I had only one day before I had to meet with the snake Santos and strike a deal to get Zelda’s release. If I thought for even a second that Santos would actually let Zelda go after I signed that paper, I’d do it, but he wouldn’t. He’d get me locked up for life and if Zelda didn’t do what he wanted—and god knew what that was—he’d kill her. There was no question in my mind, and that was doing bad things to my heart.

 

It did put conviction in me, though. I was determined to set things straight and get Zelda back before things got any worse than they already were. The downside was that I wasn’t quite sure how yet.

 

I was still pretty certain that my best shot was getting the dirt on his less than legitimate practice that was his front for dealing in very illegitimate practices. His construction company was somehow involved in the collapse of a building and now I had a man who could help prove it, but all of that was good only in the long run. It was good in the sense that I could get his ass to court and he’d be held liable, maybe even serve time for the deaths of those caught in the collapse, but all of that would take months. Maybe even years.

 

That didn’t do a lot for Zelda tomorrow.

 

Which was why I was riding like the wind to the abandoned rock quarry where we held meetings for the Berserkers. I needed backup on this one if I was going to save Zelda and take down Santos.

 

When I got there, most of the boys where already gathered. There was a circle of motorcycles parked in the large expanse of area that wasn’t littered with leftover debris from when the place had actually been used and then promptly abandoned. I’d had some good times at this little slice of rundown middle of nowhere. The boys appreciated it for its distance from other places. We didn’t have to worry about people coming around to snoop. Police officers, mostly, but we also had the added benefit of not having to worry about local business owners. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a dirt road that eventually led to the main highway, a bunch of old equipment that had long since been abandoned, and mines where no one was allowed to venture anyway, well, who was going to call to complain? No one. And no one was around to hear the noise of motorcycles revving, or the shouts of loyal men, brothers in arms. Here, we could be as rowdy as we needed to be and no one would care.

 

All of that made it the perfect place to have a meeting and I liked to keep my guys thinking that this was all it was. But it wasn’t strictly the truth.

 

There was no denying that this place was perfect for our needs, but for me it was a special place. It was the first time I’d ever met Zelda, that was true, but it was more than that. It was the first time I’d laughed with Zelda. It was the first time I’d put my arms around her—to keep her warm, but that hardly mattered. It was the first time I’d ever kissed her.

 

Zelda was picking her way through the motley debris that littered the ground around us. The quarry itself wasn’t in bad shape. Way down below there was still water, a manmade lake now that for the most part wasn’t too disgusting or dirty. I’d been swimming in it before and I hoped that Zelda would keep that in mind as we made our way down towards it. Especially since the area surrounding it wasn’t exactly squeaky clean.

 

Thankfully, Zelda had dressed practically today. She had on hiking boots and a t-shirt over a pair of shorts that were short enough to allow me a picture perfect image of the underside of her perky ass cheeks. It was the only fashion fad that I’d been truly grateful for in my life and I would defend it to the end. Short shorts were a way of life, if you asked me.

 

I was staring at those perfectly rounded cheeks while she walked slightly ahead. I told myself I was hanging back to be there if she had a misstep and took a tumble, ready to catch her, but I knew better. It was all about watching that perfect ass.

 

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked, because she had undoubtedly noticed that we were descending the high ledge which sloped down to the pool below none too gently. There was an elevator left behind where the men who worked here at the time could be carried up and down, but the machinery was old and hadn’t been used in a long time so I didn’t trust it. I didn’t even know if the electricity worked for it anymore.

 

Besides, there was a pathway off to the far left of the place that worked its way down to the rocks and the pool below. It was definitely steep, but anyone who was ever any good at hiking could do it without too much trouble.

 

Thankfully, Zelda was an outdoorsy type and wasn’t afraid of getting a little dirty.

 

“To the bottom,” I answered easily, still watching as her cheeks lifted and swayed as she walked. Fucking vixen. “Duh.”

