The common room was full of women when Sam and I finally left the kitchen.

Looking them over, I wondered if it was the weekly book club meeting, but no one who ever read Tolstoy dressed in leopard print boob tubes.

Suddenly, I was the odd one out, though I’d always skewed a little to the side of any group I was in. I was the tomboy with my combat boots and sour disposition. I would rather sit with the guys and hash it out, but around here, the segregation between the sexes was as black and white as ever.

Sam wandered into the center of the fray without a care in the world. These were her people much more than the men were. With the men, she’d rushed around trying to please them, and with the other women, she was just…present.

“Sloane, c’mon,” Sam said, waving me over.

At the mention of my name, the group stopped their chatter and looked up. Five pairs of eyes zeroed in on me in various shades of curiosity, and not all of them were friendly.

“That’s Kelly, Shondra, Emily, Raquel, and Sierra,” she went on, introducing them all. Blonde hair, chestnut, blonde, red, and black. “This is Sloane.”

Some of them smiled, but mostly, they pouted and glared, giving me the once-over. Probably determining the threat level.

Oh, shit, how do I relate to other women? Oh, that was right, I didn’t know how. What did they talk about? Makeup, boys, what bitch they had it in for this week… Uh, that bitch was probably me.

Sitting beside Sam, I returned the appraising glares, making my own judgment and storing it for later. First impressions weren’t always an accurate indicator of someone’s personality. Their actions, rather than their words, would betray them in the end. Let’s see what these bitches thought.

“You know how to make an entrance,” Raquel said, blatantly looking me over. I was sans-makeup, wearing a pair of jean shorts and a stonewashed T-shirt with a panther printed on the front, and my trusty pair of steel-capped combat boots. I was obviously not stripper enough for her tastes. At least I had smooth skin.

“The last time I saw a woman stand up to Harley it didn’t end well,” Shondra declared. Smiling sweetly at Sam, she added, “No offense, Sammy.”

Yeah, right. It wasn’t ending well for her on a daily basis by the looks of it. Some friends they were. I had to keep reminding myself that this place and these people weren’t good. They thrived on the power of fear and violence. Even the women were embroiled in their own psychological warfare, all scrambling for a place at the top of the pack. Somehow, I had to get to the pinnacle and stay there.

“I don’t let a man define my worth,” I said, staring Shondra down. “I’m the only person who has that right. Same for you.”

“Feminist crap,” Emily scoffed. “The only worth around here is keeping our men happy.”

“My gag reflex is worth its weight in gold,” Kelly said with a giggle.

“Deep throat often, do you?” Sierra asked.

“Every night.”

“I bet your man grabs your hair and forces you to suck,” I declared, much to Sam’s shock. “If you want to or not.” The women fell silent and glanced at one another. “Next time you’ve got your man’s cock in your mouth, remember who’s got the ability to bite down.”

“What’s she trying to say?” Emily asked. “We don’t know how to please our men?”

“What I’m saying is you’ve got more power over a man’s cock than you realize. If he’s your man, then he’s got no place forcing you to do anything. You’re there of your own free will, right? Then you fuck him. You go down on him. You ride him. Put him in you. Then see who’s got the power.”

Their expressions changed as they thought over what I’d just told them. Raquel got an especially devilish look on her face, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

“I couldn’t try it with Harley,” Sam whispered so the others wouldn’t hear. “I’m not like them.” Her cheeks reddened, making her bruise stand out even more.

“I wouldn’t advise it,” I replied, hating how the others laughed at her violent situation. “There’s a time and a place, Sam. Everything comes around…”

Movement in the doorway pulled my attention. My gaze met Chaser’s, and a surge of heat flowed through my body. I wanted to run to him and throw myself into his arms, but I sat still.

He was standing in the common room, looking sexy as hell in his jeans and tight black T-shirt, watching us talk among ourselves. How long had he been there? Long enough to hear me talking about fucking that was for sure.

“Chaser,” I said, nodding. Bland, indifferent, frosty. Hopefully convincing.

He narrowed his eyes and turned his back, crossing the room. He was limping, favoring his right leg. When he disappeared, the maw that had opened in his absence, split open again. We’d been apart for less than a day, and I was already floundering without him.

“You really spent all that time alone with him?” Kelly asked, flicking her blonde tresses.

“Gossip in this place is out of control,” I muttered, my gaze still on the door Chaser had disappeared through.

“There’s a lot about you,” Emily declared. “Care for a game of truth or dare?”

“We’re not in grade school, Em,” Raquel said with a pout.

