Outrigger by Nichole Severn (1)

Some people are cursed with the ability to remember every object and scent in their surroundings for the rest of their lives. Sherlock Holmes, Sean Spencer from Psych, and even Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory share this predicament. They possessed something called Eidetic Memory.

Mila Stone, however, did not.

Which would explain why she didn’t remember how she’d ended up cradling a broken nose on Las Vegas Boulevard at eight in the morning.

Oh, wait. Yes, she did.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you just randomly hit people in the face with skateboards?” she asked the blonde bitch in front of her.

Blondie was a whole lot of woman complete with tattoos and a set of Double D’s. And the total opposite of her five-foot-six gangly frame. Along with the fact she’d never been the kind of person to hit someone in the face with a skateboard as they walked down the Las Vegas Strip.

She tried to inhale the hot, dry air through her now-broken nose, but the sounds of passing cars reverberated too loudly in her head to concentrate on one simple task.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The amount of pain coursing through her head was nothing compared to how much it’d hurt for her to deflate Blondie’s chest, but anger management taught her to evaluate first, then react. She coddled her nose, wincing as waves of pain filled her skull. Blood dripped into her mouth, the salty liquid working its way down her throat. She tried to spit it out, but the damage had already been done. She could practically taste the wood in the blood. Like a good wine, flavors tended to reveal themselves the longer you savored.

“You really think you can hide from me?” Blondie asked.

She pushed herself off the ground, wiping some of the blood away with the back of her hand. The sight of that much blood didn’t bother her as much as getting a pretty decent view up Blondie’s skirt. Yikes.

“I don’t even know who you are, you stupid bimbo, but you should seriously consider wearing some underwear.” She ran her tongue over her teeth. Everything intact. Thank God.

Blondie’s face contorted, her lips drawing back into a snarl.

She might die on Las Vegas Boulevard at the hands of an oversized Barbie, but if she happened to leave her alive, her own club would finish the job. She was supposed to be back at the shop over an hour ago, and if she’d learned anything in the past two years, they wouldn’t grant leniency just because she was a woman. With hands raised in front of her, she backed away from Big and Blonde, unsteady. Not only was Blondie twice her size, but the woman obviously didn’t have reservations about hurting random people. This wasn’t someone she wanted to tussle with. “Listen, I don’t know what the hell your problem is—”

Blondie burst into tears. “I can’t believe you! Why’d you have to sleep with him?”

What? “Uh...”

She searched for a camera, Bob Saget, or something to make sense of the bawling woman in front of her. Candid Camera had to be hiding around the corner. She wasn’t famous enough to get Punk’D. “Are you all right?”

Wait. Shouldn’t someone be asking her that? She was the one with the possibly broken nose.

Blondie dropped the skateboard.

Mila watched it roll down the sidewalk, distracted.

“I’m sorry!” The blonde stumbled toward her, hands outstretched. Her arms wrapped around Mila as she buried her face in her shoulder. That chest of Blondie’s squished against her B-cups. At least the woman wore a bra. “My therapist says I need to work out my frustrations in a safe place and I—” Something slimy dripped down her shoulder. “I can’t believe him!”

“Okay.” She had to get out of here.

Blondie pulled away, snot and tears clinging to her T-shirt. Her baby blues darted to Mila’s chest. She covered her goods. No popping of her balloons. “You’re with the Outriggers Motorcycle Club?” More sniffles.

“Uh huh.” Behind Blondie, a man nearing thirty crossed the street toward the black Harley Fat Boy parked about fifty feet away. Her thighs tightened as flashes of last night flickered across her mind. Cooper, bartender extraordinaire, and the reason she would be late for her own crucifixion, didn’t seem to have the same afterglow she did this morning. “Glad we’re caught up. I’ve gotta get going.”

Long, red-tipped, slender fingers gripped her arms as she watched her one night stand drive off. “You can help me.” What?

“I don’t think so. You just hit me in the face. With. A. Skateboard. What makes you think I want to do anything for you?”

Those angry eyes settled on her once again and a chill sped down her spine. She hitched a thumb over her shoulder and stepped back out of Blondie’s reach. “I have a meeting I was supposed to be at an hour ago.” She backed up another step, her mid-calf boots scuffing against the sidewalk. Luckily no one saw the incident, so the coast was clear to bolt. She had to get Blondie here off her back. “I have to wash my hair. Go to the grocery store. Kill myself.”

“No, no! You’re perfect,” Blondie said.

Her teeth rattled as Blondie locked her hands around her thin arms and shook her. Her head snapped back on her shoulders.

“We can do this! All you need to do is come with her,” she said, her blue eyes distant as if she were scheming something terrible.

Dread churned her insides. She batted her hands away. “Stop shaking me!”

Blondie froze. Her mouth snapped shut at the outburst. Served her right. People just didn’t shake other people and demand them to go with them for no good reason. Not at least without offering candy. Blondie’s gaze became glassy again.

“Oh, no.” She hated crying women. They made her uncomfortable and tore down every defense she had. She scanned down the street, searching for an escape. Her bike was parked about twenty feet away. If she ran fast enough, she could outrun the waterworks. “Please don’t cry again.”
She couldn’t handle this. What did this bitch think would happen after she broke her nose?
Tears streamed down Blondie’s cheeks a second time.
“Are you seriously doing this to me? You hit me in the face!”

Time to get to that meeting. The deal with Satan’s Army would redefine the club’s status. As Vice President, she could not miss it and she couldn’t be caught dead on the Strip either. The rules were clear: stay out of Satan’s Army territory. Besides, she’d had these types of encounters before. Wives wanted revenge for their husband’s cheating ways. All she had to do...blah blah blah. Nothing this double-D blonde said would surprise her, but no matter what hare-brained scheme she had in mind, Mila didn’t have the time. “Listen, I—”

“I need you to kill someone up for me, Mila. But you have to make it look like an accident.”

That was new.
“How do you know my name?” She could barely bench fifty pounds the one, and only, time she’d stepped into a gym. Spying? Sure. She always liked a good conspiracy. Picking up a miscellaneous package to deliver? Depended on the compensation. Fighting? Well, skateboard Blondie’s face crush was the most action her nose had ever seen. She wasn’t a fighter and she could hardly handle a gun. She looked down at her thin, small frame. Strands of bright red hair skidded across her clothing as she connected with Blondie’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?”

Blondie reached inside that big bra of hers and pulled out a wad of cash. A hundred dollar bill rested on the outside and the anxiety in her chest grew two times stronger. “Doesn’t matter how I know you. Two thousand bucks. I’ll give you half now and half when it’s done.” She shoved the cash into Mila’s hand and her fingers closed around it automatically.

She could use the extra cash. Vegas wasn’t exactly the ideal place to live, especially for someone who didn’t dance, sing, whore around, do drugs, or party. She’d been planning on leaving some day. The two grand would help. A lot.

“Who’s the mark?” Her voice hitched on the last word.

Blondie stepped closer. Her eyes dried up and darted from left to right. She handed her a photo. “Make it quick and dirty. And make sure nothing can be traced back to me.”

She looked down at the photo. Her heart plummeted into her stomach.

Cooper.
Her bartender.
“You want me. To kill. This guy?” She could imagine exactly how her attempt to rough anyone up would go down: with her on the floor. But attack Cooper? A smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. She’d certainly attacked him last night. “He’s three times my size.”

“Well, I can’t do it!”
“Why do you want him dead?” she asked.
“He cheated on me.” Blondie twirled a platinum

strand of hair between two fingers.
She shook her head in disbelief. Aside from the stab of pain in her stomach thinking about Cooper and Blondie together, the ache from her nose exploded when she winced. Her eyes stung with tears, but not pain tears. What the hell was wrong with her? He was a one-night stand. She wasn’t supposed to care.

“I have to go.” Mila shoved the cash into her back pocket and jogged toward her own bike. Just take the cash and run.

“How do I get a hold of you?” Blondie yelled across the street.

She didn’t answer, carefully setting her helmet over her head to avoid her nose. She threw one leg over her pride and joy and started the ignition. Thoughts of the hit she’d just been paid to participate in disappeared as she focused keeping her breathing even. Not knowing what would happen to her once she stepped inside the clubhouse set her on edge. Less than ten minutes later, she drove into Outrigger territory. Anxiety clawed its way up her throat. She’d been a member for more than two years, but her status as Vice President wouldn’t cushion the punishment waiting.

She’d screwed up. Big time.

She’d be surprised if the club didn’t burn off her membership tattoo for letting one of the largest shipments of cocaine out of her sight.

Her bike rumbled beneath her as she shifted down and pulled into the shop’s parking lot. Other members of the crew avoided her gaze as she parked. She threw the kickstand down, pulled off her helmet, and stepped onto the asphalt.

The garage employed every member of the Outriggers Motorcycle Club on paper and served as headquarters for meetings. The cinderblock walls, plywood doors, and oil-stained cement gave cops the impression of a mechanic garage, but that end of business had died out long ago. If a biker needed his bike fixed, he had to do it himself.

A bike she didn’t recognize had been parked on the other side of the lot, another behind it she couldn’t see. Looked like Satan’s Army had already arrived, which meant the meeting had started without her. Great.

She pushed her way through the side door, and was immediately confronted with the long, oak table surrounded by her brethren. As the only female member, she’d gotten plenty of lusty, offended, and confused looks in her day, but now? The Grim Reaper himself stared out through her president’s eyes. Yeah, she was in trouble.

“What the hell happened to your face?” Ryder Branson, President of the Outriggers, stood. He walked over to her then cradled her face with both hands.

His touch washed warning throughout her body. Not only had he taken what was once a good, honest, and family-oriented club and turned it into his personal shell company for dealing blow, but also he gave her the creeps. “Skateboard accident.” No point in telling them some Double-D’d hoodlum had paid her to kill someone.

“Have Nadia look at it when we’re through.” He motioned for her to sit. “Mila, you’ve met Vasquez, President of Satan’s Army, Nevada.”

She maneuvered around the standing members to her reserved chair and sat. Her gaze connected with Vazquez and she nodded curtly. She was sure the embarrassment running rampant in her body showed through the new bruises on her face. Nothing like a Vice President showing up late to a members meeting.

“And this is his VP, Cooper Nolan,” Ryder said.

Every cell in her body froze. Blondie should’ve killed her when she had the chance.

Slowly, she directed her gaze to the man whose apartment she’d left this morning in a hurry. Her fingers curled into fists in her lap. Cooper. Her one-night stand. Shit.

 

 

The meeting went as expected, except, against all odds, she’d survived.

However, she couldn’t say the same for the newest VP of Satan’s Army. She’d cornered him at the back of the in-house bar during the celebrations. Outriggers and Satan’s Army were now partners in the cocaine business and it looked like she’d be stuck with him. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were S.A.” She took a swig of her beer as she kept a lookout for any signs her ass would be handed to her soon. “This was supposed to be a one-time thing, remember? Never see each other again?”

“You didn’t really give me a chance to talk.” Cooper gave her the devilish grin, the one that’d gotten them into trouble in the first place.

“You will not blame this on me,” she hissed. “You came onto me.”

He laughed then took a drink from his own beer. “Whatever you say, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.” Those brown eyes of his roamed over the party. He wouldn’t even give her the courtesy of looking at her.

Bastard.

“Skateboard accident, huh? Looked a little more serious than that when you left this morning.”

The anger in the center of her chest burned hotter. “You saw me?”

“Hard to miss a cat fight.”

“It wasn’t a fight.” At least not on her end.
Cooper’s laugh only fueled the fire.

“What’d you do to piss off...” He cupped both hands in front of his chest and she knew what he meant.

Disgusting.

“Ask Big and Blonde next time you see her.” He didn’t react.
She reached out lighting-fast and dug her fingernails into his tattooed-to-hell-and-back arm. She secretly hoped her nails had left injuries across his back. “Listen to me. No one can know about what we did. Do you hear me? They’ll kill us.” She searched the bar again, ensuring they weren’t being watched or overheard.

Cooper wrenched his arm out of her grasp. “Who says I want it broadcasted? Wasn’t like it was the best night of my life.” With that, he walked off.

She ground her teeth. Maybe Blondie’s request wasn’t so bad, after all.

A piece of her wished she could say the same. Sure, she’d been with a couple guys here and there. It was Vegas after all, and running wasn’t her only activity to let off a little steam, but she hadn’t expected last night to rank in the top five. Not even in the top two.

Didn’t matter. She’d be gone by the time the club found out. And they would find out. Not through her, but secrets never stayed buried between members.

“Mila.” Nadia sauntered toward her with bandages in hand. Her brown doe eyes centered on the carnage of Mila’s face. She pushed her long black hair back behind her shoulder.

“Hey, Doc. I’m fine.” She wiped her nose. Fresh blood coated the side of her index finger, but she hid it fast. Not her day. “Shit.”

“I saw that.” Nadia stepped forward and reached for Mila’s face.

She let her. No point in arguing with the club doc.

“Who’s dark and serious over there?” Nadia lifted her chin toward Cooper.

“Cooper Something. Just met him. Satan’s Army new vice president.” His name tasted metallic and sharp on her tongue as flashes from last night crossed her mind. Technically, she wasn’t lying. She did just meet him. Just, not this morning.

Her gaze darted across the room toward the subject of their conversation. A small, pink line showed on the back of his neck from beneath his T-shirt. She’d definitely left claw marks down his back. Good. She hoped it hurt.

“He’s cute,” Nadia said. She strapped a bandage over Mila’s nose. Pain radiated throughout her entire skull.

“Ow!” She jerked away. “What the hell was that for?”

Nadia looked at her pointedly. “To keep your head in the game. He’s off limits.”

Who the hell did the doc think she was? Her right hand fisted with the temptation to make Nadia her broken-nosed twin.

No, don’t. Anger landed her in jail last year. Against her better judgment she’d attended the court- mandated classes, and they’d actually helped. She closed her eyes and applied her six months of newfound education to breathe deep. She forced the heat, the anger, out through her exhale as she’d been taught. When she opened her eyes, she smiled. “It’s like Romeo and Juliet, don’t you think?” She turned on her heel. While trying to soothe the pain in her face with quick caresses from her fingertips she nearly face-planted into a wall of flesh.
She tracked a journey from a thick, leather-bound, broad chest up into bright blue eyes. Great. Just what she needed. Talon, the club’s security officer, stared down at her. Technically, he’d been called as Sergeant at Arms. Arms dealer was more fitting.

“Whoa, Mila. Watch where you’re going. Prez wants to see you at the table.” Those blue eyes darkened as he assessed her face. Dark, curly hair covered multi- pierced ears and matched the goat-tee thickening on his chin. “Jesus. That skateboard must’ve been a mouthful.”

“I’m fine,” she said.
“Who did it?”
Always the protector, but that was his job.

“Nobody. Listen, can you buy me a few minutes? I just need to...” She motioned to her face. “Clean up.”

Talon ran his hands through a few strands of his hair. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. Don’t take forever though. I got a hot date.” He glanced behind her, nodding.

She turned around. A smaller version of Blondie stood at the bar with a full mouth of white, sparkly teeth on display. Stick thin, shot bleached hair and four-inch heels. Club groupie. “Just don’t squeeze her too hard. You might break her. I’ll be right back.”

Her original intention had been exactly what she’d told Talon. She went to the bathroom to clean up and chugged a couple Tylenol she kept in her pocket. Always be prepared. Wasn’t that the motto? As she observed the damage of her nose in the small mirror, she froze. Ryder wanted to see her.

Not good. Only two subjects could possibly grant this kind of meeting: either he was about to hand her, her walking papers with a blowtorch for the deal-gone- bad or call her out on her whereabouts last night.

Neither would end in a happy ever after.

She pulled the thousand bucks from her bra. Wasn’t much, wouldn’t take her far, but it was a start. A scoff left her lips as Blondie’s offer played across her mind. She had a little over a thousand frozen in a block of ice in her freezer, but she imagined the club had already found it. That was, if her gut instincts were right. Either way, no matter what topic Ryder brought up, she wouldn’t walk out of that room in one piece.

Only one option left. She nodded to herself. Wouldn’t be a better time than now.

Talon would come knocking if she didn’t show up soon, but it wasn’t like she’d be able to squeeze through the tiny window to escape. Ryder had sealed the window when the club took over the building, probably for situations just like this.

She’d have to walk out the front door.

“You can do this. You’ve prepared for this.” She ran through the lines she’d designed should the occasion arise.

Her hand trembled over the doorknob. She took another cleansing breath in order to keep her focus and quietly opened the door. No guard. No one looking this way. Too easy?

She slid into the hallway, slowly closing the bathroom door behind her. Mugshots of current members stared down at her as she made her way to the end of the hall, each silently judging her for betraying the club she’d vowed to protect. Her own eyes stared at her from that mug shot with seething judgement. Then again, she’d just been arrested at four in the morning on suspicion of dealing cocaine.

