One long, fuckin’ week. That’s how long it’s been since Alba has been gone. Four weeks since I let her walk out of my room with a broken heart and tears on her face. It took all I had in me to not go to her and kiss every one of them away. The night I spent inside Alba became another monumental moment in my life, but not the fourth. No, Alba became number one.

For months it was all I could do to keep my hands off her and fight the pull we had towards each other. The last night she spent in my bed, I couldn’t hold back any longer. No way could I have her soft curves up against my body and not take what I’ve wanted for so long—what was mine. Consequences be damned. I’ll never forget the way she looked while I took her for the first time. When Alba looks at me, she sees me—the real me. Not some tattooed monster.

Since the moment we met, Alba looked at me with wonderment and curiosity, but never fear. And that is what drew me to her the most. As to where most women take one look at my cut, my size, and my tattoos, and cower away. That or they are looking to slum it for one night with the bad boy. In most cases I’d take them up on the offer. Because, let’s be real—I’m a man and pussy is pussy. But Alba, she was never afraid of me. I’m certain she felt the same pull towards me as I to her.

When I close my eyes at night all I see are her beautiful blue ones staring back at me with pain and devastation caused by my harsh words. I did what I had to do to get her to leave. No way was I going to let her miss out on college and not become something great because of me. And Alba would have. She would have stayed in Polson and decline her scholarship for me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I allowed her to do so. It makes my heart swell that someone would sacrifice so much just to be with me, to think that I’m worth that much.

Climbing out of my bed, I make a decision to do something I’ve fought not to do all week. I need to see her face. Maybe I can’t have her, but I can at least watch her from a distance. After grabbing a quick shower, I get dressed, put on my cut, and make my way through the clubhouse. As I head outside, I pass Quinn in the parking lot on the way to my bike. Looking at his watch, he regards me.

"It’s only 6:00am, brother, you got an early appointment?"

"No, shop is closed today. I’ve got something I need to take care of." I clip, not bothering to look at him.

"You be careful on your trip to Bozeman, man."

Catching me off guard with his statement, I snap my head in his direction.

Quinn casually leans against the wall of the clubhouse, smoking a cigarette.

"What the fuck gave you the impression I was going to Bozeman."

Shrugging his shoulders, "I’m just surprised you lasted a week." He replies, completely ignoring my question.

"I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, brother." I lie.

"You forget how thin these walls are, man."

Of fuckin’ course. Quinn’s room is right next to mine. Just how much did the fucker hear that night?

"I heard some of what you said to Alba that morning, you weren’t exactly quiet. That and seeing with my own eyes her leaving your room crying. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together."

Seeing me stiffen and my eyes flair, Quinn is quick to interject.

"I get why you did it man, really I do. Still, I can tell you now, you made the wrong fuckin’ decision."

Throwing his cigarette down Quinn walks inside, leaving me with the bitter feeling of regret, because I know in my gut he’s right.

Four hours later, I arrive in Bozeman and park my bike a block away from campus. No way will it not draw attention, and I don’t want Alba to know I’m here. Logan knows the gist of what has happened between me and Alba. He gave me all the info he had on her. What classes she has, the dorm she’s staying in, and even where the library is that she’s been hanging out at. He also informed me that’s as far as his involvement goes, he’s not risking his woman handing him his ass for helping me. Logan said Alba refuses to tell her sister what happened, but Bella knows it’s something to do with me.

It’s coming up on lunch time, so my first stop will be the library. Knowing Alba, I’m almost certain it’s where I’ll find her. My problem is, I don’t exactly blend in well on a college campus. Like I give a fuck though. I’m rounding the corner of one of the campus buildings when I see her. She’s walking across the lawn with some short chick with glasses. Alba has her bag slung over her shoulder, and her long blond hair is pulled into a side braid hanging down the front of her shoulder. She’s also wearing a blue long, sleeveless dress. I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s so fuckin’ gorgeous. My fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch her. Seeing her smile and laugh with her friend tells me I made the right choice. This is where she needs to be. Living her life, making friends. I continue to watch her until she walks into the library and out of sight. With an ache in my chest, I turn around and head back to my bike.

When I make it back to the clubhouse, I see all my brothers sittin’ around having a beer. Deciding to join them, I take a seat at the bar next to Logan, and motion for Liz to bring me a drink. As I bring the bottle to my lips, our new prospect Daniel grabs my attention when I hear him talking to Blake about a fight he’s participating in.

"You fight?" I ask him.

"Sure do." He tells me, puffing his chest out.

