the hell? Thanksgiving isn’t for another two weeks.” He shook his head, tossing black hair into his eyes while the rest fell over his ears and straight around the nape of his neck.

His pale blue eyes peeked between the dark strands. God, they were almost otherworldly as he watched her. In her mind, they glowed like a wild animal wanting to come out and play. He appeared much taller than her cousin. That would make him easily six-three. The plain, beaten-up, brown leather jacket complemented his olive skin and that gorgeous hair, giving him a bad boy look. From all evidence, she had a problem being attracted to bad boys. She really needed to stay away from men like her soon-to-be ex-husband.

Turning on her heel, she made two steps before a hand reached out and lightly touched her arm. “Sorry, beautiful, but I have a feeling you know the difference. Could you help?”

Unable to say no when asked so nicely, she faced him and smiled. No one had called her beautiful before, and she didn’t care if he was lying to ensure her help. She blushed. He smiled back. Oh, boy, she was screwed, probably in more ways than the obvious.

If she hadn’t been in the final stage of an ugly divorce, he would’ve had her panties off the same afternoon they met for coffee.

Their first meeting had been the beginning of the most exhilarating time of her life. They’d seen each other almost every day for those few weeks, though most times it had been only for an hour or so. They talked about their childhood and their plans for the future, but never about their current life. On their second week together, she mentioned her divorce proceedings were wrapping up, and her voice had cracked. His eyes filled with compassion. Later, when he walked her to her car, he kissed her for the first time. It had been heaven.

Each time they met, he’d been a perfect gentleman. She’d always thought that was what she wanted in a man, but after a few heated kisses, she needed more.

Maybe he had his reasons for not pushing further.

Not until their last date did she finally understand. Her past and present situation caught up with them. It had been such a simple thing that destroyed their private world. They’d been at the same coffee shop where they’d spent their first date. She pulled out the legal papers and set them on the table. Deep inside, she knew Wolf had been acting the gentleman and waiting for her to be free before they—sigh—spent the night together.

She’d received her signed divorce papers.

“I’m a free woman.” Joy filled her. Starting a new life and already she had met an interesting and wonderful man. Her luck was changing.

He’d placed his hand over hers. As if in slow motion, his gaze shifted over the top legal document, and he picked it up.

“Cruz?”

Deciding to go back to her maiden name had been an easy decision.

“Yes. Villa was my married name.”

She didn’t like the blank expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Why wasn’t he smiling, happy that they could move forward in their relationship? Why had he released her hand?

“I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together. You live in north Brook Hill. Your father had owned a body shop that your cousin, Hector, now ran. I’m such a fucking idiot.” His gaze lifted to meet hers.

The glare took her back. Her body trembled. Not from fear. She knew the feeling of true fear. Rage was such a little word for such a powerful emotion.

“Tell me,” she spat out.

“Your cousin, Hector, is known as Toro Cruz. The boss of the Thirty-Second gang.” He sounded as if he was accusing her of being Toro in disguise. She was the only one who called her cousin by his real name, and she saw no reason to change.

“Yes. So what. I’m not in his gang. I’m the same person today as I was yesterday. Only I’m free to sleep with whoever I want.” Why had she added the last part? Maybe to taunt the man who had crawled into the empty place of her heart. The same wounded area her ex-husband had torn out. Everything was going all wrong.

“Like that’s going to fucking happen,” he muttered. Then he looked around. “Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand.

“No. We can talk here.”

“Who said anything about talking? I’m taking you to your car and then we’re never seeing each other again.”

“I see. You’re a coward. You’re afraid of my cousin.”

His eyes narrowed. Without loosening his grip, he jerked her out of the chair and dragged her outside. His grip remained firm, but not hurtful. Her face flushed with embarrassment as people turned to stare. She sped up and followed to keep from being humiliated further.

Happily, they didn’t have far to go. She’d parked her SUV under a tree off to the side of the building.

“There’s my car. Let me go.” She jerked away and rubbed her hand.

He huffed in frustration, looking down and then back at her.

“Listen, Sofia. I should’ve told you something about myself before now. You have just as much of a right to be mad at me.”

Actually, she already had. She didn’t like to be manhandled.

“I’m waiting.” She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.

He made her nervous with the way he hesitated, staring at her as if he wanted to memorize her features. Then he blinked and looked away before returning his attention to her.

“I’m a Mayhem Brother. I’m the VP of the Brothers of Mayhem MC.” He leaned down until his nose nearly touched hers. “Do you understand? Brothers of Mayhem forever, forever Brothers of Mayhem. Do you know what I mean?”

Her heart stopped. He might as well say he was the devil himself. The MC hated her cousin and his gang and anyone who supported them.

“You must not be very proud of your club. You’re not wearing a vest with all those patches on it. I don’t understand why you were even dating me then. Obviously, I’m nothing like the blonde bimbos that hang around your club.” She should feel ashamed for stereotyping his club, but he’d made her so angry.

“Shit! It’s called a fucking cut, not a vest.” He glanced away for a second as if regaining control and returned his attention to her. His eyes narrowed and turned cold. “Personally, I don’t give a fuck what you think, but I would never put you in danger.” Then he stood straight, turned on his heel, and stalked away.

