Stepping back, Lucy surveyed her handiwork. The bike looked good. Heck, it looked better than good. It looked mint. She’d repaired the gears that had been the problem, and replaced the exhaust as best she could with the tools she had and those she’d found in the workshop. And just because she could, and there was a spray kit at the Reapers of Menace’s shop, she’d done a quick spray job on the tank. The machine gleamed now. Black and gold and battered old chrome. Okay, there’d only been enough paint for a portion of the bike, but it looked a shit-ton better than it had before.

Every part of her ached from racing to the Reapers of Menace’s shop in the dead of night and being under the bike in her short amount of downtime. Using shitty tools made it ten times worse too. Everything took longer, and her back was killing her. But the ache was a good one, the type that sat in your bones and made you glad to be a human. One that made her muscles sing. It also made her realize how much she was quietly dying from cleaning toilets and just “getting through” the days.

The low whistle confirmed her pride. Sly. “Wait ’til they get a load of that. I didn’t know you made ’em pretty too.”

“I haven’t done many spray jobs, but it’s fun. Nothing like making beautiful things more beautiful to give a girl a sense of pride.”

“I bet. And how does she run?”

“Try her out.” She handed him the keys.

“I was serious the other day,” Sly said as he grabbed his helmet and put a hand on the chassis of the bike to stroke it. “You should switch sides. Come work here. For reals. I haven’t said anything, but everyone’s been moaning about the shop being shut. When they see what you’ve done to this little lady and watch me win my race on her when they thought she was deader than roadkill . . .” He grinned. “This could be home, couldn’t it?” He wheeled the bike out and she heard him revving it before screaming off down the road.

Looking around, Lucy wondered if she could work here. For real, as Sly put it.

She was still on the outside with the Raising Hellfire gang, but less on the outside than she would be here, with the Reapers of Menace. And the Hell’s Boys had been her port in a fucked-up storm of emotions when she’d first arrived in LA.

Her mom had tried to tie her down and pour water down her throat to cleanse her of her demonic thoughts the night before she’d left. It had not gone down well. Her ears ringing from her mother’s yelling, Lucy had thrown everything she could think of into a bag, and bailed. Little Katie had been asleep, oblivious. Her kid sister had been the only reason Lucy had stayed in Salt Lake so long. But that night she knew that if she didn’t leave, things would only get worse, for her and Katie.

Katie was a smart kid. A kind kid, and she could cope better with their mother’s manic outbursts. So that winter’s night she left. Drove through the night and the next day she ended up at Wilde’s with Martinez.

Looking around the Reapers’ mechanic shop, Lucy couldn’t quite believe she was even contemplating turning her back on the quasi-family she’d made at Hell’s. The shop had good benches and the spray gun and pump, but they didn’t have the good tools she was missing and she didn’t spot any paperwork in any of the drawers she’d gone through that might give her the contacts to get parts and get things working properly. But she could figure that out, couldn’t she? If she came and worked for the Reapers of Menace, it would be a slap in the face to Briony and Hade, who had gotten rid of the private investigator her mom had hired to come looking for her. Yet working here would give her everything she wanted. Wouldn’t it?

Sly roared back up to the shop and she went outside to meet him.

“It flies! Seriously, if you don’t come and work here, once I tell the boys who turned this heap of junk into a flying machine they’ll come and drag you down here.”

Lucy laughed, but looked sharply at Sly for any truth to his threat. Working for another gang on her own terms was one thing, doing it under duress, well, that would suck balls. His face was open—no threat there—and when he saw her looking at him like that, he slapped her on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t let ’em do that to you, Luce. Don’t worry.”

“So where’s the rest of the stuff? Tools. The paperwork. Contacts, suppliers, and stuff?”

“That was part of the bust-up with the last guy. He never had parts come in on time and it turned out he’d burned bridges with all the suppliers in town. Kept ordering things, charging the boys, but not coming through. What you see in here is what you get. They bring the bikes, you fix them. You’d need to be able to start on your own. Except, fuck it, Luce, you’re a magician, getting a crap-box like this bike to hum, now that’s special.”

Letting the praise slide over her skin, Lucy nodded, not wanting to let on how much having her work appreciated meant to her. But inside, every part of her swelled. This was it. What she wanted. Working with bikes was what made her heart happy. If she could look after Katie at the same time, she was done. Exactly where she wanted to be. The world would be a good place. The problem was making sure all the other stuff didn’t get in the way.

“Think about it,” Sly said as he walked her to her bike and she pulled on her helmet.

