The mood back at the clubhouse was celebratory. Not one injury or complication. Shit went smooth as silk and that’s because I was in charge. Yeah, I might be a cocky fucker, but I had reason to be. There’s a rationale behind why Rafe made me Vice Pres once I was a full patch with the RRMC.

I got shit done, and I didn’t fuck it up.

Brothers came home to their old ladies and families. That was important.

As I entered the clubhouse, the jovial atmosphere burned and clawed at my thinly veiled composure. On the surface I was cool and collected, the same Edge that always stalked these halls, without giving any indication of how I truly felt. Caged and backed into a corner, I felt chained to this life but that wasn’t the problem.

I could live with my choices and the RRMC.

My problem centered with Rafe. My asshole Pres.

And the fucker knew it.

Rafe took every opportunity to remind me that I wasn’t free, and I owed him. As long as he was club Pres I would constantly look over my shoulder . . .

But the asshole better look over his too because I was only biding my time.

Sooner or later I’d be able to seek justice for his betrayal and lies. Someday I’d get my answers.

That thought brought me back to the warehouse and those last minutes with Akando. He knew something, and I intended to find out exactly what it was. Too many secrets were anchored in my past and for once I just wanted the goddamn truth.

Lost in my anger and frustration, I didn’t see Rafe until it was too late. My back was slammed into the wall, just feet from my bedroom in the main hall, conveniently around the corner from the loud and drunken party not far away. Rafe’s hands were fisted around the neck of my shirt as he attempted to cut off my airway.

Dumb fucker.

“I heard you were looking for answers again Edge.”

His sneer was unmistakable along with the hatred and loathing in his voice. There was no love lost between us. Our arrangement was born of necessity, not respect. Keep your friends close . . . and your enemies closer.

I smiled lazily, ignoring the urge to cough or choke. Without warning, I leaned forward and headbutted him as hard as I could, right on the nose. He dropped his hands from my shirt but ended up pummeling my gut a few times as we staggered. I blocked one of the hits and swung my fist in a perfectly timed left hook.

Old southpaw.

I’d trained hard to be able to hit like that, with just enough accuracy, speed, and strength to take someone down but not inflict permanent damage. Rafe was a fool to try to take me on now. I’d trained faster and harder than most guys too and I seemed a natural. Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t the only one. Most of my MC brothers were decent boxers. We could brawl with the best and take hits that would knock a normal guy out cold. And we’re strong, resilient, tough fighters.

All except Rafe. Maybe if he stayed sober long enough, he could train and clean his act up, but I doubted it. Stupid fucker. I pulled my punch a little so I didn’t hurt him too much but enough so he knew I meant business. Don’t get me wrong I wanted to see this asshole get what he deserved but it wasn’t the right time.

For now, I had to protect myself.

Rafe laughed and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt, blood coursing down the front as he sniffed, “You’re getting better, quicker. Good for you Edge.”

I didn’t acknowledge his words but kept my fight stance, ready for more. Don’t ever let your guard down. I learned that shit the hard way. Those first few years were brutal teachers and the scars on my body proved my endurance and stamina as well as my ability to adapt.

“No more tonight. You did good kid so go get some pussy and celebrate. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

I didn’t doubt this would involve some serious shit later. Rafe didn’t like it when I tried to dig into the MC’s past and the connection to the Outlaws. Too bad. He didn’t have a choice because I was going to do whatever the fuck I wanted anyway.

“Bro, where you been?”

R.J. clapped his hand on my shoulder and I smiled, breathing slowly through my nose until I was calm.

“Had a little talk with Rafe.”

He frowned but didn’t ask what it was about. Good. I hate explanations, “Let’s get out of here. Ghost wants to see if he pick up some chicks at the bar. Valan and Jake are getting antsy. They think GQ will snag all the ladies.”

I snorted, “He probably will. Pretty fucker.”

R.J. laughed as he pulled me from the clubhouse, swinging his fist into my side and we wrestled like we did when we were kids, knocking each other into walls on the way out. Both of us out of breath and grinning like fools, we straddled our hogs. Seconds later the loud heavy roar of our bikes filled the air as we headed to our favorite bar, Crazy Eights.