All the way home, she’d thought hard on what he meant by his last statement. It hadn’t been hatred or cowardliness in his eyes. He’d been afraid for her. But why? That was what she’d been asking herself since they’d quit seeing each other.

Her attention returned to the man tossing wood with one hand into the fireplace. She figured she was about to find out the answer.

––––––––

“Dumb motherfucker. Dumb motherfucker. Dumb motherfucker,” Wolf muttered each time he threw in another stick of wood.

Stooping in front of the fireplace, he stopped and pulled a couple back out. Too many and he’d set the old house on fire. As he turned, his nose almost brushed her cheek. Every inch of her was shivering. Stupid motherfucker that he was, he hadn’t thought out the kidnapping. She hadn’t been dressed for riding a bike in winter.

“Come here.” He sat on the floor, trying to pull her to his chest and envelop her with his warmth. His body usually ran hot, and winter was his favorite time of the year. Wearing short sleeves with his cut was usually plenty. The day he’d met Sofia, it had been cold, and he’d worn an old plain leather jacket without his cut as he’d been driving his truck. Brothers were forbidden to wear a cut in a cage, what they called an automobile. He had the leather jacket on again and no cut still. But he knew the vest with the Brothers of Mayhem’s flaming skull patch and rockers that had to be worn outside all clothing would make it obvious to Toro who had snatched her.

“No.” Her hand pushed at his chest.

“I’ll warm you.”

“I don’t want you to touch me.” Her eyes glittered in the firelight.

No matter how angry Sofia was he loved those dark chocolate depths reflecting the fire. With her light brown skin and deep mahogany hair, she was exotic and mysterious. For the last couple of weeks since their goodbyes, he’d tried to forget her and leave her alone. Yet, every time he turned around he was outside watching her favorite coffee shop, driving by her home, or checking her Facebook status. Shit! When had he grown a vagina? He didn’t have an account, but used the MC’s, claiming to help out one of the old ladies to keep it up-to-date.

Someone needed to show Sofia how to make her statuses private.

Frustrated at the situation and his recent show of having a pussy, he placed his free arm around her and squeezed, pulling her onto his lap and against his chest. She tried to pull away.

“Don’t fucking move,” he hissed. Damn it. His cock stiffened with every wiggle of her ass. “I’ll explain everything in a few minutes. For now, let me get you warm. I don’t want you sick.”

“Are you doing this to get back at my cousin?” Her hair brushed his face as she turned and leaned back to look up.

Fuck, she smelled good. Like night air and summer flowers. Sure didn’t help his balls and cock any.

“A little, but not in the way you think.” He wanted to be honest with her. That was, as honest as he could be at that point. He arranged her sideways in his lap to give his dick a breather. “Be quiet and still. Get warm.” He reached over to a duffle bag he’d left earlier in the evening and pulled it nearer. “Here. Pour this and take a sip.” He handed her a Thermos filled with coffee.

“You really have a problem with control issues.” She pulled off the cup and unscrewed the top.

He knew what she meant. The few dates they had, he’d decided where and when they would go. Most of the women he’d been with had accused him of being bossy, even the one-night stands. He’d be damned before he apologized. He was a male. Wanting to be in charge was part of his DNA.

The delicious coffee smell filled the room. He watched her carefully test the temperature. Her little pink tongue darted out. Damn, that was sexy as all get out. He watched her throat move as she swallowed. Everything about her fascinated him. She was all round curves and soft mounds. The braid she’d worn had come undone and her hair curled every which-a-way, ending at her waist. Unable to resist, he grabbed a handful and lifted it to his nose. Whether it was her or the shampoo she used, he wanted to eat her up.

Hell, he’d dated her for weeks and only kissed her a few times. He deserved a sainthood. All because he knew she was special. A real lady.

Fuck, what was he doing?

“Okay. I’m warm now. Tell me.” She set the cup and canister on the hearth. Unconsciously, surely it was, she licked her bottom lip.

Every inch of his body hardened.

Fuck! Down, boy. Remember, she’s a good girl.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when his pocket began to vibrate.

“Shit! I got to take this.” He shifted her to one thigh, refusing to let her off his lap as he reached for his phone. “What’s up, Cutter?”

“Where are you, bro?”

“Been out riding. Decided to take shelter until morning.” Wolf glanced at Sofia.

She remained still, listening to each word. It was difficult not to, considering her proximity.

“Easy’s been asking for you. I told him that your bike was down and a friend had borrowed your truck. He wanted you for the action tonight. I’m not lying for your ass again. We’re even. Man, your ass’ll be in deep shit if you don’t show up at church tomorrow.” Cutter’s voiced lowered. “Your disappearances cost you your VP patch. Don’t fuck it up anymore.”

His successor’s warning hung in the air after he ended the call.

“What will happen if you don’t show up?” Her soft voice filled with concern.

That was what made her so special. She’d been kidnapped by a scumbag who was a part of the hated Brothers of Mayhem, yet she showed compassion.

She had no idea he’d done what was best for her. If he hadn’t, by tomorrow she would be hurt or dead.