"Go to hell." "I'm already there, babe."
Two years after his fiancée was shot and killed by crossfire during a
skirmish involving his MC, Dominick Fiarelli has sworn off love.
Women are just a means to an end - nothing more, nothing less. He
planned on keeping it that way forever.
But then Kara showed up.
"He's trying to take everything from me." "Over my dead body."
Kara Vance just wants to raise her daughter in peace. But then her
abusive ex-husband shows up at the diner where she works, spewing
threats and laying his hands on her. It's a flashback to the life she's
been trying desperately to flee. Just when she thinks the scumbag is
going to beat her senseless, a man she's never seen before swoops in
to the rescue.
That's when everything changed. It started with a bang.
Dom hears a violent commotion from the back of the diner and goes
to investigate. When he sees a slimy bastard in an expensive suit
about to hit a defenseless waitress, he stops him in his tracks. The
man utters a threat before leaving, but Dom couldn't care less. He's
locked in on the girl. The fire between them builds and he knows
they're venturing into dangerous territory.
Kara feels it, too, but her life is fraught with danger. The last thing
she needs is this dark, mysterious man adding more drama to the
mess. She tries to push him away, but he sees right through her.
Before she knows it, they're kissing, holding, biting... and that's just
the

beginning.
But her ex isn't done with just yet. If Kara isn't careful, the life she's
built may be gone in a flash.
"Screw the pursuit of happiness," Dom told her. "The only thing I
want is YOU."

Chapter One
Kara
"Table thirteen's flagging you down, Kara."
I turned my head away, hiding my disgust. Being unprofessional
wouldn't help me score a tip or keep my job.
I went to the table, smiling as naturally as I could.
"Can we have more coffee?"
I' d already poured the table of college kids at least five cups of coffee,
but I told them I'd be right back with a fresh pot. I mumbled to myself
throughout the walk to the machine.
"Oh my God. They've been here for two hours," Darlene muttered. A
lifelong waitress, Darlene had seen everything.
"Yeah, and I'll be lucky if I make a dollar from them." Nobody wanted
the poor college kids who took up valuable real estate by spending
hours talking, laughing, writing lame poetry or doing their homework.
Meanwhile, more lucrative customers came and went while a perfectly
good table sat occupied. I'd missed out on at least twenty dollars in tips
in those two hours, I estimated.
"Next time, I' ll take them," she promised, patting me on the shoulder
before lifting a tray laden with greasy food and carrying it to another
table. I did my best to be kind and considerate while pouring

fresh cups for my four customers.
"Would any of you like something to eat?" I asked, eyeing up the
long-empty french fry basket in the middle of the table. I picked it up.
"We're good, thanks." None of them looked up from their devices.
They just didn't get it, stupid entitled hipsters.
I turned before they could catch a glimpse of the snarl I couldn't
suppress. I'd love to see what any one of them would do if they were
ever in the same situation as me.
The rest of my tables were quiet, just about finishing up their meals. I
took the opportunity to sneak a few mouthfuls of food in the
kitchen—the first time I'd eaten in hours. I'd been working a double,
from three in the afternoon until five in the morning. I checked the
clock as I shoveled soup into my mouth. Nearly eleven o'clock. Six
hours to
go.
"Who's watching Em?" Charlie, the line cook, asked. He always made
sure I had food to eat throughout my shifts.
"My mom spends the night on my couch when I'm working these crazy
shifts. She picked Emma up from school this afternoon. I hate having
her do it, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to make the cash."
Charlie shook his head with a wry smile. "I don't know how you do it."
He handed over a plate of eggs and bacon for a single customer at the
counter.
"I don't either." I turned with the eggs, leaving the kitchen by one of
two swinging doors. I wasn't kidding—I had no idea how I would
manage to stay awake and alert until five, then make the ten-minute
drive home and stay awake until it was time to get Emma off to school.
I

didn't want to sleep in between since I was afraid I wouldn't be able to
wake up once it was time to do so. It was always easier for me to stay
awake straight through than to try to catch a few winks, no matter how
desperately I needed the rest.
The chime above the front door sounded and I looked up just in time to
see a group of rough-looking men walk into the diner. Oh great, I
thought. Bikers. They were all I needed after an already challenging
night.
Darlene was always better than me at being nice to people like them,
the ones who came in and acted like they owned the place. All they ever
did was eat like slobs, curse, pinch the fannies of the waitresses and try
to make passes. Still, they were generous tippers—how they made their
money, I didn't want to know.
Darlene handed out their menus and smiled indulgently at their
shenanigans—shoving each other, laughing raucously, spreading
themselves out across a long table. We made eye contact. A slight jerk
of her head toward the table told me they were mine if I wanted them. I
didn' t want them, but I did want the money. I could easily make forty
or fifty dollars from a table of ten. Emma needed a new pair of shoes,
and we were running low on groceries. I smoothed down the front of
my apron and put a smile on my face before visiting the table. Here we
go.
I kept smiling as I stood beside them, studying them all as quickly as I
could. A very rough group. They fairly oozed ferocious energy. "Hi,
guys. I'm Kara, and I'll be taking care of you tonight."
All of them looked me up and down, but I could handle that. The oldest
of the group, a grizzled man who wore aviator sunglasses even indoors,
grinned widely from his seat at the head of the table. "I'll say you can
take care of me tonight." Laughter all around. I was prepared for that,
too.

"Can I get you all started off with something to drink?" Everybody
wanted coffee. Easy enough. I hurried behind the counter, setting a new
pot to brew, pulling out coffee cups and saucers. I filled two pitchers
with water, too, and placed water glasses on my tray. Even at a
distance, I heard them muttering and joking about me. Remember the
tip. Remember the tip. When I thought about the time I spent on my
education, earning straight As all throughout high school and college,
all to wait tables in a rundown diner while being catcalled and ogled...
I passed out the cups, the glasses, and placed a pitcher at either end of
the table along with two carafes of extra coffee. After everything
looked settled, I pulled out my order pad. "Do you all know what you
want, or do you need a little more time?"
Nothing I could say would dissuade them from being slimy creeps. I
told myself to be strong, that they'd find a way to put a sexual spin on
anything I said. It didn't help that the diner's owner thought it was
adorable to have his waitresses wear the old-fashioned striped dresses
fashionable in diners decades earlier. The dress's hem fell right to the
middle of my thigh, and its cut showed off every curve of my body. I
might as well have been naked, seeing as how the bikers took inventory
of me with their eyes.
"I think we all know what we want, honey." More snickers, more
leering.
I squared my shoulders. "I meant to eat." "So did we." More laughter.
My cheeks burned hotly.
"Quit it." A rough voice, low and sonorous. It fairly rumbled. My eyes
met the eyes of one of the men at the table. He sat to the right of the old
man at the head, and he didn't look happy. "Let her do her job,

dickheads."
"Oooh!" The rest of them laughed and feigned fear. I couldn't help
breathing a sigh of relief at their reaction—for a split second, I'd been
afraid they' d start fighting. I could only imagine what it would be like
to start a biker fight in the diner. I'd imagined myself kissing my job
goodbye.
Not only did they not fight, but they suddenly became a lot more
respectful. I wondered at the sudden change, and knew it had to do with
whatever power the dark-haired, dark-eyed man had over them. He was
young—younger than the man at the head of the table by at least twenty
or thirty years—but he commanded respect.
They ordered the usual diner food, which was a relief. Things Charlie
could cook in a hurry, so I could get them out of there. I didn't know for
sure what it was about them that turned me off, but I couldn't stand the
way they made me feel. Ogling was one thing—I was used to it,
especially during the overnight shifts which I'd so frequently covered.
Most women took such behavior in stride, especially women built like
me. Small but curvy. Men took a look at my body and immediately
wondered what they could do to it. So gross.
"Okay, let's get it straight," I said, reading off the orders, pointing to
each man in turn. I started at the head of the table. "A double burger,
medium rare, fries, no onion. A double burger with bacon, rare, fries
and onion rings, absolutely no vegetables. Double order of chicken
fingers and fries with brown gravy and cheese. A turkey club with extra
mayo, fries with ranch dressing. Meat lover's omelet, bacon, potatoes
and rye toast. Eggs over-easy, bacon, potatoes with cheese, white toast.
A bacon and mushroom burger, medium rare with burned bacon, fries
with cheese sauce on the side. Pancakes with bacon and sausage. Roast
beef sandwich with fries, au jus on the side." Then I looked up, reciting
the last order to the man with the sultry dark eyes. "A grilled cheese and
tomato sandwich and fries with cheese, bacon and sour cream."

