I sat in my office, reading over some of the annoying business briefs Lamb left me, trying to continue with business to keep our club afloat while we dealt with this shit. With the threat on our doorstep, we weren’t able to go on runs, leaving our profits slowly declining, and Lamb recommending we check into our investments as a means to stabilize us until this was over.

I found my mind drifting back to the night of the party, and then to the moment I saw the panic flash over Anna’s face. It was the first time I’d ever seen such intense fear from her. I knew she had a past; there was a reason she had left England, dropped all of her native identifiers, including her accent, and always deflected any questions about it. We all had our past, and knowing that best myself, I didn’t think to ask.

I thought she would come to me in her own time. Like I did to her.

I didn’t think it would come out like this.

My mind came back to reality as I realized my eyes had mindlessly read to the bottom of the page, and because I hadn’t been paying attention to any of it at all, I had to go back and reread it for the umpteenth time.

“Why not look into Mark Twain’s Tattoos?” Anna’s voice piped up from beside me.

I looked up, seeing her hip propped against my office doorway, her hair tied into a small bun, short pieces of hair falling down the sides of her face. She had one hand up by her ear, fiddling with one of her earrings, the other wrapped around a small file hugged close to her chest, eyes drifting around the room until it met the IKEA bookcase.

“I preferred the old one,” she sighed, pushing herself off the doorway before moving toward me.

I moved back in my seat as she slid aside the paper sheets and hopped up onto the side of the desk.

I would have told her off for moving around too much, despite her wound having almost healed, if she hadn’t bitten my head off the day before for saying something.

“Here.” Anna slapped the folder down on my desk, her small feet kicking out of her boots as she placed them on either one of my thighs, her blue eyes looking coy and playful, but she couldn’t hide the sharp, cautious way they studied my every expression.

I ignored how her small feet pressed into my thighs and pulled my chair closer to the table, her knees moving to one side of my chin as I placed a small kiss to each of them, not taking my eyes from hers as I reached for the file.

Anna didn’t say anything as I let my eyes move to register the blank front of the brown folder. “What’s this?”

“It’s later,” was all Anna said at first before she let out a soft sigh and let her eyes glide to the paper in my hand. “I told you I’d tell you what my story is. This should explain enough for now.”

I held her eyes for a moment and saw the way her shoulders folded slightly inwards, bracing herself. This folder was obviously important to her, and I couldn’t help but feel my heart rate increase that slightest bit as I opened the folder, feeling Anna’s feet slide off my legs to dangle above the floor.

The first thing I saw was a photograph of a middle-aged man with dark hair and dark eyes. He was dressed in a tailored suit, and the photograph was posed. It was also accompanied by several group photos, some on podiums and with microphones as well, all focusing on the same man.

“His name is Maximus Rothwell,” Anna iterated just as I flipped to what I could only describe as evidence as she went on. “He’s a dirty politician in the House of Lords. He uses bribery and blackmail to get his way, using it to block or push through bills of his choosing. Building an empire on people’s money and disposing of anybody who gets in his way.”

I saw the lists of money transfers and other photos of people that I could only assume were British politicians that I didn’t recognize. There were piles of lists, locations, and photographs of what I could see was the evidence that could bring this man down. But it wasn’t until I saw the very last page at the back that I realized that the other pieces of paper were just a prelude to the true blow that could put this man away for a very long time.

“Why...?”

“He’s the reason I left England,” Anna announced, her eyes softening as she looked down at the new, unblemished cover of the folder in my hands. “I had to run from him. I ran hard and I ran fast, and I never looked back.”

“Ash—?” I began, but Anna already knew what I was going to ask.

“She ran with me. She had it the worst, and I don’t think it’s right for me to say any more than this until we find her, but I figured I should give you a heads up before everything goes down.”

My fingers involuntarily clenched the file, crinkling the paper as I thought through Anna’s plan to lure out Ash.

Anna just smirked at my reaction, not perturbed at all by any of this. In fact, she was oddly calm, almost mellow about everything. Anything we said or did just bounced right off her. Nothing was making her mad—other than my trying to bubble wrap her. If I had to describe the feeling she gave me, however, I would say it was like the calm before the storm.

She reached forward toward my clenched fist, prying the folder out of my hands as she hopped off my desk, abandoning her shoes and walking toward the trash can. A lighter appeared in her hand, and I didn’t have to check my desk to know she took mine.

She held the file over the desk and lit the flame.

