“What the actual fuck?”

“It’s past nine o’clock, sleepyhead. I thought you were working here.” Sly, a biker who was the one truly loyal client she had, was looking down over her, holding a half-empty bottle of water. The rest of the water was currently trickling down her neck.

“I worked the night shift. Didn’t get in ’til three a.m.”

“Oh. Sorry, no one told me that. Cruel bunch of bastards.”

“That about sums it up.” Lucy struggled to sit up and hit her head on the bunk bed above. She felt for blood, but it was a different spot from where she’d connected with Jake’s door. Man, she had to be more careful. “You sitting there gawking ain’t helping. About as useful as tits on a bull, Sly.”

Sly grinned. “Nice. Good to see you’re awake now.” He moved back and sat on the bottom bunk opposite hers.

“So. I’m awake now. What?”

“Heard you needed some real work.”

“Apart from cleaning toilets you mean?”

“Fixing bikes.”

If she could have turned her body into a huge ear, she might well have done it. Today might just be worth getting half a bottle of water in the face. Sly had ridden with the Hell’s Boys for a while, then decided it wasn’t for him. He was a short, weedy kinda guy and men didn’t warm to him. But he always came to her when he needed his bike fixed. He understood her passion for it; she saw the awe in his eyes and it made her heart glad.

“Has a job come up? Where?”

“Not so much a permanent position yet, but there’s an opening.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Don’t screw with me, Sly. Is there a job or isn’t there? And if the answer is no then you’ll be wearing a lot more than half a bottle of water.”

He held up his hands. “Okay. Listen to the whole story before you say anything, okay?”

This didn’t sound good.

“Okay?”

“Not like I’m going anywhere,” she said.

“My bike’s gone. I’m an idiot. But you already know that. It was a dare dressed up as an initiation test, I guess. And I lost.”

Lucy interrupted. “Hell’s don’t do stunts like that. Not now. No one wagers their bike to get into a biker gang, that’s just stupid.”

“Remember how you weren’t going to interrupt?” He gave her a look before continuing. “Nah, Hell’s don’t. But the Reapers of Menace do.”

“Wait. What? You don’t want to join the Hell’s Boys but you’re okay to join the Reapers of Menace? What kind of crazy are you?” Her thoughts went back to the Hell’s guy bleeding in the bar, the stories she’d heard, the funerals she’d never attended. “I’ve seen what those guys do when they ask nicely. What are you doing with them? And how did you get in here if you’re riding with the Menace? What the fuck, Sly—”

“This is why I made you promise not to interrupt. Jesus, Lucy, give a guy a break, okay? They’re good guys deep down. The new head guy is solid, well except for last week, that was a bit rough. But they’ve had my back. There was this punk trying to shake down my pop’s store, and . . . anyway, they sorted it out.”

“So instead they’re going to shake down your pop and then take your bike? Yeah, sounds like they’ve really got your back.”

“No. It’s not like that. When I’m in, I’m in. And Pop is sorted. He’s getting old. Shouldn’t have to deal with the shit that goes on in his part of town, but he’ll never leave.” Sly looked away for a moment then seemed to remember where he was. “But losing my bike wasn’t part of the plan. I need it. So I need you. I heard Gav gave you the sack and when I asked around, I figured I’d find you out here. The lock on the door wasn’t exactly rocket science.”

Lucy went to say something but bit her tongue when Sly put a hand up. “If you help me, I can get my bike back and then I’m all square with the Menace. I just have to beat Tex.”

“Tex Holdings? Are you insane? He even beat Martinez in a race a few months back. And Martinez is one of the best there is, Hell’s Boy or no Hell’s Boy. Even if he is a douchebag who thinks he’s god’s gift to women.”

Sly smirked. “I wondered if you and Martinez had history. Good to know.” Then he made his face serious again. “I’m good at racing, Luce. Honestly. Really good. If I didn’t have all that debt to pay off and Pop to think about I would have tried out for Supercross or Speedway or something. But, anyway, I need you to fix up the bike I’ve got. I had to borrow it and, well, it’s a bit shit.”