At the end of the hall, she could go left or right. Back into the celebration of a new alliance with Satan’s Army, taking her punishment with dignity. Or she’d keep all her skin and run like a coward, effectively leaving behind the hard work she’d put into the club for the last two years and ruining the progression for women everywhere in MCs.

What made her stop was the club’s patch, the same patch she wore on her back. The Outriggers Motorcycle Club promoted balance in all things. Two swords, their hilts inlayed with sapphires, the strongest gemstone aside from diamonds, met in the center, crossed with tips pointed upward. Symbolizing spiritual, mental, and physical healing, the sapphires had become the signature element of the Outriggers, every member encouraged to wear one at all times. Above the swords, signifying strength and military mightiness, the club’s name regaled onlookers with pride. Below them, however, was what stopped her.

The club’s motto read, “Guarded by the Faithful.” “Faithful” meaning both past and current members.

Her fingers absently moved over the tattoo on her right wrist.

A vulture atop an eight ball.

With her pulse in her throat, she stared down at it through dim lighting. She’d made a promise to more than her club when she got this tattoo. To her own guardian angel, in fact. But couldn’t promises bebroken if her life was at stake?
She swallowed hard. Couldn’t look at his mug shot.

Not then. She went left, flinching at every sound that echoed from the party. Clinks from glasses, celebratory hollers from familiar voices, giggles from the groupies. Each rang loud in her mind. She kept moving toward the front door, prayers of freedom racing through her head.

She’d made it outside. Relief coursed through her veins.

“Mila, baby. You’re missing the party.” Female voice. All too familiar.

She froze. Anxiety clawed its way up her throat. She couldn’t fight or shoot. She’d be damned if she ran as fast as she could. So how the hell would she get away from her president’s old lady? She turned toward Amelia slowly, taking in all six feet of her. “Not in the mood.”

Wasn’t that an understatement?

Amelia’s heels scuffed the pavement as she stalked toward her. She never understood why a six-foot- something woman wore heels. Maybe Ryder liked his women Amazonian-like. In skinny jeans and a tight tank top, the president’s wife smiled at her. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Always the mother hen.

How could she tell the woman who’d stepped into her mother’s shoes that her husband most likely wanted to skin her alive? Or kill her. Then again, maybe Amelia already knew and had been instructed to wait in case Mila ran. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Cramps.” Of all the excuses, she had to pick the most ridiculous.

“Do you want something for ‘em?” Amelia stepped completely into her. Running her hands up and down Mila’s arms, she brought her in for a hug. “I’ve got some good stuff.”

Every muscle in her body locked down. Not only was she betraying her club, she’d betrayed the one woman who cared about her. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever see her again, but she also couldn’t forget Amelia had her fair share of decision making in the club. Ryder included her in every piece of club business. Did she know about Cooper? “No, thanks.” She pulled away. “I’m just going to sleep them off.”

Another smile told her the lie worked and a pang of regret speared her heart. “Ok, baby. I’ll see you later?”

She nodded, unable to answer from the lump swelling in her throat. She needed to get out of here.

Amelia went back into the clubhouse, her short brown hair blowing in rhythm to the hot Las Vegas breeze. Traces of her scent lingered on her clothing and Mila breathed it in. She’d miss it, the feeling of family. Her ass had been saved countless times by the club. They’d taken her into their protection when she’d needed it the most, practically helped raise her when her father prospected twenty years ago.

Cut she couldn’t let that get to her head. She wouldn’t let them kill her.

Throwing one leg over her bike, she mounted with a last look toward the clubhouse’s front doors and fired up the engine. Movement registered in the window to the right of the door. She recognized those brown eyes staring back at her with his sharp jawline and full head of soft, brown hair. Cooper.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t warn Ryder his Vice President was about to disappear. Her gut tightened. Why not? Turning her in would certainly get him some brownie points in the new partnership.
Didn’t matter. She knocked back the kickstand with

her boot and pulled her bike into a balance. She’d never return to him. Not even to top the best night of her life.

****

She'd like to say she’d found a safe place to hide, that she’d gone home and everything turned out okay. But life had never smacked her upside the head with common sense.

She waited outside in the street, staring across it as the man she’d come to see entered his apartment. Still wearing his cut, Cooper looked every bit as tempting as last night. Too bad he’d turned out to be an ass.

But all’s fair in love and gangs. Even in the ones claiming to be plain old motorcycle clubs, men rarely showed their true natures. She’d learned that the hard way.

Truth was, she’d been looking for a way out for a while. Almost since her initiation. The drugs and guns were getting too much, but she couldn't just disappear. The Outriggers held chapters in every state. She wouldn’t make it five feet across the border with that many eyes out looking for her. Nobody liked a deserter.

She waited another few minutes before jogging across the street. If she were him, she’d already know who was headed for her door and run out the back, but maybe Cooper’s ability to pleasure a woman was his only talent. She knocked softly, searching left and right down the street for signs of spies. Her paranoia level had reached an all-time high, but the Outriggers had never been a club to just let a member just walk away.

The door opened.
Her eyes connected with Cooper’s and his narrowed.
“So that’s what they’re so mad about,” he said. “What?”
“Your club is looking for you. Something about you not showing up to take your punishment. Some job gone wrong.” A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and she ground her teeth. Couldn’t go there with him again. Wouldn’t.

“Can I come in?” She didn’t have the patience to explain what’d happened. Had to get off the street.

He blocked the doorway, pushing forward. Cooper scanned the street, showing off the dark stubble forming at his jawline. “No.”

Seriously? “Why not?” Millions of answers to that question fluttered across her mind and she supported over half of them. But, this time, she was desperate. She’d do anything she had to in order to get inside and, from the glint in his eyes, he knew it.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. “For one, you deserted your club. Your president even asked for our help in finding you and mine agreed. So, technically, I’ve got to hand you over.”

A jolt of anxiety shot straight into her chest. Shit. She opened her mouth—

“And two, I don’t like you,” he said.

The rumble of a bike echoed down the street. Double shit. She glanced over her shoulder. There was no way they could find her this fast unless...

Panic clawed up her throat and tainted every word as she turned on him. “You called them?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Cooper asked.
Her vision blurred. Always happened when she couldn’t control her emotions. A mixture of fury and sorrow crushed her windpipe. If she didn’t get herself under control, bad things would happen. For one, she’d faint. “Why—”

The world tilted on its axis and everything went black.

****

The smell of bleach assaulted her senses. She jerked awake, but wished she hadn’t.
Cooper stared down at her, concern written all over his expression. “Are you awake this time?”

She ignored his question. Her spidey-senses were on fire. She sat upright in the bed and tried not to shiver when he pressed his hand against her shoulder. Her eyes locked on his. The last thing she remembered was the bike rumbling down the street and this sure as hell didn’t look like Cooper’s apartment. She had first-hand knowledge. “Where am I?”

He sat back in his chair beside the twin-size bed, hands stretched behind his head. “Safe house.”

She diverted her gaze from the tight T-shirt stretched across his muscular chest to study the red brick walls. Every corner of the room dripped with dried tar, but it didn’t explain the bleach. The floor sported a wet spot. “Did you just clean up a crime scene?” She rubbed her eyes free of sleep. “The bleach is giving me a headache.”

“You threw up on my floor,” he said.

Oh, God. Her face grew hot. “I’m sorry. It happens when—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Cooper stood. He turned his back on her and walked across the room to the dresser shoved in the corner. He riffled through the drawers as he spoke. “You’ll have to ditch your clothes. Your club knows what you were wearing when you disappeared. I have a couple sets of sweats you can borrow until you have time to get you something else. Until then, there’s hair dye in the bathroom and food in the fridge. Don’t leave.”

“Where are you going?” She pushed out of the bed, accepting the clothing he offered on unsteady feet. The sweatpants and T-shirt were male. His. And smelled like him. It took everything she had not to bury her nose in them. Every second of their night together replayed through her head in an instant.

The bed. The couch. The kitchen table. All had played a key role in their short acquaintance.

Scented with a mixture of cinnamon and man, Cooper waved a hand in front of her face and intensified her urge to tackle him all over again. She wouldn’t even need a couple drinks in her this time. “You didn’t hear me, did you?”

She snapped her mouth shut, coming back to reality. Yeah, definitely top two, maybe even number one in the lineup.

“I said I’m going back to your clubhouse.” Cooper gave her a crooked smile. He started toward the door, calling back over his shoulder. “Want me to say hello for you?”

“Wait.” Mila lurched toward him. She wrapped her fingers around his muscled forearm.

He froze and looked down at her grasp on him. Without looking directly at her, his eyes told her touching was off limits.

She jerked her hand away, but the heat in his eyes didn’t divert her reasoning. “Why did you change your mind? Why help me?”

He didn’t answer right away and her stomach knotted. Maybe he hadn’t helped her. Maybe he’d placed her right where he wanted her. Ripe for the picking.

Or killing.

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you unconscious on my doorstep, now could I?”

His answer gave nothing away. She didn’t know how to respond and watched him walk down the hall. “Are you just going to leave me here alone?”

The door at the end of the hall slammed shut behind him.

“I’ll go through your underwear drawer!”

 

 

Oh, boy. Her fingertips brushed over a pair of gray cotton briefs. She’d taken a pair just like these off him last night. Only black. With her teeth. The scent of cinnamon sent tingles down her spine. Some kind of aftershave, maybe? Didn’t matter. He couldn’t possible have known it’d been her favorite scent and partly the reason she’d stayed overnight.

The safe house turned out to be void of furniture, aside from the bed and dresser in the bedroom, and highly wired with audio/visual equipment. Even now a camera blinked at her from high in the corner of the room. She made a show of pulling his underwear out, running her fingers over the fabric. She shot a smile toward Big Brother. “I hope you weren’t planning on leaving me here for long. I tend to get nosy.”

The camera merely stared at her, no signs she’d been heard.

She hadn’t exactly planned on hiding out in a dump, with a rival of her club/her one-night stand, but she was alive.

Thanks to Cooper.

A scoff rushed past her lips. He hadn’t done it for her.

Well, I couldn’t just leave you unconscious on my doorstep, now could I?

In Column A, he’d given her club her location. Presumably for a reward of some type. But bringing her here? Keeping an eye on her? That didn’t correspond to someone looking for a reward, and went straight into Column B.

She shoved his underwear back in the drawer and pushed it shut in frustration. Glaring at the camera to her left, she stuck her tongue out like a child. Men.

“Why can’t you just be the simple jackasses you’re supposed to be?” she asked the camera.

No response.

She hoped he’d see her little show of going through his things later. He’d told her not to leave the house, but she had every intention of running this show. This was her club they were dealing with, and her life. If Cooper Nolan thought he could lock her away to confront later, he had another thing coming.

She twisted around and stalked toward the bed. The oversized sweats hung off her hips uncomfortably and caught beneath her feet with every step.

She wanted to scream.

She’d never been a fan of staying indoors all day. Cabin Fever. Anxiety swam beneath her skin. Any second now, she’d break down. She could feel the walls closing in, the air suffocating her slowly. She closed her eyes and lay back on the bed. She just had to breathe. With nothing to do in this Godforsaken house, she had to keep her thoughts preoccupied. She checked her nose again. Just after a couple hours, the pain had diminished. Still sore, but she didn’t feel like screaming when she touched it.

The pillow beneath her head was drenched in cinnamon. Cooper’s. Did the man bathe in the stuff? It seemed she’d be haunted by his scent everywhere she went. She hadn’t minded it last night. He’d smelled just like that: sweat and cinnamon. It’d turned her on. How often did he stay here? His safe house.

Echoes of the way his calloused fingers traced lines up the insides of her right thigh and how his tongue followed the trail he’d created chased a shiver down her spine. All the way to her core.

A scuffling noise brought her back to reality.

Her eyes shot open. She barely registered the fact her hand had made it beneath the borrowed sweatpants when she caught sight of Cooper in the doorway. She bolted upright so fast, black spots floated in front of her. “That was fast.”

She fought for control over her breathing, but the heat in her face only made it harder.

He stood motionless, a smile plastered on his smug face.

Ass.
“Please,” —he motioned toward her— “continue.” She took a deep breath to hold back the retort telling

him exactly what’d she’d rather do. Something along the lines of that alarm clock on the nightstand meeting his face. “Anything new?”

Cooper stepped into the room, all six-feet-three inches of him towering over her when he stopped. “Yes.”

She stood her ground, her gaze steady on his. “Are you going to tell me?”

He chuckled. His sweet breath drifted across her face, and despite people breathing on her being her biggest pet peeve, she didn’t flinch. “Tell you what,”— he pressed himself against her, chest to chest—“for every minute you let me watch you on that bed, I’ll give up a piece of information.”

Her mouth dropped open, but the shock didn’t last long. Wasn’t his seductive tongue the thing that got them in bed together in the first place? His pulse beat fast just left of his Adam’s apple. So she wasn’t the only one feeling out of control here, was she? She could play that game. “What makes you think I didn’t finish?”

A close-lipped smile is all he gave her for a series of breaths. “I know every inch of your body now and I know what you sound like when you orgasm.”

She notched her chin up just a bit further. “Then you better remember that sound until your next conquest because it isn’t happening again.”

Without warning, Cooper reached out, brushing the back of his index finger down her arm. “Too bad.” He stepped away and out into the hallway.

She couldn’t move. For treating her like a pariah earlier, he certainly didn’t mind touching her now. Or was he just messing with her head? She imagined his change of heart had been recent. As in, she’d-been- caught-with-her-hand-down-her-pants recent. She brushed the tingling sensation from her arm with her palm. Nope. He was the enemy. He had every reason to turn her into the club and she wouldn’t go there again.

He came back with loaded bags and placed them on the floor. “Here.”

“What’s this?” She reached for one of the colorful bags, a blue one, and pulled out something soft.

“You needed clothes.”

Shock overcame every sense in her body and mind. “Did you buy the whole damn store?” Six bags sat in front of her, each with a different designer label and each completely full.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like.” Cooper stared down at the bags as he ran a hand through his hair. “So I got a little bit of everything.”

Another item added to Column B.

Confusion ran rampant through her brain. None of this made sense. He’d told her to get lost on his doorstep, now he was buying her clothing? What the hell did he want with her?

****

Her first night in the safe house turned out to be a disaster.
One twin-sized bed.
Two people.
One of which couldn’t keep her damn hands to herself.
When she woke, she found herself draped over the exact place she’d found her number one lay of all history. Apparently even in her sleep she was a whore.

She slowly tried to maneuver out of the bed without waking Cooper. After all, she was sure she’d kept him up all night. First, she removed her hand from his groin. Second, her legs from the top of his. Then she tried to climb over him. In the end, her strength failed.

Just as Cooper opened his eyes, her whole body plastered itself onto his.

She wrenched herself off him so fast, she landed on the floor.

Hard.

Carpet was a bitch to land on when the padding hadn’t been set in the first place. She remained motionless on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The throbbing in her face increased, but the pain couldn’t be willed away.

“If that was your attempt to seduce me, it sucked.” Cooper smiled down at her from the bed with an awful, but charming, crooked smile.

Her eyes fluttered toward the camera. “Who’s watching those?”

“Nobody. I review the footage from the day every night,” he said.

“Does that mean you’ll be watching this later?”

His laugh made her grind her teeth and throw her arms over her eyes.

“Over and over.”

She groaned and uncovered her eyes, still gazing at the ceiling. She couldn’t look at him right now. Not after what he’d just seen. “And yesterday, too?”

Cooper got out of the bed, naked from the waist up. He bent over, that damn smile still in place. “I already watched it. Do you want to know how many times?”

Another groan escaped her throat. “No.”

He offered her a hand. “Come on, Filatova. Let’s get some food in you to bring back some of your color.”

She didn’t miss the gymnast jab as she took his hand. When she made it upright, she rubbed her eyes clear. “You watch gymnastics?”

“Of course I do. Those women are hot.” Dressed in hip-hugging sweats, he headed toward the door. Muscle flexed in delicious waves across his back and deepened the scratches she’d left less than twenty-four hours ago.

She followed Cooper into the kitchen, her eyes glued to his backside. She imagined his sweats off. Her heart raced. And wasn’t that just perfect?

He was off limits.

Ha. Wonder what the club doctor would say now considering Mila technically defected. Not to another club. Just defected. She scooted onto the only barstool at the counter. “What’s for breakfast?” “Omelet.”

An unwelcome laugh shot through her nose then turned into a whimper. She cradled either side of her nose with both hands. “Oh, God. Don’t make me laugh. It hurts too much.”

She worked to control her laughter while still imagining this lean, scruffy-looking man crack a delicate egg. It seemed impossible.

“Hurts that much, huh?” he asked.

She righted herself, catching a brief glimpse of concern shadow his features. “Imagine having a skateboard slammed into your face.”

“Is that what happened?” He busied himself with wiping down the pan in his hand with a dishtowel. “I can only imagine what you did to the poor woman after that.”

