The event’s second day is even better than the first. It’s snowing outside, the sky is gray, the wind icy, and inside Collateral the party is in full force.

Goths, punks, proper middle-class families, grizzled rockers and tattooed old ladies mingle among the tables, checking out the wares and designs. The buzzing of tattoo guns is a constant background to the music playing on the speakers.

I would have loved Jason to come along, but he looked so tired that I didn’t press him. My mind’s with him, through the noise and work, and I’m thinking of calling, checking on him, soon.

I’m taking payment for a small ink job from a bulky man who looks like a biker—which of course reminds me of Simon Gomez and of Jason—when Megan comes over and stands at the counter, waiting for me to finish so she can talk to me.

Rafe’s wife is radiant in a pale blue dress, her lips a ruby red. Too radiant. Makes me wonder if there’s a bun in the oven we haven’t been told about yet.

Smiling, she leans over the counter once I’m done and whispers, “I’m taking over.”

I grin back at her. “No need, I can hold the fort. Why don’t you go and see what that husband of yours is up to? He may want a break.”

Her brows go up, dark eyes twinkling. “A break, huh? You know Rafe too well. Also, you’re in a good mood today.”

I am. No use denying it, and why would I want to? Jason is at home, warm, fed and safe. He let down his walls for me, talked to me. And now we’re gonna fix this mess and free him from Simon Gomez’s clutches.

“Well, Rafe’s gonna have to wait for his break.” She winks and I laugh. “The guys said you need to talk.”

Oh. That stops me mid-chuckle. “All right.” I roll back the chair and get up. “Ignore the gay porn sites I browsed, okay?”

She leans over the desk again to look at the computer screen and sticks out her tongue. “Don’t take away my fun.”

Shaking my head, I sigh and come around the desk to give her a nudge with my elbow. “Be good, Meg, and leave my browser history alone.”

Even if it only features the Soul Stain website and a takeout place near Collateral.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

I’m still grinning as I head over to Rafe’s table, though the sober faces that greet me wipe the grin right off my face.

“What’s going on?” I demand. I zero in on Ocean. “Shun. Something happen?”

“Let’s go talk,” Kade, Soul Stain’s owner says. “Somewhere private.”

“Come on.” Rafe leads the way to the back of the shop, to the office. Inside we find Zane Madden, Dylan Hayes, Asher and Tyler Devlin who are good friends with the Damage Control people, and Riot together with two more guys I’ve never seen before. “Here we can talk.”

As the door closes behind us, I realize they’re all fighters. And I don’t just mean metaphorically.

I know Asher and Tyler were trained by their father, a known boxer, and Riot and his friends all bulge with muscles and are standing around as if about to enter a ring. Dylan is a professional athlete. Zane and Rafe train in kickboxing, as do all the Brotherhood and Damage Control members, and Rafe also fought in an underground fight club for a while.

As for Kade… he looks like he could take someone down, tall and muscular like the rest of them, but I don’t know anything about him.

I resist the urge to step back and put some safety distance between us.

“I’ll take it you heard back from your Russian buddies?” I ask Riot.

He nods. “They’ll do it. Shut the MC down.”

“But…?”

“No buts. They will. They’ll move in in a few days.”

I frown. “Then what’s this meeting about? Comparing your muscles? Or your dicks?”

Kade chokes and starts to cough.

Was it something I said?

“Our father,” Ocean says, and I somehow don’t think he’s praying, “asked for a meeting.”

Of course he did. “Okay. What does he want?”

“Money. More money. The usual.”

Right. “Where and when?”

“Tomorrow evening. And as for your comment about muscle… we’ll need all the muscle we can get as back-up. We can all hold our own in a fight, and Riot invited two of his friends, Gale and Zeke to join us, too.”

“Okay. What are we hoping to find out? Jason can take us to Simon’s Club. We don’t need the old man for directions. And why not tell the police to join us?”

“We’re about to involve the Russian Mob in this. Last thing we need is cops breathing down our necks. We’ll talk to Dad, make sure nobody gets hurt, hopefully scare him a little, then when the MC goes down he’ll have no way to threaten us.”

“Until he finds someone else willing to beat people up for money. Not that hard, it seems.”

“He’s right,” Riot says, folding his arms over his chest. “Taking down the MC won’t solve your problems with your old man.”