“What sort of shit?”

“Exhaust’s packed in, can’t get any guts out of it. Might be the gears too. Dunno, you’re the expert. Pretty sure it’s not anything big though. I just need it primed, you know, pull the heart out of it so that it goes like a fucking bullet train. I gotta win this race. That bike is my baby.”

Lucy took a long calming breath. “That’s it?”

“What?”

“The whole story? You asked me not to interrupt.”

“Which you totally ignored.”

“True. But that’s it now? No twists?”

“That’s it.”

Lucy swung her legs over the side of the bunk, taking care this time not to crack her head on the one above. Grateful she’d fallen into bed in her singlet and boy-short pants rather than naked like she usually did, she pulled the covers back and stood. “Fix the shitty bike, so you can win a shitty race and get your old, less shitty but still shitty bike back.”

“My bike isn’t shitty.”

“I said less shitty.” Lucy gave him a wry smile.

“I’m so desperate I’ll even let you call my bike shitty.”

“Okay.”

“Okay you’ll do it?”

“You’ll have to pay for all the parts up front. And I’ll have to find some more tools somehow, fuckers at Gav’s stole a bunch of mine. But if I can figure that out, you’re on.” She bit her lip. “Where are we going to do this though? I don’t have a workshop.”

“You can do it over at the Reapers shop. There’s no one there. The last mechanic left ’cause, well, ’cause he was a dick.”

A shudder ran through Lucy. Fixing up a bike for someone was one thing, doing it in a rival club’s shop was another. Not that she was a member of the Raising Hellfire MC. And not that it looked like anyone here gave a shit about her if they were willing to point the finger at her for lifting a pair of earrings. While Hade might talk up letting women in, they still hadn’t. Probably never would. But working from another gang’s shop? “Still seems like a shit idea. I need this job ’til I find a real one. Word gets out I’m working in your shop, I’m screwed around here.”

“We’ll do it early mornings or something. When no one is around. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Never know, you might get a regular gig out of it. Better than working in this hole. If there’s anyone that looks after their bikes, it’s the Reapers of Menace. Honestly, Luce, they’re not as bad as this crew. Not by half. Talk of letting women in too.”

“Yeah right. So they can have them to party with and then do the cleaning up? I’ve heard the stories. Less respect there than here. Chances of your crew letting women in on an equal footing are about as high as with this gang.”

There was a knock at the door and both of them looked up. “Expecting company?”

Lucy shook her head but went to the door, her whole body stiffening at the sight of Jake. Those black eyes gave nothing away, but his body language confused her. Open shoulders, head up, a clear gaze, he put a hand on her arm as she held the door open. It was a soft gesture, not a hard grip, and her bones melted so only her skin held her up in that moment. This was not the cold, dark man from the early hours of this morning. Her treacherous body opened up further in response, her blood rushing in a hot, heady path straight between her thighs. Anyone say start your engines? Despite her fuck ’em and fuck off decision, Lucy found herself wanting his hand to linger on her arm. To have it linger and then move swiftly up to her neck before sliding her singlet strap off her shoulder and stripping the rest of her clothes off in quick succession. And—? And then she wanted to snuggle the crap out of him. Good one, genius. Like that worked out so well the first time. Especially now that he was her boss. And related to Briony. Even for her, that was too close for comfort. Off-limits. Period.

She saw the moment he spotted Sly and everything changed. His hand dropped away, his eyes darkened further, and his full lips tightened into a straight line. Gone was the conflict in his body language. Now he just read business, the Iceman of his nickname. Taking a step past her into the room, he squared up on Sly. “This guy giving you trouble? I don’t remember anyone being booked in here.”

Sly stood and sniffed. “What’s it to you?”

Jake’s fists clenched and the room was smaller instantly. She looked from one to the other with wide eyes. Part of her wished Jake would do something wild. Stand up for her like no one ever had. But he was her boss, a boss who had made it quite clear that he was going to take that role fucking seriously. Sly, on the other hand, had sought her out with an offer of real work.

