Swinging open the backdoor, I step out into the cool evening air, heading straight for the picnic tables that surround the fire pit. I didn’t need Schrader to tell me that I am wound up. As if I didn’t already know that? I sure as fuck don’t need him pointing that shit out to me, or any-goddamn-body else. I can just imagine the next time the guys are at the table.

They’ll probably take a vote to start spiking my coffee with mood stabilizers.

Or have me committed.

“Hey!” Schrader shouts behind me. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” I ground out in frustration. “Just getting some air.”

“Liar,” he spits, calling me out.

“The fuck did you say?” I ask, whipping around to face him.

“I said you’re a liar,” he repeats, challenging me. “Fuckin’ bad one, too.”

“Go to hell, Schrader,” I spit, flipping him off. “I’m fine. I have always been fine. No burns, beatings, or bullshit is gonna change that.” I harden my stare to drive the point home. “So how about you walk yourself back inside and tell everyone that Cheyenne is absolutely fuckin’ fantastic. Let ‘em all know that I don’t need or want anyone fuckin’ hoverin’ over me like I’m gonna break at any second. Maybe, if it comes from you, everyone will shut the fuck up and stop throwin’ their two cents at me every chance they get.”

“What’s wrong with your family being worried about you?” he asks, throwing up his hands.

Fucking clueless. I swear.

“Worry?” I laugh. “Don’t you mean pity?”

“No one pities you, Cheyenne.” He takes a step toward me. “People pity the weak. Babe, that ain’t you.”

“Yeah,” I choke out, forcing back the tears that threaten to fall. “Riiiiiight.”

“You know,” he starts, stepping closer. Sliding his fingers beneath my chin, he tips up my face, his eyes searching mine, before dropping to my mouth. His lips part as he breathes. For a second, I think he might actually be about to kiss me. Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me? “The longer you keep bottlin’ that shit up, the longer it owns you.”

“Aha. So you’re gonna give me advice now?” I ask, managing enough strength to shove him away. “Save it. Why don’t you leave me the fuck alone and go get lost in a pair of fake tits for the night? I don’t need a goddamn babysitter.”

“Last I checked,” he fires back, unaffected by my rant. “That’s not your call and you know it. Now, let’s go back inside.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” I shove him again. “I’m not one of the hang-arounds. I don’t come when called.”

Gripping my arm, his brown eyes ignite. Heat floods my body, making it almost impossible to think. His jaw ticks. Schrader may be pissed, but he can’t hide the confusion I see in his eyes. It surprises me. That is something you don’t see every day. Jason Schrader isn’t unsure of anything. Ever. What the hell is going on inside his head? “Look.” Squaring his shoulders, he swallows hard. “I know this has been rough on you.”

“Don’t pretend that you know anything about how I feel,” I warn, yanking my arm free. “Because you don’t.”

“Then tell me,” he replies, sounding sincere. “You’ve always been able to talk to me, Shy.”

“No.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why the hell not?”

“Because you aren’t at the table,” I breathe, stepping around him. “You don’t get a vote.”

Making my way around to the front of the clubhouse, I notice Chief McKelvy talking to a dark haired man in a suit. The man’s eyes find me immediately. Their conversation stops, both of them turning to face me. “Cheyenne, this is Agent Hilster. I’m bringing him up to speed before Jace locks the gates.”

“Cheyenne West?” Hilster asks, extending his hand. “Nice to put faces to the names in the files. I went through the file on your husband, Troy. Interesting read.”

“Oh yeah,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes internally as I quickly shake his hand. “I’m sure it’s a hell of a page turner.”

“Please accept my condolences. I’m sure losing him has been very difficult for you,” he asks, clearly sizing me up. “Especially given the circumstances.”

“Given the circumstances?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “Just say it. Troy was a lying, cheating, piece of shit. He beat me up, kidnapped my friend, then was killed by his whore and your man, Laswell. That pretty much sum it all up?”

He nods. “According to witness reports, yes. However, there’s an incinerated crime scene and no bodies. No one has been able to find any trace of any of the wanted parties, or even a glimpse into where they may have gone.”

“If you ask me, it sounds like that was their plan,” I shrug. “But don’t feel too bad about it. I’m sure I’m not on their Christmas card list either.”

“I don’t know about you, Mrs. West, but I take my job very seriously.” Hilster narrows his eyes. “At this point, the investigation remains open and will be pursued to the fullest of my ability as well as—”

“Knock yourself out,” I answer honestly. “Not like I’ve got shit to do with it.”

“Of course not,” he replies, straightening his tie. “In fact, you’d be shocked at the number of law abiding citizens having their homes and places of business blown up now a days.”

“Is that so?” I bite out in reply to his snarky comment.

“Funny how so many of them lead right back here.”

“Listen, asshole—”

“Everything okay out here?” Schrader’s voice booms from behind me, interrupting the ass ripping I want so desperately to give this fucking prick. As much as I wanted away from him only moments ago, right now, I am relieved he has my back.

“Yeah,” I say through clenched teeth, my eyes narrowing on Hilster. “They were just leaving.”

Hilster’s gaze shifts, narrowing in on Schrader. “Nice to see you, Mr. Schrader. I recognize you from your mug shots.”