She didn’t want to go into the specifics of her encounter with Blondie. Besides, nobody wanted to hear they had a contract on their head. She’d save Cooper that paranoia and fear. Plus, she didn’t want to admit she’d been paid to take him out. She changed the subject. “You cook?”

Cooper froze, pan in one hand and cheese in another. “What’s so funny?”

“I just can’t imagine you cooking.”

“Another bit of information you didn’t bother to learn about me the other night.” He prepared breakfast as if he hadn’t just insulted her. She deserved the jab, but subtly labeling her as a whore fired up her insides. Most of the time, her hard outer shell repelled insults like that. This time, however, his words sank in deep. They hurt. A lot. Shit. She cared what he thought of her.

Cooper placed a finished omelet, complete with onions, peppers, mushrooms in front of her.

She had half a mind to refuse it, but she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. She took an experimental bite. His cooking was fantastic. She tried not to moan in pleasure. God only knew what her face looked like. “So what’s the plan?”

He took a bite of his own, chewing methodically, but refused to meet her gaze. “What plan?”

She worked hard not to choke on a piece of omelet. “The plan to keep us from dying of high-speed lead poisoning.”

“Us?” Cooper chuckled. “I have nothing to do with this. I gave you a place to crash for the night. That’s it.” Shoving the last of his omelet in his mouth, he turned and loaded his dishes into the sink. Not so much as a glance in her direction.

Mila pushed remnants of her omelet across the counter, her appetite gone. Instead, stones thunked to the pit of her stomach. “I can’t believe this. You bring me to your safe house, you buy me clothes to last at least a week and now you’re kicking me out?”

 

 

So much for sanctuary.

She growled in frustration as she ripped the bandage off her nose. The pain had dulled, but it didn’t help her mood. Cooper was such an ass. What the hell had she seen in him? In the safe house’s small bathroom, she changed into the clothes he’d purchased and used the hand soap to clean up. Not one for anything other than mascara, she washed her face, carefully avoiding the already-lightening bruises under her eyes.

The denim shorts and oversized skull T-shirt were actually comfortable. And tasteful. She slipped on a pair of gold sandals and pushed her hair back. The sandals made her smile. They fit perfectly. What could she say? She loved shoes, booze, and boys with tattoos.

She actually looked human when she’d finished.

More pros seemed to be making their way into her list rather than cons. She hadn’t hooked up with Cooper for anything serious. She’d needed to blow off some steam. But Cooper had given her a place to crash, food, and clothes. Not to mention a serious outlet for her stress.

Three rapid knocks echoed across the apartment. The front door.
This was a safe house. Logically, Cooper wouldn’t

reveal its location to anyone, but she didn’t know him very well, a fact he’d pointed out several times.

She turned to open the bathroom door when it jerked open on its own.
Cooper stood on the other side, his eyes somber, a revolver in his left hand. He shoved a Remington 870 pump-action shotgun into her hands. Black, sleek, and strong, the gun weighed her down. “Don’t leave this room. Don’t make any noise.”

“What's going on?” She gripped the barrel of the gun with one hand and automatically found the trigger with her index finger.

He didn’t answer as he closed the door. Another round of knocking filled the silence. His retreating footsteps kept in time with her pulse.

She’d never been a good shot, but she imagined he knew that considering he’d handed her a weapon that could blow a six-foot wide hole in a wall. She’d run from the club to avoid this type of conflict. Not be pinned down in a stranger’s bathroom with bullets as the only option. She swallowed the lump in her throat and sidestepped into the bathtub, drawing the shower curtain around her.

Muffled conversation made its way into the bathroom, followed by the sound of multiple sets of footsteps on the hardwood floor. Quick, sharp taps of some kind rang in her ears. Peeking around the shower curtain, she watched as shadows crossed the faint light seeping from under the door.

“What’s this room?” a familiar voice asked.

Defeat nearly overwhelmed her. Of course the club had sent Talon. He was their protector, their Sergeant at Arms.

As if a hundred-pound weight on her chest wasn’t enough, her hands shook. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cool shower tile. The freezing temperature brought some peace, but not a lot. The shotgun trembled in her hands. Talon would find her in here, drag her out by her hair, and present her to Ryder. But her president wouldn’t do the dirty work. No. Talon had taken the job voluntarily when sworn in. He enjoyed the sentencing. Always the people-pleaser.

“Bathroom,” Cooper answered. “Nothing special.”

Her eyes shot open when the doorknob rattled. She forced her hands to still and brought the shotgun around toward the door. The barrel leveled with the doorknob. In this position, the kickback would break her hip, but she didn’t trust her strength to hold it up right now.

“Open it.” Another familiar voice. Amelia.
Damn it all to hell.
She didn’t remember locking the door. Maybe

Cooper had. Would he open the door? Give her up? How’d they even find her?

Short gasps filled her ears. Hers. She was on the verge of hyperventilating. She searched the small space for a way out. Just like the bathroom at the clubhouse, the small window set into the outside wall was too small for her to fit through. Her eyes locked on a vent in the ceiling.

Without a second thought, she scrambled out of the tub, setting the shotgun against the wall silently.

“Won’t open,” Cooper said from the other side of the door. His attempt to buy her time went into the pro column. She’d thank him later, if she survived the next few minutes.

Leveraging herself on top of the toilet, she reached for the vent cover. Of all the things she’d planned on doing today, climbing into a vent hadn’t been one of them. She’d never complain about her life being boring again. Ever. The metal cover dropped open, its hinges screaming in protest.

“What was that?” Talon asked.

She didn’t have time to think of the consequences of the sound. She jumped down from the toilet, grabbed the shotgun and climbed back up. Thuds reverberated throughout the bathroom as someone, presumably Talon, tried to shoulder their way in. She shoved the shotgun inside the vent as carefully as possible. Couldn’t have it going off accidentally. With one last glance toward the bathroom door, now cracking under pressure, she lifted herself up into the vent with help from the bathroom counter and scurried inside.

Her skin caught on sharp edges of metal as she pushed herself backward into the vent. She tried not to cry out as she used her remaining strength to pull the vent cover shut behind her.

The bathroom door slammed open. Footsteps crossed the space and she stared down onto Talon’s full head of dark, curly hair.

He wrenched the shower curtain aside. “Nobody’s here.”

Amelia came into view. “She has to be here. Tweeker or not, Lilia said she saw her and she wouldn’t lie to me. I pay a lot to keep her little habit going.” She turned around, hands on hips. Her bracelets clinked as she moved. “Where is she?”

Mila assumed she’d spoken to Cooper, who still hadn’t entered the bathroom.

“Don’t know who you’re talking about,” he said.

Talon ripped the bathroom cabinets open, emptying everything onto the linoleum. “I’ll check the other rooms again. She might’ve moved.” He left in a rush, carrying his gun in one hand and a knife in the other.

Amelia took two steps out of sight. “Come on, Cooper. We know about the other night. You and that little bitch hooked up. What’d she tell you?” She paused. “She tell you where and when the last exchange was? Is that how Satan’s Army got the jump on us?”

She held her breath, waiting for his answer.
They thought she’d passed club secrets? Her heart plummeted into her stomach. Is that what all this was about? Impossible. The exchange went south before she’d met Cooper. She’d gone to the bar because of that. Unless—

“Like I said before, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Nobody’s here.” Cooper’s voice remained calm.

She envied him that. She didn’t dare slide further into the vent, despite her uncomfortable position and the fact her left arm had fallen asleep. The steel of the gun cut into her bare leg. She shifted, and the vent groaned beneath her weight.

Amelia’s gaze shot upward. “Clever bitch.” She stormed out of the bathroom.

Cooper appeared beneath the vent, small portions of his shoulder tattoo peeking out from under his collar. He glanced upward then back toward the bathroom door. “Move toward the front of the house. Take the gun with you. I’ll meet you there.” He disappeared.

She didn’t have the chance to ask him how the hell she was supposed to do all that. Barely a foot and a half in width and two feet tall, the vent offered little room for her to move anywhere. Then again, anything could be accomplished seeing as how her life was on the line.

“She’s in the vents.” Amelia’s voice sent a chill down her spine. “Get her out. Take care of it. I’ll be in the car.”

If she didn’t do what Cooper instructed, She’d most likely end up as hamburger. She pushed the shotgun in front of her and shuffled after it. A few feet away, the vent turned, presumably toward the front of the house. She followed it, her knees burning from the friction against the metal.

The first shot ripped through the vent directly in front of her face. A scream escaped her throat as she covered her ears.

“Come on, Mila. At least make it a challenge.” Talon’s voice was ice-cold. His protectiveness tended to disappear once he’d been ordered to kill.

When she was able to open her eyes, tears slid silently into her mouth. She gagged from the salty addition to the sour taste coating her tongue. Or was that the flavor of fear? She couldn’t move. She couldn’t control her breathing and didn’t know if another shot waited for her the second she moved a single inch. Cooper had instructed her to get to the front of the house, but in all honestly, she didn’t see herself making it out of the bathroom.

“Milaaaaaaa,” Talon sang. “I can hear you breathing.”

A second shot made the vent scream and searing pain burned down her arm. The bullet hurt worse than a skateboard to the face.

She tried not to scream, but failed. The shriek resonated around the vent. Her ears rang. She’d never been shot before. In her dreamsshe imagined it playing out differently, but in reality, her body turned to mush. Her shoulders shook as she tried to stop the bleeding with her hand.
At twenty-six, she’d die in a vent by the hands of the man sworn to protect her as a member. At least one of her last days included the best sex of her life. A giggle rush passed her lips. The hysterics had started. Either way, she’d die happy.

Scuffling footsteps below cleared the haze enveloping her mind. Black spots danced in her eyes as she struggled to flip over onto her back. She wasn’t going anywhere, but if they wanted to present her body as a trophy to the club, they’d have to pull her out of the vent. A thump reverberated inside the bathroom and electricity shot through her nerves. Only her shallow breathing filled the silence.

The black spots grew larger. While she couldn’t exactly determine every detail of her final resting place, she didn’t remember it being so dark. The scuffling had ended. Or the shots had ruined her hearing.

A thump claimed her attention away from the pain in her arm as if a body had dropped to the floor. But not for long. Blood puddled beneath her and suddenly, she had the strength she needed to get the hell away from it. The coppery scent invading her sinuses squeezed her lungs like a vice. She worked her way back toward the opening in the bathroom ceiling.

Silence. She couldn’t see anything in her limited vision either.

Either Talon would be waiting for her when she dropped to the floor or she’d have luck on her side for once. She could only hope he’d moved onto a better position in the house. That way she’d at least have a chance.

She lowered her legs through first, using her remaining strength in her arms to keep her from falling. She gritted her teeth to hold back the scream aching for release. She pushed her torso over the edge of the vent and her arms gave out. The bullet wound flashed hot, then cold, and hot again as she landed on the linoleum with a loud thud. If Talon had any doubts about her location, she’d just handed him the gold.

She froze, her gaze locked on the unconscious man in front of her.

Talon had waited for her, but not of his own choosing. His lifeless body took up most of the bathroom’s small space, gun in hand, eyes wide. The white Outriggers crest had been smeared with blood. She hadn’t heard a gunshot, which left only a knife capable of that kind of damage.

“Oh, God—”

“Come on!” Cooper rounded the corner, his hand outstretched toward her.

“You did this?” A small part of her bathed in sorrow as she bent down and closed Talon’s eyes. Despite the fact he’d tried to kill her, he’d always been kind, he’d always protected her.

Cooper didn’t answer as he took her hand and ripped her from the floor. “They’re coming.”

“Who?” She fought to keep pace with him as he grabbed the shotgun and bolted down the hallway out the front door. A gleam of metal caught her eye as they ran for Cooper’s bike. His knife, coated with bits of red, remained in his free hand.

He plugged the shotgun onto the back of the bike, threw a muscled leg over his bike, turned the key, and backed out of his parking space. Cooper motioned her to get on.

“What the hell did you do? Who’s coming?”

Quickly removing his leather cut and shoving it in his bike’s side pocket, he glanced over his shoulder.

Her favorite sound in the world assaulted her ears. A mob of motorcycles tore its way down the street. She recognized several of the bikes, but over half she’d never seen before. Fear stopped her heart.

Cooper fired up the engine. “Everyone.”

 

“Ryder must have called in every alliance in Nevada and Southern California,” she said once they’d reached safety. “I sure as hell don’t remember either of our clubs being that big. Even together.” She paced back and forth across the barren concrete, trying to sort this all out while holding pressure against her bleeding arm. The wound wasn’t as bad as she’d thought, a scratch compared to what it could’ve been. She’d need stitches, but she’d live.

She kept tabs on Cooper who meticulously cleaned the knife he’d used to kill Talon. Only the calls of pigeons and her footsteps echoed in the giant tomb. She didn’t even know where they’d ended. Two, maybe three hours north of Vegas?

Cooper hadn’t said a word since their narrow escape and she had half a mind to beat the answers out of him. What was it about him that brought out the violence in her?

His lowered eyes had offered so many promises before, but now seemed cold.

“You realize you killed an Original? Talon helped found the Outriggers.” She wasn’t sure where she was headed with this line of conversation, but it’d be nice if Cooper at least acknowledged her.

“Would you rather he kill you?” He threw the rag he’d been using in her direction. “Use that to clean yourself up.”

She stalked toward him and wrenched the knife out of his hand. Luckily, he’d been holding the tip down and she was able to get her fingers around the hilt instead of the blade. “No. Of course not, but you didn’t need to kill him. You could’ve knocked him out.”

His brown eyes blazed, his lips spreading into a thin line. “What exactly do you want from me? You’re the one who got us into this mess.”

The accusation in his eyes cut deep, but laid the blame where it should be. She dropped his knife to the floor and turned away. “You’re right. This is what I get for blindly following orders.” If it hadn’t been for her foolish desire to prove herself to the club, she never would’ve offered to make that pickup. Satan’s Army never would have stolen the shipment from her, and neither Cooper nor Mila would be in some rotten warehouse, hoping to live a little bit longer. She took a deep breath and faced him again. “You should go. I can make it to...” She rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. “Hell, I don’t even know where I’d go.” She dropped her hands and inhaled roughly again. “You don’t deserve to be wrapped up in it.”

His brows furrowed, and his sharp jawline grew even sharper.

She motioned toward the door with her chin. “Go. I’ll be fine. Tell them I took you hostage.” She chuckled at the possibility. Her nervousness had taken hold.

His body tensed as if he was considering staying and hope flared in her chest.

When she really looked at it, this could be the opportunity she needed to start over. She didn’t doubt her ability to disappear, but some company would be nice in her new life. They’d already connected on an intimate level. “Unless you want to stay.” She tried to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice, but failed.

“Let me look at that.” He nodded toward her arm. “It’s fine.”
He shoved off the floor and stalked toward her.

Wrapping his firm grip around her bicep, Cooper pulled her into him. He ran his thumb over the wound ever so lightly. Pain fired through her system, but not nearly as much as the heat from this finger sinking into her skin. “You’ll live.”

He dropped his hold on her, bent down, and picked up his knife. He offered it to her. “Keep it. You’ll need it.”

She nodded absently, studying the craftsmanship of the blade. It didn’t resemble anything she’d seen before, not that she was an expert in the field of knives, but it looked custom-made.

He turned his back on her and walked toward the door. “Try to stay alive,” Cooper called over his shoulder.

As she stared after him disappointment flared in her chest. “You, too.”

****

The warehouse didn’t come close to the comfort of the bed she’d taken to mere hours ago. The bed being Cooper’s. With her back against one of the concrete columns, she lolled in and out of sleep, never really able to get comfortable. Her body shivered in protest against the cold desert wind of the Nevadan winter. Despite the temperature hitting ninety degrees during the day, a night out in the open, with only her cut to keep her warm, froze her to the bone.

Sometime during the night, she’d laid down completely, Cooper’s knife hugged against her chest. She wasn’t sure her death drip on the hilt came from high levels of paranoia or the fact she actually missed the jerk. Either way, it helped drag her into sleep’s oblivion.

****

Sunlight seeped behind her eyelids, effectively ruining the only sliver of sleep she’d been able to find all night. Without opening her eyes, she brushed her hair out of her face and wiped the drool off her lips.

“I’ve never heard a woman snore so loud before,” a man’s voice said.

She bolted upright. Every sense in her body searched for the knife she’d gone to sleep with. When she couldn’t locate it, she settled her gaze on the man standing above her. It took a few seconds to clear her blurry vision and her breath hitched. “What—what are you doing here?”

Cooper gave her a closed-lipped smile. He ran a hand through his wind-blown dark hair. “I’ve been thinking—”

“That you wouldn’t be able to go back?” She checked her face for more drool and pushed herself off the hard floor.

“No.” He dragged the word out on his perfect lips and experienced tongue. “You won’t be able to fight them on your own.”

