Vibrating with nervous energy and a boatload of testosterone, I pace my worn office floor as Rook settles behind my desk, lacing his fingers behind his head like he owns the joint. He didn’t stay too long after Zoe left, and had very little to say aside from asking about my uncle’s return. He was so jacked up over the situation that I didn’t mention I had just come back from meeting with Uncle Marty. The conversation was mostly one-sided as I told him everything I knew about Bender, and the incident leading up to his disappearance.

Zoe appears with a fresh pot of coffee. Don’t know how I stop myself from growling as I watch her top off Stone’s cup. It’s hard to give Rook my full attention when the anticipation of being alone with her later grows by the second. I can’t stop thinking about those long legs straddling me the night before, or her gorgeous tits in my face. After Rook left, I sat back down in that chair and jerked off to the memory of her dancing, focused on her lingering scent. I’ve never come that much without a chick in the room.

“Brooke called in an old favor with the Sheriff. They go way back…he’s the only one around here we can trust. She got him to hold off on Bender’s warrant for violating probation. And he hadn’t heard anything about an abandoned Rover anywhere in the metro area either,” Rook reports, jarring me from my thoughts. “Our best bet is to figure out who those guns belonged to, and go from there.”

“Congratulations,” I snigger. “You flew all this way to tell us what we already knew.”

Stone shoots me a dark look. “Has to be drug cartel. Who else would deal with that caliber of weapons?”

“The Martyrs of Mayhem are into that kind of thing,” Zoe offers, leaning against the desk. “They get their supply from a contact in the military, then turn around and sell them for three times the cost.”

Rook raises a lone thick eyebrow, grinning her way. Even though he’s happily married, I still want to drop his ass for the flirtatious bullshit. “Oh yeah? How exactly are you informed of MC practices, sweetheart?”

Zoe shrugs like she’s immune to that kind of behavior. “They’re always hiring girls from Pinky’s to dance at their clubhouse. They don’t hold back on business talk while we’re there.” Her eyes dart over to where I stand watch, fuming over the idea of her dancing for a bunch of rowdy bikers. Makes me want to set fire to the place. She shrugs again. “Once they get shit-faced, you start to hear stuff.”

“That may turn out to be a viable lead,” Rook says, stroking his jaw. “They might know something about Bender. Will you be dancing there again any time soon? You could be our way in.”

Hell no. “She quit that shithole last night,” I snap. “Find some other fuckin’ way.”

Giving me a sidelong glance, Zoe clears her throat. “Actually, I only told my boss I was taking a break. I wasn’t sure how long you’d want me around.”

“The fuck?” Does she not think I’m a man of my word? No way in hell I’m letting her go back there! Vision tunneled, I open my mouth again with the intention to ream her a new one when there’s a knock on the office door.

Our new drummer strolls in with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, grinning in Zoe’s direction. Clothes wrinkled, hazel eyes bloodshot, long dark hair a wild mess, it’s a safe bet that he just rolled out of some chick’s bed per usual.

Morrison was the first to answer the band’s ad. I was sold after he jammed along with us on just one song, even though his personality was a little more laid back than I preferred. But he’s earned his place by playing his heart out at every gig, never missing a practice, and never complaining about anything. Even when we’re not on stage, he’s usual hanging out with us. In a way, he filled Rook’s place in our crew, making it odd as shit to see them both in the same room.

“What’s goin’ on in here?” he asks in a mildly amused tone. His eyes scan the rest of the room before meeting mine. “Why so serious?”

Rook’s eyes fall on me, waiting for an introduction, and guilt slices through my chest. It’s the kind of situation I was hoping to avoid as long as he was back. Scratching my beard, I motion to our new visitor. “Rook, this is Morrison.”

“My parents were big Doors fans,” Morrison explains with a crooked grin, moving over to Rook and shaking his hand. “I think they hoped I’d headline a band like Ryker. Imagine their disappointment when I became the drummer.” He drops Rook’s hand before addressing me. “You wouldn’t answer your phone. Just wanted to check in to make sure we’re still on for that gig tonight.”

Shit. With Bender’s disappearance, I completely forgot we’re scheduled to play in St. Paul. Without our bassist, we’ll be forced to cancel. At least it’s a win for me. I won’t have to back out of my plans with Zoe.

Tension crackles through the room as Morrison’s question hangs in the air. Rook’s as stiff as a board when he side-eyes him. “You drummin’ for In Disarray?”

With a slow shake of my head, I clench my teeth together. “It’s impossible to play without a drummer, Rook, and Trask has been gone for over five years. You thought the rest of us would give up on the band just because you did?”

Hands balled into fists at his sides, Rook’s nostrils flare. I brace myself, waiting for him to knock me on my ass. Back in the day, he wouldn’t have hesitated. To my surprise, he springs from the chair and storms out of the office.