The kid is a decent height. I’d say about six-foot-one, and he’s lean—maybe 180 lbs. What he lacks in muscle, I’m sure he makes up for it in speed.

"I fight at least once a week over in Missoula. The competition is decent, and the money is pretty good. The best part though is the pussy. Those bitches are lined up, man. Win or fuckin’ loose."

"When is your next fight?" I ask.

"Three days, there’s a fight every Saturday night. Why? You interested?"

"Maybe."

"Fuck man, you’d kill all those motherfuckers. And I bet you’d make some decent bank too."

I don’t give two shits about the money. But I don’t tell the kid that. What I need is fuckin’ blood. Just the thought of fightin’ again has me feeling the all too familiar rush I used to get. Making my demons want to come out and play.

"You think it’s smart to go down that road again, brother?" Logan asks bringing me out of my thoughts. He along with Jake are the only ones who know about my past. And how my last fight ended with me killing a man. Not that I regret it. My problem is I don’t always know when to stop. Sometimes that switch gets flipped and I lose control.

"You’re headed down a dark road, Gabriel. You better know what the hell you’re doing. I know you got some shit goin’ on in your head that needs worked out, but I’m telling you now, this is not the answer.

"I know what the hell I’m doing," I bite out.

"Okay, brother. Can’t say I didn’t warn you," Logan tells me before standing up and walking off.

I turn my attention back to Daniel, "Can you get me in on the next fight?"

"Hell yeah, man, I got you."

"Hey, prospect, you know what they say about brown-nosers, don’t ya?" Quinn asks the kid. And we all know some smart-ass remark is about to follow. "You can only kiss so much ass before you choke on shit," he chuckles from the other end of the bar, causing everyone to laugh along with him.

* * *

It’s Saturday night, and my body is vibrating with adrenaline for tonight’s fight. Daniel informed me yesterday he got me matched with some guy named Sid. Supposedly, he’s one of the best and closest to me in weight and height. I’m not concerned though. I don’t give two fucks who the fucker is or how many wins he’s had. All I care about is his blood. Pounding the hell of another man is the greatest high. Am I a sick son of a bitch for feeling like I do? Probably. Do I care? Hell no. We all need an outlet, and fighting is mine. Anyone who signs up for one of these fights knows what the fuck they’re getting into. So, if they get their ass handed to them, then that’s on them. They get no sympathy from me.

Walking out of the clubhouse, I head to my bike and see Daniel already waiting on me. My steps falter a second when I see Logan also on his bike looking at me with a lifted brow while smokin’ a cigarette.

"I may not agree with what your crazy ass is doing man, but no way in hell am I not gonna have your back, brother. We don’t know anything about these people you’re about to tangle with," Logan declares.

Grunting in response, I mount my bike, pull out of the clubhouse and onto the road with the prospect tailing behind me and my brother at my side.

We arrive in Missoula and follow Daniel as he directs us down a couple winding back roads leading to the middle of nowhere. It’s pitch dark. Not a fuckin’ house or building in sight. We pull up to what looks like an old abandoned farm house. I see a few dozen parked vehicles. I glance over at Logan to see him also taking in our current surroundings. On closer inspection, the two-story building is indeed a farmhouse. The grey paint is peeling, several shutters are half hanging off the front of the house and the roof looks like it’s one heavy gust of wind from caving in. All in all, it’s the perfect place to conduct such business. Not a soul around to hear the chaos and roar of chants coming from inside. It’s also far enough out to stay off police radar.

Walking inside the house I’m assaulted with the stench of cigarettes and the musky smell of sweat. I see several walls have been torn down in the old house to make a large open floor space in what was once a living room, where two men are currently pounding the hell out of each other. Men and even women take up every available empty space cheering on their choice of competitor.

The atmosphere causes my heart rate to pick up and bring back that old familiar feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. This is the distraction I need. As if Logan knows exactly what I’m thinking he turns to me.

"You’re using this as a distraction to keep from going after what’s yours because you believe you are doing what’s best for her. Just don’t take too long coming to your fuckin’ senses."

I go to respond when a piercing whistle from across the room catches my attention. Turning my head, I see Daniel motioning me across the room to where he’s standing next to a short, pudgy man in a cheap suit.

"Cal, this is Gabriel. The guy I was telling you about a couple days ago," Daniel says, making introductions as I come to stand in front of them, with Logan flanking me. I give the fucker a chin lift and watch as he appraises me. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and takes in mine and Logan’s cut.

"You’re up next," he tells me. "In case Daniel hasn’t already told you, we only have two rules. One—no weapons and two—the fight doesn’t stop till one of you is no longer moving."

