“So where is she now?” Levi asked.

“In my cabin.”

Since Grady had left the compound to live at Callie’s house in town, Seth had moved into the recently vacated cinderblock cabin. He’d gotten rid of all the ramshackle furniture that Grady had in there; most of it looked like leftovers from decades ago. He’d bought new stuff online and had it delivered. A couch, a recliner, a bed; and the rest he’d gotten from local retail stores, like bedding, towels, and crap like that. He didn’t want to spend a lot of money, but he did want to be comfortable. He was one of the few members of the motorcycle club who didn’t work at least part-time.

No one knew about his past. That he was one rich bastard, his grandmother having left him a trust that ensured he’d never want in his life. The money was tucked safely away in a bank in downtown Oklahoma City, handy when he needed it, otherwise invested with a financial planner out on the East Coast. He checked in every week or so, sent or received a call from his guy on his cell phone when needed, but otherwise, he let his planner handle things. His needs were simple. A roof over his head, his bike, and gas for his bike. That was about it. He paid his fair share to the club, like everyone else. That was the deal, and everyone stuck to it. To support the club—food, utilities, gas, property taxes, repairs and such—every member of the club paid Levi a percentage of their work checks.

Some guys worked better-paying jobs than others, but it didn’t matter what you made. The percentage that went to the club was the same for everyone. Everyone knew that going in. No one had ever balked, and he doubted they ever would. The Steel Kings were family. Sure, they butted heads on occasion, but what family members didn’t? Church took care of business, and if an argument needed to be settled, a special meeting was called, some more private than others. Their club was an entity in itself, and they were a community, much like the communities in suburbs all across the country. They were self-sufficient. They minded their own business. The lived on the edges of society but supported themselves with good old-fashioned elbow grease.

It was for that reason, among others, that the Steel Kings had a long-standing feud with the Jokers. The Jokers were an outlaw gang. They involved themselves in criminal activity because they were too fucking lazy and too fucking greedy to work for what they wanted or needed. They were predators.

Seth shook his head and pulled his thoughts back to the present. The woman. In his cabin. What the hell was he going to do with her? He knew the rules. If you brought someone into the club’s property, even if it was temporary, you were responsible for his or her care. You paid for their food, their needs, and so on. He could do that. He could provide for the woman if he chose to keep her.

His history wasn’t something that he liked to even think about, mostly because it made him sick to his stomach. Just the memory sent him into a tailspin of anger and frustration. Even now, years past the event. To say that he was estranged from his Seattle-based family would be an understatement, and he thought of them as little as possible.

He referred to the whole sordid mess as “the incident.” Because of that incident, he’d spent two years at the Clallam Bay Corrections Center, a medium-security facility whose inmates consisted primarily of violent offenders. Seth learned a lot during those two years. He’d learned to trust no one, to keep his mouth shut and his fists ready. By the time he got out, he was hard, angry, and lost.

He’d tried just once to contact his mom when he got out, but apparently, the whole family had moved with no forwarding address. It had to have been his stepfather’s idea, but until that day, he couldn’t have imagined his mother going along with it. But what did he know? The phone number they’d had since he was a youngster had been disconnected. Enraged, he’d hitched a ride into the old neighborhood, not terribly surprised to find a different family living in the house he’d grown up in. When he knocked on the neighbor’s door, he’d seen the look of fear in the woman’s eyes after she recognized him.

At that moment, he hated his stepfather Darren with a passion, and his stepsister. In the end, the whole thing had been her fault. The woman told him that the family had moved away a year ago, but she didn’t know where. Whether she was telling the truth, he didn’t know and didn’t care. Not anymore.

He’d left Seattle and headed east, hitchhiking most of the way, not knowing exactly where he was going. It was just past Tucumcari, New Mexico, that a guy on a motorcycle had picked him up hitchhiking. At the time, Seth was nothing much more than skin and bones, hungry, thirsty, and weary. That guy turned out to be Levi Hancock.

Now, eight years later, Levi was president of the Steel Kings motorcycle club, and Seth the vice president. He hadn’t spoken, written, or otherwise communicated with his family since the day the police had taken him away with a felony conviction on his record that ruined any chances he had of doing something meaningful with his life, at least as far as they were concerned. He did have his inheritance in a bank account in Oklahoma City, part of the trust fund that his grandmother had left him when she passed away. He was grateful his grandmother had been gone before all this shit had hit the fan. She had been the only one who ever truly seemed to love him for who he was, forever encouraging, always there for him . . .

“So who is she?”

Levi’s question jarred Seth from his thoughts and he glanced up. Levi was staring at him, expression blank. Seth knew that look and didn’t like it at all. It was like nothing lived behind those dark eyes of his.

“Not sure yet.”

Levi frowned.

“She’s not in a talkative mood,” Seth shrugged, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got her in the cabin. After we’re done here, I’ll go and try to have another chat with her. Another thing, Levi. She’s pretty bruised and battered. I don’t know if . . . I don’t know if any of the Jokers . . .” He winced as the word rape came to mind, and he scowled. “Anyway, it might be a good idea to have Doc take a quick look, make sure that she’s okay. No broken bones, no signs of internal injuries, stuff like that.”

“Doc” wasn’t really a doctor, just a former medical student who had dropped out of his fourth year of medical school when the pressure got too much. He’d been with the club several years now. His skills had come in handy more than once.