“Is it true you ran away?” Shondra asked, curling her lip maliciously.

“I escaped,” I said in an even tone, my face giving nothing away.

“Why?”

“I was going to be sold.”

“Sold for what?”

“Sexual slavery.”

Shondra backed away slightly, shocked and trying to hide it. Whether they believed me was another story entirely.

“I can see why you went with Chaser,” Kelly said. “That guy is all man. Did he fuck you?”

“I think you mean did she fuck him?” Shondra rolled her eyes.

“I went with him because it was that or wind up dead in a gutter someplace,” I shot back. “I’m a Marini, and nobody puts me in a corner.” Kind of like Baby from that movie.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone’s out to get Fortitude,” I said, the half-truth rolling off my tongue so smoothly it surprised even me. “If I don’t do something, then a lot of people will get fucked up. I don’t have a lot of love for Marini, that gossip is true, and we have a lot of shit to work out, but I’m not into sitting back while innocent people get killed. Especially when I can do something about it.” The women looked between one another, trying to decide what to do. “I’ve been away a long time, and I know I have a lot of work to do to earn your trust, but this is my home. This is where I grew up. I’m not going to let anything destroy it.”

They didn’t look entirely convinced, but I knew it would take time. I had to play their game.

“I trust the men,” Emily declared. “They know how to protect what’s theirs.”

“I’m sure they do,” I replied. “But so do I.”

“Did you really kill someone?” Sam asked, her voice barely a decibel above a whisper. “At breakfast, you said…”

All eyes were on me.

“There were two of them,” I began slowly. “Chaser got one, but the other… I shot him in the head.”

“He owes you,” Kelly said, giving me yet another clue who her obsessive crush was.

“Kel, if he owed you, you’d use it to make him fuck you,” Raquel said, rolling her eyes.

“Duh,” the blonde drawled.

“What about Stewie?”

“What about him?” She battered her eyelashes.

“We don’t owe each other anything,” I said, curling my lip. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re even.”

“How can you not be attracted to him?” Kelly asked, looking completely scandalized. “Are you a lesbian?”

“Sometimes I think that would be easier.” I laughed, shaking my head.

Emily giggled and held up her hands. “You’re hot, Sloane, but I like cock.”

“You wouldn’t experiment?” Shondra asked. “I have. Hopper wanted to watch another woman—”

“TMI, Sha! Shut your mouth!” Raquel screeched.

“Hopper? I remember him.” I tried to recall some of the names of the other men I’d known. “Vinnie,” I said, clicking my fingers. “He was always good value. Is he still around?”

“He’s in the slammer,” Shondra said. “Five years.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Willy?”

“He works in the garage,” Emily said.

“Jones, Bucket, Gasket…”

“Bucket kicked it,” Raquel said. “Someone from the Venturas MC shot him. It’s still a sore point, so I wouldn’t go around yapping about it.”

“Gasket runs the garage,” Sam said. “He convinced Marini to let him open it a few years ago.”

“Really?” I smiled, remembering how Gasket was one of the better men to ride with Fortitude. He’d always comforted me when he found me crying after my parents had been fighting and always had a present for me on my birthday and Christmas. He had to be at least sixty years old by now.

“Yeah, really,” Shondra replied, giving me attitude.

“So what do you do around here?” I asked, changing the subject now things had started to thaw between us. “For fun and stuff?”

“Drink, go shopping, get our nails done.” She looked me up and down. “But you don’t like those things, am I right?”

“I wouldn’t mind a set of claws, but unfortunately, Marini has asked me to stay in the compound for the time being.” I held up my hand and inspected my fingernails. “I’ve never had them done before. It could be cool.”

“What color?” Sierra asked.

“Black.” I smirked.

“Was there any doubt?” Shondra snorted.

“I definitely have a style,” I retorted.

“Badass rock chic,” Emily quipped. “I like it. It’s dangerous.”

“She fits right in, then,” Raquel declared.

“I can do your nails for you,” Sierra went on. “I used to be a beauty therapist. I did a lot of stuff, but nails are my thing. I have a kit, so I can do them right here.”

“She doesn’t do nails for just anyone,” Sam whispered in my ear. “Just so you know.”

“Cool,” I said to Sierra. “I’m game.”

“I can do all kinds of patterns. I’ve got some diamantés.”

“Not the fucking diamantés,” Shondra exclaimed.

“Shut up, bitch,” Sierra shot back. “They’re cool.”

“Let’s just start me off at plain black,” I said. “Where do you want me?”