“I’m not on until tonight.” The words were out before she could stop them and the sharp tone wasn’t what she’d meant. Too late.

He turned from Sly and his eyes flicked up, down, and away before she could catch him at it, but her body felt the look as much as if he’d run his hands over her. Skin burning, mind racing, Lucy did what she did best: snark. “I’d invite you to stay for coffee, but you made it pretty clear last night that you and I need to give each other a wide berth. Anyway, I’m not sure Sly here likes to share.”

His lips tightened and the darkness in his eyes seemed to transfer to his whole face. She’d hit a nerve, hard.

“I just came to check that the place was alright. You didn’t sound all that impressed last night.”

“It’s dry and it’s free, right?” Lucy wanted to stop herself but her mouth continued to run, ignoring reason and the reality that the guy in front of her could make life tough for the next couple of months.

“Well, good.”

Jake just stood there. What now? Waiting for what seemed like at least ten minutes, Lucy shrugged. If he was going to stand there, she was going to carry on. Fuck ’em and fuck off, remember? The sensation of his hand on her arm was just that, a sensation. An attraction, it meant nothing. Well, nothing that was useful to her. Turning her back on Jake, she spoke to Sly. “I’ll call you later.” Every fiber of her body was aware of Jake still standing there and she injected more efficiency into her words than she’d probably done since she’d told her mom she was leaving, for good. “We done here?”

Sly nodded and she indicated the door. Perhaps that was the signal Jake was waiting for, because he turned abruptly and left at the same time.

Shutting the door after both men, Lucy reached for a hotel towel and shampoo. Something about the way Jake had looked at her made her need to get wet, wet and hot. Stop it. Fucking things up all by herself was plenty for her to deal with without mixing an extra shot of Jake Slade’s trouble into her life-cocktail.

Then there was the other thing. Pulling out her phone before she changed her mind, she flicked off a text to Sly. I can’t believe what you just talked me into. Then she sat down. Sure this is a good idea? Nope. She wasn’t sure. Working out of the Reapers of Menace shop was dangerous but it would mean more money when Sly paid her. The money she needed to get to Katie. Perhaps it would show other people she could work on her own terms too. Heck, maybe it might jolt the Hell’s Boys into getting off their asses and hiring her for the pure pleasure of rubbing it in the Reapers of Menace’s faces. Win-win?

It would be so much easier if she had access to a shop. Being able to check through their suppliers’ contacts, just call a number, or send through an order and a part arrived . . . She’d told Sly she’d organize the parts, but that was easier said than done. The list at Gav’s shop floated temptingly in her mind’s eye, that and the tools she knew were still there. It wouldn’t take much to pop in after hours, grab it, and get her tools back. Seriously? Now, that would be dangerous. But she needed her tools. Who knew what would be waiting for her at the Reapers’ workshop.

Letting go of the heady cocktail of emotions she’d managed to pump through her bloodstream in only the last half-hour, Lucy headed for the shower. This bike job was a onetime deal, but she was going to get back under bikes full-time soon. And she was going to do it on her own merits. She was going to get her own gig, period. That’d shut up all the men who didn’t think she had it in her.

* * *

He’d been planning on apologizing. Standing behind the bar for six hours last night, stopping a fight that had been brewing since the morning, in between running around the hotel to check for idiot gang members had given Jake plenty of time to think. And he kept coming back to what he’d said to Lucy. It was a shitty position to be in, some biker dickhead with a vendetta clearly taking the opportunity to accuse her of something. And on top of that she clearly felt uncomfortable in her uniform; her shoulders had been hunched even when she was sitting, and all he’d done was point it out. Nice work. Being a female mechanic, especially a bike mechanic, couldn’t be easy and just when she’d swallowed her pride and let that go to take the housekeeping job, she’d been handed a uniform that made her look like a stripper. The part of himself that was trying to be a good brother to Briony had reared its head and driven him out to the bunkhouse.