As the buildings flicked passed her, she thought about changing things up. Again. The more she remembered how happy working with engines made her, the more she wanted in on the Reapers of Menace’s shop. So what if they were a rival club to the Hell’s Boys? It wasn’t like Hade and Rocco were going to let her work on their bikes anytime soon. History was just that, history; it didn’t count for anything if you couldn’t rely on it to help you make it in the world. Sure, she was working at Wilde’s now, mostly because of that history, but cleaning toilets for too much longer would strip her soul bare. And yet . . . the thought of coming out here, not knowing anyone, having to prove herself all over again. It would be hard. The Menace were wild, harder to get into than the Hell’s Boys. Both of them were dangerous, but Hade would never kill someone just for the fun of it, and that’s the reputation the Menace had, she’d seen the fallout at Wilde’s. Maybe there were other reasons the Hell’s Boys weren’t ready to open a bike shop and she just needed to be patient a bit longer.

Thinking about Wilde’s led her mind back to Jake Slade. He’d been avoiding her this past week. Fair enough. But every time she heard his name she turned, expecting him to walk into the room after it, only to be disappointed when she never got a glimpse of him. What he’d done to her with his tongue had settled like a cloying mist over her skin and she couldn’t shake the sensation that it wasn’t over. Too bad. It was over, he’d made that pretty clear when he accused her of stealing, and she needed more emotionally screwed-up people in her life like she needed a hole in her exhaust.

The rumor mill had finally caught up with Jake Slade though and she’d heard about the accident that had taken the life of his co-worker. It was no wonder the guy was icy after something like that. Thank goodness it had been a closed set or else some sick fuck would have found a way to post the whole thing on YouTube. Lucy revved her bike to take the next corner and saw the lights of Wilde’s up ahead. A couple spilled out the door, clutched to each other, oblivious to the night or spectators. The sight of them sent a pang of lust through Lucy. She could have had that with Jake, she was sure of it. Their interrupted night had been insane, and someone that attentive was going to be doubly insane in the sack. Except that he could crush your only current source of income in a second if it went wrong. She shook her head. Exactly. Why was she even still thinking about him?

As she pulled into the parking lot, six more bikers came out of the bar and headed for their bikes. They were young guns, guys who hadn’t been in the gang for more than six months. None of them knew her history. One leered at her, while the rest blanked her completely. But as they started up their bikes, she heard a buzz in one of the engines that meant trouble. Pulling off her helmet, she walked over to him. “You need to get that looked at. Leave it too long and your clutch is going to go.”

“Uh-huh. And you know this for sure, right?” The guy sneered.

“Actually yep, I do.”

One of the others looked over and gave her a nod of appreciation. But the guy whose bike she was worried about just shoved his helmet on and over-revved his bike. “Whatever. Rick would have said something if there was anything to worry about.”

“Rick?”

“New guy. Just joined Hell’s. Been a bike mechanic down the line for years. Talking to Rocco about opening up a shop. Rocco says he’s got the cash ready, they’re just talking logistics,” another guy said.

The words made her blink.

“Wait, what?”

But it was too late. The other bikers roared out of the lot and Lucy was left watching their dust trail.

The anger spread through her like a red fever. This was the problem right here. No one took her seriously. And they never would. She could give out advice and fix bikes for all she was worth, but the moment a guy turned up with the same qualifications as her—boom—he got a job and the gang decided to open up a shop. How long had she been talking to Hade about working on the gang’s bikes? A whole fucking year was how long. Yet it took a new guy about ten minutes to get the conversation headed in a real direction.

Pushing through the bar, she ignored the men around her and headed for the bunkhouse to get ready for her shift. Screw them all.

“Lucy.”

“What?” She spun on Jake and saw him recoil.

“You okay?”

“No. And talking to anyone with testicles is not going to make it any better.”

“Right. Backing away. Thought you might like a different-sized uniform was all.”

Damn. Not his fault she was so pissed. He wasn’t even in the gang. Lucy turned to try to smooth over her sharp and nasty words, but Jake had already gone, the door swinging behind him. Something in her sagged. Someone had been offering her a friendly ear and what did she do? Bit his head off and spat in the hole. Too bad, she could count the number of friends she had on one hand.

Flying through her cleaning, Lucy banged her bucket down more times than she needed to. But it was all she had to vent her frustrations out on. All she could do, unless—she looked at her watch—unless she took the Reapers of Menace gig.

Sitting for a moment, she put her head in her hands. She was screwed in every direction: work for the Reapers of Menace, and her relationships with Hell’s and Briony was toast. Wait for Hell’s to give her a job and she’d likely never have the money to be stable and make sure Katie was provided for long-term. Sly had said the Menace were solid once you were in. Hell’s had a shit reputation and they’d been okay to her. The sigh filled her lungs but didn’t make her decision come any easier.

Trouble was there wasn’t a Reapers of Menace gig unless she could work out a way to run the shop on her own, with her own tools. What had Sly said? They bring the bikes and she fixed them. If no one wanted to give her a job, what chance did she have of convincing suppliers that she was good for the money to get a proper supply chain going? Let alone finding the cash to get a set of tools to make it work.