All of them nodded appreciatively, as though impressed that I got it all
correct. Meanwhile, I wondered how any of them were still alive after
the amount of saturated fat in their diets. They hinted about dessert
once they finished, too. Anything to improve my tip, but I couldn't help
shaking my head a little as I walked away. Between their eating habits
and the cigarette packs sticking out of every leather vest, it was a
wonder they had pulses.
None of my business, I reminded myself. Let them act like idiots and
eat themselves into an early grave. It didn't bother me any.
It also didn't have an obvious physical effect on most of them,
especially my knight in not-so-shining armor, who had a body that
would make the statue of David green with envy. What did he do to
earn a body like that? He had to work out. From his obvious toughness
and the roughened knuckles, I guessed he boxed. I laughed at myself
for even paying attention to his knuckles.
As I prepped the condiments and sauces for the various orders, I
glanced back at the table. The oldest man had his back to me. On his
vest was a large patch, covering most of it. Blood Bandits, it said. So
that was their name. Gee. How terrifying. I chuckled softly. Little boys
playing big-boy games. I knew all about little boys.
While I waited for Charlie to finish the food, I noticed my college kids
had left. I went to bus their table, knowing I wouldn't find a tip for the
hours of time they wasted. Sure enough, there was an entire dollar
there. In quarters. I smirked, remembering what it was like to be a poor
college kid without the slightest clue what it meant to earn a living in
the world, and snatched the change from the table.
Just as I did, I caught the eye of my knight. The rest of the men around
the table laughed, joked, told stories. He watched me. Silently. One
corner of his mouth curved into a sexy, knowing smile. Arrogant,

too. I could only shrug, then clear the table with a blush coloring my
cheeks. I didn't like the way he looked at me. Like he could see inside
me. I didn't want that.
Darlene came over, taking the bus tray from my hands. "Here, I'll finish
what little's left. Your order is starting to come up." With the place
virtually empty, there was little else for Charlie to do but cook the ten
orders. Then she leaned in. "I saw the way that sex machine over there
is staring at you."
"Ugh. Don't make me puke," I muttered.
"What's a little harmless fun?" she asked, winking. "If I were fifteen
years younger, I'd climb him like a tree. You mark my words."
"I bet you would." I laughed, going to the order window to pick up the
food. Yes, he was just Darlene's type, too. She had a bad habit of falling
for the wrong men. The men who cheated and lied and charmed. I had
no time for that, and I certainly had no time for a man I couldn't count
on to stay out of jail. I had a little girl to think about. I had myself, too.
It took two trips to deliver all of the food, then another two to refill the
coffee and water, and to pour out a few soft drinks. By the time I
finished, my arms ached. I made sure they were all happy, then
signaled to Darlene that I needed a break. My feet ached terribly, to the
point where it was hard to keep a smile on my face.
For a twenty-five-year-old woman, I felt awfully old. I thought about
what other girls my age did, how they lived. What they did for fun. I
couldn't remember the last time I had fun. It wasn't part of my
vocabulary anymore. Life was entirely about my little girl, making sure
she was safe and happy and healthy. Everything else fell away the
moment the doctor placed her in my arms, and became much direr in
the more than three years since then. Back in the day, when she was
born, I

wasn't alone yet.
"Hey, Kara?" Darlene's voice broke through my reverie. I had chosen a
spot toward the back of the kitchen where I could prop my feet up on a
stack of crates. She stood by the swinging door, looking very unhappy.
I assumed it was something with my table.
"Great. What do they want now?" I stood, stretching, groaning as my
muscles protested.
"It's not them. You have a visitor. He wouldn't leave. I told him to
leave, but he wouldn't."
My stomach turned to ice when I realized who she meant. "Why is he
here? Did he say?"
She shook her head, biting her lip. Charlie stepped forward. "You want
me to take care of this?"
I gave him a grateful smile but put a hand on his arm to stop him. "No
way. And risk having this place closed down? You know he has
connections all over town. You'd be dead in a day. No, thank you. I
couldn't ask either of you to put yourselves in his way for me." I tried to
look and sound more confident than I was, but deep inside I quaked like
a scared little girl. What on earth could he possibly want?
The other door swung open, leaving me face-to-face with my
ex-husband. I raised my chin. "Eric. You know you're not supposed to
be back here."
He sneered. How many times had I seen that sneer over the years of our
marriage? Mostly when he looked down at me while I cowered in fear.
"I can be wherever I wanna be, babe. You know, too. I need to talk

to you. Now."

Chapter Two
Dom
"So I said to her, while you're down there, why don't you suck me
off?"
Eight men roared with laughter, with Spike being one of them, even
though he had told the story. I turned to the side to roll my eyes,
pretending to look at something on the other side of the diner. Spike
wasn't a bad guy, but I didn't believe half the shit that came out of his
mouth. He wanted us to believe a woman measured him for pants, and
he had gotten away with saying something like that. I bit my tongue
rather than ask him where he had gone for the fitting and why he
needed the pants. The most dressed up I'd ever seen him was the time
he wore a clean button-down with his jeans and riding boots.
Chase caught my eye, where he sat to my left. He had a smile on his
face that told me he didn't believe the story either. He had a way of
seeing the things I did even when I thought nobody could. He had an
eye on everything behind those aviators. When I first got to know him,
I wondered why he wore them all the time. Over the years it became
clear he didn't want anybody knowing where he looked from minute to
minute.
I took a bite of my grilled cheese. Buttery and crispy on the outside, just
like I liked it. The place looked like a real shit hole, but they had decent
food.

Everybody agreed with me. "Good idea, coming here," Jax said from
the other side of the table.
"Yeah, this is awesome. I think there's a whole pig in this omelet," Brett
agreed.
"You've known enough pigs, haven't you?" That was Chase, and we all
laughed together. Brett wasn't known for having great taste in women.
As long as they were over eighteen and breathing, he didn't care.
"I used to come here all the time with my mom," I said once the
laughter died down. "I was sure it would have been closed by the Board
of Health a long time ago."
"Oh great. He tells us to go somewhere we might die from, just so he
can walk down Memory Lane." I wasn't sure who said it since
everybody started laughing before the sentence was finished. I laughed
with them—I wasn't too big to have a sense of humor about myself. If
anybody outside the club ever dared fuck around with me like that, it
would be another story.
"You not man enough to deal with a little food poisoning?" Chase
asked. That started even more laughter. "Remind me not to ride next to
you when we' re in a tough spot. You might puss out on me."
"Aw, come on!" We laughed at Rex's reaction. "Sorry if I don't like
pissing outta my ass, Chase. Jesus."
"Baby." Chase smirked.
"Whatever," Jax said, looking in the direction of the kitchen. "I'd piss
outta my ass for days if that little cutie would take care of me. You
think she'd take care of me if she felt bad 'cause her food got me sick?"

I snorted. "Yeah, 'cause men with food poisoning are so hot. You're not
man enough to get a woman like her now, while you're healthy." She
was the hottest thing I'd seen in a long time. The way she filled out that
uniform was a crime. And I hated the others talking about her like that,
but I couldn't overplay my hand. They'd start thinking I liked her or
something.
"It was a good run tonight, boys." Chase lifted his coffee cup, and we
all joined him. "You all did good for the club." We toasted to that. It
hadn' t been easy, convincing our connections to bring in a shipment of
drugs twice the usual amount, but they had come through. We'd gotten
the shipment into the hands of our distributors with no problems or
setbacks. It didn't always go so well—there were greedy people in our
world, people who wanted what we had. Chase was a good leader and a
fair man. He made sure he protected us and our interests.
Spike stole a handful of my fries, and I pushed him away. We were all
in a good mood, a little high off our big run. Not really high, just the
sort of natural high we felt when we had a good night. It was the only
kind of high I cared about. I was never into drugs—I had seen what
they did to people from the time I was pretty small. I tried not to think
about the way we ran drugs to make money, and the way my mom's
addiction had ruined both our lives. Sometimes it bothered me, though.
Wondering if there was another kid out there just like I used to be,
wishing his mom would stop using.
Chase saw the way my mood sank. "You okay?"
I tried to smile and enjoy the night. "Yeah, sure. Just don't know if I
want any more fries after this asshole stuck his nasty hand in them."
"Don't you wish you knew where this hand has been?" Spike asked,
laughing as he tried to stick it in my face. I shrugged him off,
chuckling.