Morrison grimaces once he's gone. “Shit. Didn’t know you hadn’t told him.”

Stone lifts one shoulder. “He’ll live.”

Meeting Zoe’s curious stare, I blow out a long, deep breath. Can’t say I blame Rook for his reaction. Replacing Trask was hard on all of us. And nothing has been resolved since Rook moved away, absolutely nothing has changed. The guy who stabbed Trask was given another five years on a life sentence he was already set to serve, and no one took the fall for ordering the hit. If Rook still believes Uncle Marty was involved, I’m no longer so sure he’s wrong.

“This shit has to stop,” I mutter to myself before trailing after him.

Down the hallway, I’m met with the warm buzz of deep strings plucking out a bluesy little melody. I head into the band’s newest practice room, finding Rook with a bass in hand. After all these years, watching him play in a new environment does a lot of weird shit to my head. He was always the most confident with his instrument, and that clearly hasn’t changed with time. Didn’t realize how much I missed seeing him in his element.

There was a time the four of us felt like we were on top of the world as a band. Some days Trask and Rook weren’t sure where they’d get their next meal, but their worries all disappeared the second the music started to flow. The band was always therapeutic when the rest of the world seemed to have gone to shit. I guess it still is, because it’s helped ease the pain of losing Trask. Sometimes, when my back’s to Morrison, I imagine it’s our old friend playing.

Arms crossed, I lean against the doorframe. “Remember the first time we all jammed together?”

“Trask was so stoned he laughed the entire goddamn time.” His lips curl with amusement. “It was hard to keep going when he was fuckin’ up the beat.”

“I miss that fucker whenever I pick up a guitar. Almost as much as I miss your smartass pointing out every time we mess up.”

Rook’s eyes drag up to meet mine. “You’re doing a shit job of honoring his memory.”

“Because we hired another drummer?”

“Because you wouldn’t fuckin’ believe me!” He drops the bass back on its stand, face turning crimson. Then he comes at me, eyes dark and narrowed. “Your piece of shit uncle went missing right after Trask was murdered! How can you still think he’s innocent?”

“I don’t!” I shout back, moving in close enough to deck him. “Not anymore!”

He blinks rapidly, shuffling back. Voice calmer, he asks, “Since when?”

I smooth my fingers over my beard, looking beyond him to the empty drum-kit. “I met with him last night, shortly before you stopped over.”

“The fuck? Why didn’t you say something before?”

“Because you were already worked up over his return, and I was scared you’d go after him. I didn’t want you to put yourself in that kind of situation now that you have a family.”

Rook blinks a few times, his expression slack with blatant surprise. Did he think I stopped giving a shit about him? “What’d he have to say?”

“He claims the feds are after him for something unrelated to the harvesting ring. He was disappointed that I didn’t take over his business while he was gone, and thought I should carry on his legacy. I told him to go fuck himself.”

His eyes narrow. “Is he back for good?”

“Don’t know. I honestly couldn’t stand to be in the room with him any longer. Seems convenient he came back around the same time Ben went missing. That’s part of the reason why I’m worried you may have been right about him.” I meet his baffled expression and huff. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, Rook. For everything. Maybe I didn’t believe you after Trask died because I couldn’t face the fact that I was related to a monster. Maybe I didn’t want to accept that my own flesh and blood could’ve arranged to have one of the only people I gave a shit about murdered. Whatever bullshit reasons I had festered with time. We both know I’m stubborn as hell, but I should’ve reached out sooner. I don’t want to go through another fuckin’ day knowing you hate me. Five years of wondering whether or not one of my brothers was living a good life was enough punishment to last a lifetime.”

He pauses long enough to tilt his head. “You expect me to forget everything that happened between us?”

“Hell no. I made a mistake, and I’ll own up to it. But I’m hoping we can put our differences aside to find my brother. Maybe someday I can even come out to meet your kid without you kicking my ass.”

“Not so sure I won’t still kick your ass.” Though he’s still not giving me his usual shit-eating grin, I take the backhanded comment as a good sign. The muscles in his jaw release as his entire body relaxes. He gestures to the drums. “This Morrison guy any good?”

“He’ll never live up to Trask, but he’s talented.”

His eyebrows lift. “Who’s playin’ bass?”

“Ben. He taught himself after he got out of juvie.” Like the rest of us, he figured being a part of something he’s passionate about would keep him out of trouble. It seemed to be working until he disappeared.

Rubbing at his face with both hands, Rook mutters something under his breath before once again meeting my stare. “Where you playin’ tonight?”