If Gav hadn’t been such a tight ass . . . Her tools were probably just sitting there, and his contacts . . . She’d discounted it the first time because it was insanity, but now . . . now she was feeling the need to let go of any semblance of sensible. Sitting up, she thought it through again. It could work. All she needed was the flashlight on her phone, a rope . . . She started listing everything out in her head.

Whipping ’round the rest of the room, she finished early and went out to the bunkhouse to sort through her stuff. Black was the staple in her wardrobe so what to wear wasn’t an issue, but the rope . . . she’d seen one in the storage room so she headed inside to grab it.

“What are you doing with that? Getting ready for a break-in?”

Lucy froze, the rope in her hand and the deep male voice coming far too close behind her for comfort.

Turning, she saw Jake watching her intently. Hoping that she’d managed to hide the horror from her face, she pushed out a smile. “Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, right?” She meant it as a joke, but the flat line of his lip told her he didn’t buy it. Not one bit.

“Things can’t be that bad.”

Lucy didn’t reply. What was she going to say? That she was dying on the inside?

“Wait there. Do not move.”

It wasn’t the response she was expecting, and perhaps because of that, Lucy stayed there until Jake returned, two beers in hand. “Come on. Shift’s over. Have a beer with me.”

Despite herself, Lucy followed him to the pool and sat in an empty deck chair. The moon had waned now and was heading toward being a sliver of its former self.

“Spill. What’s going on?”

The first sip of the beer sent a cool calm through her body but Lucy ignored the question for a moment longer, dismissing him with a shrug. But when he raised an eyebrow at her, Lucy almost laughed. “Who died and made you my fairy godmother?”

The smile warmed his face. A few more beers insider her and Lucy was pretty sure she’d want to stroke that smile to see if it made it get any wider.

“A girl coiling rope out the back of a biker hotel and then jumping about ten feet when I ask her if she’s getting ready for a break-in? What gives? You’re not actually planning a break-in, right?”

She shrugged. “’Course not.”

He eyed her quizzically.

Damn. Be a bit more assertive, girl. Her answer didn’t even fill her with confidence.

“Okay, let’s leave what you’re going to do with the rope aside for a moment,” he said. “Don’t be an idiot. Plenty of those out there already.”

Was he calling her an idiot? Seriously? “I wasn’t kidding when I asked who made you my fairy godmother. You’d look terrible in a sparkly dress, and you can’t rescue all the damsels in the land unless you’ve got some secret magical powers under your invisibility cloak. So what gives yourself, Iceman?”

Rather than come back with a retort, he sat back in his chair and she realized she’d hit a nerve.

“Someone died. On my watch. I should have been there for her and I wasn’t. I’m not about to let that happen again.”

Lucy’s heart clenched. The rumors were true. “The woman on your last film?”

He sighed. “News travels fast here.”

“Nothing gets past the boys out front.”

“Her name was Sarah. She hesitated. I saw it in her eyes. I should have stepped in. I could have stepped in. But she was young, headstrong, like you. She took off too fast and then braked too hard. Her bike spun out but in the wrong direction and she smashed herself good against the car she was supposed to slide clear of. Broke most of the bones in her body and gave her head a good crack.” He took a breath. “I ran over to her and she looked up at me with this pleading look in her eyes. Then the tank of her bike exploded. I dragged her clear. And then she died.”

Her voice lowered and she blinked, trying not to think about watching someone die in front of her. “That sounds horrible.”

“It was. For everyone.”

“I don’t mean her death. I’m sure that was awful. I mean the guilt you’ve got going down. That sounds horrible. Is that why you’re here? Beating yourself up by hiding out at a biker hotel?”

He stiffened. “I’m helping Briony out.”

“You sure about that? She’s already got a hotel manager.”

He paused. “She asked me to help out. I didn’t question her motives.”

They were both silent a moment and Lucy stole a glance at the damaged man next to her. Wanting to look out for family was something she understood. She worried about leaving Katie with her whack-job mother. Her mom wasn’t violent, but Lucy wasn’t sure how far she’d take her extreme rejection of society, and not all abuse was physical. The worry that something might happen, something that Lucy could have prevented if she was there, ate her up. She thought about trying to file for custody, but with nowhere to live and no steady job it would never happen. And Katie didn’t want it to. Good, kind Katie wanted her to give their mom another shot.

Lucy put a hand on his arm and just like it had the first time, bam, the sensation hit her like a slap. What did this guy have for breakfast? Stealing another glance, she discovered he’d felt it too; his eyes were wide, his face painted in shock, his focus on her.

This was not good. He was off-limits, remember? And yet, here he was, looking out for her, being all gorgeous and overprotective and . . . And? And it shouldn’t matter. But it did.