Sierra stood and held out her hand, wiggling her fingers to show off her handiwork. “Girl, come with me. I’ll hook you up.”

* * *

By the time the sun went down, and the compound hummed with the sound of men returning, I was sporting a new set of fake nails, black and sharp, and had developed a tentative friendship with the posse of Old Ladies. It was a start, but when Ratchet walked into the common room, his gaze found mine instantly.

He was looking for me.

I hadn’t forgotten his offer and my subsequent acceptance, but now he was here, the gravity of what I was about to do hit me. I was about to enter the domain of men, declaring myself a soldier of Fortitude. Something no woman had ever done. My dad was gonna flip.

I rose to my feet, aware of the eyes watching me. Apart from the women I’d hung with that day, no one else had approached me. To many, I was still an unknown quantity, and I would remain that way until I proved myself. Words meant nothing if you didn’t have the balls to act on them. Getting the Fortitude brand was the first of many actions.

I followed him from the common room, through the compound, and to his rooms. To my surprise, Sam came with me, not wanting to leave me alone with the biker. It seemed she took her duty in keeping an eye on me very seriously.

Ratchet’s room was cleaner than I expected to be. In one corner, he had a little tattoo station set up. There was a set of drawers where he kept all his inks and tattoo guns, a seat with a wide armrest and an old office chair, and a floor lamp that bent in all kinds of directions.

He sat in the chair, eyeing Sam as he began setting up for the tattoo. He pulled on some latex gloves and sprayed down the armrest with a bottle of disinfectant, wrapping it in plastic wrap when he was done. He got out a tattoo gun from one drawer and hooked it up, sliding a fresh needle into the barrel.

I sat in the chair and set my hand on the plastic wrap as he turned on the lamp, angling it over us.

“You sure you want to be here, Sam?” Ratchet asked, holding up the tattoo gun.

She swallowed hard.

“You want one, too? A little butterfly or somethin’?”

“I, ah… Harley will be looking for me,” she muttered before scurrying out the door.

Ratchet frowned but didn’t comment on her behavior. He’d deliberately scared her off. How Harley treated her must be a well-known fact around here. And they let it happen… But something told me Ratchet was in a preventative mood, and knowing it made me look at him from a slightly different angle.

“Marini know you’re doing this?” he asked, wiping down the skin on my thumb.

I shrugged as he placed the preprepared stencil and pressed it down.

“He don’t know?” He peeled the paper away, revealing the design.

“I told him this time was going to be different,” I replied, inspecting the crossed swords. I wanted to puke, but it was just a bit of ink. I’d given Chaser a ton of shit about being branded, and here I was…

Ratchet snorted, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. He filled a little red cap full of black ink and smeared some clear ointment on my finger. Reaching for the tattoo gun, he hooked it up to the power supply and pressed his boot on the pedal. The room filled with a buzzing sound as he adjusted the speed the needles were flying at.

“Am I going to regret this?” he asked.

“If you were worried about it, you wouldn’t be sitting there.”

He grunted.

“I’m no one’s Old Lady,” I said, lowering my voice.

“Nice fingernails,” he drawled.

“You play your games Ratchet, and I’ll play mine. I still won’t blink when I pull the trigger.”

We stared each other down for a tense minute before he leaned over and fired up the tattoo gun. There was my answer.

The needle moved across my skin, the vibration shooting through the bone. As soon as it started, Ratchet lifted the gun and wiped at the line, removing the excess ink from my thumb. Then he went again, following the purple lines of the stencil until he’d completed the whole design. He cleaned it off one last time, then moved away.

“There,” he said, rolling the chair back and dipping the tip of the gun into a cup of water. The machine buzzed as he cleaned the ink from the barrel.

Lifting my hand, I wiggled my thumb. It was a little red and angry, but it felt all right.

“Not so bad,” I said, delivering my verdict.

He laughed and shook his head. “You want it to heal properly, so put some of this on it.” He tossed me a little tube of cream. “It doesn’t matter how it looks. Just matters that it’s there. Don’t pick at the scab.”

“It scabs? Gross.” I made a face.

“Welcome to Fortitude, Sloane,” he said. “Strength in adversity.”

“What is dead may never die.” I made the peace sign with my fingers.

Ratchet scowled and tilted his head to the side.

“What? Bikers don’t watch Game of Thrones?” I wiggled my thumb at him. “I believe in paying the Iron Price. I take what I want from those I’ve fucked up.”

“You’ll get on just fine around here,” he said with a grin. “Just fine.”