“Purple Reign. Taking the gig was a crap shoot. The bar changed hands last year, and the new owner doesn’t have the same connections as Jimmy. They’ve had a hard time booking well-known bands when they come to play at the Xcel. But I know the guy who took over pretty well—he’s decent. And we’ve gained a bit of a local following, so you never know.”

His eyes don’t quite meet mine when he says, “I’ll fill in, if you’ll have me.”

I wet my lips, waiting for him to change his mind, or admit he’s only fucking with me. It’s way more than I could’ve hoped for when asking his forgiveness. When he doesn’t crack, I nod. “You sure?”

“I’d have to run through the set list.” With a lift of his shoulder, he finally grins. “I wouldn’t hate the chance to jam with you and Stone one last time.”

The edges of my mouth bend to match his grin. “We basically play the same damn songs as we did five years ago. And can’t say I’d hate it either.”

Chin lifted, his expression all at once turns grave. “You hear anything from Sasha since the funeral?”

“No.” I pause to flinch with the mention of Trask’s little sister. Rook and his social worker/girlfriend kept Sasha hidden after Trask was arrested on the bullshit murder charges, convinced my uncle was after both siblings. When she was put into Witness Protection, they were told she’d be free to leave when she turned eighteen. “You?”

“Not a word.” He shakes his head with sadness creeping into his tight features. “Always thought she’d come back to find us after she graduated. Every damn day I worry she got sucked back into the South Side ways. It’s hard not to fear the worst when we haven’t heard anything, considering we were all she had for family.”

My heart clenches in agreement. “She could’ve found a better life, and it was too painful to return. Or maybe she heard you and Brooke left the South Side, and decided there was nothing left for her here. You two weren’t exactly easy to track down.”

His lips press into a rigid line. “You sayin’ you tried?”

“Several times. Finally found something online about you and your wife receiving a humanitarian award through the women’s shelter you set up in Stamford. It’s honorable what you two are doing.”

He answers with a deep grunt. “Pay’s shit, but we both feel an obligation to try and save anyone going through the same hell we did.”

“The South Side could really use a place like that. You might’ve noticed things haven’t improved any since you left.”

“Even if we had the money to start a shelter here, I’m not so sure I could get Brooke to come back. She fell in love with the East Coast. We spend all our free time in Manhattan, and a few weeks every summer in Montauk. Best part? I haven’t slept with a gun under my pillow in years. It’s peaceful out there. I won’t have to worry about my kid getting mugged on the way to school.”

Jealousy surges through me. At least one of us made it out. He found a remarkable woman, and lives a good life, free of violence. Most days I’m merely thankful I’m alive, and not behind bars. For a confusing moment, I picture Zoe waiting in the other room, and wonder if I could have the same kind of life with someone like her.

Shaking her from my thoughts, I offer my hand to my old friend. “I’m happy for you, Rook. Means a lot that you came back.”

He surprises me by throwing his arm around my neck and slapping my back. “We’ll find him.”

I don’t answer, because I can’t. The lump in my throat is too damn big to swallow.

* * *

Near the end of rehearsal with the guys, I catch Zoe watching from the back of the room. Watching me. Perched on a pile of crates, she holds the shop’s cordless phone, golden legs that go on for miles crossed as she all but devours me with a wanton expression. Not sure how I finish off the set without unmanning myself. Those big doe eyes and her tight body were made to seduce men. Even though I still don’t like it, she was wise to choose a profession where she could put her best assets to their maximum potential.

I haven’t had a chance to explain that we won’t be going to my place after closing the shop. Between running through songs, and devising the next step in finding my brother—one that involves Rook doing more leg work with Bender’s girlfriend, and digging around a little more on practices of the Martyrs of Mayhem—we haven’t had a minute alone. With any luck, she’ll agree to come to the gig, and my place after. My balls clench with the idea of finally having her alone.

Stone hollers in a dark sound as we’re packing up. “That was better than fucking!” I turn to see him slapping hands with Rook. “Good to have you back, brother.”

Morrison rises behind the drum-kit, laughing while rolling his eyes. “If you think that was better than fucking, you’re doing it wrong.”

“Load this shit up, boneheads,” I tell the guys. Glancing over my shoulder, I discover Zoe’s gone. “I’ll be right back.”

Rook’s dark chuckles fall behind me as I’m leaving. “Still a bossy motherfucker.”

Ignoring the heckling that follows, I make my way past three employees hard at work in front of the shop. They bust their asses without fail to make a decent living while the other clowns are jacking off in back. I make a note to give them a raise just before I find Zoe behind the service desk, visibly trembling and pale.

Anger coats my veins with the sight of the man standing across from her.

Terrance Fisher has made a rare appearance.