But then just when he’d opened his mouth, ready to say all that, she’d been half-naked again, with a guy in her room. Seeing her in her underwear had sent green fingers of . . . something, snaking through his veins. They formed spikes, nasty barbs that had no reason being inside his body. Not when he’d sworn to stop feeling anything after Sarah’s death. Lucy was trouble. Clearly. And trouble was not something he needed in his life, especially when he was supposed to be in charge.

Move on. He was running the hotel for Briony. Taking time off to reassess . . . stuff. He looked down at his hands. They weren’t shaking, weren’t going to shake. He might have gotten the jitters when Lucy cracked her head the night before, but he’d never been a big fan of blood. His hands were fine now. All he had to do was keep them that way.

He headed back to the bar for something to do. Better than hiding in his room pretending to sleep before his night shift. The fight had happened anyway and there was a decent-sized hole in the wall off to the side of the bar. Briony would not be impressed, but apparently one of the Hell’s Boys was a builder and was going to fix it. Jake sighed. Not such a great first night.

The ping of his cell was such an unusual occurrence these days he almost didn’t recognize the sound. “Hello?”

“Iceman? Jake? It’s Javier.”

“Javier?”

“Howland. Your agent gave me your number.”

The reality of who was on the other end of his phone gave Jake a sharp slap in the virtual face. “Hi. Sorry. I should have recognized your voice.”

“Hardly. Not like I do much talking in my scenes.” The model-turned-actor gave a loud laugh. It was true, his action sequences, bicep flexing, and popularity with the ladies definitely got him more play time than any nicely delivered monologue. “Anyway, down to business: I need you.”

“Sorry?”

“For a film. I wouldn’t usually do this, but hell, you’re the Iceman, and you’re the best. And this film needs the best. I’m going to sign on as part of the exec production team so I get to make the call on this one.”

Jake chose his words carefully. “I’m not working at the moment.”

“That’s what your agent said. But I call bullshit on that.”

“No, really. I’m not working; he’s not trying to hide anything.”

“Sure.” Javier paused. “I heard what happened on set. Shit run of luck, man. I’m sorry. I saw some of that girl’s reel, she was the real deal. Would have been great one day. You two were an item?”

So that’s what the industry had decided. Jake almost smiled. It was as good a reason as any for him to have ducked out. Better than him losing his nerve; he could see why his agent didn’t want that sort of story doing the rounds. “No. We weren’t together. But you’re right, she would have been great. Stupid that she went out like that.”

“Stupid, sure. But sounds like she pushed to do the work. You’re okay now, right? You weren’t in the accident?”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“Great.” Javier exhaled audibly. “’Cause what I want is you. My agent is pushing me to sign on for this film, but I only want to do it with you. The script is mad. Mad good, and it’s huge. It needs someone like you to pull it off. You’d run the stunt crew, be in charge of who does what, run the show, and be my on-screen partner. It’s a decent part, juicy scenes. Between the two of us, we could make a smash hit out of it. Seriously.”

“I’m flattered.”

Javier cut in. “Don’t be. You’ve earned this call. You just let me know what you need and I’ll try and make it happen. Personally.”

“Thanks. But I don’t know—”

“Don’t say anything yet. Let me send you the script. Usual confidentiality stuff obviously, you know the drill. Your agent said that if you were okay with it, he’d make sure it was all good on his end. Will you do that? Have a look at the script and then decide? It’s about time you got better billing. Be the action hero your body already knows you are, man.”

The hairs on the back of Jake’s hand stood on end, whether from excitement or fear he couldn’t quite tell, but he nodded before catching himself and saying, “Okay. I’ll look it over, but I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s all I ask. You want this, man.”

Jake hung up, not as sure as Javier was that he wanted to end his hiatus just yet.

When Sarah had come to him with the news that she’d gotten a stunt role in the film he was running stunts on and had an acting roll in, he’d been surprised. But she was young and talented, so why shouldn’t she push herself? In the middle of a shoot, though, he’d seen the fear in her eyes before a tricky suicide burnout. And he hadn’t stopped her. He’d watched her grit her teeth, watched as she revved her bike, once, twice, three times, and then paused. That’s when he should have stepped in. Anyone hesitates like that and they want out. But he hadn’t. He’d let her do it. And then he’d had to help clean up the mess.