That pulled her up short and her body tensed in all the places the floor had made sore. Blood drained from her face and churned her stomach. “I don’t want to fight them. I want to get away from them. And you know what...” She shoved her hand down her shirt through the collar.

“What are you doing?” His velvety voice drifted over her like his kisses had two nights before. Nobody had been able to turn her on with just the sound of their voice. But he did.

She pulled the money out of her bra and presented it to him. “A thousand dollars. That’s all I have left. If I go up against the Outriggers, they’ll kill me.” She dropped her hand, exhaustion from lack of sleep, paranoia Ryder and the club would find her, and Cooper in general taking the energy from her veins. “To be honest, I’d rather have the money than a gravestone.”

“You want to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life?” Cooper stepped in closer, too close. His intoxicating scent of cinnamon and man enveloped her. It clouded her senses, made her dizzy with lust.

“At least I’d be alive.” The last of her grogginess wore off with his expression.

“Mila.”

She loved the way he said her name, his husky voice crawling over her, but she enjoyed his hands on her upper arms even more. He made sure to avoid the healing bullet wound, which she silently thanked him for. She’d been recreating their one-night stand in her mind since it’d happened and his touch promised a rematch. With images like that in her mind’s eye, she couldn’t think clearly. She didn’t want to see the irritation in his eyes and she forced her gaze toward the floor like a stubborn child. She gritted her teeth in frustration and against her better judgment, took a leap of faith. “What do you get out of this?”

He dropped his hands. Did he sense her apprehension? Or had he figured out his touch made her brain go all fuzzy? His broad shoulders rose with a deep inhale. “My prez sided with the Outriggers against our club vote. We take down your club, Vasquez goes with them.”

“And you get the president’s chair.” Made sense. “Yes,” he said.
“Have you considered just outright killing him? I

mean, you’re the VP after all. Doesn’t matter how he’s forced out.” She didn’t normally condone the act of murder, but in extreme circumstances, such as saving her life, killing a man warranted consideration.

“I want the seat fair and square. Besides, if the club found out I’d killed a member of my own crew, they’d put a bullet in my head.”

“And how do you propose we take down the Outriggers?” She never thought she’d betray her club, not even when undercover cops and ATF agents had come knocking. Turned out, she didn’t need that much of a push, just the right motivation. But she needed a better reason to go back than just some power play.

“That’s where you come in.” His brown eyes danced with mischief. Without warning, he fisted her leather cut and pulled her in close. His breath tickled the sensitive skin beneath her jaw as she looked up at him and she shivered with the contact. “You’re an Outrigger. You were privy to certain information. Exchanges. Meetings. Allies and the like.”

So that was what this was about. He wanted intel on a rival club. Too bad Ryder hadn’t ever trusted her with his plans or deals. “I’m just the low woman on the totem pole, Cooper.”

Confusion pulled his eyebrows together and added a couple wrinkles between them. “What do you mean?”

She pressed her palms against his muscular chest and stepped out of his hold. If she wanted to make a logical and clear decision concerning her club, she needed the ability to think. “I mean I’m the last member sworn in. I don’t get the memos as much as you might want to believe.”

“You’ve been an Outrigger for two years. You’re their goddamn VP for Christ’s sake.” The frustration on his face carried into his voice.

She nearly laughed. “Wow. You haven’t done your homework, have you?” She shoved her hands into her cut’s side pockets and met his gaze. “You really think a patriarchal motorcycle gang would reveal its innermost secrets to a twenty-six-year-old woman? The only reason I got the position of VP is for honorary reasons. If Ryder ever stepped down, he’d never hand the gavel over to me.”

“Then why name you VP at all?” he asked.

“Because guilt is a fickle bitch.” The words left her mouth more forcefully than she’d meant. She hated the fact that the only reason she’d been considered worthy for VP was because of her father. She hadn’t even known the man before he’d died. She was ten and in reality, how much did a ten-year-old girl really know about her father? She searched the warehouse as a distraction from Cooper’s prying eyes, but felt inclined to explain. “My old man was VP when he died. Ryder, my dad, and a couple other members were out riding on the 215 one night. My dad was the only one who didn’t make it back.”

“Honorary? Damn it.” Cooper turned his back on her. He stared out into the lightening warehouse. Forming a Plan B?

She thought back over the last two years, reliving critical decisions she hadn’t been a part of for the club, constantly having to prove herself to her “brothers.” That night of the exchange crossed her mind, too. The memory was more than three days old, but remained crystal clear in her mind. She went over every detail again: the shot-out streetlamps, rusted vehicles, and barking dogs. The junkyard on Tropicana was high on the rotation for exchanges with fellow clubs, but that night had always been...off. She couldn’t explain it at the time and she couldn’t explain it now. She’d stood there for more than a half hour waiting for the other party. The Nevada branch of Hell’s Angels had been more than twenty minutes late. Not a habit they were known for. The entire time she’d stood there, her stomach said something was wrong and when midnight came around, she’d realized too late. She’d been set up.

“Did you hear me?” Cooper asked.
She snapped back to reality. “What?”
“I asked how’s your arm.” He motioned to the

wound on her bicep and she covered it with her hand. Embarrassment surged through her. It was because of her stupidity and fear that she’d gotten herself shot.

“It’s fine. Just a knick.”
“Let me look at it.” He stepped into her, warm and intimidating.
She didn’t move as his fingers caressed her oversensitive skin. Heat flooded into her neck and face and she tried to hide the blush letting him know exactly what his touch did to her.

“You’re right. Just a scratch. Should heal fine.” Those fingers tightened around her arm. Cooper’s voice dropped an octave and went husky. “You’re lucky your Sergeant at Arms is a bad shot.”

She tried to keep her breathing even as his hand and his eyes lingered on her. She cleared her throat in an attempt to sound nonchalant, like his warmth didn’t bother her. “So now that I’m useless to you, what are you going to do?” She looked down to find his thumb tracing the outline of her favorite tattoo on her wrist, the vulture atop the eight ball.

“Not useless.” He didn’t elaborate and the heat coursing through her veins intensified.

Other parts of her body reacted, too. Her legs shook from the exertion of trying to hold her up. Where his thumb circled her wrist, her pulse raced. She worked to take deep breaths instead of the shallow ones aching to control her. And the sensitive spot between her legs throbbed in time to her heartbeat.

Without warning, he crushed his lips against hers.

Cooper pulled her in closer, his chest melding with hers, and her thoughts of morning breath died. Still wearing the shorts he’d purchased for her, every fiber of his jeans scratched her legs, her senses heightened from his presence. Through the jeans, warmth seeped into her and relaxed her muscles one by one. His lips fed on hers with frustrating slowness. Calloused and demanding. A small hint of the passion they’d shared two nights ago echoed as her fingers tightened on his upper arms. His erection pressed through his jeans and against her hips.

A torturous moan escaped his lips and she smiled against his mouth. She’d made him call out her name before. Could she do it again with just a simple kiss?

He pulled away in one lithe movement then straightened her club cut.

She snapped her mouth shut after the shock wore off, lips on fire.

Cooper dropped his hold on her and stepped back. “See?” he said with a smile. “You’re not so useless.”

 

Cooper ran an agitated hand through his hair as he drove.

She’d gotten to him, but his hot/cold moods shifted so abruptly her neck ached from whiplash. Maybe this was only about sex for him. But maybe it was something more. She was used to cold-blooded men, used to men who hid emotions behind a mask. Two years of dealing with their bullshit had turned her into a master at reading subtlety. Cooper was definitely bothered.

Despite her knees gripping him on either side to prevent her from falling off the bike, she kept herself distanced. Mentally and physically.

The passing wind brushed her hair back from her face as they sped down the open road. Desert surrounded them entirely, but glimpses of the city caught her eye every now and then. Her lungs pulled in the dry air and she relaxed a little further into the cushioning. The smell of exhaust from the cars ahead tickled her throat. Sunshine beat down down and she rolled her head back to enjoy the speed. The weight on her shoulders lightened considerably with simple exhilaration. She’d missed this kind of freedom. As far as she knew her bike was back at Cooper’s apartment since she’d been unconscious when he brought her to the safe house. Unless the Outriggers had confiscated it in an attempt to bait her. Wouldn’t have been hard. She’d left it in the street and the keys had been in the ignition.

Nobody dared steal from a member, just like petty criminals never stole from drug dealers. More trouble than it was worth. Still, she ached to sink into her bike’s comfort, wrap her hands around the grip, feel the warmth and rumble underneath her.

Cooper twisted his head back over his shoulder. “Hungry?” he yelled over the rush of wind.

She patted his shoulder to signal her answer. She hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. From the sign up ahead, Pahrump promised exactly what she’d been craving, too. Hamburgers.

Less than two minutes later, Cooper pulled the bike into a local fast food parking lot. She wasn’t exactly a fan of “pink slime”, as reporters called it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. There was even a PlayPit in the rear of the building. Food and playtime were sure to take her mind off reality. Double bonus.

She dismounted first, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to control the windblown effect riding always took on her. “Can I ask you a question?”

Cooper removed his helmet and hung it from one side of the bars. “Shoot.”

“Why’d you kiss me back there?” She’d had over an hour to think of his predicted responses as her knees squeezed his thighs from behind. She shouldn’t expect anything more than, “Why not?”, but the same girl who wanted to play in the PlayPit wanted her feet swept out from under her. What girl didn’t?

“My dick told me to,” he said.

Her heart stopped. She waited to see if he’d meant it as a joke, his expression serious. Heat burned behind her sternum and she doubled over in laughter. Barely able to breathe, snot and tears streaming down her face, she couldn’t control herself. The fit lasted at least thirty seconds and when she was finally able to inhale, Mila wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I laugh at inappropriate things. Sometimes when people get hurt, I can’t stand up from laughing so hard.” She waved her hands at her eyes in an attempt to dry them, sniffled, and physically shook herself. “I’m good. I almost want to ask what your dick is telling you to do now.”

He walked past her, a smile pulling at his lips, and headed toward the side door of the restaurant. At least he had a sense of humor.

She followed a couple of steps behind him, taking in the way he strode across the parking lot like he owned it. Strong shoulders called for her attention and sent a zing straight between her legs. She let her gaze linger on his ass, torturing herself more than anything, but wouldn’t let shame in on the party. With short brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a body most men spent hours in the gym for, Cooper set her on fire. The lopsided grin he’d given her at the bar back in Vegas appeared as he glanced at her over his shoulder, increasing the heat simmering beneath her skin. It’d been that smile that’d gotten them into trouble in the first place.

“Enjoying the show?” He held the door open for her.

“Hell, yeah.” She stepped inside the cool interior of the fast food joint and hoped the air conditioning would cool the internal flames licking up her body. She went straight to the counter, ignoring the surreptitious glances at her nose then in Cooper’s direction, and ordered her food to distract herself from his sexy side-glances. The thousand bucks in her bra helped foot the bill, but she didn’t know how long it’d be before she saw more cash. She had to watch what she spent.

They called her number. She got her food and went directly into the play area. As desolate as Pahrump was, she’d expected there to be at least one child running around. The place was empty. She didn’t mind, though. Just meant she could do whatever she wanted in here. Cooper could join her in the multi-colored ball pen. They could sink beneath the surface, only come up for air...

He sat down across from her as she nibbled on an over-salted fry. She didn’t normally allow herself such unhealthy luxuries, but couldn’t argue with her stomach or the hamburger begging her to take a bite. She said, “You know, usually on a first date, you offer to pay for the lady’s meal.”

“Good thing this isn’t a date.” He took a bite of burger, talking around it. “And you’re not a lady.”

She feigned insult, gasping and throwing her hand to her chest. She made sure her voice turned whiney and British, classic Victorian era. “My word, what makes you say that?”

Cooper smiled through the pickles and mayonnaise then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Drops of ketchup landed in his lap, but he didn’t seem to notice. “You eat like a pig for one.”

She shoved the rest of her hamburger in her mouth as fast as she could. This banter between them did all kinds of funny things to her stomach. Maybe they really could have something in common. Aside from both of their clubs wanting to kill them. “At least I can keep it in my mouth.”

“That’s because you have a big mouth.” He laughed then, a deep rumble reverberating in her lower belly. The teasing and joking lightened the migraine building at the back of her head. Her life had been changed by a single stupid decision. Okay, maybe a couple stupid decisions, but Cooper gave her hope she could start over. New name. New life. As frightening as it sounded, she needed this like she’d never needed anything before. And someone she could share her stupid jokes with and who could meet her head on in every way. Cooper met the specs, at least so far. But if life treated everyone fair, she wouldn’t be in a fast food joint dreaming of a future with a man who wasn’t the type to give up freedom for commitment. In her experience, aside from Ryder and Amelia, biker boys chose the road over love. Her father had done it. All her brothers in the club had done it. She guessed what it came down to was, she was ready to give up the biker life, but was he?
What the hell was she thinking? She’d known the man for three days and she’d literally just lumped them together like they were madly in love. “How’s Plan B coming along?” she asked, more to distract herself from her traitorous thoughts than to consider another stupid decision.

Cooper took another swipe at his face with the back of his hand then met her gaze. With a serious expression and low voice, he said, “I’m going to hand you over to your club.”

Her breath hitched. Well, that changed things.

She chuckled. Again, an inappropriate time, but she couldn’t help it. “That’s your plan?” She couldn’t let his words sink in. Despite her willingness to travel all over the state from warehouse to warehouse with him, she wouldn’t go back to her club quietly. If it came down to it, she’d sabotage his bike. She winced. She had such respect for a beautiful piece of machinery like his, but if it saved her life, she’d rip that sucker apart piece by piece. She even knew how.

“You know what I want. How else am I going to get it?” Cooper finished his food then crumbled up the wax paper it’d been wrapped in. Tossing it into a nearby trash bin, he refused to meet her gaze. “Turning you in is logical.”

“Okay, Mr. Spock, but tell me. What happens when I don’t go willingly? You going to tie me up and throw me over your bike?” She should have kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to give him any ideas.

“Do you even know who Mr. Spock is?” he asked. Completely off topic.
“Don’t try to change the subject and yes, I do. I know every episode of Star Trek, and all spinoffs, forward and backward.” Not something she normally admitted out loud, but there it was: she was a biker chick and nerd. She crossed her arms over her chest. It could have been the environment or the simple fact he’d ruined her fantasy that turned her so belligerent. “Come up with another plan.”

Cooper leaned back in his chair. “If I turn you in to the Outriggers, I have leverage to campaign for president of Satan’s Army.”

“But you said Vasquez allied with Outriggers against club vote, so aren’t you really just supporting him after everything is over and done with?” She stabbed her index finger into the table. “By turning me over to my club, you’re fueling Vasquez’s agenda. Your club obviously doesn’t want to do business with mine. Appeasing the Outriggers will cost you more votes than it will gain.”

“You’ve thought this through.” His crooked smile twisted her insides.

She leaned back in her chair. She didn’t know whether to be amazed by his downright disregard for her life or his blatant stupidity. “And you haven’t.”

“So where does that leave us?”

Physical tension built between them, the easy-going banter she’d cherished gone. Did he actually believe what she’d said or had he already set up the dominos for his own plan? The blank expression on his face hid her fate. He calmly took a swig of his soda and heat built behind her sternum. How could he just sit there and pretend he wasn’t willing to serve her up like a pig at a Hawaiian luau?

She exhaled in rush. This whole covert affair had taken all her energy and her patience. “Right now, I just want to play with balls.”

The soda shot from his mouth and directly onto her shirt. Cooper’s hand shot to his mouth in what she assumed was an attempt to keep the rest from spewing at her, but how could there be anything left? He tried to hide a smile behind that hand, but the laughter and crinkling of the skin around his eyes gave him away. His face sobered instantly as she glared at him. He set his drink down. “I don’t think now is the time—”

She motioned with a jerk of her arm toward the pen of colorful spheres. The cold soda seeped through her shirt and against her skin. She shivered reluctantly and ground her teeth. “Balls.”

She stood without giving him the chance to answer and stalked toward the small entrance of the giant jungle gym. The sign beside the entrance told her she was too tall to play, but it’d never stopped her before. She took her sandals off, tossed them in a cubbyhole and climbed inside.

The smell of disinfected plastic calmed her irritation and raised her heart rate. She loved racing down the brightly-colored tubes and spying on people from thirty feet in the air through bubbled windows, but the ball pen had claimed her heart the second they’d pulled into the parking lot. She hesitated on the edge of the pen’s entrance. The blue, red, and yellow balls stared at her expectantly. After the past couple days she’d had, she deserved this.

She launched face first into the orgy of balls, the low rumble of plastic-on-plastic melting her stress. It was childish, and a completely awkward way to show off her playful side, but she sure didn’t give a damn. After a few laps around the pen, she stilled, lying face up, and stared up at the netting above her.