In his signature fedora and a white sports jacket, you’d think the shady bastard was headed to Cuba rather than slumming the streets of the South Side. Despite being a couple inches shorter than me, my uncle’s former henchman is intimidating as hell with the kind of jacked-up face that makes kids cry. And I know the level of darkness he’s capable of delivering. My stomach surges when I wonder what he said to upset Zoe. Someone at the club must’ve told him my uncle’s back, and that Zoe was somehow involved.

As I start for them, I take note of his two thugs standing just outside the door. If I threaten the new, unofficial South Side King in any way, they’ll drop my ass in seconds. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve tangled with them, and I doubt it would be anything close to the last.

“What the fuck are you doin’ in my shop?” I demand, squaring up beside him.

His disfigured face, scarred from years of violence, twists with a maniacal smile. “Just catching up with an old friend’s daughter. I wasn’t aware that Miss Jackson was under your employ until I paid a visit to her little sister.”

He was at her house?

“Calling yourself a friend of Freddie’s is a bit of a stretch,” Zoe snarls through clenched teeth.

Seeing her unsettled really messes me up inside. “What do you want with her, Fisher?”

The prick continues smiling, like we’re carrying on a pleasant conversation. “I was hoping to get a lead on her father’s whereabouts.”

Shoulders dropping, I thank fuck it has nothing to do with my uncle. Then my blood heats a little more when I remember the shit Zoe had to say about her spineless parents. “Whatever business you have with her old man, it has nothing to do with his daughters. Leave them out of it.”

“Or what?” He leans in, his twisted smile deepening. “It sounds an awful lot like you’re threatening me, Blackwood. And for what? A piece of South Side trash who earns her keep by sticking her tits in men’s faces to get them off? You sure you want to go there?”

Adrenaline spikes my heart. In any other situation, I would’ve laid anyone flat for calling her that, but I’d be lucky if I walked away without getting shot. My fingers flex helplessly at my sides. “I strongly suggest you get the fuck outta here before I add another scar to that ugly mug. Go back to whatever hole you’ve been hiding in, Fisher. Leave Zoe and her sister the fuck alone.”

One of his thugs perks to attention, looking ready to repeat the pistol whipping he gave me not too long ago. But Terrance holds out a hand, keeping him at bay while releasing a dark laugh. “You’ve made your point. But Mr. Jackson owes me a sizable chunk of change.” Glancing Zoe’s way, his tongue slides over his lips. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to collect on the debt.”

Rage tightens my throat. I’ll die before I let him lay one finger on Zoe. “Did you not hear me? Leave! Now!”

Terrance swipes a mint from the dish meant for customers, eyes hard on mine while he casually slips it from the wrapper. “Always a pleasure doing business with Marty’s failed protege. Be sure to give me a call if you happen to remember your uncle’s whereabouts.” As he’s shuffling backwards, he pops the mint into his mouth, and throws Zoe a wink. “Be seeing you around, my dear.”

Nostrils flaring, I follow him out to the parking lot, eyes trained on the bastard until he’s in the back of a town car, and it pulls out into the street.

Zoe lets out a quiet huff behind me. “You didn’t have to get involved.”

“The hell I didn’t! That man’s a sadistic fuck!” I finally turn to her, anger instantly thawing with the site of her wavering expression. The muscles in my arms burn to wrap around her. “You okay?”

She wipes at the corner of her eyes, laughing while looking away. “Freddie’s a bastard. I wouldn’t put anything past him. He probably told Terrance I’d pay off his debt.”

“How much does he owe?”

Her big brown eyes hold mine as she shrugs half-heartedly. “That’s a good question. I’m guessing it’s a lot the way Terrance isn’t backing down. Freddie has a habit of gambling with money he doesn’t have. I’m surprised he hasn’t offered our house up as collateral.”

“Next time Terrance tries to make contact with either you or your sister, you call me. Right away.”

“What are you going to do about it?” The smile on her lips dies when I scowl.

“Whatever it takes to keep him the hell away from you.”

As her cheeks blush pink, she crosses her arms underneath her breasts. “The band sounds great. Guess we won’t be gettin’ together later.”

“Still can.” I close the distance between us with one long stride, running my fingertips along the back of her silky soft arms. I’m all at once hard when her curvy body pushes into mine, and her thick lips part with a sharp breath. “Come catch our gig. I’ll take you to my place after.”

“I want to…more than anything…but I should check in with my sister,” she whispers among a ragged breath. “Feed her supper. Make sure she isn’t committing any felonies.”

Jesus, this woman is going to be the death of me. Her hard tits push through her shirt with every breath, begging to be sucked. I want to be buried deep inside her already, erasing any unease left from Terrance’s visit. “Go home and get her. I’ll buy you burgers. We’ll drop her off on the way back to my place.”

Her chin dips with the smallest of nods, causing my cock to twitch in excitement. By the end of the night, I intend to be buried balls deep in this gorgeous woman.