I give the man a bored look. This is not my first rodeo. He eyes me for a moment giving me an opportunity to pussy out. Once he sees I’m not, he nods in the direction of the middle of the room where a man stands and the crowd is circled around him.

"That’s Sid. No losses as of yet. You’re on in five. Good luck," he smirks and walks off.

Walking over to where my competition is, I watch as he sizes me up. Sid is about two inches shorter than I am and has about thirty pounds on me. I’m not worried in the least because once he takes his shirt off I see the extra weight is fat not muscle. I also note he favors his left leg a little, indicating an injury. Sid is doing a good job at hiding it. Most people wouldn’t notice, but I did. Like I said, this isn’t my first go around. My old fighting days and being part of the MC has taught me to size up my competition. To take notice of details.

"Fucker has a bum knee," Logan who is standing to my right informs me.

"Yeah, brother, I caught that too," I say smirking at him as I remove my cut and t-shirt, handing both to Daniel who’s standing next to Logan.

"So that means you can make this shit quick. I’m ready to get home to my woman," Logan jabs back.

"I think maybe I’ll have a little fun first," I say before turning and making my way into the makeshift ring. I watch Sid step forward, taking me in. He’s good at masking his reaction, but I saw the twitch of his jaw and the slight hesitation in his steps when I entered the ring. Seconds later the crowd gathers closer, encouraging their champ while eyeing me with curiosity. Bets are against me, as they should be with any newcomer. Not for long though. In a few minutes all these motherfuckers will know who the hell I am.

Sid doesn’t waste any time before he lunges towards me. He thinks he can catch me off guard. I was anticipating his move. I side step his swing, causing him to bow forward and lose his footing. Taking advantage, I raise my arm and bring my elbow down right between his shoulder blades. The blow has Sid stumbling to his knees. The stupid fucker obviously thought he could use his weight against me. With him down, I can easily finish this, but decide I’m not ready for the fight to be over.

I catch Logan out the corner of my eye shaking his head. He knows I’m playing with this fucker. When Sid stands back up, his face is red with anger. I smirk at him, causing him to growl and lunge at me once more. This time though, I don’t move, I welcome the punch to my jaw and another to my ribs. I let the assault go on for several moments, relishing the burn in my ribs and the taste of blood in my mouth.

"Goddammit, Gabriel, quite fuckin’ playing and finish this shit!" Logan hollers out at me just as my competitor lands a punch to my stomach, causing me to double over.

I raise my head, and watch Sid strut around with his arms raised above his head and a smile on his face as the crowd cheers him on. Standing to my full height, I wait for the stupid fucker to turn around. When the crowd goes quiet, Sid turns and the shocked look on his face is fuckin’ priceless as I spit a mouthful of blood at his feet. This time when he lunges at me, I block his fist with my left arm and then swing my right arm letting my fist connect with the side of his head. Then I grab a hand full of his hair, slamming his face into my raised knee, feeling the bones in his nose crunch on contact. With those two hits, his limp body crumples to the floor. Without a word, I turn away and leave him lying there.

Once I step up to Logan, Daniel hands me back my shirt and cut.

"Did you have to fuck around for so long, asshole? We could have been half way home by now." Logan conveys with a look of irritation on his face.

"Now what’s the fun in that, hermano brother?" I reply with a grin. I’m slipping my shirt and cut back on when Cal makes his way through the crowd of people, stopping in front of me.

"I can’t believe you got the better of Sid," he says handing me an envelope filled with cash. I slip it into my cut—not bothering to look at how much is in there.

"I’d like to line up another fight for next week," Cal declares.

"I’ll think about," I clip. At this point, if Sid is the best competition they have, I’m not interested.

"Really, man? You have a chance at some serious fucking cash. You’d be an idiot to walk away," Cal huffs like I’ve offended him. Snapping my head in his direction and stepping into his space, I watch him visibly gulp and beads of sweat drip down his forehead onto his beefy neck.

"If I was you, I’d watch my tone," I growl. "Your competition is weak. This fight was a goddamn joke and a waste of my time." Cal shrinks away and shuffles back across the room towards a man in a dark suit. I’m about to walk away, when the guy Cal is talking to turns and looks directly at me when he motions in my direction.

"What the fuck?" I breathe out not taking my eyes off this man.

"What is it, brother?" Logan asks while looking in the direction my eyes are trained.

"Do you know him?"

"Yeah, I know him," I affirm.

My blood turns cold as the man gives me a knowing look before he turns and walks away disappearing into the crowd. It’s been years since I last laid eyes on the man. Now the only question I have is—what the fuck is Santino doing in Montana?