"You're sure?" Chase asked. He wasn't fooled the way the rest of them
were. It was his job to pay attention. Always watching.
"Yeah, really. Just tired. It's been a long night."
"You should find something to help you sleep once you get home." He
nodded back toward the kitchen with a grin. "I bet she'd do the
trick."
"What are you, a matchmaker now? Or a pimp?"
He laughed. "Neither. I saw the way you looked at her is all. You don't
ever tell the guys to shut the hell up when they're messing around with a
chick. What gives?"
"I don't know. I felt sorry for her." I shrugged. Why did he have to bring
it up? I glanced around the table, making sure nobody was listening in.
"Since when? She's just a chick. So what? You know how these guys
have fun. Why don't you admit you want her?"
"Because I don't wanna hear it from the rest of them."
"They all miss your girl, Dom."
I bristled when he mentioned her. "I don't wanna talk about her."
"I know, but maybe you have to. It's been long enough, son."
"I'm not your son." I didn't mean to come off like an asshole, but I
couldn't help it. Why couldn't he see I wasn't up to talking about
Lauren? She was off-limits to everyone, including Chase. It didn't
matter that he was club president or that I was supposedly next in line.
It didn't give him the right.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to rub you the wrong way. I just hate to see
you pushing other things away is all."
"I don't have any trouble finding women, thanks." I smirked.
"Yeah, I know. There oughta be a turnstile outside your bedroom. But
that ain' t the same as having a good old lady. The kind you need when
you take control of the club."
His words weighed on my mind. It wasn't like I never thought about
that. I thought about it all the time, actually. Chase had a great old lady,
the kind who made a man feel like a king. The way a man in that
position needed to feel if he was going to be a leader—especially in a
dangerous world like ours.
I couldn' t make myself go through it all again. Certain things in a man'
s life changed him forever. I would never be the man I used to be before
that night.
"Do you blame me for what happened?" My blood ran cold as Chase's
eyes bored holes into me from behind the dark lenses.
"Never. I never have." I was totally honest. I had never once thought
about him in connection with that night.
"I sometimes do," he admitted. "I made a mistake, and I'll never not be
sorry. I don't know.. .I guess it would just make me happy if I saw you
happy. That's all."
Or it would make you feel less guilty. I wished he would say what he
really felt. He was all broken up inside after what happened. He could
join the club.
He looked over the table. Nobody even listened to us, which wasn't

a bad thing at all. "You ready for all this?" he asked.
"I won't have to be for a long time," I joked. "So I don't think too much
about it."
"Liar." He smirked. "You know the time's gonna come." It wasn't the
first time he'd made a crack like that. It was enough to make me wonder
if he wasn't in bad health or something. Did he know something I didn't
know? Chase was only in his mid-fifties. Hardly ancient.
"You've got what it takes," he said, nodding. "You're a born leader, just
like me. You think about everybody else first, then yourself. That's the
kind of person you need to be." He took a sip from his coffee, nodding
toward the other guys. "They're all good men. Your brothers. But none
of them have that special something. You do. You 'll make a good
president one day."
"You're freaking me out," I admitted.
"Sorry." He grinned. "I don't mean to. I guess I start thinking about my
mortality on nights like this. I've had a lotta good nights, and a lotta bad
nights. Nights when I made it out by the skin of my teeth. I know how
lucky I've been. There are times like right now when I wonder how
much longer that luck's gonna last is all."
So that was it. That was why he thought about Lauren, too. What
happened that night was an example of a bad night. Shit went south real
fast, worse than anything I'd ever seen before or since. He wondered
how many more nights like that were to come, and which side he'd end
up on when they did. So far he'd been on the living side.
I clapped him on the shoulder. "You've got a lot more good nights
ahead of ya. You'd better, because I don't feel like settling down into
your job anytime soon. I have a lot more whoring and partying to do
before that time comes." I grinned.

"Bringing us back to our delicious waitress. What do you think about
her? Just come out and say it. You want her. It's okay. The rest of ' em
will back off, just like they did when you told them to lay off. I know
you didn't like them thinking about her that way because you wanted
her for yourself. Why not just say that? You would any other time. Why
not now?"
"I don't know." I really didn't. I did want her, more than anything I had
wanted in a long time. It wasn't just physical—I'd had physical stuff
with plenty of women in the last two years. I didn't just wanna fuck her.
I wanted to take her home and keep her there, just for me. The thought
of other men walking into the diner and saying the sort of shit my
friends did made me want to put somebody's head through a wall. I
hated knowing that anybody else might talk to her that way. It freaked
me out a little bit, how strongly I felt.
She was just my type, for sure. The curves on her, the full tits. I wanted
to bury my face in them just like I wanted to bury my cock in her
sweetness. I wanted to take her and make her mine, make her scream
for me. I saw the way she looked at us, like we were garbage, and I
wanted to wipe that look off her face.
I looked around, realizing I hadn't seen her in a while. "Where'd she
go?" I muttered.
Spike heard me. "Yeah, I want some more coffee."
I picked up the carafe, handing it to him without saying anything. The
weight of it in my hand told me there was plenty left inside. That wasn't
good enough, though. We were finishing up. I knew I felt like a thick
slice of pie from the dessert case, too. I wasn't alone.
"She sorta disappeared, didn't she?" Jax asked. "A shame. I liked
looking at her ass. And those tits. Jesus Christ."

"Shut up about her," I warned. "I want her for myself."
I sensed the pride Chase felt. Jax stepped down. "Hey, brother,
whatever you say. You'll make a cute couple."
"Shut the fuck up." I grinned, showing him there weren't any hard
feelings. He smiled back. Chase was right. I had to take what I wanted.
I wanted her, if only for the night. It wasn't like I was looking for
anything long-term. even though I wondered before I ever touched her
if just one night would be enough. From what I'd already experienced
with women, it was the ones who pretended they weren't into the
motorcycle club life who had the best time in bed.
There was only one waitress on the floor, the older chick who had
seated us. I went over to her, catching her eye. "We were looking for
our waitress. What's her name again?"
"Kara." She looked scared. Why did she look scared?
"Right. Kara. Where is she? We wanted dessert, and our table needs
clearing."
"I can help you with that. She's busy at the moment." Her nametag said
Darlene. I wondered what Darlene wasn't telling me. She had no way of
knowing that I'd worked my way up in the club by finding people and
asking them questions until they finally answered. I had ways of
knowing who was lying and who wasn't.
"Is she all right?"
Darlene frowned. "Why do you ask? What do you care?" She didn' t
look offended, more like surprised.
"I don't know. You look like you're pretty shaken up."

She looked at me, like she tried to figure out if she should tell me the
truth or not. "Did you see that man who came in a little while ago? The
one in the suit and trench coat?"
"Oh, yeah, I did. He looked like a smug bastard."
She snickered. "You got the bastard part right. He needed to talk to her,
and I don't think it was such a good idea." She looked at the kitchen
doors again, chewing on her lip. I put two and two together pretty fast.
"Who is he?"
"Her ex." Just then, as she said those very words, there was a crash
from the kitchen. I acted before I thought, pushing my way through the
swinging doors to see what the hell was happening.

Chapter Three
Kara
My blood ran cold when Eric followed me to the back of the kitchen,
where I had just been sitting and relaxing. Relaxation was the last thing
on my mind thanks to his presence. It had been weeks since I'd last seen
him, glorious weeks. There was always the threat of him showing up,
however. The shoe had to drop sometime.
I turned to face him, putting on my bravest attitude. "What is it?" I
asked. "I have a table full of people out there, and there's a pretty big tip
riding on it. I don't want to make them upset."
He snickered. "A tip. That's what you care about now? Look how low
you've fallen. When we were together, you didn't have to worry about
things like that. You had everything you could've ever wanted, didn't
you?"
Yes. Everything. Except for a loving, respectful husband who didn't hit
me and hurt me whenever he had a bad day. Except for a husband who
did his share around the house, his share with the baby. "Monetarily,
yes."
"Yes. You didn't have to work then, did you? I provided everything. I
made life easy for you. All you had to do was sit on your ass all day and
let other people do the work for you."
That old argument again. "Eric, I don't know how you think the

cooking and cleaning got done around the house. I really don't." "The
housekeeper."
"Who only came in three days a week. I kept it spotless for you because
it was how you wanted it. I cooked your favorite foods every day
because that was how you wanted it, too. I raised our daughter virtually
alone. Do you think it's easy wrangling a toddler and keeping the house
clean when she was hell-bent on destruction all the time? Yes, you
made it so I could stay home with our daughter, and I'm grateful. But
there was a lot more to it than that, and you can't keep using that old
argument over and over."
He bristled. "No court will ever believe that you left for no reason. And
they won't award full custody to a woman who relies on tips from
bikers to support her daughter."
I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself as if for protection.
"There's no way I'll let you twist this around," I whispered.
"I don't have to. The facts are plain. You ran off, took my daughter, and
you can't support her as well as I can. I mean, come on, Kara.
Everybody in town knows me. Hell, I have lunch scheduled with the
district attorney next week. You don't have a chance."
He was right. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I had no way of
winning against him if he took me to court. I was barely able to keep a
roof over our heads and food in our mouths, but I was determined. I'd
work twenty-four hours a day if it meant my daughter could be out of
the clutches of an abusive narcissist like her father.
"You're bluffing. You know there are stories I can tell that wouldn't
paint you in a very flattering light."
"Oh please." He waved a dismissive hand. "You have no proof of