“Have you ever wished you could feel the way you did as a kid? No stress. No guns or politics.” She didn’t really know if Cooper had heard her, but it didn’t matter. It’d been so long since she’d experienced this kind of peace. The balls pressed into her from every side as she flashes of her childhood played across her mind. “My dad would let me stay in jungle gyms like this for hours. Said it was good to enjoy the small things.”

Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention. A second body launched into the pit and she moved just in time to avoid a head-on collision with Cooper’s elbow. He fought his way on top of the balls then smiled, almost to himself. “Haven’t done that since I was a kid.” Turning his cocky grin in her direction, he stopped her heart for a split second. “That was fun.” Seeing him so carefree and happy did wonders to her body. She wanted to stretch out like a cat, basking in his radiance. “You need to lighten up. Enjoy the small things.” She laid her head back and closed her eyes.
The plastic spheres rumbled again as Cooper shifted for what seemed like forever.
“Can’t you sit still?”

She tried to keep her eyes closed, to live in the moment and enjoy the peace, but when he didn’t answer, her curiosity got the better of her. She opened her eyes to find Cooper’s body much closer than it’d been a moment before.

“I like watching you sleep.” Whispers of his breath drifted across her neck and face. Warm, potato-ish from the fries and soft, they sent a shiver down to her toes. Poised above her, Cooper brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face. The zing that followed his touch went straight to her core.

“I’m not as—”

His lips silenced her, but she didn’t mind. Not at all. Wrapping a hand around her midsection, he pulled her into him, deepening the kiss as if he were a starved man hoping to siphon air from her lungs. His tongue slid over hers in a desperate caress and the world disappeared.

Nothing but Cooper held her to the earth.

 

 

She pulled away first. Not by choice exactly. A nagging sensation forced her to end the kiss. She’d always ridiculed people who claimed, “The devil made me do it!”, but right now, she fit right in with them. Although, the devil didn’t make her ask, “Does this mean you’re not handing me over to my club?”

The peaceful and benevolent mood they’d established disappeared.

“Hey!” an unfamiliar voice yelled.

She flinched. She sat bolt upright and sunk deeper into the pit of balls. “Oh, my God.” She laughed then covered her eyes to avoid looking at the stern and very flamboyant manager.

With multi-colored feathers hanging from his earrings and sticking out between layers on his medium- length black hair, he resembled a giant peacock. She cleared her throat, putting on her best serious face and turned her gaze on him. She kept her stare on his face rather than the pink suspenders that must’ve belonged to some local clown college and the knee-high lace-up boots. “Is there a problem?”

“I think it’s time you and your hooker left, sir,” he said to Cooper. “And you might want to get a refund from the looks of her. This is a family restaurant.” He motioned motion with both hands outstretched. “The patrons are starting to complain.”

She searched the restaurant for the “patrons” and found the perpetrator. In his forties, the guy with the black eyeliner, tattoos, and spikes smiled at her. “Actually, I think he likes it.” She tried to ignore his lingering gaze as Cooper spoke up.

“She’s not a hooker.” Cooper stood facing her and the manager, one leg planted on each side of her body. She had an excellent view of the bulge in his jeans from this angle. “She’s just horny.”

She tried not to laugh, but honestly couldn’t hold it in. Count on her to laugh at a time like this. She rolled over and buried her face in the multi-colored, germ- covered orbs and laughed until she cried.

A calloused hand wrapped around her upper arm, opposite the bullet wound, and helped her to her feet. “We were just leaving,” Cooper said.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “That’s right, honey. You got to get me back to the whore house.” Another round of laughter shook her shoulders.

“Did someone mix your medicine?” the manager asked as Cooper shoved her through the small opening of the jungle gym.

She slowly crawled out, refusing to think about what exactly her hand had just gotten stuck to on the floor and glanced up at him from all fours. “No. But do you have any?” She pulled her sandals on and waited for Cooper to lace his work boots. Damn, even him putting on a pair of shoes kicked her motor into overdrive.

Once they’d made it outside in one piece, no thanks to her, sobriety took hold. Exhaustion clamped a vice around her lungs. She leaned onto the bike, partially seated, and studied the direction of Sin City. While she didn’t relish going back, Las Vegas had been her home for as long as she could remember. Her birth certificate said State of California, but her dad had obviously grown tired of the Golden State and shipped her out here. Her mom had already run off by then. She didn’t even remember her. The sun began its descent, streaking the sky with purple, pink, and gray. No matter where she went, it wouldn’t have Nevadan sunsets.

“Either you’re thinking about getting a colonoscopy or something worse.” Cooper’s voice relaxed the tension in her neck and shoulders. Nobody had been able to do that before. He stood in front of her, hands in his pockets, but kept his distance. She had that kind of effect on people. Kept them at a distance.

“Wondering where I’d go after all this is over.” She tore her gaze away from the vibrant colors in the sky and focused on him. Straightening, she squinted up at him. “I won’t go back, Cooper.” She continued when he didn’t respond. “Handing me over won’t solve anything.”

“You don’t know that,” he said.

His words stung. He’d already made his decision and she hated the idea of hurting him to get away. It wasn’t her, but she’d do what she had to in order to survive. “Why is the president’s seat so important to you? Satan’s Army isn’t even an established chapter. There are better choices out there.” She stepped into him, tugging on the edges of his club cut. “I have no doubt in my mind you’d move up—”

“Stop.” He brushed her hands aside. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Cooper turned his back on her. He gazed out at the same sunset she’d lost her thoughts in.

“Considering this has to do with my life, I think I deserve to know. Is it personal? More than some power struggle?” She stared at his back. His shoulders rose and fell evenly.

He left only half his face visible, but the struggle in his eyes was real.

Her insides flipped. With an all too familiar experience of fighting inner demons, she recognized the war raging across Cooper’s face. So many possibilities were the cause of such agony and confusion, but her mind automatically went to the worst-case scenario: a hit had been taken out on her life as well. And Cooper just might be the man to collect. Had he spared her for the same reason she hadn’t told him about the hit on his life? No. Because that was irrational. “Just tell me. Please.”

Cooper didn’t answer for the space of three inhales and she thought her heart might explode out of her chest it was beating so fast. Finally, when she couldn’t take any more, his eyes dropped to the pavement in defeat. He spoke to her over his shoulder. “I’m DEA, Mila.” He faced her fully, no signs of deception evident in his expression. “And my orders to take control of Satan’s Army were very clear.”

“What?” She tried to snap her mouth closed. And failed.

“Does that satisfy your curiosity?” He mounted his bike and threw back the kickstand. Starting the machine, he gave her an expectant expression.

She didn’t know if she wanted to climb on or run as fast as she could. “What the hell does the DEA want with Satan’s Army?”

“Cocaine. The same thing your dad was after.”

“What did you just say?” Her temper swelled in the center of her chest and she couldn’t think of a single exercise to cool off. She took a step closer, ready to wipe that smirk off his face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“

His explanation was so simple, but now she had more questions. One stood out. “So it was all a lie?” She waited for him to answer, but the possibility of him targeting her for his own purposes kept her going. “That night we slept together. Did you single me out?”

Cooper wouldn’t meet her gaze and his shoulders sank. “Yes.”

Her whole body went numb. She turned her back on him, heading toward the restaurant’s side door. Footsteps followed her, but she didn’t slow.

“Mila, wait.” His calloused hand wrapped around her arm. “Let me explain.”

She put all her strength into her palms as she shoved him hard. Cooper dropped like a bag of concrete. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, she’d have congratulated herself for taking down a man twice her size. She stared down at him. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She wouldn’t cry—not in front of him—but his betrayal took control of every cell in her body and refused to let go.

“I’m not some tool you can manipulate, Cooper.” Shock transformed into a vengeful, living entity. He planned to use her? Well, maybe he could rely on the person who’d have to give him a ride back to the city to help him from now on.

She stalked to the bike, mounted, and shoved on Cooper’s helmet. Pain radiated throughout her face from her broken nose, but she turned the key and squeezed the throttle. Movement on her right side said Cooper had pushed to his feet. She let go of the break and sped off with a lingering gaze in his direction. Ripping out of the parking lot with Cooper’s bike, she let the wind dry the tears now streaking down her face.

Couldn’t let his betrayal get to her heart. All they had was one night and a couple heart-wrenching kisses. Not enough to get this upset over. He’d picked her out of that bar. He’d made her think he cared, that he’d saved her life because he liked her. Turned out he just didn’t want his asset to die. God, she’d even considered something permanent with him.

But she guessed that was her problem to begin with: she’d assumed too much.

Bastard.
In an hour, she ended up at her apartment. Returning to Vegas wasn’t her brightest idea, but if home was ever where her heart was, she needed to find it after Cooper cut it out. There were other reasons, too. Cooper claimed her father was involved in the DEA. She’d taken over her old man’s apartment when he’d died, but none of his personal items had given her the idea he’d been anything but a member of the Outriggers. Certainly not a rat for the DEA.

She waited across the street a few minutes, searching the front door and side alleys for any sign of the club. She was sure the Outriggers had already searched the apartment, but they might still be hanging around, waiting for her to make a mistake. Which she had.

So far, so good. The coast was clear.

She dismounted Cooper’s bike, barely holding herself back from kicking the damn thing to the curb. Didn’t matter if he was DEA. He’d put a lot of cash and love into his ride. He might just be a biker at heart. She half-jogged across the street, her gaze darting back over her shoulder. Her paranoia had reached an alarming level. Then again, apparently she had two clubs and the DEA after her.

It took less than two minutes to reach her apartment door. From the looks of it, the door hadn’t been kicked in. No forced entry. If the club had searched her place, somebody had a key.

She didn’t bother with her key. Turning the doorknob, she found it unlocked and pushed the door inward. She surveyed her kitchen then the living room beyond. Everything seemed to be exactly where’d she’d left it, but she wasn’t stupid enough to go in blind.

She climbed back down the stairs, pleased Cooper’s bike hadn’t been stolen. That had to be a good sign. Taking a walk around the exterior of the apartment building, she ensured nobody could get up the fire escape. Still, her paranoia stayed at an all-time high. There were too many places an enemy could hide or keep an eye on her through her third-story window. Adjacent buildings, for one. She picked up a couple of rocks on her way back inside.

Her feet shuffled across the hardwood floor of her hallway a second time. Exhaustion pulled her down. A shower, a change of clothes, and some sleep were in order before she started her little investigation. Only the possibility of someone waiting for her stood in the way. She pushed the door open again and fondled a rock in one hand.

She threw it as hard as she could into the living room wall, but hit one of the windows instead. Glass dropped onto the carpet.

No reaction. No club members busting out from behind her couch.

She did the same with the second rock, only this time, threw it in the kitchen sink.

Silence.

Nobody waited to drag her back to headquarters or cut her throat. She exhaled in a relieving rush and slammed the door behind her. No more waiting on the defensive. Time to set things right once and for all.

 

 

She woke to utter darkness.

The clock on her bedroom nightstand read two in the morning, but she felt as if she’d slept for two days straight. Her body ached, her injuries pulsing in rhythm to her heart rate. She struggled to turn over, but something around her wrist kept her from moving very far. She pulled against it, the sound of metal-on-metal echoing throughout the room.

“What the—”
Thelight on her nightstand flipped on.
Cooper stared back at her with a smile on his face, so comfortable lounging on the other side of her queen- size bed. “I think you need to see that doctor about your snoring or at least about the broken nose.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” She tugged on the handcuff again. “Is this a dream? Because so far, I’m not okay with it.”

His laugh rolled over her like the sexiest kind of silk, brushing the furthest reaches of her mind and the naughtiest places. She liked that laugh. She needed it.

“Not a dream.” Cooper jumped up from the bed, the space he’d occupied growing cold with his retreat. He faced her as she laid her head back down and closed her eyes.

She didn’t want to think about how much she missed him beside her or the fact she wanted him to stay there forever. After everything she’d been through in the past two days, she couldn’t handle another disappointment. Cooper had gotten under her skin the second they’d hooked up at the bar. Then again, that had been exactly what he’d wanted. She groaned in frustration. “If you’re leaving, shut the light off.”

“I’m not leaving,” he said.

“Then shut up so I can sleep.” She sensed his gaze, even though she refused to open her eyes. The weight of his stare crushed her like a bundle of bricks on her chest. She didn’t care why he’d cuffed her to her own bed. All she wanted was to sleep off the past two days like they’d never happened.

“My superior instructed me to turn you in to the Outriggers.” His words penetrated the thin veil of sleep she’d succumbed to.

Exasperation tinted her voice as she opened her eyes and said, “Listen, I don’t give a shit who you talked to or what you do. Please just let me sleep for a little while longer.” A sob built in her throat as the gravity of the situation slammed into the forefront of her conscience. “I’ve had a hell of a week and for just a little while, I’d like to feel safe, even if it’s only in my dreams. So either shut up and leave, or shut up and get back in the bed.”

She didn’t wait for his response, and instead readjusted to a more comfortable position. The handcuff made it difficult, but just when she finally settled, the other side of the bed dipped with Cooper’s weight.

“I’m sorry.” He snaked an arm around her middle.

The apology warmed her from the inside out, but small embers of their fight waited in the back of her mind. He’d picked her out of that bar for a reason, but in turn, she’d stolen his bike and left him in the middle of the desert. Did that make them even? He sounded sincere and she didn’t even have the strength to tell him “shut up” meant no talking. She let herself sink deeper into his hold and closed her eyes again. Heat penetrated the clothing separating their skin and added to the growing feeling of safety. If anything were to happen during the night, Cooper would do what he could to protect her.

“So are you going to do it?” Her voice strained with emotion. How could she trust another person again? The brothers she’d sworn to protect wanted her dead and the one man she’d truly been herself around turned out to be a DEA agent. Public Enemy Number One. Nothing in the world made sense anymore.

His breath teased the back of her neck as he spoke, sending tiny shivers down her spine. “No.”

Surprise excited the butterflies in her stomach into a crazed frenzy. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t even know what to think, but maybe words didn’t have to explain the gratefulness spreading under her skin. Slowly turning onto her opposite side, she slid the handcuff across the main railing and faced Cooper.

The nightstand light cast shadows across his pronounced jawline. She traced the curve of his face with her fingertips, his five o’clock shadow bristly under her touch. She kept her gaze steady with his as she used the pad of her thumb to do the same with his lower lip. The skin beneath her touch was soft, kissable, and then she couldn’t hold herself back. She pressed her lips against his, tilting her head to the side slightly to avoid damaging her nose even further. Her free hand wrapped around his neck in order to bring him closer and Cooper responded. Slowly, at first, but then in an aggressive rush.
He rolled her onto her back and settled his weight on her, keeping their lips in constant connection. His knees spread her legs and she longed to touch him fully. Breaking the kiss, she glanced up at her bound wrist and tugged on the handcuff for effect.

“Do you mind?” A smile pulled at one corner of her mouth. “This isn’t exactly my kind of fun.”

Cooper’s brown eyes glowed with delight. He placed a not-too-chaste kiss on her lips and pulled away. “But it is my kind of fun.”

Her insides tingled with the possibilities of that statement. “Really?”

“You don’t believe me?” He nuzzled into her neck, kissing along the tendon connecting her neck and shoulder. A strong bite on the same tendon nearly sent her over the edge. She arched into him and clutched his ass with her free hand for something to grip. Cooper held all the power, pulling a moan from her throat. “I have another set of cuffs in my bag. Want me to get ‘em?” His lips brushed her earlobe and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“Don’t you dare leave me cuffed to this bed by myself,” she bit out.

Cooper straddled her atop her thighs. His weight didn’t bother her so much as his retreat did. Almost as if he was afraid to move too quickly, he slipped both hands beneath her thin tank top and pooled the material just under her breasts. His breathing deepened. “God, you’re beautiful.”

In the dim light, the awestruck expression on his features flipped her stomach.

With aggravating slowness, Cooper’s fingertips traced the tattooed designs along her sides and under her naval. They had no special meaning, just something pretty to look at, but his touch brought them to life. He invigorated every nerve in her body and for the second time in the last week, her body came alive as she touched him. “I forgot how soft your skin is,” he said.

She strained against the handcuff, aching to feel him with just as much enthusiasm. Her free hand rested on his thigh as he straddled her, but her grip increased in pressure as he lifted her tank top completely over her breasts, freeing them.

Cooper lowered his mouth to one mound and sent warmth straight between her legs. Kneading the other with his free hand, he flicked his tongue over her sensitive nipple then blew it into a point. “And how good you taste.”

Frustration bubbled to her lips and she groaned. While she enjoyed the sensuous foreplay, her nether regions wanted more. She needed him to rock her world again, to make everything better if only for a night.

“Just a little longer.” Cooper planted kisses around her navel and worked his way lower.

“Don’t stop.” She closed her eyes and focused on the feel of him rather than the visual. He pulled off her shorts in one lithe move. Her free hand raked through his hair, clutching a patch as he parted her thighs. Cool air caressed her bared skin and Cooper added to it with his own breathing. The warm and cold mixture forced her body to tense, but his fingertips rubbed the soft flesh located between her folds, and she relaxed deeper into the bed.