“After the MC is shut down and the air clears, we’ll report him, find a way to bring him to justice,” Ocean says, looking me straight in the eye, and it feels like a promise. “Right, R?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I grumble, but I guess he’s right.

Not that I understand exactly how this will go down. I’ve never dealt with gangs and the Mob, and I’d been hoping never to have to. But I’ve seen first-hand the marks of Simon’s violence, and if he can be stopped, then I’m all for it. If it means Jason will be safe, that’s all I need to know.

“I talked some more with Jason yesterday.” I stuff my hands into my pockets, feeling heat seeping into my neck when my memory takes its cue to replay every filthy detail of my “talk” with Jason. “He said Simon went after Jesse Lee because Jason wouldn’t put out. Wouldn’t join the MC and turn tricks to line Simon’s pockets. But after Jesse was hurt and their pimp died, Jason gave in.”

Ocean frowns. “He took Jesse’s place?”

I nod. “To keep him safe. To keep all of us safe. He sent his people away for this very reason, and has been paying every penny he makes to keep Simon happy. But it’s not enough. Time after time I’ve found him beaten up and worse.” I stop to control my rage before I start breaking things. “Simon Gomez is a sadist. And get this: he’s related to Jason. His family has fucked him over so much it makes my own parents look like fucking saints.”

“Son of a bitch,” Rafe mutters, baring his teeth, his hands curling into fists. “I’m gonna kill that bastard.”

“Stand in the fucking line,” I mutter.

Asher mutters a curse I can’t quite catch. “We’re taking that motherfucker down. Somehow.”

“We’ll figure this out,” Zane says, speaking for the first time, and we all fall silent, turning to look at him. Rafe may be the owner of the shop, and Riot may be our new mafia expert, but Zane is our natural leader. He runs a hand over the shaved side of his head, his dark blue mohawk like a warrior’s crest. “I wanted Ash and Tyler in, because they also have connections, in case the Mob backs out last minute. We protect our own, and you are our own, as is Jason Vega.”

I take a deep breath as I realize Ocean was right. This is my family, and the guys will come through for us, even if there’s danger.

“That’s right,” Rafe says, nodding. “This is a difficult situation, but we’ll find a way out of it. Failure is not an option. Simon Gomez hurt Jesse Lee, one of our own. Now he’s hurting Jason, and for all we know, he could come after any one of us. He has to be stopped.”

“Make sure Jason stays put,” Zane says and pushes off the desk where he’s parked his ass. “If the police end up getting involved, he’s a valuable witness, and I bet Simon will try to go after him. Keep him safe while we put Simon Gomez out of business.”

With that warning ringing in my ears, I make my way back home in the evening. The snowfall is thick, and I have to drive slow. I can barely see where I’m going. I pass by a drugstore to get Jason some over-the-counter cough drops and syrup, so it’s quite late by the time I park and trudge across the street and into the building.

So I’m not that shocked when I unlock the door to my apartment and find Jason sprawled on the sofa, fast asleep.

Still… he’s here, and a grin tugs at my lips as I let myself inside quietly and close the door with a soft click. I stalk over to him and crouch down in front of him. He’s put on a pair of my old sweats, the thin gray fabric molding to his long legs and riding low on his narrow hips. I resist the urge to trace all the ink and all the scars on his bare chest and arms.

He shivers in his sleep, and I consider pulling the blanket I keep draped on the back of the sofa over him.

Then I change my mind and reach for his waistband. After all, turnabout is fair play. I tug on it gently, and he arches a little, mumbling something that sounds like my name.

My fingers still as my heart trips over. Grinning, I climb over his legs, bend over him and kiss him.

He gasps in my mouth, and I grab his wrists before he clocks me one. “Jase.” I lick at his mouth and his eyes flutter open. “Missed me?”

It must’ve been a good dream. His cock is already fully hard against mine, and when he moans and lifts his hips, I grind my hard-on on his deliberately, just to make him jerk and gasp.

He tastes of chocolate, and I spot a wrapper on the table. “I didn’t know I had chocolate at home.” I stroke his jaw, his stubble scraping my palm.

His gaze shifts away from mine. “I had it with me.”

“But there’s lots of food in the fridge.” I frown. “Jase. You ate nothing else all day?”

He tries to push me off him. “I’m fine.”

“You must be starving. It’s dinner time and you’ve had nothing all day.”