 

She let out a soft laugh even as she tried to send a glare my way. Things had shifted between us recently—for the better—and now she was much more open with me. Her glares were softer, her words were sweeter, and there was an undercurrent of tension between us that didn’t have anything to do with fear or uncertainty or distrust anymore. It was something else altogether and I wanted to jump on it before she came to her senses.

 

Before she realized she could do way better than a guy like me.

 

“’Duh,’ he says,” she answered, tossing it casually over her shoulder as she continued down the steep slope. “Well, sir, then what are we going to do at the bottom?”

 

“Something kinky, I hope,” I told her cheekily.

 

She laughed again, though this time it was a little breathless. She nearly stumbled, too, and I felt a little bad. I hadn’t actually planned on doing anything kinky with her today—though I would happily amend my agenda if that was what she was in to. There was very little I wouldn’t be open to trying with her, though I figured I should aim a little lower given that I hadn’t even kissed her. Thinking of all the ways I wanted to slip inside her was probably going a little fast.

 

We didn’t say anything else as we carefully made our way down to the pool at the bottom. It was pretty light out despite being so late thanks to the nearly full moon. It also had the added benefit of making everything look prettier than it usually did. The surface of the water was calm, glasslike even, and the moon shone on it to make it look like a glittering white field. I knew that Zelda would love it and felt pretty proud of myself for swinging this the way I did.

 

Granted, the moon hadn’t been planned, but that didn’t matter anyway.

 

We finally reached the bottom of the ravine. Zelda came to the edge of the pool and stared over at it, watching it with shining, glassy eyes. Her breath hitched and I just barely heard her whisper, “It’s beautiful, Nester.”

 

I smiled at her, walking up until I stood right behind her. Wrapping my arms bravely around her middle—she was still nervous, still scared that I was going to do something that we would both regret later—I pulled her to me. She nestled against me and I did my best not to get hard as her ass—the same ass I’d been staring at for the last forty-five minutes as it swayed and wiggled enticingly—snuggled up to my crotch. It was a losing battle, but I tried, because I was trying to do this right for her.

 

I didn’t want to scare her off.

 

If she noticed that I was getting hard anyway, my cock settled perfectly between her ass cheeks despite the layers of clothing between me and her, she didn’t say anything. And she didn’t pull away. I counted it a victory.

 

Resting my chin on her shoulder, I turned my head slightly so that my lips nearly brushed her ear. I whispered, “Not even half as beautiful as you are.”

 

I felt her shudder against me, a ripple of heat and pleasure that she couldn’t hide even if she wanted to. I really hoped that she didn’t want to. Then a second later, she pulled away from me. I froze, thinking I’d just royally screwed all of this up and that she was about to turn and slap me for my forwardness, for my massive erection, for my unyielding desire for her.

 

Except she didn’t.

 

She turned in my arms, then moved closer to me again. She pushed herself against me, her arms wrapping around my back, until her breasts were trying to flatten themselves against my chest. The feeling was almost more than I could take. I needed to jerk myself off or plough into her, but this was pure torture just waiting right now.

 

The best damn kind of torture.

 

“Do you really mean that?” she whispered, and her lips were near mine, so close that I could feel their heat. All I’d have to do is close the fraction of an inch separating us and I could kiss her.

 

“I do. Every word of it.”

 

When she just continued to stare at me, her eyes wide and sparkling in the darkness, her body pressed so close against mine, pleading with mine silent as mine screamed…I couldn’t help it. I closed the distance and seared my lips against hers in the kind of kiss that couldn’t stop. My hands went to her cheeks, cupping her face both because I needed to touch her—and I was worried where else I might touch her if I didn’t go to her face—and because I didn’t want her to go anywhere.

 

Her lips were the softest thing I’d ever touched and tasted just slightly sweet, like candy or powdered sugar or just a touch of honey. I wanted to taste more of it, so I slid my tongue along those full lips, trying to get more of the taste from them. I was surprised when that caused her to open her mouth and moan against mine.