You’d think it was a hardcore biker bar, but it wasn’t. That’s why we liked it.

The front doors were made of heavy wood and scraped the rough, uneven floor when you entered. Loud music and the sound of dozens of voices met you instantly as well as the smell. Like licorice and fried food. The main focal point was a large rectangular carved bar that wrapped around the room and was shaped like the number eight. Bartenders stood in the two circles, passing out drinks, and taking orders.

A large kitchen sat at the northern end, serving up appetizer type foods like fries and chicken wings. About sixteen pool tables were scattered around the outskirts of the room while wooden tables and chairs hovered in the center. Everything was in multiples of eight. Interesting concept.

No live band tonight but the jukebox was loudly blaring out tunes. A stage had been set up on the far end, but it wasn’t large. Entertainment was usually only Thursday through Saturday nights. A dance area, really nothing more than a huge tiled square floor occupied the space in front of the stage, and off to the right was equipment set up for a D.J. Strobe lights dangled from above the dance floor, where it would be lit up as the gyrating bodies pressed close together to the beat of the music.

I could see how this place appealed to both the normal and biker crowd. People were milling about all over the room, shooting pool, drinking beers, smoking cigarettes, and hanging around the jukebox making selections.

I ushered my guys toward the only open pool table which had suddenly cleared just for our use. We never had to ask. When we walked in the door, a pool table would always open up. Yeah, it’s part of the biker persona and the culture of fear that kept the locals at a distance, but I didn’t give a fuck.

We weren’t here to make trouble. The owner was a brother and we kept our promise not to start shit in his bar. I picked up the chalk and decided to break, taking the first game with R.J.

About two hours later we’d drank enough liquor and beer to kill a person with alcohol poisoning but I knew my limit, and my brothers’. Leaning against the wall, I tilted my long neck bottle back and gulped a few swigs. I had a nice buzz going, almost enough to make me forget about the shit from earlier tonight.

I wish things hadn’t gone to hell about twenty seconds later, but life is like that.

I had the worst fucking luck imaginable.

My eyes flicked about the room, taking in the scene. I was always on alert. It was a hard habit to break, I’d saved my own ass more than a few times by keeping a close eye on my surroundings.

The front doors swung open with force, the heavy wood banging against the solid walls and cracking with a finality that seemed like some rabid harbinger of death. I immediately recognized the guys who entered. Their leathers bore the Satan’s Outlaw's emblem.

“Edge . . .” R.J. whispered, ticking his head in their direction so slightly I might have missed it if I wasn’t already clued in.

“Chill, let them make the first move.”

Ghost was next to me on my right only a few seconds later. R.J. stayed on my left, but I saw his hand hover over his shirt ready to lift and grab his gun at the first sign of trouble. Valan and Jake kept to their game of pool. GQ stayed just slightly to my six, his arms around two hot blondes, one of which had been fondling his junk all night. I swear that fucker gets laid ten times more than any of the rest of us, but I saw him stiffen slightly, so I knew he had seen the Outlaws too. In all outward appearance you’d never know we were ready to rumble, but that’s how that shit is supposed to look.

The next five minutes will be forever ingrained in my memory.

The seven members of the Outlaws strode forward with purpose in our direction at the exact same moment the front doors of the bar opened again. I blinked. What I saw next defied logic. Frozen to the spot, my beer halfway to my lips, in total disbelief and shock, I stilled, not moving a muscle.

Are you shitting me? How is this happening? Where did she come from?

What the fuck was she doing here!?

My girl, my lost love and my deepest regret stood next to a group of girlfriends fully oblivious to my presence or reaction and in total and complete danger.

I hadn’t seen her in four years.

“Fuck,” I whispered, the beer slipping through my fingers and falling to the floor with a shatter.

R.J. saw her next, his own jaw dropping open and gaping like a fish out of water, “Rae.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, that was my first mistake, but it certainly wouldn’t be my last. Had I been watching I would have seen the knife that withdrew from my nemesis’ hand and his quickened steps. I’d been at odds with Bryce ‘Killer’ Hutchinson since middle school (yeah he has a stupid name and nickname). We hated each other, but the roots of that hatred had much more to do with how bad we fucked with each other more than anything else.

He was a dick.