any of this so-called abuse. I'm tired of hearing you talk about it that
way, too. Abuse. Couples fight, Kara. Just because you grew up
thinking life was like it was on Leave It To Beaver..."
I resented the way he talked about my parents. Just because they were
loving and happy and respectful of each other, he tried to make it sound
as though I were completely out of touch as to how normal couples
behaved. It was his primary fallback.
"Couples fight, Eric, but they don't hit each other." I lowered my voice
to a fierce whisper, keeping one eye on Charlie at all times. He stood at
the other end of the kitchen, staring at me from over Eric's shoulder. I
willed him to stay where he was. All he needed was to have one of
Eric's high-powered friends swoop down and close the diner. It was all
the sweet-natured man had in the world. "Men don't hit. They don't
choke their wives. They don't knock them down and scream at them.
They don't kick. They don't make them crawl around, crying, while
they laugh and call them names. That's not what men do when they love
a woman. You did all those things to me. Remember? Don't tell me it
didn't mean anything to you."
He sneered, his gray eyes nearly disappearing as he narrowed his eyes.
"If it was so bad, why did you stay as long as you did, then? Why didn'
t you leave a long time ago?"
How many times had I asked myself that question? Why didn't I have
the strength to leave him when I knew I should? Every time he hit me, I
told myself it was the last time. Every time he degraded me by coming
home with another woman's perfume on his clothing, or laughed at me
when I found another woman sending sexy photos to his phone, I
wondered what it would take to finally walk away. Every single time
for years. I'd put up with it, though, all if it and then some.
"I finally grew the balls to walk out on you because I realized it was
worth working my fingers to the bone if it meant raising Emma far,

far away from you and your nasty, filthy ways. I won't have a man like
you raising her. Hell, Eric, you never cared a damned thing about her
until I left, and you know it."
"How dare you." He advanced one step, then another, cornering me. I
felt distinctly nauseated. Charlie made a move as though to stop him,
but I held up one hand just high enough for him to see. He couldn't get
in the middle of the fight. Eric was a man of deep, hidden evil. He
would stop at nothing to have revenge, no matter who it destroyed.
There were times when I wondered if he even had a conscience, or
whether he was a complete sociopath.
I couldn't stop myself, though. He'd unlocked everything I'd held inside
myself for a long time, and I couldn't help but let it all out. "How dare
I? You weren't there for anything, Eric."
"Right, because I was working to support you. To keep you driving a
fucking Lexus, Kara. To keep you living in that insane condo you loved
so much." I couldn't pretend I didn't like those creature comforts, but it
wasn't for the reason he thought. I needed them as a way to keep myself
sane while living with him. I was in hell through those long, lonely
years. I needed something to make it all worthwhile—a beautiful car, a
comfortable home I could at least feel proud of. I sure didn't feel proud
of myself.
"I didn't need all those things, Eric. What I needed was a husband, and
my daughter needed her father. You never got up with her in the middle
of the night. You never changed a single diaper or fed her even once.
On your days off, what did you do? You played golf with your
buddies."
"It's called making business deals outside the office, Kara. You
wouldn't understand that." He put his hands on his narrow hips, the
very picture of a high-powered businessman in his tailored suit and
fashionable trench coat. Who the hell wore a trench in Arizona? One of

his many affectations.
"Oh, so the women who sent you graphic texts and photos after those
golf outings, they were just part of your business deals too, huh? Is that
how that worked? Because that's how it played out."
He shook his head. "Just jealous because they managed to maintain
themselves. They didn't let themselves go the way you did."
"We were married, damn it."
"That didn't give you the right to let yourself turn into a slob. You
gained, what, ten pounds?"
"Who could blame me, after the way you treated me? God, Eric, I
needed something to keep me sane. If it was food, it was food. People
do it all the time. I didn't have you—even when I did, you made it a
point to make me miserable and throw it in my face that I wasn't good
enough for you. Why the hell wouldn't I try to soothe myself? Why am
I even explaining myself to you? You don't deserve it."
"As your husband, I'm the only person who does deserve it."
"Ex-husband, Eric. We're not married anymore."
He leaned over me, his voice full of threat. "You don't get to make that
decision, honey. We were married in the eyes of God. You can't just
make that go away with a single slip of paper. You can't run away from
your commitments that easily. I'll have you back—and if I don't, I'll
have our daughter."
"You'll never have her or me. Ever. So help me, Eric. Try all you want."
My heart pounded so hard, I thought I might die right there on the spot.
I had never been so strong, so totally ballsy, in all my life. He'd awoken
the Mama Bear in me, plain and simple. When my instincts

roared to life like that, there was nothing I couldn't do. No one I
couldn't push out of my way.
"I don't even have to try, you pathetic slut. I'll take Emma and leave you
with nothing. And you'll finally be the nothing you always were. Don't
you get it? The only time in your pathetic life when you were ever
somebody was when we were together. You were nothing before me,
and you're nothing now. Maybe things would have been better between
us if I didn't realize after we were married that you put on an act all that
time when we were dating. Pretending to be somebody so I'd like you.
You're trash, plain and simple. I finally figured that out, and you
couldn't handle it."
His words crept into my brain, ate at my soul. The very sorts of things
he used to say to me when we were together—that I was nothing,
nobody, that I would never be anything. That he was the only reason I
had a roof over my head or clothes on my back. He was the only reason
people spoke to me or spent time with me or even looked at me,
pathetic as I was. It was all him. He was the reason I got by in life, and
I needed to remember that. All the times he'd beaten me down with his
fists and his words. It all came back.
And my blood, which had nearly frozen earlier, boiled over. I shoved
him, pushing him away from me, sliding out from the corner into which
he'd trapped me. "You're the one who's trash. I suggest you get the hell
out of here before I have Charlie call the police. They can escort you
out if you can't find the door."
"Him?" Eric jerked a thumb in Charlie's direction. "He's so scared, he' s
liable to piss his pants in another minute or two. Look at him, standing
there. You think he'll help you? Nobody can help you." My palms grew
clammy as Eric's eyes narrowed. His fists clenched. I'd seen that look
on his face many times before. It was the look he got right before he
was about to take a swing at me.

"Stop this, Eric." I injected strength into my voice. "Stop doing this and
just go. Okay? You got what you came for. You wanted to screw with
my head? You did that. You wanted to remind me that you can take
Emma any time you want? You did that, too. There's no reason to come
in here and mess up everybody else's life, too. You've done more than
enough. Please, go, now. Leave us in peace. I have work I need to get
back to."
I thought my little speech would be enough. I thought it would make
him leave once he knew that I knew the reason he was there—just to
scare me. I honestly thought he would turn and go. How naive I was,
even after all the years in which he'd made my life pure torture.
Instead of leaving, he lunged at me. I tried to slip by him, but I was too
slow. My reflexes must have dulled in the time we were apart. No way
I would have let him catch me so easily at the height of our marriage. I
cried out when his hands, like steel grips, closed around my upper
arms. He shook me like a rag doll until my head flopped from side to
side.
Then, it all stopped. He let go. I slumped against the wall, dazed,
shaking my head a little to clear it. When I did, I saw who had pulled
Eric away from me. I couldn't believe it when I recognized my knight
from the biker gang.

Chapter Four
Dom
There were certain things in life that were a total no-no for men like me.
The sorts of unacceptable things I couldn't allow to go on in my
presence. One was child abuse. Kiddie abusers knew better than to do
business with MCs, or anybody who dealt with us, because when we
got wind of what went on, we did what had to be done to balance the
scales. Maybe that was because so many of us came from broken,
fucked up homes.
Another thing was the abuse of animals. There was just no need for it.
When we came across a dog fighting ring a few years into my
membership with the club, it had damn near broken my heart. They
used to make the dogs fight until one of them died, then threw the
bodies into a dumpster behind the building. I had never seen grown
men cry until that day, and I'd come damned close to crying myself.
The sight of all those dead, mangled dogs. The live ones weren't much
better. It had been a joy to free to dogs, burn the entire building to the
ground and tip the cops off to the presence of the ring.
Men who hit women were real high on my list of pieces of shit who
needed wiping off the face of the Earth as well. Real men didn't do shit
like that—it only proved how small and scared they really were. They
needed to hurt something smaller and weaker than them to feel good
about themselves. Why couldn't they see it? How did they get through
life without killing themselves? If I woke up one day and saw myself
for the low-life piece of shit woman abuser the man in the kitchen of
the