She dug her nails into his shoulder as his mouth replaced his fingers. Kissing, stroking, and using his tongue to enter her, Cooper started a fire in her belly that consumed her little by little. With just the smallest amount of pressure on her, the ache built then sent her straight over the edge.

She didn’t have the chance to scream her release as Cooper’s lips crashed into hers. His arousal pressed into her through his jeans and all she cared about at that moment was getting him inside. She unfastened his jeans button with one hand, but needed his help to discard the denim since her other hand remained cuffed. He pulled back and knelt above her, his knees on either side of her. Slowly unbuttoning his shirt, Cooper smiled down at her.

Using one of her many talents, she wedged her right foot under the edge of his shin and wrapped her other leg around his torso. With her one good hand, she forced Cooper onto his back and straddled him just as he’d straddled her. Her dad had taught her the move during our one disastrous self-defense lessons when she was a kid, but she’d remembered it well over the years, and had never been more thankful for paying attention than right now. Her wrist screamed in protest, the metal biting into her flesh, but she’d have her revenge. “Here’s where we get to have some fun.”

“You mean that wasn’t fun for you?” he asked.

She shot him a thin smile. How was she supposed to undress him with only one hand? He’d unbuttoned his shirt completely, the planes of his chest shadowed by the nightstand light. “You’re going to wish you’d let me go to sleep.”

She leaned over him and pressed her breasts against his chest. Her mouth hovered over his for more than two breaths and his chin tilted upward to receive her kiss.

But she wouldn’t give it to him. Not yet. She leaned back on his lap and nearly melted from the disappointment in his eyes. “I warned you.”

She kissed her way down his chest and followed the trail to his navel. And further. Once she reached the waistband of his cotton briefs, she licked a horizontal line across the skin just above them while keeping her gaze locked with his.

Brown eyes followed her every move as she slipped her fingers underneath the waistband. She fingered the edge of curls just under his briefs, tickling the sensitive skin there, and smiled. His individual musk wafted off his skin, cinnamon and man igniting her urge to lick him from head to toe just for a taste. She’d torture him as long as she could, but the pulsing of her heart stayed in rhythm with the ache between her legs. She wouldn’t last much longer. She thrust her upper body forward and skimmed her breasts against his chest as she pushed her hand completely inside his briefs.

She gripped him, hard, and enjoyed the weight of him in her hand. A hiss escaped his lips as Cooper closed his eyes. Teasing, exploring, and sliding her fingertips up and down, she watched his expression as he grew even harder under her touch. For what seemed like minutes, but must have been only seconds, Cooper was in her control.

She listened to his erratic breathing and experimented with different pressures as she worked him. When he reopened his eyes, lust and urgency filled his gaze. “I’m going to explode if you keep doing that.”

She let him regain his breath before the real torture began. She pulled at his jeans, but Cooper pushed her hand away and shoved his pants down his legs.

Discarding his briefs, she had a full view of his masculinity and she forced herself to inhale slowly. She took hold of him again, despite his protests, and swept her tongue from base to head in one quick move. The combination of his deep, guttural moan and the tangy flavor of his skin swept her original plans aside in an instant. Unable to hold herself back, she straddled him again.

The expression on his face reminded her of a little matter they hadn’t really discussed before. The subject hadn’t come up during their time together, but now, it became crucial. “I’m clean and on birth control.”

“Me, too,” he said between gritted teeth and latched onto her waist with both hands. Tugging her forward, Cooper positioned himself at her core. “Not the birth control part, of course.”

The laugh rushing past her lips was replaced with a gasp as he plunged into her. A ripple of pleasure shot up through her as her body conformed to him. They melded into one as if two pieces of a puzzle had finally been reunited. She leveraged her free hand against his chest, and rocked back and forth on him. This. Them. It seemed right. Warmth spread from her core into her belly, a fire smoldering just beneath the surface of her skin as he thrust into her.

Cooper picked up the pace, his arms and chest flexing with each push and retreat.

A familiar pleasurable sting intensified in her core as he wrenched her upper body down onto his chest. As she lay pressed against him, she listened to his inconsistent gasps for breath. Her orgasm lingered just on the edge and it seemed she’d never take that plunge as long as Cooper slowed his thrusts. She gripped his bicep with her free hand and fought the handcuff with the other to coax him faster. The pain only pushed her further into oblivion as she straightened.

She sank further into Cooper’s control and loved every second of it. In the space of a few days, he’d become her life raft as the world crashed down around her and she never wanted to let him go.

Without warning, he bolted upright, his chest smashing against hers as he wound his arms around her waist. With a sharp bite to her shoulder, Cooper sent her over the edge with a mixture of pleasure and pain. It’d never occurred to her that teeth could be used as a sexual instrument and stars appeared in her eyes as she screamed her release. Relief flooded her body as they collapsed together. The scent of sex, sweat, and blood leaking from her bullet wound mingled in her lungs and chased away the weight of danger.

A satisfied groan escaped his lips and she pulled back in time to see Cooper’s expression grow tired. She didn’t know if he considered their time together as an entry in his top five list, but she’d certainly help him with that.

 

“I liked these,”—she stared up at Cooper as he unlocked the cuffs—“but not enough to use them again.”

“Again?” He gave her a quick wink. “What makes you think we’ll have the chance to use them again?”

She didn’t answer save for wrapping her legs around his waist as he bent over her. Her core brushed against his jeans and she wiggled into him harder. Wrapping her hand at the back of his neck, she pulled him in for a kiss. His warmth melted all the way down to her bones. What if they had this every day?

The realization hit her hard.

What she’d sworn would just be a one-night stand had, in fact, turned into two nights and a playful make- out session at the restaurant. She wanted Cooper, undercover DEA agent and liar, more than she’d wanted anything before. He might have picked her out of that bar for leverage, but he’d come back for her, not his organization or his mission. The evidence showed in his blatant defiance of his superior’s order. Cooper wasn’t going to turn her in. “Why don’t you come back to bed and we can figure it out?”

After a quick peck on her cheek, he dressed.

She watched in mild fascination, snuggling beneath the covers. She hadn’t gotten much sleep due to his sudden appearance at her side early this morning, but she wasn’t going to complain in the least.

Cooper tossed her jeans onto the bed. “Get dressed.”

“Why?” she asked.

The bed indented with his weight as he half-climbed on top of her. His lips remained a hair’s width away. “Because I can’t talk to you while you’re naked.”

“Talk is cheap.” Arching her back, she tugged Cooper down on top of her and encircled his waist with her bare skin. “Why don’t you show me what you got?”

A moan escaped his lips and he thrust his hips into her. His jeans scraped along her sensitive lady parts, impossibly kicking her arousal higher. “I would love to, but my boss is expecting me to report back in an hour.” Cooper jumped out of bed then stared down at her with a sad expression. “I have to explain why I didn’t turn you over to the Outriggers.”

His warm, brown eyes grew distant as he studied her, but she sensed he didn’t really see her at all. “This is the first time I’ve disobeyed an order.” A humorless smile crept across his face. “Might lose my job.”

Her heart sank. She sat up, covering herself with a sheet and stood. Stepping into him, she planted a hand on his chest then moved it to his jawline. His bristled scuff tickled her fingertips as she stroked his face. She’d never apologize for the relief he’d given her when he told her he wouldn’t hand her over to the Outriggers, but why’d he have to put his career in danger for her? She didn’t want to die, but enough people had been hurt by this situation that she couldn’t let it destroy more lives. Especially Cooper’s. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

Cooper’s chest rose silently with an inhale. “Because I just can’t throw you to the wolves.”

She dropped her hand. “Then what are you going to tell your boss?”
She’d run through the possibilities over and over, none of which made her out as nothing more than a criminal. She was a piece of an organization that ran drugs, weapons, and occasionally took lives. Nothing Cooper said to his superiors would change that and they’d want every piece of the puzzle they could find, even if it meant giving her up.

“I don’t know yet,” he answered. “But we need to get you somewhere safe. You can’t stay here. Outriggers have been patrolling this area since your escape.”

“Great.” She wasn’t an integral part in this mess and the DEA had bigger fish to fry. They’d ordered Cooper to turn her in, apparently uncaring what happened to a lowest member on the totem pole. She wasn’t even in the club they were after, but the Outriggers did business with Satan’s Army, and she’d played a part.

While she’d considered herself unbreakable at one time, Cooper had found a way into her soul and only his decision to keep her in one piece allowed her to stay sane. He held her future in his hands, but didn’t have all the information to make an informed decision. “Before you talk to them, there’s something I have to tell you about the day we met.”

A smile pulled at the edge of his mouth. “What? Did you pick me out of the bar to use me for your own shady agenda?”

She relaxed, his easy-going mood change more than welcome. “Nothing like that, no.” She inhaled, trying to recall everything about that day. “Ryder sent me to make a pickup at the junkyard on Tropicana. I went, but our contacts were more than an hour late. The entire time I waited, I just had this really bad feeling.” She fisted her hand against her stomach.

“What happened?” he asked.

The memories flashed hot and unwanted across her mind. “They wore Hell’s Angels cuts, but—” She stared at a tendril of one of Cooper’s tattoos she’d never paid much attention to before. “What is that?”

She pulled at his collar and ran her fingers over the hard edge of his shoulder. She studied the serpent slithering around two very recognizable words. Every detail pulled at her memory. “I’ve seen that before.”

Cooper tensed under her touch, his eyes as hard as steel. “Where?”

“One of the men at the exchange had this tattoo on his neck.” She motioned just below her jawline with a single finger. “Right here.”

She cursed to herself. Forcing her gaze to meet Cooper’s, she dropped the sheet then dressed. “They weren’t Hell’s Angels at all. That bastard set me up.”

“Who?”

“Ryder. Outrigger’s president.” She crouched to lace up her boots. “I should’ve figured it out sooner. I can’t believe I forgot about the tattoo. No member of Hell’s Angels would have something like that.”

Cooper knelt in front of her, placing his hands over hers. His touch calmed her with spreading warmth, but didn’t extinguish the burning in her chest. “Slow down. Tell me everything. Do you remember what this guy looked like?”

She tried to breathe evenly, her temper getting the best of her. “Long hair, mustache, short, but muscular. He looked Mexican, but it was dark. I couldn’t tell for sure.”

He pulled his collar down, and she was confronted with the serpent again. “Do you know what this is?”
She shook her head.
“It’s a covert group in the Army, a group I used to be a part of until we were captured and taken prisoner in Afghanistan.”

Cooper had been in the Army? Captured? What else didn’t she know? “So you know this guy? What happened?”

He clenched his jaw, sliding his teeth back and forth audibly.

She couldn’t decipher most of the emotions rolling through him at the moment, but his eyes told her regret consumed a large portion of whatever happened. She’d never seen so much devastation.

“We were ambushed in the middle of an op. By the time we were rescued, I was the only survivor. They’d only tortured me, but killed the other men on my team. Never found out why. I never gave them more than my rank and serial number, but I survived. Or they let me survive.” His chocolate gaze connected with hers. The depths of his stare pulled her in deeper. “I was just a newbie at the time. I’d only been in the military for a couple of months, recruited straight out of college, and I didn’t want to go back to Afghanistan. I didn’t even want to investigate their deaths.”

“That’s understandable. You were tortured. Of course you didn’t want to go back,” she said.

Cooper’s head dropped. “Doesn’t excuse my actions.” When he lifted his head again, the sorrow and pain vanished. He’d built up an invisible wall and buried the emotions he’d allowed her to witness. She imagined this was the side of Cooper he kept at the forefront of his career: hardened, professional, cold. She didn’t like it.

“Two months ago, the DEA got a tip some of the men in my team actually survived and had taken a special interest in the Soto Cartel. Here, in Vegas.”

Her nerve endings caught fire. The cartel? “What kind of special interest?”

He ran a hand through his short hair, tussling it even more out of control. “Mostly drugs. They want control of Vegas to bring in more. Satan’s Army is just one vein of the Soto Cartel. With me in the lead, we can go directly to the source and kill the monster.”

“And you think the guy with the tattoo is one of the men from your team?” This whole situation was too amazing to believe. And her own club had dragged her into the middle of a cartel war. “So the guys I met with weren’t Hell’s Angels. They were from the cartel.”

“If what you saw is true, then yes.” Cooper stood then turned his back on her.

Her gaze followed the planes of his back beneath his shirt and the strong muscles flexing when he moved. “Those men, whoever they are, took the delivery from me. Which means Hell’s Angels didn’t get their product and Ryder must’ve pinned it on me.” How many clubs did that make who wanted her life? Three? She collapsed back onto the bed. “The Angels think I stole from them and Ryder’s just trying to cover his ass because he’s in bed with the cartel.”

Her anger deflated with a wave of exhaustion. “This whole thing is about some brown box I gave to the wrong club. How was I supposed to know they weren’t real Angels?”

“What’s the package?” Cooper asked.

“I don’t know. I never got the details when it came to stuff like that. I was told to meet at the junkyard at midnight and hand it over.” When Mila sat up again, she ran her hands through her hair. “Must be something worth killing for. Probably drugs.”

“Whatever it is, it’s gone now. We need to get you somewhere safe. I can’t protect you 24/7 with these guys on the loose. They believe the Army abandoned them back in Afghanistan, a mission only I survived. I wouldn’t be surprised if they think I sold them our or set them up. They’ll come after you to get to me if they have to.”

She prickled with the implication she was someone he needed to protect. She’d done just fine without his or the DEA’s help against her brethren for two years. Then again, they hadn’t been trying to kill her during that time. But that fact didn’t change just because they wanted her dead. “I can take care of myself. You, on the other hand, need me—”

His cell rang. He answered on the first ring as though the phone had been in his hand the entire time. “Nolan.”

He turned his back to her. “Right. No. It won’t be a problem.”

Deep-set lines etched between his brows as he cocked his gaze over his shoulder. Toward her. After another few seconds, he hung up. “I have to go.”

“Now? You just told me Army defectors might come after me and you’re going to leave me here, alone?”

“Take my bike back to the warehouse. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning and we’ll figure out where to go from there.” Concern coated his words and her anxiety found power again. Cooper stepped into her and captured her lips with his.

A shiver rushed down her spine with the passion in this kiss, so different from the others. Almost as if Cooper believed he’d never see her again. Dread knotted in the center of her stomach. She clung to him like a life preserver. What if this was their last kiss? Their last time together?

He pulled away. She struggled to catch her breath. Her lips tingled, but grew cold in his retreat. “Be careful,” she said.

“Get to the warehouse. I’ll find you.”

An echo of the front door closing reached her in the bedroom and was followed by utter silence. He was gone. Every muscle in her body tensed and she rubbed her face with her hands. Just like him not to give her any idea of the plan. She pushed her way into the spare bedroom to find what she’d originally come home for.

The fire she’d let simmer rekindled in an instant. The entire spare bedroom had been ripped apart. Stuffing from the futon lay in puffs all over the carpet, her computer sat in pieces on the desk. Even the curtains had been torn down and the mounts detached from the wall. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

All because of a small brown box.

She waded through the mess toward the back of the room where an extra closet housed her father’s belongings. Cooper had said Kenyon Stone had been the best asset to the DEA when it came to undercover work in the MCs. Well, there had to be some proof somewhere.

An hour later, she found herself cross-legged on the dismantled carpet, flipping through pictures of better days. As a child, her father was distant and seemingly uncaring, but he’d done his best to raise a red-headed hellraiser single-handedly. She settled on one photo specifically of the two of them at Disneyland for her tenth birthday. Her dad carried her on his shoulders in this one, his tattooed vulture and eight ball clearly visible on his wrist, an exact replica to hers. It’d been the last time they’d taken a family vacation. Who knew ten days later she’d never see him again?

Nothing in his possessions backed up Cooper’s claim. She wanted to believe him. Her whole life she’d seen her father as a badass, a man who protected what was his and gave his life to the club rather than his family. What if it’d all been a lie? The idea he’d been looking after millions of families rather than selfishly protecting his own filled her heart with pride, but where was the proof? Cooper had reason to lie to her so she’d help him, but somehow, in her gut, she just didn’t think he’d go that far. The evidence of her father’s involvement had to be here somewhere.

The front door opening pulled her out of her thoughts. “Did you forget something? Or did you finally realize you need my help?”

No answer.

“Cooper?” She struggled to her feet and padded down the hallway.

Two people waited for her, neither of them Cooper.

She tried not to let the fear slithering up her spine appear on her expression or in her words. Leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, she gave them her full attention and hid her shaking hands. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

 

Amelia smiled back at her, motherly, inviting. “Hey, baby. Where have you been?” She walked over to her, her heels pounding on her hardwood floors as she swayed her hips and embraced her.

Shock splintered down her limbs like lightning. A hug from the club’s matron was the last thing she’d expected when she showed up. This woman had ordered their Sergeant at Arms to shoot her out of a freaking vent, for crying out loud.