He manages to sit up, dislodging me. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Fuck. I swallow a sigh. “Everything in this apartment is yours, too,” I say softly. “I want you to use it. I want you to eat the food, to drink the beer.”

“Why?”

I don’t know if to laugh or curse at his eternal, exasperated question. “Because you’re home, with me. You’re my boyfriend. And I love you.”

He lowers his hands and shoots me a quick glance. “Raine…”

“I promise this is the truth.” I take his hands in mine. “You know, when I was a kid, I wondered about that sometimes.”

“About what?” His hands tense, but he doesn’t pull them away.

“Why my brother took the trouble to keep me fed and warm and even did illegal street races to buy me clothes and toys and medicine when I needed them. I mean, my own parents didn’t care. I also wondered why he sent me away and stayed until my old man kicked him to the street. Then I realized that it’s because he loves me.”

“He’s your brother.”

“Yeah. But he didn’t choose me. I chose you, Jase. To be my family. Because you’re beautiful, and hot, and damn annoying sometimes, but also loyal and honest.”

One side of his mouth tips up in a half smile. “You think I’m hot.”

“That’s all you retained from everything I said?” I roll my eyes. “Seriously, J—”

He pushes me down on the sofa, and tangles our fingers together, raises our joined hands over my head. Yeah, it must have been a good dream. His hard-on is solid and hot, pressing against my hardening cock through the layers of fabric.

He leans over me to kiss me.

Oh yeah. His lips are soft, his tongue rough as he swipes it over mine. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, then lifts his head and gives me another endearing smile. “You want me.”

“So much,” I whisper.

“So whatcha gonna do about it, huh?”

Lots of things I wanna do to that smiling, wide mouth and that muscular body with all its ink and scars and bruises and glinting pieces of metal.

Pulling my hands free of his, I brush hair out of his face, then bury my fingers in the short, silky strands, tugging a little before letting go.

His hands slide up to either side of my head, and he watches me from under those long dark lashes. I wanna fuck him, kiss him, make him come again and again—but before I say a word, his stomach growls like something from a horror movie.

He laughs, startled. The sound is low and deep and happy.

“I guess what I’m gonna do is make dinner,” I mutter.

“Guess you are.”

“Come here,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him, pulling him down on top of me. I nuzzle his silky short hair. “I like hugging you. Do you mind?”

He doesn’t reply for a moment. Then he says softly, “No. No, I don’t mind at all.”

Jason steals a piece of the cheese I’m slicing and shoots me a wicked grin before sauntering back to the table where he’s cutting tomatoes for the sandwiches I’m making.

Call me Sandwich Master. It’s the one thing I really know how to prepare. But now my mind’s not on the food but on Jason’s tight ass. He’s standing there, gorgeous and apparently lost in his own thoughts, wielding the sharp knife like he’s fighting in a war. Going medieval on those tomatoes’ asses.

And we’re back to that ass…

“How was the event? Did it go well?” He stops cutting to wipe his forearm over his face, colorful ink shifting on his skin as his biceps bulge, and my mouth goes dry.

“Yeah, great.” I force myself to look down at the cheese I’m supposed to be slicing before I chop off a finger. “Lots of people came in, DeathMoth performed a few songs, the catering was perfect. We have that tattoo group from Chicago joining in the event. We’ll be doing a similar event with them over there in the next few months.”

“Soul Stain, right? Jesse Lee told me about them.”

“You talk to him lately?”

“Nah. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

Shit. I abandon the damn cheese, putting the knife down carefully. “My fault. You thought he didn’t trust you—”

“Not your fault.” He’s still attacking the tomatoes. “I wasn’t at my usual spot lately, and even so… better that way. Meeting with me is dangerous, with Simon watching me and all.”

My chest feels too tight. “We’ll stop Simon.”

A snort. “Yeah…”

“We will.” I grip his shoulder, and he puts the sharp knife down, glancing at me, a question in his eyes. I yank him to me, needing to feel his body on mine. “I talked with the guys. There was the Inked Brotherhood, and some friends of the Soul Stain people. They have connections to the Mob. They’ll take care of Simon, shut down the MC.”

His brows go up. “Mob. The Mafia? You’re shitting me.”

“The Russian Mob. Look, Jase, I’m serious about this. We’ll take care of it. But you need to tell me where the Club is. That’s all.”

He nods, silent.

“You’ll be safe. Trust me.”