Jake tried to shift the vision of blood from in front of his eyes. No one needed to tell him he needed a break. The shakes were a physical symptom, but the mess in his head needed ironing out before he could get back in front of a camera. If he ever got back in front of a camera. Trouble was, working in film was all he knew, all he thought he wanted to know. Action films were his life.

Not at the moment.

No. His life at the moment was looking after his half sister’s hotel and he wasn’t even doing a very good job at that. He was going to build on his relationship with Briony, end of story. He might not have been able to do it for Sarah, but making sure Briony was okay, really okay, might make up for it, a little.

The script would come, he’d read it because he’d said he would, but he didn’t think he was ready to take it on. Not when just thinking about Sarah’s accident made him have visions of the aftermath. There was a loud bang in the bar and instantly he saw Sarah’s body in front of him again, heard the blare of the horn as the bike’s handlebars twisted and locked the noise on, and just like that, the tremble set up in Jake’s fingers and juddered up his arms.

“No. Not now.” He screwed his eyes shut to block out the bar in front of him and clenched his fists. Taking the deep breaths to calm his adrenaline like the counselor had advised him to, Jake stuffed his hands into his pockets. He focused on his breath until the shudders stopped in his hands, then he forced himself to inspect the image his memory had thrown back at him to try to diminish it. Sarah twisted and broken. The smear of blood on the ground. It didn’t work but his hands stayed steady.

Instead his memory rewound and he saw the look in Sarah’s eye. The look that said she’d suddenly realized the enormity of what she was about to do. Last thing a stunty needed was to visualize the potential carnage of each move. Heck, no one would get out of bed in the morning if they thought through the statistics of getting hit by a car. But with stunt work it was worse, there were too many opportunities for things to go wrong with just a slip of concentration. Once you psyched yourself out, that was it: you needed to walk away. He knew that, and he should have told Sarah.

But he didn’t. Being in charge of another team on Javier’s film? Jake shut his eyes again; it would be like living Sarah’s accident over and over. Wouldn’t it?

He was lost in his thoughts when he heard the familiar laugh sing out as the bar door opened and let in two newcomers.

Man. What was wrong with him today? One night with Lucy Black and his body had become a useless lump of hormones. Just the sound of her laugh put the hairs on the back of his neck on edge. You are a vessel of calm. You breathe air in and tension out. He forced his aikido training to kick in: repeating the mantra his teacher had made him write out as a small boy when all he wanted to do was punch and kick. It had taken a couple of years, but his teacher had been patient and the words helped. At least they had helped, before. Right now, Jake’s hairs were still on edge and his teeth were chewing through the mantra as if they’d like nothing better than to grind up the words and spit them out in a big masticated mess.

“It won’t be long. Hade will win out for sure and they’ll let girls in. At least, they’ll let you in. Everyone wants you, Luce.” The guy—Martinez was his name, Jake remembered—gave Lucy a filthy grin.

Lucy put her hands on the bar, as if getting ready to leave. “Nice of you to say so. But not everyone can have me.”

The man laughed, putting his hand on her knee.

She swatted it off, more quickly than she needed to. “Don’t touch me. You know I don’t like it.”

The dark-haired biker put his hands in the air. “No harm in trying.”

The green, barbed spikes set off through Jake again and he shook his head. What was it about this woman that made him want to pull her out of harm’s way?

“You don’t want to bite off more than you can chew. Got a wrench in my back pocket that might break your teeth if you try too hard.” Lucy’s face was grim but the biker only cackled.

Lucy wasn’t Sarah, and she sure as shit didn’t seem to want saving. In fact, she was wound up tight as a spark plug. Jake shook his head again. What mattered was looking out for his sister and as Lucy’s boss, he owed it to Briony to treat Lucy like any other employee and let her do her job.