Her president’s electric blue gaze settled on her as she hugged his wife. His expression remained cold, calculating. In his forties, Ryder Branson controlled everything and everyone within his club with an iron fist. If orders weren’t followed or completed, punishment ensued. He might chalk it up to an accident afterward, but occasionally, people just disappeared. What would he tell the other members of her club when police discovered her body? Would it be an accident or a missing persons case?

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Amelia released her from her embrace. With perfect beehive hair, dark makeup, and crow’s feet around her eyes and lips, her president’s old lady held her at arm's length. “We’re here to help you, Mila. We’re always here to help you.” She shook her slightly as if she wasn’t paying attention. “Now who knows about the package, sweetie?” She dropped her hands then began picking up the dirty clothes and couch pillows off her floor.

“Nobody.” She rubbed her arms where Amelia had touched her, careful not to make any sudden movements. Her gaze darted toward Ryder to see his reaction, but she only received a blank expression. He didn’t believe her. “I’m telling the truth, Ryder. I met with the contact and gave them the box. Only now I think they weren’t the real Hell’s Angels—”

“You’re changing your story?” Ryder crossed his arms over his muscular chest. In every day attire, he looked like a normal guy. Married. Kids. Great day job at a bank. But on the weekends, like today, Ryder exuded power in his jeans, leather cut, work boots and cut-off gloves, and scared the shit out of her. “Amelia, babe, why don’t you get a drink from across the street?”

Amelia straightened, her eyes swinging in Mila’s direction for just a moment. “I don’t think that’s a good id—”

“Now,” he said.

Her green eyes lingered on Mila before she threw a quick smile to her husband. She planted a passionate kiss on his lips as she passed him then whispered something in his ear before heading into the hallway. She closed the door behind her, leaving her alone with her club president.

She didn’t know what to say, or what to do, thanjust stand there. This man had ordered his wife and Talon to kill her back at the safe house. And they would have if not for Cooper. Whispering thoughts of his safety crossed her mind. Had they caught up with him, too? The idea forced a shock of electricity down her spine. Over the last week, he’d played an integral part in her life and she couldn’t lose him because of some damn box.


“Why don’t you have a seat?” Ryder motioned to the couch.


She struggled to remember if she’d put any weapons in the couch as she moved toward it. A knife or gun perhaps? Maybe something her father had left behind? She couldn’t defend herself against Ryder. He’d been in the club practically all his life, a hardened criminal and fighter to the bone, but she’d sure as hell make it hard for him to kill her. She sat down as Ryder took the recliner across from her.

“Is this the part where you tell me I deserve this and put a bullet in her head?” she asked.

“I want you to tell me the truth, Mila. You owe me that much.”

“Seriously? You sent Talon and your old lady to kill me. I don’t owe you shit.” She had to keep her temper under control. She didn’t want things to get worse, but she just couldn’t let Ryder get away with what he’d done. She inhaled slowly, letting the air disintegrate the anger building in her chest, and let it out. “I did as you asked. I showed up at midnight just like the instructions said, at the junkyard on Tropicana, and waited for the Angels to show. Forty minutes later, I handed the package to five men in Hell’s Angels cuts and left.”

“But you know the truth now, don’t you?” Ryder set both elbows on his knees. “Who have you told about the Soto Cartel?”

Her shoulders sank with her heart. She was right. Ryder had set her up from the beginning. “Nobody.”

“You’re lying. You think I haven’t seen you around with the VP from Satan’s Army? You told him, didn’t you?” His tone grew dark, along with his eyes. The President of Outriggers Motorcycle Club stared back at her, not Ryder. “Then I guess I’ll just have to find him too.”

She bolted upright. “He doesn’t know anything.” Her explanation seemed pointless as Ryder advanced on her. “I swear.”

Backing herself down the hallway, she struggled to hear through her heart pounding in her ears. Her feet shuffled on the hardwood floor, her hands steadying her against the walls on either side. She kept her breathing even through some miracle as Ryder followed. She had a small revolver in the top of her dresser drawer. At least she had before she’d run off. The club might have taken it when they searched her apartment.

“You’re just like your old man, you know that? Caught him selling secrets too and look how he paid for it,” Ryder said.

“You killed him?” Her bottom lip trembled, but she couldn’t stop moving. Had to reach the gun. She lunged into her room, landing on her side. The air knocked from her lungs, but she kicked the door shut behind her. The lock had broken long ago and she scrambled toward her bedroom window for a way out. The door slammed against the wall behind her right as she threw herself onto the fire escape. She took less than two seconds to right herself, but a hand flew out the window and griped her upper arm, right where she’d been shot by the club’s Sergeant of Arms.

The pain sent white dots across her vision and ripped a scream from her throat. Ryder tried to force her back inside, but she could only focus on the flames licking straight down her arm and into her chest as she wrenched her arm out of his grasp. Falling back onto the fire escape, she heard shouts inside her apartment and forced her feet down the stairs as Ryder’s attention was diverted toward the hallway.

Ryder disappeared from the window. A single gunshot echoed down into the alley between her building and the next, but she refused to stop. She hit the pavement and ignored the tingling in her toes from the jolt, and ran.

****

She’d left Cooper’s keys in the apartment and she definitely couldn’t go back, but she didn’t know how she’d get to that warehouse either. The friends she’d relied on consisted of groupies or employees for the MC and she didn’t dare ask for help in case they turned her over.

The club had once been a home away from home. Now it seemed running guns, drugs, and laundering cash had taken its focus over the past year. Couldn’t say it wasn’t partly her fault. She’d voted Ryder in, even supported some of his extracurricular activates to bring the club more cash. A lot of good her support had done. Corrupt son of a bitch.

She kicked small rocks out of her way as she walked Ogden Avenue. Satan’s Army territory protected her from her club, but who knew when or if one of Vasquez’s guys would try to turn her over. Staying behind enemy lines would only be temporary, but she had no clue where she’d go next.

Her plans to leave Vegas dimmed as she realized she wouldn’t be safe anywhere. She’d sworn an oath for life with the Outriggers and they’d never stop until she fulfilled her promise. She could run forever, assume another name, hell, maybe even settle down, but she’d always be looking over her shoulder or listening for the rumble of a bike.

That left her with only one option to avoid death at the hands of the Outriggers: she had to convince them of Ryder’s corruption.

Besides, the man she wanted was here and she wasn’t ready to give him up. She’d only met Cooper a week ago, but in that time, he’d saved her life—twice— and given her hope. With him, she saw a future without guns, drugs, blood, and bad sex. Who could say no to that?

She laughed at her own stupidity as she rounded the corner of Ogden and Fourth. Cooper was DEA. He had no intentions of leaving as far as she could tell and she’d never have the balls to ask. “Somebody better send you back to school because you forgot how to leave guys behind without a second thought, idiot,” she muttered to herself.

“Mila! Thank God I found you.”

She froze in the middle of the sidewalk. No one knew where she’d run. Unless they’d followed her from her apartment. She stopped for only a second then quickened her pace. She’d crossed into Satan’s Army territory. Rounding yet another corner, this time onto Freemont Street, she took her chances in the middle of chaos. Perhaps the crowds gathering for the Freemont Experience would actually be good for something other than making traffic a living nightmare. She entered the throng in a hurry. She didn’t care who’d followed her. It didn’t matter. Getting to her club and convincing them to overturn their presidential vote had sat at the top of her list the second she’d jumped out onto her fire escape. She couldn’t take the chance of getting caught before then.


Sweat-glazed bodies pressed against her from all sides, the ninety-degree weather turning Claustrophobic. She held her breath as cigarette smoke assaulted her nose and mouth, and pushed herself toward the glowing lights and loud music of the Freemont Experience.

"Mila, wait!"

Male voice. Closer. But that was impossible. Even the best tracker couldn’t have kept tabs on her in the middle of five hundred people on a darkened street. At least not the ones she’d met.

A rough hand wrapped around her arm, twisting her around into a wall of hardened flesh.

“Stop running.” Cooper stared down at her, a mixture of concern and frustration simmering in his eyes. He tried to catch his breath around his words. “Please.”

Her knees nearly buckled in relief as she sank into him. A hysterical laugh rippled through her chest and shoulders as she melted against him. “How did you find me?”

“I went back to your apartment for the cuffs,” he said over her shoulder, still somewhat out of breath. She heard the smile in his voice, possibly from the memories of what we’d done with the cuffs. “When I got there, Ryder’s old lady pulled a gun on me. You’d already gone out the window. So, she left her husband there and ran after you.”

She clung to him. “You arrested them?”

“Well, I didn’t. But I’ve been assured they’re on their way to lockup for B&E and assault with a deadly weapon.”

Her paranoia subsided as she listened to his racing heartbeat, not completely, but enough to enjoy the delusion of safety. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“Wow. It’s almost as if you like me or something.” Cooper pushed her arm's length away. A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth, the sexy grin she loved appearing to calm her pounding heart. “What’d you say back in your clubhouse? Oh, right, this was supposed to be a one-time thing.”

“Well, I had just been hit in the face with a skateboard. So, you can’t take everything I said to heart. I could’ve had a concussion. Maybe even brain damage.”

“That’s possible.” Cooper pulled her back into him, chest-to-chest. “Your face looks almost healed and, despite the fact you ran from me into the middle of these sweaty bastards, you’re not running now. Maybe your brain is healing.”

“What if I do? Like you, that is.” Did he have any idea of how much his answer mattered to her? She didn’t want to think about his possible rejection because it didn’t fit into her plans. “What if I don’t want this to be a one-night thing anymore?”

“I think we’ve already gone past one night.” His smile induced her laugh.

“We could run for it. Hide.”
His smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed. His

hold on her tightened, although she wasn’t sure if he was aware of it. “I worked hard to get where I am, Mila. It took years to find a career that makes me happy and I don’t want to give that up. Not yet.”

 

Not what she wanted to hear.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach. She tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. Tears flooded her eyes as if he’d hit her in the gut.

The atmosphere pressed in on her from every side. Sweaty bodies, the sour smell of cigarette smoke, bright lights, and loud music overwhelmed her. She backed out of Cooper’s grasp, although still within reach. She studied the crowd surrounding them as a distraction. Had to hide her reaction from him. Couldn’t let him see she was this messed up over them.

She nodded, not really seeing the people staring back at her.

“I understand.” What a lie.

Who wanted to stay in a life filled with drugs, guns and blood? If the past week had taught her anything, it was that those three things lead to worse things. Betrayal by the people she thought she knew, for one. Or death, in Talon’s instance. She didn’t want this life anymore and for a brief instant, she’d believed Cooper wanted the same.

Maybe he had a death wish. Maybe he liked the dangerous lifestyle. They’d only met a week ago. She had no idea where he’d grown up, where he went to college, or if he’d fallen in love before. Did he have kids or a hobby? She couldn’t answer any of those questions. Ironic how the person who’d given her hope of a normal future with those exact elements didn’t want to leave his chaotic one. She couldn’t blame him. She’d set the rules when they’d met; one night. Nothing more.

But she wanted more now. And now realized she needed it.

Cooper had just enlightened her. His wants didn’t equal hers..

“Mila.” He reached for her, but she stepped further out of his reach.

Her gaze connected with his for a brief instant, but she refused to acknowledge the sorrow in his eyes. Tears threatened to escape. She had to get away from him before they spilled over and revealed how much she cared. Why hadn’t she listened to Nadia back at the clubhouse? She’d known going in this that long-term would be impossible. “I won’t be at the warehouse tomorrow,” she yelled over the mob. “There’s something I have to do.”

“Mila, wait,” he said.

She turned her back on him and slid further into the crowd, his voice tugging at the pain behind her sternum.

He’d forced his way through the barrier she’d constructed specifically for non-committal situations. She’d gone soft and closed her eyes to the real world. She wished they’d never had sex. Now that she knew what she’d be missing, she had a sudden desire to go back to the moment when she didn’t know who he was, and the only thing between them was just lust. For a handful of moments, including those precious hours in each other’s arms, he’d been hers and they’d had a future.

Bastard.
She made her way off Freemont. The crowd had served its purpose and so had Cooper. Remember that. She’d gone to him for help and he had helped, but he hadn’t offered anything more. She wiped away the falling tears and rounded the next corner.

She froze.

“Mila!” Big and Blonde smiled at her with a wide grin. Wrapping her arms around Mila’s gangly frame, she nearly squeezed her to death with a hug. She pulled away. The snot and tears Blondie had practically drowned her in upon their first meeting were gone. Like they were never there. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

She blinked twice to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to pay you the rest of your money.” Blondie released her. It was hard to imagine the outfit the woman wore could conceal her bright red lipstick, let alone a single dollar bill. The black Lycra pantsuit fit skin-tight against her generous curves. A pair of red pumps caught her attention and she was instantly reminded of Olivia Newton John’s outfit in the last scene of Grease. Only Blondie didn’t have the jacket. The jacket wouldn’t have kept that much woman contained, but it wouldn’t have hurt.

The money she’d given her exactly a week ago warmed against her own chest as Mila pondered Blondie’s statement. She’d paid her to kill Cooper. Obviously, she didn’t have it in her at the time. But now she could imagine giving him a swift kick in the ass. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure you did! I saw the whole thing.” Big and Blonde took hold of her hand, lacing her fingers through Mila’s. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She tried to shake free of Blondie’s hand, but couldn’t. Her grip was strong and Mila wasn’t. “Where are we going?”

“Over here.” Blondie dragged her into a side alley behind one of the hotels. About ten feet in, she stopped over a pile of clothing. The odor of rotting food and rats penetrated her nose and she could barely focus. Blondie kept hold of her hand, but motioned to the pile at her feet. She worked to concentrate and upon closer inspection, realized it wasn’t just clothing.

She screamed as recognition pushed through the haziness of the last few minutes. “Cooper!”

Blood trickled down one side of his head and she lunged for him. Blondie held her back with an arm across her neck and another over her mouth.

“Do exactly as I say, and we’ll let you live,” Blondie said into her ear.

Her eyes remained glued on the man she’d turned her back on minutes ago, the man she’d let herself fall in love with. A physical pain at the sight of his battered face rolled her stomach. Did he call out her name when they attacked him and she’d ignored it? Did they know he was DEA?

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” she whimpered through an ever-tightening grasp on her larynx. The tears she’d refused to shed moments ago slid down her face as Blondie pulled her away from Cooper. She had no idea where she’d take her or why she was doing this and Mila swung her fist into her face as hard as she could. Her knuckles connected with Blondie’s nose. Pain radiated up her arm as she pivoted back toward Cooper. She couldn’t concentrate on how much her hand hurt. She had to get him out of here.

Blondie dropped to one knee, her hands cradling her nose. “Stupid bitch! You broke my nose.”

“Yeah, payback’s a bitch.” She tried to shake the pain off as she lunged toward the man pulling Cooper over his shoulder. A black bag cut off her visions as a strong grip wrenched her back. She screamed into the fabric and kicked backward as hard as she could.

Her foot missed the target and then she couldn’t move her feet at all. Somebody grabbed her ankles. “Get her in the van,” a male voice ordered. Hispanic from his accent.

Blondie, or whoever the hell she worked for, had used her to get to Cooper. Just as he’d predicted.

And she’d make them pay for it. ****

The black bag disappeared once they’d sat her down. She hadn’t been able to set herself free in whatever vehicle they’d thrown her into, but by the speed they’d driven and how many turns her captors had taken, she figured they’d ended up somewhere along Rancho. Empty warehouses dotted North Las Vegas, some located further back from the road. The room looked like it belonged to one of them, but she was just guessing. Her eyes took a few seconds to adjust, but her lungs inhaled the fresh air, relieved. The bright lights, ominous feel, and lack of furniture screamed interrogation room. The only thing missing was a pane of one-way glass.

Across from her, Cooper sat unconscious, wrists bound behind his back, each ankle strapped to an identical chair as hers. Nothing in the room gave her a clue as to who’d taken them. A bare light bulb cast shadows across Cooper’s features. The effect darkened the dried blood on his skin and shirt, and a shiver chased down her back. They’d been dragged into something bigger than either of them suspected.

Someone moved to her right and she slowly lifted her gaze toward the man with the tattoo on his neck. The snake stood out against his mocha skin, but the handlebar mustache and long, black hair didn’t really fit his sixtyish age. Strange, she didn’t remember him being so old. Hispanic, tall, and well built, the man who’d pulled her into this mess leaned against the wall to her right, his black eyes steady with hers.

“You should have left well enough alone, chica,” he said.

“Believe me, I wanted to.” She clasped her bound hands, determined to hide the terror crawling through her system.

Her mind clicked through scenarios to get them out of this mess. Cooper remained unconscious. No help there. Despite his elderly appearance, their captor had been special ops or at least military, which meant his interrogation and combat skills had to be advanced. Fighting wasn’t an option.