“Callie’s due to come by in a little while.” Grady said. “I’ll have her look in with your mystery woman, too. Maybe she’d be more willing to talk to another woman.”

Seth nodded. Callie was an experienced caregiver, a licensed certified nursing assistant who saw plenty at the long-term care center where she worked. It wasn’t just old people she took care of anymore, but younger people recovering from surgeries or sent to rehabilitation following hospital discharge, and an alarmingly growing number of younger patients diagnosed with alcohol or drug-related forms of dementia. She also happened to be a part-time dispatcher for the Oklahoma City PD. Something that surprisingly hadn’t gotten in the way of club business. Yet. He had to give Callie credit. When the shit had hit the fan with her stalker, it had been Grady and the club Callie had turned to, not her police buddies. As much as he’d hated to admit it at first, she was one of them. Maybe she could help figure out who the mystery chick was. Grady was right. She likely would tell her secrets to Callie far more readily than she ever would to Doc.

But what if she was actually hurt? He’d be an asshole not to notice, but maybe he should’ve just taken her to a hospital to get checked out. He could have just taken her there and left her. But he’d hesitated. Why? She might be a good source of information about what the Jokers were up to. He also wanted to know why they had taken her. Something didn’t add up. Were they planning to sell her to a sex trafficker? Or would she suit other purposes? Not only that, but there was something else that prompted him to hang on to her. Something in her eyes. A haunted look. She had pain of her own, pain of loss, that he sensed. He’d seen the look she had in her eyes before. He saw that look every day when he looked in the mirror. Anger, sorrow, pain. It never went away.

“What are you planning on doing with her, Sticks?”

The question came from Grady, sitting on a chair near the television, which as usual played a black-and-white horror movie, the sound muted. Levi was something of a movie buff. Horror movies in particular, and vampires more specifically. His club name was Vlad, after the original and genuine Dracula from Romania.

“Not sure yet.” It was as close to the truth he’d gotten since they’d returned. What would he do with her? Keep her against her will? That would make him no better than the Jokers.

“Maybe we could debrief her,” Grady suggested, turning toward Levi with a lifted eyebrow.

“Debrief her?” Seth turned to Grady, shaking his head. “You mean like interrogate her?”

Sometimes Grady slipped into old habits from his old life as a soldier. Seth didn’t like those times, and although Grady had gotten a lot better over the past couple of months, any time that happened, his antenna went up, and he gave Grady some elbow room. The two of them had butted heads many times over the past year and a half. Grady had only been a member of the club for about eighteen months, but because of his experience, his attitude, and his military knowledge and combat experience, he’d been promoted to the role of Sergeant at Arms, somewhat like the security chief for the group. He made sure that the club members stayed out of trouble, didn’t scuffle too often with law enforcement, and paid their way. He was also responsible for the safety and security of the club from outside forces, and it was that part that worried Seth the most right then.

What would happen to his mystery woman if Grady decided she was a threat? Seth forced his hands not to curl into fists. He didn’t have to ask. He already knew exactly what would happen. He’d punch Grady square in the face. The woman was his to keep safe. Not Grady’s or anyone else’s.

“Why not?” Grady asked. Levi glanced between the two of them. “I’m suspicious of anything having to do with the Jokers. For all you know, Sticks, she could be a spy.”

Seth barely refrained from rolling his eyes. No sense in setting off Grady’s hair-trigger temper. “A spy? To do what? Find out what we’re up to?” He shook his head.

Grady shrugged. “Well, we have been fucking up their plans lately, and the raid on the warehouse tonight is a prime example. They know we’re screwing with them. Maybe they just don’t know why.”

Again, Seth shook his head. “I’m sure they know why by now,” he said. “We want them to stay out of our territory. We don’t want them here. We’re not interested in taking over their lines of business.”

“We know that, but they might not.”

“That’s stupid, Grady. They outnumber us at least five to one.” He scowled. “No, I don’t think she’s a spy. But I do want to know why they had her.”

He turned to leave, glancing at Levi as he did so. “We’ll have us a nice little chat. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know. But if I find out that she was kidnapped to be sold into a sex-trafficking ring, I’ll be personally dropping her off at the nearest police station. Agreed?”

Levi and Grady exchanged glances. Levi shrugged. Finally, Grady also nodded.

Seth left the room and shut the door quietly behind him. He strode along the wooden balcony, his boots echoing loudly on the warped wooden floorboards toward the stairs hugging the west wall of the converted saloon, eyes from some of the club members from below watching him.

They would be curious about the woman he’d brought on the back of his bike. Very few women hung with the Steel Kings, and if one of the guys did bring one here, they weren’t allowed anywhere but downstairs in the main room without an escort unless there was a party going on. Except for Old Maggie, Chops’ common-law wife. Chops was one of the oldest in the club, a Vietnam vet with a gravelly voice, a pot belly, and a warm, hearty, laugh. He wasn’t down there now, but Seth glared at the lot of them. He scowled at them. Most of them, a couple of sweet butts among them, returned to their beer, their cards, their pool shots, the stick cracking sharply against the billiard ball as he passed. He knew every member’s history inside out, at least as much as he could learn with his not-so-good hacking skills, but it always paid to have eyes in the back of his head.

He strode outside, the darkness of the night enveloping him as he headed for the cinderblock cabin situated on the northwest corner of the compound property, nothing more now than a dark shadow. Inside was the woman. His heart accelerated in a combination of anticipation and doubt. She was going to answer his questions this time. He’d make sure of it.