 

I swallowed that moan and then I dove my tongue into her mouth because I didn’t know that I’d ever get another chance to do it and I had to taste her fully, drink her in entirely, just once.

 

Her hands gripped at my shirt, digging into my back, pulling me to her tighter though we were already pushed together so closely that I could feel her heart beating against my chest. Her own tongue tentatively searched out mine and when they slid against one another, I felt her shudder in my arms. I didn’t need to be told how much she wanted me in that moment and it drove me a little crazy.

 

I wanted to devour her whole. I wanted every part of her because she was mine, she was meant to be mine.

 

I sucked in a harsh breath, the memory powerful and strong enough to make me half hard. But the knowledge that Zelda was held against her will by a psychopath who was doing everything he could to get to me helped to dampen that a little bit.

 

Focusing on my guys, I addressed the group first.

 

“The Wicked Titans think they can do whatever they want,” I began, my voice booming and echoing off the walls thanks to the vast emptiness and the deep ravine below. “But I’m here to tell them they can’t. We’re here to tell them. I think it’s time we remind them whose stomping grounds these are. I think it’s time to take back what belongs to us.”

 

There was a cry that rose up amongst my men, a battle cry to let me know that they were ready to do battle. Maybe some of them had even been waiting for it.

 

“I want you to seek them out, find where they hide, where they lurk like the rats they are in the shadows,” I continued, forcing my voice even louder to be heard over the yelling of my men. “Find their little holes. I want to know where they are, where they like to eat, where they like to wander.”

 

It was a little late to be giving orders like this. I had only until tomorrow night to get something to leverage for Zelda, but I did this with the knowledge that it did two things for me. First, it boosted the morale of my own men. It made them think that I had a plan, that I wasn’t scared of Santos and his men, even though he had the numbers. It would do wonders for the guys, because they had to believe that I was strong enough to win.

 

Even if I wasn’t.

 

The second thing it did was buy me a little time. If I could distract Santos’s men, make them think that I was going in a different direction than I actually was, maybe I could actually get the information and leverage I needed to take down Santos. It was a bit of a long shot, but I figured if Santos’s men were dumb enough, it might just work.

 

And I didn’t really think of them as the smart types.

 

When I was done, I sent my men like a general sending his soldiers off into battle. It wasn’t far from the truth, but I hoped that I would avoid most of the bloodshed associated with that at the very least. Probably not, but I had to try. These men put their trust in me and I didn’t have any intention of letting them down.

 

I called five of my men to stay. It would have been six, but Jackson was still out of town. I’d left him a message, asking him to come back, and I had no doubt that he would do just that when it reached him, but I didn’t expect him to get here in time. He had a lot of ground to cover and he was probably avoiding his phone at least for a little bit while he dealt with the stuff with his little girl.

 

I couldn’t fault a man for that.

 

The Bobby Boys both lingered at my request, as did Schumacher, Bones, and Wildcard. These five men would have a more specific task and I hoped that with their help I might actually get what I needed to win this fight against Santos.

 

“Santos’s got Zelda,” I announced without preamble.

 

I watched as this news sunk in. I had been in prison for five years and during that time, a lot of people knew about Santos and Zelda. In fact, everyone had known that except for me. They’d kept that pertinent piece of information from me in the hopes that it might protect me from the rage and hurt that I would inevitably feel. I understood why and even appreciated it—I wouldn’t have been able to do anything from prison and it would have eaten me alive to know it while I was there—but I couldn’t help but think that it might have all gone better if someone had bothered to share at least that with me.

 

“That ain’t news at all,” Schumacher said, finally stepping up to fill the void that was silence after my statement. “She’s a—”

 

“Careful,” I warned, my voice low and dangerous. I wouldn’t have been surprised if a lot of these guys would say all sorts of nasty things about Zelda if only for my sake, but the problem was they didn’t have the whole story and none of those nasty things would be true. Not even a little bit.