He shakes himself free of my hold. “Will innocent people be hurt? How exactly does the Russian Mob shut down an MC? Will Simon die?”

“Are you…?” I frown. “Wait a sec. Are you worried about Simon after all he put you through, after he threatened you and your friends?”

“No, I’m not worried. Hell no.” His dark brows knit.

“Good.” A weight lifts off my chest. For a moment, I thought he’d tell me not to touch Simon, like some Stockholm syndrome reaction. The guy tortured him. He deserves a lifetime of pain for it. “He has to pay for what he put you through.”

Jason swallows so hard his throat clicks and looks away. “He’s my cousin. But it changes nothing.”

I nod, and pretend it’s news to me. “There’s something I have to ask you, Jase… Was it him who put the scars on you? Because then I’ll kill the bastard myself.”

His back goes rigid. He braces his hands on the table edge. “No. I only met him a few years ago. These are much older.”

“Okay.” I force myself to stay calm. “Was it your parents?”

A shudder runs through him. “No. I don’t know. Fuck, I can’t remember.”

Shit. “Are your folks still around?”

He shakes his head.

I reach for him but drop my hand before he sees it. Don’t push him more now, Raine. “Mine are crooks who would suck me and Ocean dry if they could, and God knows they’ve tried. They’ve never cared beyond themselves.” I force myself to keep going, looking for any signs of him relaxing. “So I didn’t have a stellar childhood by any stretch of the imagination. But there were kind people at the trailer park where I grew up, apart from my brother. Crazy Jo, before she got too crazy. Skinny Anny.” I let out a deep breath. “Livvy.”

He turns then, his gaze uncertain. “Show me,” he says.

“Show you what?”

Last time this was code for sex, but even as he closes the distance between us, shoves me up against the counter and pushes up my T-shirt I know it’s not that. “Let me see. Your scar.”

“Knock yourself out.”

His rough fingertips trace the upraised scar, then the words on my chest, over my pounding heart. Livvy’s name.

He draws back, lashes shadowing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” My voice is raw, like my feelings.

“Your friend.” He leans in, brushes his mouth over mine, presses his chest and his half-hard dick into me, and I’m lost in his taste. All too soon, he steps back, moving away again, his eyes distant. “I didn’t lose anyone. Didn’t have anyone to lose. Not that I can remember of. I don’t know much about loss, but I know about pain, so I’m sorry.”

Goddammit.

“Wait.” He says such heartbreaking things sometimes, and I’m not even sure he realizes. I open my arms. “Come back here.”

He shoots me a suspicious look. “What, we doing that hugging thing again?”

“Yeah. Told you. I like holding you.”

He frowns, and hell, he looks cute when he’s confused. He grumbles something I don’t catch, hesitates, but then he does comes over, and I fold him up in a tight hug, relieved. This is better. He’s getting used to me. To my touch. To gentleness.

“I’ll be doing this every day,” I say against his soft hair. This is a promise. “Hugging you, holding you. Every day, and every night. That’s what happens when you’re my boyfriend. When you let me be your family.”

“It does, huh?” he whispers, his face mashed to my shoulder, but his voice is small.

I lift one hand, stroke the back of his neck. He likes that, a shuddery sigh leaving his lips, and my throat goes tight. “Yeah.”

He eventually shifts, and I realize he’s getting fully hard, his cock pushing into my hip. He lifts his head and grins at me. “So, this boyfriend thing… what else does it mean? Like, do I get to fuck you, too?”

I take him on the sofa, from behind, sinking into him slowly, letting him feel me. He’s on all fours, rocking back, his muscular ass clenching around my cock.

“God. Raine.” He shudders as he leans back more, taking my cock in all the way. “So good.”

Wrapping an arm around his middle, I lean back, hauling him against me. My cock sinks in deeper, and his ass clenches again, milking me, drawing a groan from my throat. Even through the lubed condom I’ve put on, I feel the burning heat of his body.

Good? Just good? This is downright crazy. I’m about to shoot my load, and we’ve barely begun. Leaning against the backrest, I wrap my other hand around his throat, feeling him swallow, then trail my fingers up, over his chin, over his mouth. I slip two fingers into his mouth, and he moans around them, sucking.

Ah fuck. Electric shocks shoot from my fingertips straight to my balls, and I roll up my hips, thrusting into him. He bites lightly down into my flesh and my dick jerks.