“Anna—” I didn’t get any more out as the flame caught onto the bottom of the page, and in a second, it was burning up through the paper as she dropped it into the empty metal can, watching the flames consume the paper, turning its trove of gold information into nothing more than dark ashes.

“I have a copy,” she said quietly, her blue eyes reflecting the golden glow of the flames as they began to die out.

She turned to me, and I looked up from the trash can to her. She seemed younger in the faint glow of the flames as she stood there, pint-sized and facing an enemy bigger than any we’ve ever come close to, and I could see the concern, the worry, and the fear etched into her face.

“We’ve got to get to Ash,” she said to me, her eyes not leaving mine. “We’ve got to protect her from him. No matter what.”

I didn’t know what Ash’s connection to him was, or what happened, but I could hear the desperation in Anna’s voice, the slight tremor as dark thoughts ran through her head in the small seconds of silence before I got out of my chair and walked toward her.

I reached up to tuck a fallen piece of hair out of the way as I leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her lips. “We will,” I promised. “We won’t let him get to her, okay?”

“Okay,” Anna whispered, pressing her head into my palm, her eyes shutting for just a moment. I breathed in the vulnerability and the strange possessive feeling of sick satisfaction that this situation, as fucked-up as it was, showed that she was able to rely on me, that she came to me in weakness. And no matter what, I couldn’t feel bad about liking it.

“It’s really ugly,” Anna grumbled, and I fell out of my head as I saw she was back to looking at the wooden bookcase across the room. “You shouldn’t have punched a hole in the other one.”

And whose fault was that?

I wanted to say it, but somehow, I just didn’t have the energy.

Anna sighed, perking up as she circled around me, going to collect her boots before heading to the door, seconds before I realized why she was quickly escaping.

I gave a loud cough, making her pause at the door, where she looked over her shoulder, feigning ignorance at my outstretched palm.

“What?” she huffed.

I just wagged my fingers at her.

“Fine,” she growled, reaching back into her pocket before slipping her hand into mine, the expensive zippo lighter strictly meant to remain in my office appearing in my hand.

“Fat bastard,” Anna growled, slamming the door on her way out, her fire, though not as explosive as usual, making a welcome appearance.

That’s my bitch.

* * *

It was the day before Anna’s plan, and I couldn’t help the tension rippling through my body.

Probably because it was a stupid fucking plan. A stupid fucking plan that would no doubt work. The plan was perfectly tailored to draw out this Ash character, whoever she was, and I didn’t doubt Anna’s cunningness to pull it off.

Didn’t mean I liked it, though.

“Wait until you’re outside before breaking anything.” Jerimiah chuckled, his head looking down at a clipboard of paper in front of the town drunk handcuffed to the bench.

“I’m not going to break anything,” I growled, although smashing someone’s face in, preferably a Black Jack’s, would feel good right about now. I’d settle for giving Jax a few bruises, though, if he were around.

“Give the girl a little more faith,” the sheriff scoffed, enjoying my obvious anxiety about the fact this plan could go drastically wrong. “She’s a sharp one. She’ll be fine.”

“She was stabbed only a few weeks ago,” I grumbled back.

“So, she’s mostly healed, then?” He passed the clipboard to the receptionist, glaring at me, and used his other hand to clap me on the shoulder. “So long as you’ve got it all under control, she’ll be fine.”

“There’s no such thing as controlling Anna,” I retorted and sighed, pulling my Harley keys out of my jean pockets. “Anyway, keep an eye out tomorrow. If you hear anything—”

“Yes, I know. If it’s you guys, I’ll look the other way,” Jerimiah grumbled, shoving me toward the door. “Now, get going before said woman comes after you. I respect the girl, don’t get me wrong, but she’s still a handful.”

“Thanks, Jerimiah,” I said. The man was a pain in my ass, but I didn’t dislike him.

“That’s Sheriff to you, boy,” he growled at me, and I realized this must be how Hunter felt every time I referred to him as a boy.

I chuckled, opening the sheriff department’s door, and strolled out into the chilling weather, the cold of winter now setting in on our little town. It doesn’t snow where we live, in the middle of Oregon, but even in early November, the dip in the heat made a noticeable difference.

I came down the steps, looking up to see Jax’s bike parked next to my Fat Boy.

I didn’t have even a moment to be confused as to why it was abandoned there when Jax appeared from round the corner of the building next to me, his hands tightening the skinny belt around his waist.

“Prez,” Jax smirked, unabashed in the slightest having been caught taking a piss behind the police station.