 

Schumacher fell silent, but Bobby, Jr. took up the mantle right after him. “Sorry, boss, but Zelda chose to be with Santos. Who else would have her?”

 

I shook my head, knowing that I would have to tell the whole story no matter how much it still made me angry. “There’s a story for that, an explanation.” And I proceeded to tell them all of it. I told them how Zelda had done it for me, in order to protect me she had promised herself to a monster. I went further than that, though. I told them about how she had come to me, her face bruised, crying and terrified. I didn’t mention how we had made love that night or how I’d then botched it all up by telling her I was only using her. But I did tell them that she was afraid of Santos, that she was trying to get away, and that he was using her as leverage to get me to take the fall for the drug ring.

 

That was enough to light a fire under their asses. “Poor Zelda,” Bobby, Sr. murmured. Before she had ended up in Santos’s dangerous web, Zelda had been popular. A lot of the MC really liked her and appreciated her. She hadn’t been one of those girls easily pushed around and she definitely wasn’t skittish. She was a tough cookie and that meant a lot to men like these guys. The Bobbys especially had been big fans of her, Bobby, Jr. even sporting a little bit of a crush. Nothing serious—nothing that would get him shot or maimed—but there all the same.

 

Now that they knew the whole story, that she’d done everything for me in the end, they were up in arms to go to her rescue.

 

“So what do we do, boss?” asked Wildcard, a younger man who was so full of energy he constantly looked hyped up on copious amounts of caffeine and other things. He wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. He looked like the kind of man who was doing all sorts of hard drugs.

 

“Yeah, hate to say it, but we aren’t likely to be able to just storm the castle and rescue the princess, if you know what I mean,” Bones pointed out.

 

I nodded. “I realize that.”

 

“But we can’t let you sign that paper neither,” Bobby, Sr. told me. “If he gets that paper, it isn’t like he’s going to just let Zelda go.”

 

“Yes, I know that, too.”

 

Everyone fell silent then as they absorbed what my predicament truly was. They understood the gravity of the situation, and I think for some of them it finally clicked what it truly meant that Santos had Zelda. This wasn’t like he had her and she was going willingly to be his bride. The time for that was over. He knew she had been with me—or at the very least that she’d run from me—and that alone was enough for him to do some serious damage to her.

 

I tried to tell myself that he wouldn’t kill her, but I couldn’t make myself honestly believe it. There was nothing that bastard wouldn’t do to someone whom he felt had slighted him. And denying him sex while giving it to his worst enemy? I doubted there was anything more infuriating than that.

 

After a moment to calm myself, I spoke again. “I’ve got some leads that suggest Santos was responsible for a building collapse not too long ago. Everyone who sued suddenly backed off and no criminal charges were pressed—not that they would have been traced back to Santos anyway—but I have a witness who says Santos and his company willingly used the wrong materials because they were cheaper and it likely resulted in that collapse.”

 

My men stared at me blankly for a long moment, no one saying anything. Finally, it was Bones who spoke. “Sorry, boss, but you lost me. What does a building collapse have to do with saving Zelda?”

 

The others murmured and nodded their heads in agreement.

 

“Because Santos is using this business to launder his money.” I wasn’t one hundred percent positive, but it sounded true and reasonable. Maybe there were other nefarious reasons, but it didn’t matter. Whatever he was doing, he was doing something illegal with the company and not just by using cheap materials, though that was what I intended to nail him on. “Which maybe would work out just perfectly for him if he weren’t also trying to skim money off of this company along the way. And if that skimming of money resulted in the deaths of several people—which it did—then he would be directly responsible for those deaths. Meaning a manslaughter charge.”

 

It took a moment for all of that information to sink in, but when it did, I saw Wildcard grin. “So we nail him to the wall with this and threaten to expose him unless he lets Zelda go,” he pieced together.