diner was, I'd put a bullet in my brain.
I saw red when I saw him shaking her like that. Darlene 's warning had
been enough for me to pay attention to what happened in the kitchen,
but the way she cried out back there was enough to get me barreling
through the swinging doors and heading straight for the two of them.
There he was, in his trench coat, thinking he was tough shit. Shaking a
woman until her head bounced around.
I pulled his hands from her arms. It was nothing, really. He was so
weak it was almost funny. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I
growled in his ear. I had an arm around his neck, and my free hand just
itched to reach for my piece. It was locked and loaded. A single bullet
to his brain would mean one less piece of shit scumbag in the world.
"Get off me." He jerked in my arms, but it was no use. He was fighting
steel. He gave up pretty fast.
"Not until you tell me why you had to hurt her like that."
"I wasn't hurting her. It's none of your goddamned business, you piece
of trash. Get your hands off me, unless you want a lot of trouble for you
and your gang."
I wondered who he was, and how he knew who I was. He must have
seen the guys and me when he walked in, and saw enough of me out of
the corner of his eye to put it all together. He threatened the club, too. I
had to think as the president would think. What was best for my men?
Killing the asshole right there, threatening him a little more, or letting
him go?
As much as it fucking broke my balls to do it, I let him go. Slowly,
though, to let him know I wasn't playing around. He hadn't scared me
personally—not a damn thing he could do to me that hadn't been done
before. I just didn't want to get the club in hot water. The way he
dressed

told me he was a bigshot in town.
"What did he do to you?" I asked Kara. She was against the wall,
rubbing her arms where his hands had dug into her. From the look on
her face, he'd really hurt her.
"None of your business," he spat.
I turned to him. "Last time I checked, I was talking to her. Not you.
Why don't you try minding your business instead?" I looked at her
again.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "I'm okay."
"You should go back to your buddies before things get really bad for
you, pal."
I looked him up and down. The perfectly combed blond hair—he must
have put product in it to get it to sit just right. The gray eyes, the narrow
face. He looked like a rat. He was also around half my size. I smirked at
him.
"I'm not your pal. Why don't you drop the shit and get the hell outta
here, huh? She doesn't wanna talk to you, and neither do I." He moved a
little closer to her, and I saw the way she shrank back. She was terrified
of him, and not just because of what I saw him do. It went back a long
way, the abuse he gave her. I had seen too many women with that same
look in their eye.
"Go to hell, man. Get outta here. You don't belong here." I took a single
step toward him, closing my fists. I was willing to use every bit of my
kickboxing training on him if I had to. I would love it, actually. I
wouldn't have minded caving the fucker's face in if given the chance.
He looked me up and down the way I'd looked at him, his eyes

going over me. He must have seen me for who I was: a tough son of a
bitch who was twice his size. He sneered but held his hands up.
"Fine, I'll go." Before he did, though, he turned to Kara. "This isn't
over, sweetheart. You'll get what's coming to you."
"Do I have to put your fucking face in the fryer for you to get the
message? Out!" I barely had to raise my voice for him to flinch, and he
almost ran away. I waited until he walked out, watching through the
order window to see him leave.
I turned back to her. "Are you all right?" When I thought about the way
he shook her, I wondered how many other times he had done things just
as bad—if not worse. No wonder she was such a hard ass when the
guys flirted with her. She had seen enough bad guys in her life.
I couldn't believe it when she looked pissed at me after what I did.
"Why did you do that?" she asked. "You should mind your own
business, Dominic" The way she read the name off the patch over my
chest made it sound like a curse.
"What?" I took a step back. "Are you fucking serious? I only came in
here because I heard you yelp. He shook you so hard I thought your
head might come off." I reached out, pulling up the short sleeve of her
uniform. She winced, flinching back, but not before I saw the dark
rings already forming around her arm. I wanted to kill him when I saw
how he had bruised her.
"You're gonna tell me I shouldn't have stopped him? What should I
have done? Walk out? Pretend I didn't see it? And it's Dom, by the
way."
"I don't need your help, okay Dom? You don't know what you did." She
pushed her way past me, going around a corner. I followed her without
thinking about it. She went to a bathroom, but left the door open.

I heard the water running as she splashed her face.
"You did need my help, and I don't care what I did. I would do it again,"
I insisted. Why did she have to be so stubborn?
She looked at me in the mirror, and I noticed how blue her eyes were.
"Oh, you would? What if I told you that you just made my life even
harder than it has to be? Now he's going to come back after me, and
when he does, he'll be pissed off this time. Even more than he already
was, actually. He's going to want revenge. Frankly, I wouldn't be
surprised if he took revenge on your club, too."
"Who the hell is this guy? What makes him so goddamned special?"
"I know you probably haven't heard of them, but he's the Eric Cantrell
in Cantrell, Dunkirk, and Brown. The biggest investment banking firm
on the west coast. And he's my ex-husband."
"I knew he was your ex," I muttered.
"How did you know that?"
"The other waitress told me. Darlene. I was looking for you, and she
was worried."
"Oh, great. I'm sure she told you the whole story, too." Kara turned
around, leaning on the sink, glaring at me.
"She didn't tell me anything but that. She didn't have to. I'm not fucking
stupid, you know. I saw the way he treated you. If that's why you left,
you did the right thing."
"I' m glad I have your vote of approval," she said, smirking. "But he' s
made my life even more of a living hell since I left. And he wants

our daughter, and I won't let him have her. I swear I won't. I'll die
before I let him take her from me. You saw what he did, right? Imagine
him doing it to her."
I didn't want to. I didn't know her kid, but I could imagine a little girl
shaking back and forth like that, with her head flopping around the way
Kara' s had.
Like she heard my thoughts, her hand went to her neck. "Yikes," she
muttered, massaging it.
"You should go to the hospital. File a report on him. You've got the
bruises, you've got an eyewitness account. I can tell them what I saw. I
mean, come on. If he's trying to take your kid, you need to have a case
against him. Right?"
She smiled, and I noticed for the first time how tired she looked. "Yes,
I have to have a case against him. Do you know how well-known he is
in this town? How beloved? How much money his firm donates every
year to various civic causes? The police and fire departments. The
hospitals. The campaigns for local politicians. The schools, even. See a
pattern? All the people who could potentially raise red flags against
him. He convinces his partners they need to donate money, to raise
their social standing and give back to the community. All these causes
of his know the money will disappear if they say anything against him.
That's how he keeps them in his pocket."
She shook her head, sighing. "Don't you think I've tried? Three times I
went to the hospital after he hurt me. One time I had a broken arm.
Another time, a black eye and bruised ribs. Another time he broke my
collar bone. All those times in just a couple of years. He took time off
when I was pregnant. I can at least give him credit for that." She
laughed bitterly. "Do you think once, even one time, anybody asked me
if my husband did it to me? That's the first question they ask, isn't it? If
somebody in your household did something to you."

"I really don't know," I replied.
"I went with a friend of mine to the ER once. She had tripped and fallen
while we were out one day. Her wrist broke. I drove her to the hospital.
And the first thing two nurses and a doctor asked her was that very
question. Did somebody in her household do it to her, and was there
anybody there she was afraid of." Kara stared at me. "Nobody asked me
in three visits. Not a single person. What does that tell you?"
"It tells me this town is even more fucked up than I thought it was," I
muttered.
She nodded. "You don't even know," she whispered. "So that's what I'
m facing. And if he can use that kind of power against me, imagine
what he can do to people like you."
The words hung in the air. Her cheeks went red when she realized what
she had said. "People like me?"
"Motorcycle clubs. I know who you are. The Blood Bandits."
"Congratulations. You can read." Everybody knew who we were when
we went out in our kuttes, and we never rode without them.
"I've heard of you is all. I know what you're capable of. And he will
know it, too. I promise. He'll make it his business to find out everything
he can and bring you down. I wish to God you had left it alone. It's
enough that he's making my life a misery. I don't want to see him doing
it to anybody else."
"Even trash like me. Isn't that right?" I laughed.
"I never said that."