He sauntered toward her slowly and crouched low at her feet, a lighter in one hand and an unlit cigar in the other. Up close, she noted tiny scars running down his pockmarked face. A story lay behind each scar, but she didn’t want to hear about his demons. Her nightmares were filled with enough monsters.

“Do you know who I am?” His breath stunk of smoke and peanuts. She twisted her head and swallowed against a gag. She hadn’t eaten since before Cooper came to her apartment, over twenty-four hours ago, but her stomach didn’t care. It forced bile into her throat and she swallowed it back down with a wince.
She shook her head and dug her nails into her palms to control the tremors racing down her arms and legs. Although exhausted, panic kept her alert. How did she fix this and get Cooper out of here?

He’d rejected her, but that didn’t change the way she felt. She couldn’t let him suffer for something that wasn’t his fault.

“Good. We’ll keep it that way.” Her captor stood then circled behind her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Staring into his scarred face had been scary, but him out of her sightline scared her more. Only Cooper’s even breathing and the pounding of her heartbeat through her ears filled the silence. Nothing in the room gave her an idea if her captor remained in her with her or left. Anxiety urged her to act.

“Cooper,” she whispered.
No answer.
She chanced a glance behind her. He’d gone.

After a relieved breath, she turned her full attention back to Cooper. She leveraged her feet against the concrete flooring, ignoring the dark brown stains spotting it, and balanced her weight on her toes. The ropes around her ankles and the cross bar of the chair proved it impossible to walk, but she jerked forward. The chair moved a few inches in Cooper’s direction, but the deafening noise of the chair made her freeze. Couldn’t give herself away.

She didn’t have time to come up with another strategy as Blondie stepped into the room. She carried a blue plastic bin with some type of liquid in it and ambled toward Cooper with it.

“What is that?” Every nerve in her body felt exposed as she watched Blondie lift the bin over Cooper’s head. She dumped the contents over him and Cooper bolted awake.

He exhaled in a rush, blowing drops of liquid off his lips as he struggled against the ropes holding him to the chair. His brown eyes surveyed the room, took in Blondie in all her glory, then settled on Mila. “Mila? What is this?”

“She—”

“Nolan,” a male voice greeted. Hispanic. Their captor. “I’d like to say it’s nice to see you in one piece, but I’m quite disappointed my request to Mila didn’t work out.”

Cooper’s face hardened, his body growing tense. He flipped droplets of water off his face with a jerk of his head as he spoke through clenched teeth. “Treja. Didn’t peg the cartel as the kidnapping type. You usually just kill your victims and leave me to clean up the mess.”

“Don’t worry, my friend.” Treja walked toward her.

She tried to dodge his hand as he reached for her, but failed. He took a handful of her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her throat. The sting brought tears to her eyes, but she refused to cry out. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“We’ll get to that part.” Treja shot a smile over his shoulder. The intense light from the naked bulb in the ceiling reflected off the oversized knife’s polished surface, casting illusions around the room. He set the knife directly under her voice box. “Starting with her.”

 

 

“Touch her and I’ll cut your heart out.” Cooper’s eyes narrowed. Heat crept into his face and turned his tanned skin pinkish. Muscles bunched in his arms and shoulders as if he were trying to stop the blade at her throat from spilling blood.

She didn’t know what to make of his threat. He’d rejected her not even two hours ago, but his tone indicated concern.

Her shoulders ached from the combination of the angle of her head, the pressure from Treja’s hand to keep it that way, and her bound hands. She pushed the discomfort to the back of her mind. No time to give in. Any small movement on her part would only press the blade closer to her throat and she wasn’t about to be responsible for her own death.

“My heart was taken from me when my own team left me to die in that hellhole,” Treja spat. “You were my brother. I trusted you!”

The blade sank into her skin and she gasped. This had nothing to with her. She’d been taken to prove a point, to make Cooper hurt the way Treja had been hurt all those years ago. How could she explain to him that her death wouldn’t bring him the satisfaction he wanted? That Cooper had chosen his Agency over her?

“I didn’t leave you.” Cooper’s tone lacked the anger she’d heard a few seconds ago. “They pulled me out and I couldn’t go back. Wasn’t allowed to go back.” The chair creaked as he shifted. “I’m sorry, Treja. I never would’ve left you, if I’d known you were alive.”

Silence.

She struggled to keep her breathing under control, panic rising in the center of her chest. Dread worked its way into the pit of her stomach. Cooper’s apology sounded sincere, but the knife at her throat hadn’t moved. She gulped air as if these breaths would be her last.

“You are not sorry yet, hermano.” Treja turned his attention onto her. He twisted her head from side to side. The movement sent fire down her spine and she gritted her teeth together to prevent the tears from falling. “But you will be. Ana killed herself because she believed me dead and now, you’ll pay for her blood by losing your love.”

“It’s me you want, Treja. Not her,” Cooper said.

Treja’s eyes glazed as he looked down at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to make any sudden movements. “Pity, really. So beautiful a creature, just like my Ana.” His gaze sharpened. “You know you have the same look on your face that your father did when I cut off his head?”

She tensed under his hold. Her eyes widened.

“Your president never told you, did he?” Treja’s shoulders bounced with laughter and he pushed the blade harder against her neck. She struggled to pull away, the chair screaming in protest as it moved against the concrete floor, but she didn’t stop. He held her fast and leaned in. “He found out your daddy was helping the DEA rats. Ryder was the one who ordered the hit on your old man, but he couldn’t afford you finding out, so he hired me. All I had to do was make sure he didn’t come home.”

She froze. Her lungs burned from holding her breath.
He placed the tip of the knife on her cheek and traced a line from her left eye to her lips.

“So now you know.” Treja nodded, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as his free hand wandered lower. Disgust rippled through her when his fingertips slipped beneath the collar of her shirt. “Shame Cooper picked you out of so many. I would have liked to meet you under different circumstances.” His accent did nothing to calm her racing heartbeat and her instincts told her he’d finished his revelations for the day.

The blade left her face, but reappeared at her neck.

“Descanse en paz, chica.” Rest in peace. Treja swung the blade back, his eyes on her. Her heart jumped into her throat. No, no, no, no.

A hand wrapped around Treja’s wrist from behind, spinning him to face Cooper. Cooper wrenched the knife out of Treja’s hand and landed a single hit to the Mexican’s face. In a split second, Treja fell unconscious, his knees sagging under him. Treja lay motionless on the concrete, his breathing even.

Cooper stood over him, the tendons in his neck strung tight. His mouth hung open slightly as he stared down at the man he’d believed to be dead for so long. Betrayal by your brothers resonated in your bones for life.

He’d saved her life yet again and heat flooded her system. She wished she could put her arms around him. “I know you have a lot to deal with right now, but can you please untie me?”

“Oh, God.” Cooper came back to his senses, circling behind her. A few tugs on her wrists granted her freedom and he moved back in front of her to work on her ankles.

“How did you get free?” She rubbed at her wrists, running her fingertips over the indentations from the ropes. Numbness from her fingertips receded. She tested the nicks on her throat, focused on the top of Cooper’s head as he freed the last rope.

“Treja didn’t search my boots.” Cooper gripped her shoulders and wrenched her to her feet. “Did he hurt you? Let me see your neck.” He stared at her, hard. “God, I’m sorry.”

She’d never seen this particular combination of concern and sincerity—almost possession—from him. “I’m fine. I just—”

His lips claimed hers, warm and eager. She melted into his embrace, relieved when he pulled her in closer. Her tongue tangled with his and, for the moment, everything disappeared. Treja, Blondie, Ryder, even Amelia never existed in the world his kisses took her to. Fantasies chased through her mind. The club didn’t exist, her old man hadn’t been murdered by a psychopath, and she and Cooper had a future.

She never wanted to stop.

Butterflies swarmed in her belly as his teeth nicked her bottom lip. She forced herself to focus. “Wow. It’s almost as if you like me or something.”

What did he really want from her? In her book, actions spoke louder than words and Cooper’s actions contradicted everything he’d said to her a couple hours ago. Hope that he’d changed his mind blossomed in her chest, but she locked it out. The brand newwall she’d constructed from his rejection helped, but crumbled when his brown eyes caught hers.
Cooper brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, taking a few more stones out of her wall and warming her insides. “I was an idiot to think I could push you away.”

She didn’t know what to say.

A rumbling noise left Treja’s throat, ending the hopeful moment between them. She couldn’t hold back the laugh building from the tension. “Did he just snore?”

The edges of Cooper’s mouth pulled upward and she fell for him all over again, sucked in just by his smile. “I hit him pretty hard.”

“What now?” Would he understand her double meaning? Not only did she want to know what would happen to Treja and Blondie, she needed to know what would happen to him. In so many words, he’d told her his job was more important than her, but despite her curiosity, she couldn’t hear it again.

Cooper inhaled loudly and released a long exhale as he glanced at Treja and Blondie. “I have to call this in, tell my superiors what happened.” He pulled out his phone.

She nodded then crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly cold. Overwhelmed. So much had happened in the past few days—Ryder setting her up, Treja nearly killing her and then Cooper. It was all too much. Ryder would go to jail, and Treja would return to the DEA to be debriefed. She shuddered. Wouldn’t that be fun? But it all led to one simple conclusion: she was finally free.

Even so, nothing sounded better than curling up in bed.

****


She’d been given exactly one week to get her affairs in order before confronting her club with her side of the story. Cooper had taken care of Treja and Blondie while Ryder and his old lady had been shipped off to separate holding locations. Conspiracy to commit murder would buy them seven years apiece when they were officially sentenced, but she couldn’t imagine it’d been worth it. While Ryder hadn’t killed her father with his own hands, he deserved every minute behind bars for plotting his murder.

She sat at the oak table, surrounded by the men who’d turned against her under orders, while the acting president opened the meeting. Silence engulfed the room, all eyes on the empty chair at the head of the table. The President’s chair.

The weight of their stares pressed against her chest like an anvil. She’d never been good at public speaking, but this time, her membership and life were on the line. Either they’d condemn her as a traitor or recognize her as a hero. Only giving them all the information would decide her fate.

She told them almost everything.

The exchange. The man with the tattoo who turned out to be her father’s murderer on Ryder’s orders. His involvement with the cartel. Blondie. Everything except that Cooper was DEA. That was his story to tell.

By the end of it, the tension in her chest had become so tight she could barely breathe. She met her brothers’ gazes head on, ten pairs of eyes, trying to decipher their thoughts. She wasn’t in the wrong. She’d done what she had to in order to survive and she wouldn’t apologize. She wouldn’t let them take off her tattoos with a blowtorch either, but taking the day one step at a time was the only thing keeping her sane.

When nobody spoke, she swallowed the lump in her throat and continued. “Whatever your decision is today, just know Ryder and Amelia warped this club for their own purposes. They got us into some pretty deep shit and I don’t think it was entirely fair to us. We took an oath to ride to the death, but I know we all want to leave this world on our own terms, not with a bullet in our head and blow in our pocket. Continuing the path Ryder laid out for us will make that journey a hell of a lot shorter. But please understand I don’t blame any of you for what happened or for what this club has become.”

She sat back in her chair, snapping her mouth shut before she made things worse.

The acting president stood then and her gaze followed his movements. The gavel in his hand would decide her fate, the old wood responsible for the lives and deaths of many. Club votes were irrefutable and her throat tightened.

“We’ve all heard Mila’s account of matters over the last week. Some of us have even witnessed them.” His gaze settled on her, a sad and remorseful expression lingering on his features. “Now we vote.”

All nine of her seated brethren exhaled as one.

“All in favor of electing Mila Stone as President of the Outriggers Motorcycle Club of Las Vegas, NV, raise your hand.”

She straightened. “Wait. What?”

Every member in the room raised their right hand. Except her.

Shock coursed through her veins as she stood. “You want me to be president?”

The acting president sat, setting the gavel on its block, then smiled. “Well, you are Vice President, Mila. You’re next in line for the chair. We just wanted to know what you had in mind for this club’s future.”

Her gaze darted toward the president’s chair and the buzzing sensation in her ears directed her body to follow. Sidestepping behind the seat, she let her fingertips trace the worn leather. Ryder was gone. She’d been voted in as president. In the future her brethren would vote on and then carry out her orders.

She pulled the chair out and planted herself in a comfort, which had nothing to do with the chair and everything to do with belonging. Her at the head of the Outriggers table. She belonged in this seat. It felt right.

No more running. No guns. No drugs. No blood.

She lifted her chin parallel to the table and placed her hands on its polished surface as she confronted the nine members staring back at her. She inhaled deep, taking in the scent of wood polish, leather, and motor oil. There was only one thing left to do. “I accept.”

 

The election party rocked the entire property. Bikers from all over the city, along with their groupies, drank free beer, made barrel fires in the parking lot and danced all night, celebrating. Celebrating her. They came up to her in packs, slapping her on the back, shaking her hand.

She didn’t mind the congrats, but the attention made her uncomfortable. This entire party had been thrown on her behalf and she’d been bludgeoned out of her comfort zone upon her acceptance of the post. Being the first female president broke a lot of barriers between the clubs and surprisingly, they were excited to see what she could do.

The heavy metal music drowned out most conversations, but from what she could tell as she made her way around the property, everyone was enjoying themselves. Too bad she couldn’t.

The person she wanted to celebrate with hadn’t shown up.

She hadn’t seen Cooper since that night he’d saved her from getting her head chopped off, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever see him again. Satan’s Army had overthrown their president the second news of Ryder’s arrest came through, and Cooper had taken his place as president. The DEA had what they wanted, and so did Cooper. As the first order of business, he’d officially severed ties between the clubs, with her support, and had no reason to come to a rival club’s party, even if his club had shown up.
Another hand landed on her back as she passed through a group of riders and she shot them a quick smile. Her legs felt like jelly and her back bruised from so many congratulations. She headed toward the clubhouse with her mind on the extra apartment shoved in the back. She wanted to lie down for a couple of minutes. It’d be rude to completely disappear from her own party.

When she opened the door, she found somebody already had the same plan, only what he and his groupie were doing didn’t qualify as rest. She eased the door shut and leaned back against it.

She closed her eyes, ignoring the sounds of ravenous sex behind her. Memories of Cooper flooded her mind and her stomach twisted. She missed him. He should’ve had the guts to show up.

“You look tired.”

Her eyes shot open, focusing on Cooper less than two feet away. She hadn’t heard him approach and straightened. Clearing her throat, she pushed a stray piece of hair behind one ear. “Yeah. Long week.” Her entire body vibrated as he stepped closer.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” He placed both hands on either side of her head, boxing her in against the door.

She didn’t mind. “Ditto. I’m sure your friends are very happy with your new post in Satan’s Army.”

Cooper tilted his head. His brown gaze studied her from toe to head. “I wouldn’t know. I resigned.”

“What?” Her lungs deflated. The urge to jump up and down with the excitement galloped in the center of her chest. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you right. You resigned?”

He pressed her back into the door with is body, his feet pushing hers apart to fit right up against her. “You have no idea how awful it was to see Treja hold a knife to your neck.”

She swallowed hard, but didn’t pull away. “Well, I know how awful it was to feel it.”

“When I woke up and saw you tied to that chair, I knew I could never live with myself if something happened to you. I would’ve killed him outright and hunted down every man in his organization, if he had.” Cooper’s breath brushed against the sensitive skin of her collarbones and sent shivers straight between her legs. “Can you forgive me, Mila? I was an idiot to think my job was more important than you. Almost losing you made me realize it.”

Cooper kissed her then with a brush of his lips over hers. “I love you. I’ll never let you go.”

She couldn’t answer with arousal licking up her body and she pressed against him harder. Pulling him down by the collar, she kissed him back, her aches and pains disappearing as she relaxed into his hold. She forced herself to pull away, but the smile on her face remained. “How is this going to work with both of us as president of rival clubs?”

“I had an idea,” he said.


“You’ve thought this through?”


He nodded.


She sobered in that instant.

“Let’s hear it.”


“Patch over.” His expression remained light and full, but his eyes explained his seriousness.


“You want Outriggers to patch over Satan’s Army? Into one club?” She barely waited for him to answer. “Who’d be president?”

“You,” he said.

With over twenty members, the entire Las Vegas valley as territory and Cooper at her side... She couldn’t even imagine the possibilities. She hadn’t been prepared to take the president’s chair for her club, but now that she’d accepted the position, a sense of rightness flooded her insides. Cooper wanted them to be one club, to be together. “In that case, I love you, too.”

His next kiss roused the aggressive side of her libido, but there was something else they still had to address. “You still have to make up for choosing your job over me.”

He worked his tongue and teeth over the tendon between her head and shoulder. His responding smile sent a shiver over her arms and Cooper pressed his swollen groin into her again. “What did you have in mind?”

“Still got those cuffs?” she asked.

“I have six pairs at home.” His voice roughened.

She smoothed out his collar. “Let's go get them.”

 

The End

What the hell does this mean?