 

I nodded once, though I didn’t think it would go that smoothly. I didn’t mention it to them, but I had the distinct impression that even if I had real leverage against Santos—which I still had to find in less than twenty-four hours—he wouldn’t make this exchange easily. I’d have to be smarter than Santos if I wanted this to fly, and though I hated him, I acknowledged that that wasn’t going to be an easy task.

 

“So what the fuck are we waiting for?” demanded Schumacher, who was all about doing things here and now.

 

I shook my head. “That’s where the problem comes in. I’ve got a witness, but witnesses die. Witnesses aren’t much good outside of court. If I threaten Santos with Calvin’s statement, it won’t do a damn bit of good. It’ll just get Calvin killed.”

 

Bones was nodding. “So we need to find some empirical evidence to show Santos. Something to throw at him that he can’t so easily dismiss.”

 

I told them my plan, which was much hastier than I would have preferred, but if I had time I would just sit on what I knew until I could take him to court and have him thrown into prison—just like he’d done to me. Unfortunately, my timeline got sped up without warning. Now that Zelda was thrown into the mix, there was little choice. If I wanted to save her, I was going to have to find something. Now.

 

***

 

The main office for Vanguard Construction Industries was just outside of town. The building was relatively plain and cheap-looking, though there were still a few roaming guards, which made me think there was a little more going on than what met the eye. Normally, businesses—at least the corporate portions of them—were located a little closer to downtown, usually in the business district. It made sense; you wanted to be where people could find you. The fact that VCI was out of the way like this told me that they didn’t really want someone snooping.

 

Which sounded like Santos had something to hide.

 

I’d split my guys up, sending them around the entire perimeter to make sure it was just the one guard. The Bobby Boys went around back and Schumacher checked the parking lot and some of the side angles we couldn’t make out from our vantage point close to the front. I’d considered going in through the back—that seemed like a more accessible place than waltzing in through the front door—but ultimately reconsidered when it became clear that the back was more fortified. Almost as though they expected someone to break in and that someone would think going through the front was too ballsy.

 

Thus why we were watching the front guard.

 

“They’ve got cameras,” said Wildcard, who was crouched down low in the shadows beside me. We didn’t want to be seen at all, but we definitely didn’t want to be seen before we’d even gotten to the building. “Which means we’re screwed if they catch out faces. Can’t use stolen shit in court, you know.”

 

I nodded. I’d thought of that. If we got the cops called on us or if the security guard or the cameras managed to get a good look at any of us, then the whole thing was a waste of time. We needed something we could hold Santos to and inadmissible evidence didn’t really cut it.

 

I needed to threaten him, to bury him. I needed something we could use.

 

“Don’t worry about that,” I told him tightly. “Keep your mask on until we can get to the cameras. And don’t take off your damn gloves.”

 

Wildcard nodded, itching at his hands. He wasn’t good at sitting still and right now it took everything he had not to jump up and do something, even if it was only pacing. It was the knowledge that we were in a very precarious position that kept him still. That and a gentle reminder that was my hand on his arm every so often.

 

My cell phone vibrated and I slid it out of my pocket. I had the screen dimmed as low as it would go, but it still seemed much too bright in our cloak and dagger darkness. I was probably only paranoid, but I couldn’t help but feel like the guard and the cameras and the whole damn city could see the little light from my phone as I checked my text message.

 

It was from Bobby, Jr.

 

All clear. One in the back, out cold.

 

And that was our cue. So long as no new guard was going to sneak up on us, we could head in. We’d have to take care of the guard on our end, but that went without saying. And Wildcard wasn’t all that upset at the idea of punching a cop in the face, even if it was only a security guard.

 

Glancing over at Wildcard, I gave him a nod. “Let’s go.”

