Johanna walked into the bedroom upstairs at the clubhouse. Chief followed her, aware of Jett and Keeffe behind him waiting to ride out with him. His meeting with Komoon exploded forty-five minutes into the talks when the Feds surrounded the old warehouse where the two motorcycle clubs gathered to throw out threats and accusations trying to find out who was responsible for the confiscated shipment of bikes Brikken sent south.

Ignoring the others waiting for him, he captured Johanna's face and forced her to focus on him. "You'll stay here, for now."

Her brows lowered.

"I need to leave and take care of business." He bent his knees to look at her closer. "Olin and Thorn will watch over you. Step up and take your place, bug. I'll be home late tonight if everything goes okay."

"You're leaving me?" She tugged on his vest. "But, I thought—"

He ran his thumb over her lips, let go of her, and reached into his pocket. Before he'd left for the meeting at the beginning of the week, he'd paid his last visit to Karla.

Picking up her hand, he placed the key he carried with him in her palm. "Wait until I get back, and I'll escort you to the house you lived in with Karla. For now, I want you to stay on Brikken property while I'm gone."

Her fingers curled over the key, and she raised her gaze to his eyes. Everyone would know she belonged to him if he put her in one of the houses he owned. He'd protect that right if it killed him.

Nobody would take her away from him.

"Karla?" she whispered, holding her gift in her fist.

"She's moved on."

She frowned, looked off to the side of him, and then back to him. "Can I talk to her?"

"Maybe someday." He inhaled deeply and brought her to his chest. "Right now, she wants nothing to do with me, you, or Brikken."

Through the years, Karla had stayed strong on her opinion that Chief's greatest weakness was taking Johanna from the apartment. Her consequences for him if he acted on what she suspected was happening between him and Johanna never wavered. Being faced with her new position, outside of his life, Karla believed Johanna was a bitter reminder of the control he had over the club, of her, of Johanna. And, Karla decided to walk away from Brikken.

Johanna's pain reflected in her gaze, sobering her excitement of him retrieving her from the apartment. He turned to Jett and Keeffe and motioned them out of the room.

Alone with her, he kissed her deeply and whispered, "Stay on the property."

She nodded. "You'll be safe?"

"I'm going to do what needs to be done." He tilted her chin. "You happy?"

"I will be when you come back." She sucked in air and turned her head to look at the bed. "I'm confused and don't know what all this means."

His chest tightened. She'd expected him to bring her back here and fuck her.

Taking her fist, holding his gift, he kissed her hand. "You've always belonged to me, bug. As soon as I get back, I plan on taking what's mine."

She raised to her tiptoes and kissed him softly, stroking his beard. He swept her up into his arms and stepped over to the bed, plopping her down. Taking the blanket at the foot of the mattress, he brought the cover up and tucked her in the same way he had hundreds of times over the years.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead as she yawned. "Sleep."

She tucked her fist under her chin and gazed at him, trusting and more mature than her years. He patted her covered hip, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Keeffe waited for him. He lifted his chin. "Get Olin and Thorn to watch over her. Spread the word that any son of a bitch that thinks to lay a hand on her while I'm gone will find a knife in his heart when I return."

"On it, Chief." Keeffe hurried ahead of him and disappeared down the stairs.

He stopped, gazing back at the door that protected Johanna. The empire Rollo started with twenty members and grew to two hundred before Chief took over and expanded to almost three hundred members was for Johanna. As it had been for Chief's mom when Rollo created the patch and swore his life to Brikken.

Like father, like son.

Finding the woman who strengthened him, gave him a desire to survive the game, and stayed loyal to him was the only way he'd stay alive. It'd helped his father until Rollo let grief weaken him. Hell, Rollo lived twenty more years than he should've during those wild early years. Chief huffed in amusement. His dad had been a fucking cat with nine lives.

Ruckus from downstairs floated up to the second level of the clubhouse. He continued on, ready to get rid of any threat to the business he'd diligently protected to support the family.

***

AT LEAST A HUNDRED Komoon members greeted the hundred and twenty-five members of Brikken Motorcycle Club riding into the deserted parking lot in front of a closed restaurant off Interstate 5, four hundred miles south of Tacoma—halfway to Klamath, California. The halfway point that he hoped like hell the Feds wouldn't find out about before they had a chance to meet.

Chief rolled in first, leading his MC brothers, and spotted Spooner, Komoon's president. He remained loose, prepared for anything.

Stopping his motorcycle, he raised his hand in the air, and his members circled the group around the others much like a wagon train bedding down for the night.

Within two minutes the engines shut off, and an unnerving hush filled the area. Chief got off his Harley and walked forward with Keeffe to his left, Chano and Freddy on his right. Behind him, Jett, his own blood, covered his back while the rest of the riders stood ready for anything.

"Good ride?" Spooner walked forward meeting Chief in the middle of the circle of motorcycles.

He gazed at the Komoon men lined up facing him. "As expected. It would be nice if the Feds didn't interrupt our meeting today."

"We haven't seen or heard anything."

"Any headway with our mutual contact over the line?" he asked.

"Despite the...setback, the remaining members have acquired a building, twenty miles outside of the city. With a skeleton crew, I looked closer at Komoon to see if it was possible the leak came from our side..." Spooner dipped his chin. "We've had two transferees within the last three months coming up from our headquarters."

"Did you find anything?"

Spooner sniffed. "A phone in a bunk."

Keeffe, Freddy, and Chano pulled out their pistols. Chief held his hand out to his side, stopping them from making a move. Rage filled him. The whole operation was put at risk because of a president's laziness. Spooner should've had better control over his men. In-house transfer or not, the men should never have been involved or privy to the information.

"Where are they?" Chief held the other president's gaze. "I want them."

Spooner lifted his hand and motioned without taking his eyes off Chief. In his peripheral vision, two bodies were dragged out and left between the two clubs. He walked over and toed both men.

Dead.

There was no way for him to identify them or gain possession of the proof of their betrayal. He blamed Komoon. Whether information slipped out under the president's watch or their contact down south, a working chain at the magnitude he'd built was only as strong as the weakest link.

To change the people involved at this point would mean a devastating hit on Brikken and their survival. They'd have to start over. New contacts. More meetings. It could take years.

He lifted his gaze from the dead men to Spooner. "I warned you from the start how this would run."

"I took care of the problem."

Chief gazed around him. "And, three-quarters of your men are circle jerking behind bars. Your defense is down."

"We can handle the shipments."

"I have no guarantee," said Chief.

"My word and our past."

Chief inhaled through his nose. "I'm cutting Komoon down to fifteen percent return until you have your men back."

"We can't survive—"

Chief withdrew his pistol. "Take it, or our agreement ends, and we take out every motherfucker here."

Every member of Brikken aimed, and Spooner flinched, holding his hands out in front of him. Chief stepped forward, aware of Komoon members armed and ready to retaliate against an attack.

He faced death unafraid. This was his life, his family, his legacy.