Shit, not yet. I pull my fingers out, cup his jaw and tug until his head drops back on my shoulder. He’s panting, thighs trembling as he lifts up and sinks down on my hard-on. Another choked moan escapes him, and I wonder how it would feel if he fucked me, if I was the one impaled on his cock. How that pierced dick would feel inside me, stretching me, filling me up, driving me crazy with need.

Yeah, I’d bottom for him, even if I’ve never done it before in my life, and the thought makes me even harder.

“Raine.” His strangled whisper has me reaching around, stopping his hand from touching his cock. “Need to come.”

“Not yet.” I pull his hand back and lift it to his pierced nipple. “Play with this first.”

A low moan is my answer as he starts tugging on the piercing, but I feel the way his body responds, tensing and tightening around my dick.

My mouth opens, but I can’t find words for this pleasure, this wanting. It’s never been like this for me, ever. His body arches, his harsh breaths filling my ears, and suddenly I know I need to see his face. Have to see his expression when he comes, feel his dick pulsing between us.

“Jase.”

“What?” He’s trembling, and I know he’s so close he could come without either of us touching his dick. “Holy fuck...”

That as I slowly push him off my cock. “Turn around. Face me.”

“Why, what…?” I pull on his arm until he complies, stiffly turning to straddle me with his dick poking me in the chest and his legs folded up at my sides. “Dammit, what the fuck are you doing?”

“This.” I cup his face. “Love you, Jase.”

Not expecting him to answer—he never does—I reach between us, grab my condom-covered cock and push back into him.

His earrings glint when he shakes his head from side to side, baring his teeth, but he spreads his legs and lets me in. He groans and twists as he takes my cock, his hands sliding up my shoulders to loop behind my head, his back bowing.

His dick jumps between us, soaked in precum, the metal of his piercing warm against my skin.

“That’s right,” I grunt as he trembles, so fucking tight, so fucking hot around my cock, “this is it.”

His mouth is impossible to resist. I press our lips together, but he pulls back, mouth open, panting. His eyes close, dark lashes throwing shadows on his cheekbones. He rocks, those lean hips rising and falling as he rides me, and I remember the first time I fucked him, on the armchair, just like this.

And yet nothing like this at all. He’d been turned away from me, then, and I couldn’t see his face.

I can now.

Expressions play over his face as he moves—surprise, tension, pleasure. His brows dip over his eyes, a flush spreads on his cheeks, and his hands tighten at my nape as he rocks faster. His cock slides against my stomach, diamond-hard, leaving trails of moisture.

This time he’s feeling it all, the tension, the pleasure, the heat. His skin’s warm, his dick twitching.

“You feel me?” I breathe, and grip his hips to slow him down. “Feel this?”

“Goddammit,” he hisses, blunt fingernails digging into my back. “I feel you.”

“In here.” I inch a hand between us and tap on a firm pec, on top of his heart. “Feel it?”

His head dips forward, and he shudders. “Yeah.”

That quiet admission lights up my blood. I drop my hand to his hard-on and give it a squeeze that has him moaning loudly. I flick my thumb over the wetness of his cockhead and use the moisture to slide my fist down to the base, then back up, stroking him in time to my thrusts.

He’s rocking again, his ass massaging my cock, his breath hissing between his teeth. He’s lost in the rhythm of it, and that’s so fucking awesome, and so hot to see, but I want him in the moment, in the here and now.

With me.

His dick is soaked, so hard it has to hurt, and his eyes are scrunched shut as he fucks himself on my cock. He’s about to come, I feel it in the taut tension in every line of his body, and I’m about to fall with him.

“Jase, look at me.”

“Don’t stop,” he whispers. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t. Open your eyes.”

He blinks slowly, his lashes wet. His eyes are pitch black, the pupils dilated with desire. He meets my gaze and a jolt goes through him.

He comes with a cry, spilling over my hand, spraying our chests. I capture his gasps with my mouth as my cock jerks and I lose control, thrusting hard into him and holding, pumping my hips once, twice, and again.

Black spots dance in my eyes as I give his mouth one last lick and release his lips so we can both catch our breath.

He falls against me, boneless, and I gather him up in my arms, dropping a kiss on top of his head. “Okay?”

He whispers something I don’t catch.

I stroke his hair. “What was that?”

“This is better,” he whispers, this time the words crystal clear. “than any of my dreams of you.”