“You can’t just use the toilets inside like everybody else?” I grumbled, looking at the wild man, his black hair in a nest on top of his head from where he’d forgone a helmet yet again.

“You really think Jane would let me two steps through those doors before having me thrown in one of the cells?” Jax laughed, knowing all too well how much the receptionist hated him. She would have him buried six feet under if she ever had the chance to put his flirtacious trouble-causing ass to rest.

I shook my head, deciding that conversation was best left alone and travel down towards our bikes. Jax sunk his waist down into his seat first, his lean body fitting snug on his slim machine.

“You talk to Jerimiah?” he asked, leaning back in his seat, soaking up the limited warmth of the sun.

“Yeah.” I dropped down onto my Fat Boy, slipping the key into the ignition. “What are you doing here -aside from stopping for a piss, then?”

“Finished up at the farm with Mr. Jenkins and saw your bike. Figured I’d ride back with you,” he offered, running a hand through his unruly, dark hair.

“Anna put you up to it?” I interpreted, pausing before turning on the engine.

“Lamb.” Jax chuckled. “Got drunk and lost a bet. He figured letting you get one or two in would make you feel better.”

I chuckled. Lamb knew me well.

“Nah.” I shrugged. “It’s not fun if you’re up for it.”

“Never said I’d just stand there.” Jax flashed me a wicked grin, daring me to pick a fight with the little bastard. I had strength in my size and a hell of a lot more experience, but Jax was a dirty fighter and his little tricks pissed me off just as much as they hurt, which was a lot.

“Not today,” I grumbled, shaking my head.

“I think this is the easiest I’ve ever gotten off on one of Lamb’s favors,” he said, making air quotes around the word “favors.” I knew exactly what it meant, but I had warned the brothers against Lamb. If they didn’t take my advice, then whatever they had to do was on them.

I rolled my eyes as I turned the key to fire up my engine.

Only it didn’t.

“Something wrong?” Jax frowned, watching as I turned my key over and over again but nothing happened.

“What the hell?” I growled, getting off and looking down at the bike. Jax got off as well, his eyes narrowing on the engine.

I checked the main bits, but Hunter was the engine expert, not me.

Jax crouched down next to it, his hands reaching for the metal. “Don’t touch if you’re just going to make shit worse,” I snapped, my mood dropping even more than I thought possible.

“Chill, Prez. I hang around Hunter enough to have picked up some things,” he grumbled, reaching his hands toward the engine as he began to fiddle.

I wish I could chill, but something didn’t feel right.

“Wolf.” Jax’s tight, deep voice came from down below. He barely ever referred to me by name.

I snapped my head down to him, seeing his hands covered in black liquid just as the thin puddle of fuel crawled out from under the body of my bike. “Someone shot a hole in your fuel line.”

“Someone… what?” I growled. “Jax, try your bike—”

My phone rang in my pocket, cutting off what I was about to say. But it didn’t matter. Jax was lunging over his bike in seconds, his hand reaching for the key just as I put my phone to my ear.

“I’m almost there,” Anna’s voice chimed down the phone. “Figured you were taking too long and you’d need some sugar to win over Jerimiah.”

My head registered her words, but my eyes were on Jax, watching as his face grew concerned, no sound coming from his bike. He spun his head to look back at me, shaking it.

“Tell me you’re driving,” I said into the phone, my eyes not leaving Jax’s face.

“What?” Anna’s surprised voice came through the phone. “Of course, I’m not driving. Not allowed to do that for another week. I’m only around the corn—” The echoing sound of screeching tires filled the air and the phone, Anna’s voice buried beneath it.

“Shit,” I hissed, turning and running as fast as I could to the road, hitting the concrete within seconds.

My eyes caught hers for barely a second before a huge guy dragged her into the van, the door slamming shut and the vehicle pulling onto the road.

“Anna!” I roared, as the van’s wheels squealed around the corner and out of sight.

Jax’s hand was dialing numbers faster than I could think, until suddenly, I heard the muffled sound of Lamb’s voice coming through his phone.

I grabbed it from him, shoving it to my ear. “This better be a part of the fucking plan!” I bellowed down the device.

“What?” Lamb’s suddenly alerted voice told me all I needed to hear. “The plan isn’t until tomorrow? What happened?”

“If this isn’t us...” Jax voiced my thoughts. “Then who was it?”

“I don’t know,” I growled, crushing the mobile phone in my hands and cutting off Lamb’s voice.

Bubbling rage boiled inside me. Enough. I’d had enough.

“But I plan to find out.”