"You didn't have to. I'm used to it."
She stood up straight, coming toward me. She couldn't have been much
more than five feet tall, but when she wanted to, she could make those
inches count. She put her hands on her hips, staring me down. "I'm
sorry if I give a damn about what my shithead of an ex-husband will do
to you, okay? Maybe it's all the years of feeling like a loser for staying
with him as long as I did. I don't know. Either way, I have guilt issues.
If you have half a brain in your head, you'll stay far, far away from him
and lay low for a while. Don't even stick your nose outside if you don't
have to."
I chuckled. "Nobody tells me what to do. I do what I want. I helped you
because I wanted to, not because I wanted your permission or your
thanks. Good thing, I guess, since I didn't get either. I didn't do it to be a
good guy either." I leaned down, closing the gap between our faces.
Her eyes went wide under dark eyebrows. "I'm not a good guy. But I
guess you knew that already."
She breathed hard, heavy, through slightly parted lips. Thick, full lips.
The kind a man wants to suck on until a woman cries out for more. The
kind I imagined being sweet and soft and juicy. I licked my own lips
just looking at her.
"Get away from me," she whispered. She didn't sound like she meant it,
though, and she didn't make a move. Her eyes were on my mouth, too.
She watched me closely, gasping a little with every breath.
I needed to do it. I couldn't help but take her by her tiny waist and pull
her closer to me as my mouth met hers. I had to taste her. I had to know
if she was as good as she looked. The first instant when our mouths met
was electric. My cock sprang to life, aching for more of her.
I parted her lips with my tongue, and she sighed and melted against me
as I explored the inside of her mouth. She was so sweet, and warm,

and alive in my arms. Her hands found my shoulders. She gripped me
hard, moaning a little in the back of her throat. I thrusted my hips
toward her, rubbing my erect cock against her hip, and she moaned
louder.
Then she gasped, pushing me away with more force than I thought a
little thing like her would have. "What's wrong with you?" she asked.
From the way she breathed, I would have thought she'd just run a
marathon. Her tits rose and fell as she panted for air. Her eyes were
bright, her cheeks flushed. Her mouth was a little swollen from the
rough way I had kissed her.
She sneered, wiping the back of her mouth with her hand. "Go to hell,"
she spat.
I couldn't explain why I felt disappointed. Something inside me went
sour. I could only smile a little at her choice of words. "I'm already
there," I said, shrugging before I turned to leave the kitchen. The cook
looked at me with wide eyes. He was still scared from that asshole
being there. He had a right to be scared. I had a feeling, if Kara was
telling the truth, that he could be a lot of trouble for all of us.
"There you are!" Chase saw me as I walked out of the kitchen. "I told
you to go after her, not to do it right there in the kitchen. You couldn't
have waited a little bit?"
I looked around the table. Chase was the only person left. "Where did
everybody go?"
"The already had their dessert. The other waitress, the cute little
MILF-y thing, she brought out pie and cake. You were gone for a long
time, brother." He finally noticed the look on my face, and his smile
disappeared. "What's wrong? What happened back there?"
I wanted to brush it off, wanted to ignore her warnings. I couldn't,
though. "I think it was trouble," I said.

Chapter Five
Kara
Darlene tried to get me to go home after the incident with Eric, but I
wouldn't leave. I couldn't do without the tips, even though the Blood
Bandits had left over a hundred dollars.
"You take half," I urged her. "You delivered the dessert and cleaned up
the plates and stuff."
"You couldn't help that," she insisted, pushing the money toward me.
"Please. Take it. You need it, honey. Stop being proud for a little while,
okay?"
I couldn't keep offering to give it to her, so I pocketed it with the
promise to myself that I would do something nice for her at some point.
She deserved it for being such a good friend.
The ironic part was it was such a quiet night I could've left without
much of a dent to my take for the night. I only served a half dozen more
tables, though I at least had the chance to sit and rest in between times.
Darlene sat with me at one point. "Are you all right?"
"I' m so tired," I admitted. "Not just tired physically, though Lord
knows that's a very real thing right now. I'm tired in my heart. I don't
understand why Eric won't let me go."

"It's a threat to his manhood, honey. The fact that you left him."
"He doesn't care about me," I said. "He cares that I left him. It's a blow
to his pride. You're absolutely right." I put my head in my hands. The
pain in my arms was exquisite—it was difficult to lift a tray, so I had to
carry plates to tables to at a time. I couldn't handle more than that. I had
painkillers at home, so I could at least count on the pain going away
long enough to let me sleep.
"You were right to leave him," Darlene reminded me. It was like she
could hear my thoughts.
"Sometimes I wonder," I said. "Isn't that sick? Sometimes I wonder if it
was the right decision. I mean, he hurt me, yes. But it was nothing I
couldn't handle. I should have grown a thicker skin."
"No way," Darlene said, rubbing my back. "I've known a lot of women
in your position, Kara. And let me tell you, they don't wake up one day
and decide not to do it anymore. It escalates, in fact. Tell me. Did he
start off hitting you?"
"No," I admitted. "It was all verbal for a long time."
"Right. Then he moved on to physical violence. And I bet that got
worse over time, too, right?"
I only nodded.
"Oh, honey, you did the right thing. For you and your daughter. Who
knows when he would have turned on her?"
"I can't even think about that," I said, shaking my head. It wasn't like I
never had. I'd carried the image in my heart—made-up, thank God—of
Eric hurting Emma. It was one of the only reasons I found the strength
to leave him, the thought that he would hurt her one day.

"So stop blaming yourself. This is all his fault. And I bet he's nothing
but a lot of talk."
"That's where you're wrong," I said with a rueful smile. "He means
every word he says. He's determined to make my life a living hell. He'll
take away the one thing that ever mattered to me. He wants to drag me
through the dirt, make me wish I'd never been so stupid as to leave him.
Really, I wish I'd never been so stupid as to marry him. God, what was
I thinking?"
"If you hadn't, you wouldn't have Emma. She's a great kid." Darlene
smiled.
"Yeah, you're right." I smiled, too. Just the thought of my spunky,
willful, whip-smart little girl was enough to make me feel a little better.
Like there would be a good outcome to the situation. I had to adopt a
little bit of the hope she ran around with. The endless hope of children.
By the time five o'clock rolled around, all I wanted was a hot foot bath
and something for the pain. I couldn't take it until Emma went to
school, though, since it would make me loopy. The thought of getting
back home after driving her there was all that got me through as I drove
home, my sore arms making it difficult to turn the wheel.
Why had I married him? It was a question which plagued me night and
day during the worst times of my marriage, and again in the days just
after my leaving. Why had I married him? Did I have any pride? Or was
it that I didn't think I could do any better? The thought was sobering
and sad, and probably very close to the truth. I'd always been what the
boys thought of as "cute," but I was the good friend. I wasn't tall or
willowy. Back then, that had been the ideal body. In the ten years that
had passed since the painful days of high school, a new body standard
had come to pass: the curvy girl. My day had come.

Not that I was ever fat. I was petite, large busted, with a thick butt. No
matter how hard I worked out, how little food I ate, I couldn't change
my basic body type. Boys didn't pay attention to me, and my
self-esteem suffered. Then, my freshman year of college, Eric showed
up in my life as a teacher's assistant. He'd been a grad student studying
finance, and he must have sensed there was something in me that would
respond well to something in him. Some wounded part of me. Like an
animal sensing his prey.
I pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex I'd called home
for the eight months since I packed up Emma's and my things and left
while Eric was on a business trip. It was still the most daring thing I' d
ever done. Sometimes I could hardly believe I was that person, the one
who ran, who finally took charge of her life.
I remembered every time I turned the key in the lock on the weathered
front door to my apartment. Every time I entered the tiny little living
room with its popcorn paint ceiling and paneled walls. The only thing I
could afford on the little money I made at the diner, and a far cry from
the cathedral ceiling of the entrance the condo Eric still insisted I loved
so much. It had been all his idea, obviously, as everything in our
marriage had been. I did miss the space, though. The only thing I
missed.
Mom was fast asleep on the couch, reruns of I Love Lucy playing at low
volume on the TV. I considered turning it off, but instead sank into the
beaten recliner beside the sofa and put my feet up. I let Lucy and Ethel
take my mind off the myriad problems plaguing me. After an hour or
so, I chuckled a little too loudly at a certain scene, causing Mom to
wake with a start.
"Jesus! You scared me to death!" She placed a hand over her chest,
eyes wide behind big, round glasses.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"No sense now," she said, sitting up instead. "Besides, it's, what, nearly
six thirty? Emma will be up soon. I might as well get going. Unless you
need me to stay and help? You just tell me what you need."
I smiled, about to tell her not to worry, but thought twice before I
spoke. "Would you mind helping her out of her bunk when she gets up?
My arms are very achy today."
"Achy? What happened?" Mom reached for me, and I winced. I should
have known better than to bring it up.
"Nothing, really. You try working a double shift with those heavy trays
and see if your arms don't kill you by the time you get home." I tried to
laugh, tried to keep it light. I failed miserably.
"Let me see your arms, Kara Louise. You know you've worked many a
double shift, and you've never winced when I tried to touch
you."
I couldn't argue with her. I raised one of my sleeves. Mom's gasp
wrenched my heart.
"What happened? Oh my God, Kara. Did he come to the diner?"
I nodded, tears filling my eyes for the first time since it happened. It
was like a floodgate opening, and before I knew it the entire wretched
story poured out of my mouth. Mom looked horrified by the time I
finished.
"Oh, thank goodness that man came in to help you. What if he had hurt
you even worse?"
"Mom, it's okay. He wouldn't have hurt me worse. Really. I'm fine, just
very sore. My muscles are screaming at me."