I was shoved to the side as Ghost blocked Bryce’s intentional attempt to gut me with his knife. The blade sliced into Ghost’s forearm but wasn’t deep enough to make him pause. Without hesitating, his elbow met Bryce’s chin the same moment I snapped into action. Before I could think it through, the five of us ended up in a brawl with the seven of them.

I always liked low odds. Maybe I’m just the underdog but I liked proving people wrong, and I enjoyed shocking them when they found out how strong and fast I was, like in the ring. Boxing had lots of perks. Not many fucked with me once they saw I could kick some serious ass, even less when they found out I was a member of the RRMC. Toss in the fact that I was smart and educated, I was lethal.

Right in the thick of things, throwing kicks and punches, I noticed Bryce recognize Rae and a devilish smile curved his lips. Only a second later my eyes met her startled brown irises, wide with shock.

Baby.

With that one look, so intense and heated, I knew I still owned her heart.

Tonight she’d know she still owned mine too.

Bryce broke free of Jake’s hold and ran in her direction. I’m not sure how I made it to her before he did but my only thought was that I had to reach her first. I moved so fast I hardly registered the motion. There was something odd about the way my body jolted forward, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. In a split-second decision, I tackled Bryce to the floor, raising my fist and punching him as hard as I could hoping to knock him out.

While we grappled on the floor, the entire bar erupted in chaos.

Fights were breaking out all over as my brothers tried not to involve any citizens, but it was near impossible. The Outlaws were brutal, using more than fists and heavily booted feet in their attacks. I witnessed several sharp blades flying through the air. I heard a grunt and then a scream and lifted my eyes as one of the Outlaws grabbed Rae, a blade pressed to her slender throat.

I don’t really know what happened next.

I think I roared like a wild fucking animal and shoved through bodies, using every ounce of strength I possessed to reach her, charging like a goddamn bull. Her frightened whimper increased my rage, and I felt the wild beast inside me thirst for fucking blood.

I saw red.

Nobody was going to hurt my old lady.

The next thing I knew I was on the ground, the stupid fucker beneath me as I let loose. Rae was huddled with her friends, crying, and calling my name but I couldn’t stop.

“Pete!” Fuck, she was the only one that called me by my real name anymore. It nearly brought me back from the . . . edge, but screw this shit. She was the most important person in my life.

I had to save her. I had to make sure this fucker didn’t go after her again. I had to –

“Edge!”

Jake and R.J. yanked me off the guy as I dripped his blood from my knuckles and heaved, my chest tight with the lack of oxygen. It’s a wonder I didn’t have a fucking heart attack. Pumped full of adrenaline and seething anger, I was a ticking time bomb. I fought them off, cursing and shouting, trying to run for Rae. Her doe-like brown eyes were like smooth melted chocolate and seriously frightened . . .

Of me.

Fuck!

The front doors burst open and cops filed into the bar, guns drawn. Someone must have called. No doubt the presence of two rival MC’s amped shit up a bit. I was shoved to the ground with the rest of my brothers and the Outlaw MC members, as well as several rowdy citizens. Cuffed and trying to crane my head around to find my girl, I nearly panicked.

I couldn’t find her.

Where the fuck was Rae?

It wasn’t until I was shoved roughly into the back of a squad car that I caught a glimpse of her, her slim frame illuminated in the dark misty night by blue and red flashing lights. The rain had soaked her to the bone and she was wrapped in a blanket, near a few of her friends, crying and trembling, shaking her head at an officer as he indicated she should get in the waiting ambulance.

For a few brief seconds our eyes met . . .

And all I saw was her face pinched in pain.

My heart nearly stopped.

The words ‘I love you’ died on my tongue as I whispered her name and she turned away, the tears glistening on her pale cheeks. I knew at that moment that nothing I could say or do would change the way she thought of me. Her gaze spoke the words even if she never voiced them aloud.

Monster.

She was right.

I was a fucking monster, a demon, a broken man with nothing left to lose.

And now I knew I was every bit the haunted and dangerous criminal I had become.

Edge.

My name and my fate.

That’s where I lived and played, where I was dumped and broken, where I’d continue to stay until this life finally claimed me . . . and only then would I be free.