Serafina

I don’t know how long it’s been since Eagle left, or how long I’ve been lying on the floor. The Eagles are still playing on my iPod and I’ve lost count of how many times “Desperado” came on. I’m drenched in Caleb’s scent, the evidence of our sexual encounter still sticky between my legs. When he announced he couldn’t do this right now and walked out on me, I rolled into a little ball and gave up.

I love him. Somehow, Eagle needs to understand that I left to protect him. My brothers wanted me to marry Derelict. His father was a member of the Dead Dogs, a wealthy asshole who bankrolled a lot of the club’s activities. It would have been the perfect union, a way to guarantee that the money stayed in the charter.

I dry heave and then cough. Derelict had those psychotic Manson eyes. And a habit of killing things. I escaped that future through my love for Eagle.

Finding the strength to finally get up, I end up in the kitchen guzzling water. It’s five o’clock in the morning. I’ve been in a trance on that floor for at least nine hours. Good Lord. My world just imploded and I’m not even sure what to do. Where to go. Who to talk to. If I can stay here. Will Eagle ever speak to me again? I know he would never reveal my true identity; I trust him implicitly. But there’s a question of retaliation. Even Caleb has limits. And I don’t want to be his enemy. I’ve seen what happens to people he hates.

With my couple thousand dollars in savings, I might have enough money to start over somewhere else. Maybe Boston or Seattle. Far away from the south, far away from Eagle.

Then I consider Asia. How would she feel if I just disappeared? She’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister. Always willing to listen, endlessly offering to make me an official member of her family. She has my back. I find my cell on the dining room table and dial her number. I know it’s early in the morning, but she deserves to know the truth. My confession will remove half of the weight I’ve been carrying around on my weary shoulders for the last six years.

Misery doesn’t love company; she just wants to share her burden.

Asia picks up on the second ring. “’Fina?”

“I’m sorry to call so early.”

“Don’t apologize. Are you okay?”

“We need to talk.”

“Now?”

“Please . . .”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” She disconnects.

I have coffee ready by the time she arrives. She walks in wearing her pajamas and slippers, hair in a messy bun.

“Did that biker break your heart?” she asks.

“I broke his.”

She accepts the steaming mug and follows me into the living room. “How’d you manage that?” She sits on the edge of the sofa, watching me pace.

Where do I start? How do I explain the lie I’ve been living? “My real name isn’t Serafina Scala.”

“Wait!” she says and takes a sip of coffee. “Are you a Russian operative? Because I could get into the Bond thing.”

Asia never fails to make me laugh. “Nothing that exciting, no espionage. I’m not Russian, just a boring Italian girl who borrowed her great-grandmother’s name to survive.” I explain everything in detail.

When I finally finish, she’s silent, gripping that mug so tight I’m afraid it’s going to burst.

“Fuck,” she says, blinking her eyes rapidly. “You’re biker royalty?”

“Don’t romanticize it, Asia. I’m in hiding.”

“No. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just. Wow. I’m completely blown away. How did a sixteen-year-old girl manage to give the Dead Dogs the slip?”

“I had help. From one of the best in the business. I think he was in love with me.”

“You mean a professional cleaner?”

“You watch too many movies.”

“Whatever you call him.” She hops up and throws herself at me, giving me the healing hug I need. “I love you, girl. Nothing will ever change that.” She pulls back and looks at me. “You have a second chance here, Sera . . . I mean, Angel.”

“A second chance at what? Eagle hates me.”

She shakes her head. “Impossible. You waited for him all these years. Gave up your virginity to spend one night with him. Shit. You accuse me of watching too many movies. Your story has Lifetime feature movie written all over it. Trust me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m going to leave Texarkana tomorrow.”

“What?” Her smile fades. “No. You can’t keep running.”

“I can’t stay here. If my brother finds out I’m alive . . . it’s not safe for me or Eagle. Maybe even you. Bear is dangerous. ”

“Just stay, Serafina. No one needs to know anything.”

Tears fill my eyes again. “Eagle knows.”

“He’ll come crawling back, ’Fina. I promise.”

“I don’t want him to crawl.”

We both startle when we hear a noise outside.

“Are you expecting someone?” Asia asks, eyeing the front door.