"I don't doubt it! You've said so many times that he's so strong. I' m
going to get some of those painkillers out of the medicine cabinet, and
I' m going to watch you take one."
"Mom, really..." I didn't want to raise my voice and wake Emma. I
waited until she came back. "I can't take one until Emma goes to
preschool. It makes me too loopy. I can nap until it's time to go pick her
up."
"You'll take it now, and you'll go to bed, and I'll take care of getting
Emma to school today. You have to do something for yourself for once.
Let me take care of you."
I wanted to protest, but on the other hand, I didn't. It felt good having
somebody fret over me. "You always take care of me," I said, taking
the pill from one hand and the glass of water from the other. I had a
good half hour until the pill took effect.
"I want to. Just let me. Okay?" She went to the kitchen. "I'll make some
tea. You keep your feet up." I couldn't argue. I didn't want to. There
was something special about having my mommy around. One of the
qualifications of an apartment was proximity to my mother's house—a
shame it was so small, or I would have moved in with her. But Mom
downsized after Dad's passing, so she lived in a little one-bedroom,
single-story home with hardly room enough for her. Still, it was close
enough that she could come over any time I needed her. It pained me to
need her so much, though. I hated to think of a time when she couldn't
be such a help anymore. What would I do then?
I let myself zone out to the TV while Mom puttered in the kitchen. As if
Fate were nudging me, a commercial for Happy Days came on—Mom
loved watching her classic TV while babysitting overnight. The Fonz
made me think of the bikers in the diner. One in particular.
That kiss. I closed my eyes thinking about it. I hadn't had a kiss

like that. well, in my entire life. It had been over eight months since
anybody had kissed me at all, and even then, Eric's kisses had devolved
to the point where they were perfunctory. The way a brother might kiss
his sister, on the cheek with almost no contact.
Dom's kiss, on the other hand, had been magic. I'd gotten wet almost
right away, an unknown wave of passion sweeping over me. I had no
idea before then that I was capable of getting turned on so easily. I'd
melted into him, holding on for dear life. My heart had raced, blood had
rushed in my ears. The moment had been intoxicating. and wrong. So
very wrong.
I hardened myself against the memory. I didn't have time or space in
my life for a man—any man, but especially not a bad guy like Dom and
his friends. The last thing I needed was a criminal. I would never let
myself get caught up in ill-fated romance again. And anything with
Dom was bound to be ill-fated. No doubt about it.
Mom came back in, holding a tray with two cups of tea. I thanked her
profusely. It might have been the exhaustion, but I felt like the pain
meds were kicking in a little faster than usual. It was a relief. I would
sleep for hours, pain-free. I might even have a few nice dreams.
Like maybe a dream about that kiss. I pushed the thought from my
head, insisting it was nothing.
"Why are you blushing?" Mom asked.
I didn't want to tell her, but I hadn't even told Darlene, and I needed to
spill to somebody. "The strangest thing happened after Eric left.
Remember, I told you that man pulled him off me."
"Yes, I'm so glad he did."
I took a sip of the hot, fragrant tea, wondering how I could best

phrase what was coming. "After that, we argued a little. I told him I
didn't think it was a good thing that he'd helped me."
"Why in the world not?"
"Come on. You know how Eric is. I would hate to see this man's life
ruined because Eric held a grudge against him."
"Oh. I see. Still, I don't care. Your safety is all that matters to me."
"Either way, we argued about it. And...well...he kissed me." I blushed
again, probably to the roots of my hair.
"What?"
"Mm-hmm. He kissed me, and it was nice. I mean, I'm hardly in love or
anything, but it was nice. Unexpected. I told him off after, of course. I
mean, he had no right to do it. Still. I didn't hate it."
Mom stayed uncharacteristically quiet, which was just fine by me. I
saw a twinkle in her eye, though, and I wondered gleefully if she'd feel
the same way after I told her Dom was part of an MC. I wouldn't dare,
though. She'd hit the ceiling.
Once I' d finished my tea, I stood. Sleep was a very real, very growing
concern. I felt chatty, too, which told me the pill had started to take
effect. Sure enough, when I raised my arms there was almost no pain.
"Let's get you to bed," Mom said, helping me into my room. The sun
was starting its slow climb outside the window, telling me there wasn't
much time before Emma had to get up. I moved as quietly as I could,
slipping my uniform over my head and pulling on a set of sweats while
Mom got Emma's clothes together for the day.

Before going to bed, I went to Emma's room and watched my little girl
sleep. I'd managed to find a set of bunk beds for really cheap at a garage
sale—she thought it was so cool, sleeping on the top bunk. Anything to
add a little magic to her life.
She was still deep under, the way only kids can sleep. I wondered how
she managed it. A bomb could go off and she'd let out another snore
before rolling over.
She was on her back, head turned toward me. Dark curls like my own. I
brushed one back from her forehead. As always, I counted the freckles
on her nose. Seven. Same as before.
"I'll never let him take you away," I whispered. "I'll protect you no
matter what." I stood on tiptoe to kiss Emma's smooth forehead, then
slid into the bottom bunk without thinking about it. By the time my
head hit the pillow, I was already dreaming about knights on
motorcycles. Knights who could kiss a woman until her knees turned to
water and she wished she had done so many things differently.

Chapter Six
Dom
It was pointless, trying to sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about her, or
the way it had felt when we kissed. She hadn't even wanted me to. Still,
there was no missing the way she'd reacted. She'd wanted it. She'd
needed it, even. I couldn't imagine the asshole she used to be married to
was the most affectionate. He probably didn't care if she came when
they had sex. As long as he did, he was okay.
My hands gripped the sides of my mug so hard, the heat from the coffee
burned them a little. I welcomed the pain. It reminded me of who I was,
how much I could tolerate. I could get through anything. Hadn't I
proven it to myself? I shook my head at the random thoughts floating
through my consciousness, blaming it on a night spent tossing and
turning while thinking about a frustrating woman with deep blue eyes.
"You doing okay?" One of the club's girls, standing behind the bar. She
had made the coffee for me after I spent the night in our clubhouse.
"Just fine, darlin'. A little distracted is all." Carly was a nice girl. I had
even slept with her once or twice after that last night with Lauren. She
cared about me, I could tell, but then again I had never had trouble
finding women to care about me. It didn't help that Carly knew my
whole sick, twisted backstory. She wanted to fix me, the way women
always did when the wrong man came into their lives.
"You seemed upset." She wiped down the bar, humming to herself.

"How old are you?" I asked. "I can't believe I don't already know the
answer to that."
"Twenty-three. I'm getting pretty old." I rolled my eyes, and she
smiled.
"I guess thirty's ancient, then. Better get me a cane and a discount
card."
"Why do you ask?" She stopped what she was doing, leaning toward
me over the bar. Most times, the sight of her tits pushing together over
the top of her tank would've been enough to set my imagination off. I
wasn't in the mood for that.
"I wondered—this is gonna sound so stupid—I wondered if you ever
knew a girl who dated an abusive guy. Like, why do they do it?"
Her eyes went wide, and she looked like she seriously considered the
question. I hoped like hell that I hadn't hurt her or triggered her or
whatever. I didn't know her history outside of the time she spent with
the club. I didn't know what she did otherwise, if she had any kind of
life outside the clubhouse doors.
When she spoke, she spoke slowly. "I knew a girl once, in high school.
Scarlett. She was so sweet, and really smart. Smarter than any of my
other friends. She was from a family like mine. You know, no dad, her
mom was never around. Her older sister raised her. Anyway, she tried
hard in school. She wanted to get a scholarship to college. Then she
started dating this guy Mike."
Carly shivered, rubbing her arms like she had goosebumps. "He was
bad news. I knew it right away. We all did. He never wanted her to
hang out with any of us. Know what I mean? She stopped coming
around. She stopping doing her club stuff, too, which was weird. She

used to be in the choir and the drama club, but she dropped out of them.
And I mean, this was all in like two months. She met him, and all this
happened." She shook her head. "We all knew it was him, but she
swore up and down that he didn't have anything to do with it. She
needed to help out more at home, she told us. Now that I could believe,
since she had two brothers younger than her. It just seemed funny,
though. Like, totally obvious that she changed after she met Mike."
"What happened to her?" I asked with a sick feeling in my stomach.
"She started wearing turtlenecks when it was warm outside." Carly
smiled sadly. "You see where I'm going."
"Yeah, I do." My blood boiled just thinking about it, and I didn't know
the girl.
"She broke up with him, finally. We were so happy. Then she left town
and didn't say why. She never told anybody she was going. Not even
her sister." Carly's wide eyes stared into mine. I knew what she was
trying to say, but she didn't want to say it out loud. Who would?
"Jesus," I muttered. "Why do you think girls stay with guys like that? I
mean, you said she was smart. It sounds like she had a lot going for her.
Why do that, then?"
"I used to ask her all the time, honestly." Carly lit a cigarette, and I
noticed the way her hands shook a little. I hated myself for bringing it
all back up for her. "And you know what she said? I swear to God, it
was the saddest damn thing I never heard. She looked at me, plain as
anything, and said, 'If I break up with him, I'll never find another
boyfriend. If I do, he won't love me like Mike does.' Can you believe
it?"
"So, what, you think he tricked her into thinking that?"