His voice pulled her melting ovaries back into place. “Nice dodge, Black.”

“I wasn’t dodging. Just checking why you gave a shit.”

“I don’t like seeing people hurt, okay? Now, spill. Or should I ask someone inside why you’re coiling rope and where you might be planning on breaking into?” Jake’s voice was gruffer than it had been. Trying to cover for what they’d both just felt?

“I said I’m not breaking in anywhere.”

“No, you didn’t. And you look guilty as hell about it.”

Taking a deep breath, she looked him in the eye. “You take this with you to your grave?”

“Sure. Unless it’s going to take you to your grave, and then I’ll be the one talking you out of it before you get a chance to do anything stupid.”

Fuck it. He wasn’t going to let this go, that much was clear, and she was coming up blank on other explanations for lurking around with a rope at night. “I need my tools back. The guys at my old job hid some of them, and the new ones Gav ordered for me mysteriously disappeared, even though I’m sure I saw some delivered. The suppliers list from my old job would be damn useful too.”

“That it? Why not ask?”

“Gav’ll say no.” She paused and closed her eyes in realization. “And then if I go get them myself anyway, he’ll know who took them.” Saying it out loud hurt a little. Like a sharp cut you don’t notice at first but then gets something in it and just won’t heal.

“Right.”

She looked at Jake hard. Checking he really wasn’t going to blab.

Jake didn’t break eye contact. “Is that all?”

Biting her lip, she didn’t break eye contact either, although it made the hairs on the back of her neck want to get up and dance the samba. Didn’t seem like this lust-fest she had going on was disappearing anytime soon. Stick to the topic. “It’s not technically stealing. I own the tools, and I’m not going to take the list, just get a copy of it. I’ll be paying for the parts, totally legit. It’s just a way to get going. They probably haven’t even changed the lock’s code since I left. It’s only been two weeks. In, out, get my tools, get a photo, make sure I can read everything off of it, get out again. Job done.”

“What’s the rope for?”

“In case they have changed the code.”

He paused. “And?”

Perceptive much? “And what?”

“If you haven’t got any mech work? Why go through all this?”

It felt like the breath might take forever to empty out of her lungs. But when it was all out, and he still hadn’t broken eye contact, Lucy knew she had to give him something. She just wasn’t quite ready to throw caution under a bike and run over it. No matter how much he made her want to drag him into the bunkhouse and make him promise to finish what he’d started in his hotel room. “I need it all to set up shop with another crowd. It’s better we leave it at that.”

* * *

Jake leaned back in his deck chair and drained his beer to give his hands something to do. “I’m not going to bother telling you what a stupid idea that is. You obviously already know.”

Her shrug was nonchalant, but her shoulders didn’t return to an easy posture. It took everything he had not to put a hand to her jaw and try to smooth the tension away. When had he last felt like this? His body tightened as he strained to remember and couldn’t. He’d kept his emotions on such a tight, focused rein that he hadn’t let himself relax with a woman since he’d gotten into the film business. Protective much? “It’s a shit idea.”

“And what makes you think I need your approval?”

“You don’t. You’ve made that pretty clear.”

“Great. Glad we had this little chat then.” She started to get up but Jake put his hand out to stop her and once again, the shock ratcheted through him until his blood was pumping in his ears. This needed to stop happening. “I just told you what happened with Sarah on-set. You’ll have to cut me a little slack if I’m overprotective.” And? And nothing. “I’m not just going to let you go off on a death mission.”

“Hardly a death mission.”

“Still.”

She paused and he grabbed the opportunity and tried one more time. “I can’t talk you out of it?”

The clench of her jaw softened a little. “I’ve run out of options.”

“Then I’m coming with you.” He stood and now it was her turn to put out a hand to stop him, but instead he took it and pulled her up. “Two can play at the I’ve-made-my-mind-up game.” Standing, looking down into her lightly freckled face did nothing for his surging testosterone. When she cocked her head like that it softened the way her bangs swept across her face. Pretty. Pretty, dangerous, and all too tempting.

But she’d stopped protesting. Finally. Her face softened and every part of him wanted to pull her into a kiss.

Looking at her watch, she bit her lip. “Long time to wait ’til two a.m., and we can’t go any earlier than that in case there’s someone there. How do you propose we fill the time?” She bent to put her beer down but stumbled over the deck chair behind her and he grabbed her around the waist. Again.

His hands curled round her midriff even while he told them to get back in his pockets, and as she teetered, she stepped even closer until her body was pressed against his. “Lucky there wasn’t a door in the way this time.”

“Lucky.” Her face told him she wanted to finish this just as much as he did and the hands she’d put on his chest to steady herself flexed against his pecs.

“We’re both off the clock right now,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“And no one needs to know.”

Then the kiss took over and he couldn’t help the hand he pushed through her hair or the demand he threaded through his kiss.