“Dear God,” McKelvy mutters, swallowing hard as he tugs at his collar. “Here we go.”

“Thanks.” Schrader flashes him a smug smile. “Always great to meet a fan.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Hilster replies, nodding thoughtfully. “Though, I have to say, I was more eager to meet the woman who is the eyes and ears of the entire compound. Must make for some very interesting days.” His eyes move to me. “I’m sure you could write a book.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, rolling my eyes at his insinuation. “A cookbook. I spend most of my time behind the bar or in the kitchen. It’s super exciting.”

“As I’m sure you know,” he continues. “Your husband was a very busy man. I’m interested to hear what you know about that.”

“Everything that I know is in my statement.” I breathe deeply, hating that I am being forced to talk about this shit again. “Turns out Troy liked to keep everyone in the dark. Especially me.”

“Oh. Is that so? Then you wouldn’t know anything about his involvement with Antonio Lorzano?”

“Who?” I ask, racking my brain.

“Time for you to go, Five-oh.” Schrader is at my side, hovering over me defensively. “It’s been real.”

“Of course,” Stepping forward, Agent Hilster stares Schrader down. “We have plenty of time to get to know each other while I do everything in my power to tear this club apart and lock you all up for the rest of your lives.”

“Oh yeah?” Schrader taunts, a smirk spreading across his face. Taking a step back, he spreads his arms wide. “Bring it, Pig. Squad cars in my side mirror make my dick hard.”

The breath rushes out of me in a whoosh. Turning, I look up at Schrader, my jaw nearly bouncing off the pavement at his words. His arm slips around me, pulling me tightly into his side. “Stop,” I mouth, knowing good and well it is a bad fucking idea to taunt a Federal Agent.

Hilster sighs. When I meet his green eyes, I see resolution in them. And determination. This guy is going to be a problem. I can feel it in my gut. “It was a pleasure, Mrs. West.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a card and extends it to me. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Looking forward to it.”

“Not as much as I am, asshole.” Without letting go of me, Schrader yanks the card from his fingers. Not bothering to look at it, he tosses it to the ground. “Next time you show up to stir the shit pot, you better bring a warrant and some backup.”

“Sure thing,” Hilster challenges. Heading for his car, he waves smugly. “Be seeing you soon.” Saying nothing, McKelvy follows.

“You couldn’t help yourself, could you, Schrader?” I hiss. Shoving him away, I storm toward the front doors of the clubhouse.

“What?” he asks, catching up to me quickly.

“Not enough shit burnin’ around here, you gotta go light a fire under the already agitated ass of a Federal Agent?” I ask, shaking my head. “If he wasn’t determined before to shake loose some dirt, he sure as hell is now.”

“Don’t sweat that fucker,” he says dismissively. Grabbing my wrist, he spins me to face him. Brushing the hair from my face, he gives me a reassuring smile. His touch makes me shiver. “We’re always in someone’s crosshairs. Nothin’ we can’t handle.”

I wish I could believe him. The problem is, when you’re betrayed by the person you trusted the most, you begin to question everything. “Bullshit. Who the hell is Antonio Lorzano? You didn’t turn into a raging asshole until he dropped that name.”

“I’m not a raging asshole.” His brow quirks up. “I’m a defensive prick.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “Answer the question. Who is that guy and why was Troy involved with him?”

“I don’t know.” Schrader’s jaw ticks angrily, but his thumb absentmindedly strokes up and down the inside of my upper arm. “But, whatever that fucker’s association was with Lorzano, it wasn’t approved by the club.”

Just as I had figured, Schrader grabs up my brother and disappears down the hall as soon as we walk inside. They have no doubt gone to call Stone to bring him up to speed. Grabbing a beer from behind the bar, I glance up and see Ro and Nita heading my way, carrying plates of food.

“Hey! How’s the hand?” Ro asks, hopping up on a stool.

“Just a burn. Nothin’ serious,” I murmur, taking a quick swallow from the bottle. “Hey, Nita.”

“There you are,” she smiles, taking the seat beside Ro. “You’ve not been out to see me. I’ve missed you.”

“Sorry. I’ve been busy.”

Growing up, I was always closer to Nita than the other women here. Granted most of the other women were hang arounds. Those ladies never lasted. Though well into her fifties, Nita’s hair is still the same shade of fire engine red it has always been, thanks to her monthly appointments with Geri down at the Beauty Bombshell. After years of back breaking farm work, and a life filled with Huck’s craziness, she still doesn’t look a day over forty.

She also shoots straight from the hip and has a heart of gold.

If I could have picked my mother, it would have been her.

“Food’s good, Cheyenne,” Nita blurts, ignoring my excuses. “You should sit down here with us and have some. Then take your ass to bed and get some sleep.”

“That your nice way of sayin’ I look like shit?”

“The truth’s the truth, sweetheart,” she deadpans, pointing her fork at me. “Only lies come sugarcoated.”

“That’s okay,” I shrug, then hold up my bottle. “I’ve got myself a chaser. I’ll be in the kitchen. If you bitches are gonna give me any more shit, you’ll have to do it while helpin’ me bake.”