 

I led the way towards the front entrance, trying to stay in the shadows as much as possible. Wildcard followed dutifully behind me. We were both wearing ski masks and had donned dark colored long-sleeved shirts so that we wouldn’t have the markings of a Berserker and so that we as individuals couldn’t be recognized. I knew I had more than a couple of identifying tattoos and it would make me pretty easy to spot.

 

I sidled up to the corner and pressed myself tightly against the wall. I glanced around the corner to make sure that the guard wasn’t looking, then I motioned with my hand for Wildcard to follow. We made a break for it. I ran flat out for the guard, knowing that even if this man didn’t see us, the cameras would. Which was why as I punched the man hard in the jaw, hard enough to knock him out cold, Wildcard went for the camera. He didn’t bother destroying it—the footage would probably be saved digitally at this point already so it wouldn’t do any good—but instead used a can of black spray paint to coat the lens. When that was accomplished, the two of us headed inside. I’d grabbed the guard’s keys and we got in without a hitch.

 

The door opened to a long hallway with more cameras. Wildcard took care of those, too, though we didn’t take off our masks. As we continued, I searched for the right door. It was an office that would hopefully have the information, but it looked like the whole building was nothing but offices. I began to randomly open doors, looking for the right one.

 

Thankfully, most of the rooms were empty. They were set up like bare shells, open and available for immediate use—they had desks and chairs, but that was it—but otherwise unoccupied. That made it easier when I finally found an office that did have things in it. Like a picture set on the desk, framed in some gaudy gold color. A desk lamp, a name plate. And a filing cabinet.

 

I motioned for Wildcard to follow me, then pointed at the filing cabinet. Wildcard nodded, then I tossed him my phone. We didn’t know if the cameras could pick up sound or not, probably not, so we weren’t taking any chances that somehow, someone might recognize our voices. That meant we communicated mostly through hand signals and nods. When Wildcard caught my phone he knew that I wanted him to keep an eye out for text messages from the Bobby Boys or from Schumacher. They were lookouts now that we were inside and would be the ones to let us know if we had troubles outside.

 

With Wildcard watching the door and my phone, the camera out of commission, and no other obstacles in sight, I went for the filing cabinet.

 

It was locked, so I spared a few minutes to search for a key. When I couldn’t find it, I pried the door open. Inside were files named by project. Orphanage. Library. Concert Hall. All of them seemed like they were generous donations to the general public, but I knew better. This was all a front.

 

I kept searching through the files. They probably all had some kind of evidence against Santos that I could use, but I was looking specifically for the charity project, the one that had already collapsed. I had a witness who would talk about the shoddy building materials and I thought I had a shot of talking to the other people involved in the accident to sue or testify if I presented some of the evidence I found.

 

Except I had to find evidence first. Calvin would go a long way for my case, but eyewitnesses were unreliable at best and any good lawyer—which Santos would have—would start there and tear the case down as he went.

 

But documents? Those went a long way.

 

I continued to sift through the files. I was lost in them, determined to find something, anything, that would save Zelda and get rid of Santos once and for all, but I was floundering. I had nothing.

 

After a moment, I felt Wildcard’s hand on my shoulder. He motioned for his wrist as though pointing to a watch and then thumbed the door. It was time to go, he was telling me, and I knew he was right. The guards wouldn’t stay unconscious and someone was likely to notice that the cameras were blacked out. The cops—real cops this time—would be here soon and it was important that we weren’t.

 

I nodded once, but continued through the files. I had to keep looking.

 

And there it was. Project Charity. It was marked in red and there was red tape sealing it up. I didn’t have time to look through it, so I just shoved it under my shirt and turned to Wildcard. I grabbed a few other folders just so no one would know what I was after specifically, then followed Wildcard out the door and back down the hall.

 

As soon as we got outside, I heard the distant sound of sirens blaring—and getting closer. But that was fine. We were already out.

 

Yanking off my mask, I called to Wildcard, “Tell the others. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

 

After all, we had a meeting with Santos in just half an hour.