“N-no.”

We rush to the kitchen window and look out. My heart skips a beat when I make eye contact with a man wearing Iron Norsemen patches on his leather jacket. I close the curtain and fist my hands.

“Who is he?” she asks.

“I don’t recognize him. But the patches . . .” I run to the door and whip it open. “Why are you here?”

“Following orders. You’re not allowed to go anywhere. Your friend is welcome to stay or go. No men.” He reaches inside his front pocket, pulls out a pack of cigarettes, taps one out, places it in his mouth, and then lights it.

“Do I get a name?”

He ignores me, returns the pack to his pocket, and then leans against the brick wall.

“Great.” I close and lock the front door. “Now I’m a prisoner in my own home.”

Eagle

The ride back to Holly Beach was long and treacherous, speed the only release for my lasting rage. Before I left Arkansas, I made a call to Tonsils and had him send someone to guard Angel’s apartment. I don’t want her going anywhere until I decide what to do with her.

I also called for a mandatory meeting for all patched members. The fact that Angel is alive changes everything. I wait inside the clubhouse where we hold church. Tonsils is sitting next to me, eager to hear the news, looking at me like he knows I’m about to explode.

“What happened, Eagle?”

I suck in a ragged breath, so close to breaking. “Can’t you wait?”

“I’m your second-in-command.”

“Goddamnit.” I pull the tattered T-shirt out of my pocket and slam it on the table. “That happened.”

Tonsils stares at me, then looks at the shirt. He picks it up and examines it. “Angel’s shirt? Where in the fuck did you find this?”

“On Angel.”

“You’re losing it, Brother. She’s dead.”

“No,” I say, looking him square in the eyes. “She’s alive and well. Just fucked her on her living room floor.”

Before he can respond, the other members start filing into the room. Ten minutes later, the double doors are closed and locked.

Awkward silence falls as I stand and start walking around the room, searching for the right words. How can I accuse the woman I love of destroying my life? Of setting my MC up for a war against another club we already hated? We’ve lost members over it, buried four who were shot or stabbed by Dead Dogs—and practically sainted the girl. Her fucking portrait hangs in the clubhouse like she’s the pope. I shoot a frustrated look to Tonsils, who just nods. I can see his pain. He loved Angel. We all did. I still do.

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a lunatic. In time, the details will come out—we’ll understand things better. But last night I found out Angel Orani is alive.” I snatch the shirt off the table and throw it to the other end so my brothers can see it. “I ripped this from her body.”

Slowly, the shirt is passed around. There’s grumbling and quite a few stunned glances sent my way.

“Where is she?” Sunny asks.

“How did you find her?” Sam shakes his head and tosses the evidence away, looking disgusted.

“I met her at Lazaro’s bachelor party ten days ago. She’s undergone a complete transformation—plastic surgery, everything else to hide her true identity. Her new name is Serafina Scala. She lives in Texarkana. We spent Thursday night at my cabin. For a moment there, I thought I was ready to move on. Ready to claim an old lady. So I showed up at her apartment unannounced. I found her in this shirt, looking at photographs of us and her family.”

“Holy shit,” Sam says.

“Why did she hide?” Tonsils asks. “That girl loved you—us.”

I glance out the window on the other side of the room. The weather matches my mood. It’s unusually cool outside, storm clouds rolling in. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t ask.”

“Where is she now?” Blue asks.

“At her apartment. I sent Cannon there to keep watch.”

“The Dead Dogs would pay a hefty price to get her back,” Sunny comments.

I growl my disapproval. Bear would beat her savagely and then turn her into a passaround. No matter her transgressions, I won’t let her suffer like that. I’d rather shoot her in the head myself.

“She deserves a chance to defend herself,” Blue says. “And we have the right to question her—inquisition style if necessary.”

I couldn’t agree more. “What do you suggest?” Blue is one of our officers.

“Bring Angel here.”

“No one, not even the old ladies, can know about this. If the Dead Dogs find out she’s alive, it’ll start a war. Like nothing we’ve ever seen,” I warn.

My brothers agree.

Time to put the idea to a vote. “All in favor of bringing Angel Orani here, say aye.”

It’s unanimous. For the first time since the inception of the Iron Norsemen, a woman is going to attend church.