"I do. I think he made her believe it. Because seriously, she was
beautiful. Any guy would have gone out with her. He did it to her. "
Carly' s voice shook with her hands.
"I'm sorry," I muttered, feeling like the world's biggest asshole.
She took a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. "She taught me a lesson,
anyway. A man ever lays his hands on me, he'll find out why I took a
year's worth of self-defense classes."
I had to laugh, and I asked her to show me her moves some time before
going to Chase's office. I needed a little alone time, and I knew he
wouldn't care—he wasn't there, and wasn't he the one always telling me
I would take over for him one day?
I stretched out on the sofa against one wall, closing my eyes. My whole
body screamed for sleep, but my brain wouldn't stop bugging me with
memories of the night before. Holding that asshole by the throat,
wishing I could put just a little more pressure to it. Just enough to make
him stop breathing. The way Kara had looked when he shook her. The
way she looked when I "saved" her, and she told me she didn't need it.
The kiss. The fucking kiss. I couldn't get it out of my head.
Had he done the same things to her as Scarlett's boyfriend did? Had he
broken her down, made her think she wasn't worth any better?
Anybody could look at Kara and know she could have any man she
wanted. She was gorgeous, with those eyes and that dark, curly hair. I
wondered what it felt like to bury my hands in it. All I had touched was
her waist when we kissed. She hadn't given me enough time to explore
her. My cock ached painfully when I remembered how it felt to touch
my tongue to hers, the way she sounded when she moaned.
You 're all wrong for her. I knew it even before the voice in my head
told me so. I was wrong for any woman I ever touched, so why

should a random diner waitress be any different? And there I was,
thinking I could be a hero, trying to save her from the shithead she used
to be married to. I had no right acting that way, because I wasn't a good
guy. I wasn't a hero. I was the sort of man women tried to get away
from. Just because I had never hit a woman didn't make me any better.
It had been the same way with Lauren. I had never felt good enough for
her, and it wasn't in my imagination. I really wasn't good enough. She
was the golden girl, the one everybody expected big things from. She'd
been near the top of our class in high school—before I'd dropped out in
senior year, anyway. That was when I'd joined the club full-time. There
wasn't enough time in the day to go to school, study and work with the
club. I'd made my choice, and I'd never regretted it.
Still, she'd wanted to be with me. It was the biggest surprise of my life
the first time I'd asked her out, back when we were both still students,
and she'd said yes. I remembered thinking it was a joke, like all the
smart, preppy kids would come out from whatever corner they were
hiding behind to laugh at me. The kid from the wrong side of the tracks,
asking out the valedictorian track star. She had meant it, though, and
she'd even stayed by me when I dropped out.
I remembered the look on her face when I told her. Her beautiful face.
The big, green eyes. Like emeralds. She had been so disappointed, but
she'd known enough about me to respect my decision. There was no
way I would change my mind.
Meanwhile, she'd gone on to college. Then to medical school. All the
time, she stayed with me. She loved me. She used to tell me she'd loved
me ever since the first day of junior year, when I'd ridden up to school
on the back of my first bike. She had fallen in love.
"You fell in love with an image," I used to say. "Not with me. You don'
t know the real me."

She would take my face in her hands whenever I said it. "I know who
you are. I know what you do. I would have to be stupid not to know.
But I know your heart, too. I know the person inside. I know you have a
beautiful soul, even if you don't want the guys to know. I'll keep your
secret for you." And she had, until the day she died.
I would never forget it as long as I lived. Two years ago, in front of the
clubhouse. It pained me every time I walked past the spot where I held
her. The blood was gone, washed away. It was always there in my head,
though. I didn' t need to see it to remember the way it had looked,
watching Lauren's life spread out under her in a red pool.
My heart ached when I thought about it, but I couldn't stop once I got
started. I knew enough after two years not to bother trying to change
my thoughts. It was no good. Once I started thinking about Lauren, I
had to see the story through to the end.
It had been late at night. She'd worked a double at the hospital, still in
scrubs when she climbed out of her car in front of the clubhouse. I'd
met her outside. She'd smiled, starting to walk toward me.
Then, headlights. Coming from every direction. I'd screamed at her to
get down, to go back to the car, something, anything to get her out of
there. She was too far away from the clubhouse doors to make it. She'd
been a sitting duck.
I' d screamed for help, screamed for my guys to come out and back me
up. There was a gun fight. Lauren fell to the ground, but I didn't know if
it was to take cover or because she had been hit. By that time, a dozen
Blood Bandits had come out shooting, so I took the chance to Army
crawl across the parking lot until I reached her.
She was already bleeding out. Hit once in the shoulder, once in the
midsection, both from behind. The bullets had gone through both
times. I turned her over, and she was already coughing up blood. I
couldn't stop

it. There had been no way to stop it. I remembered asking her what to
do—she was the doctor, not me. She couldn't speak except in whispers,
and all she'd said was, "I love you."
I squeezed my eyes even more tightly when I remembered the panic,
the fury, the helplessness. There was nothing I could do but hold her
while she bled to death in my arms. It had only taken a minute or two
by the time I reached her.
I killed her. I might as well have. If she hadn't been there that night, she
would have lived. She would be a respected doctor. She might have a
family, kids, a husband. A happy life. A life, anyway. If it weren't for
me.
I threw an arm over my eyes, willing myself to calm down and stop
thinking over it again. How many times had I replayed that night?
Hundreds? Thousands? A few times a day? All to remind me of one
thing: I was no good for anyone. I had pushed everyone and everything
I ever cared for out of my life after that night. I was close with my guys,
but not too close. I slept with women, but never more than once or
twice and never two nights in a row. I lived alone. I never went out
except with the club, and usually only when we had a run to go on.
Otherwise, it was just me. By myself. I liked it that way. That way, I
wasn't accountable for anybody but myself. And I wouldn't get
anybody else killed just because they loved me.

Chapter Six
Kara
The sleep did a world of good. When I woke up, my arms hurt, but I felt
more clearheaded than I had in weeks. Months, maybe. I understood
why when I looked at my phone. I sat up so fast, I nearly hit my head on
the underside of the top bunk.
"Two thirty?" I shrieked, flying around the apartment. I put on my
sneakers and raced out the door without even going to the bathroom or
looking at myself in the mirror. It didn't matter. I had to be at the school
by two forty-five to pick up Emma. All I needed was for somebody to
think I was unfit when it came to picking my daughter up from school.
And I couldn't have her thinking I wouldn't come for her.
I made it there with just a minute to spare, pulling into the pickup line
in front of the school with a sigh of relief. I'd probably broken a half
dozen traffic laws to make it there in time, but I'd managed to fly under
the radar, thank God. Somebody up there was on my side for once.
A knock at the driver's side window. "Hi, Kara." Wendy, one of the
shiny, happy moms. Didn't I used to be one of them—or, rather, didn' t
I used to pretend to be one of them? I wished she had known me back
when I was like her. When I used to get my hair done every four weeks,
along with my hands and feet. When I used to exercise like a demon to
keep myself in shape, or risk being called a fat cow. When I dressed
impeccably rather than driving to my kid's school without a bra on
beneath my t-shirt.

The smug tone of Wendy's voice told me everything I needed to know
about my appearance. To think, when I was a kid I used to believe there
were no such things as bullies once a person grew up. I wished
somebody had told me bullies never went away. They just got bigger.
"Listen," Wendy continued, "Mrs. DeSilva is going out on maternity
leave at the end of the week, and all us moms thought it would be nice
to put a card together for her. You know, with a gift card inside for a
baby store or something."
I knew where she was going. "That sounds great," I said, smiling. I was
so used to forcing myself to smile, it was sad.
"I figured you might not have the money, so I put twenty dollars in for
you. You can get me back whenever you have it. No rush." She smiled
like she thought she was Mother Theresa or something. My pulse
raced, my hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"You know what? I'll get you back right now." I reached into my
wallet, pulling out one of the twenty dollar bills from the previous
night's tip money. "Thanks so much for thinking of me. I appreciate it."
"Oh, no problem."
I rolled the window up before Wendy could continue speaking and
make me feel like even less of a human being than I already did. I
wouldn't give her the satisfaction of watching me crumble, though. She
wasn't worth it.
Did they all think I was such a mess? Did they talk about me behind my
back? Did they talk about my daughter, too? How her mother could
barely make ends meet? I'd thought I hid my situation pretty well, all
things considered. I still drove the Lexus, only because Eric had put it
in my name when he bought it—one of the only generous things he'd

ever done throughout the course of our relationship. I tried to keep
myself up as best I could. Emma's clothes were always clean, always in
good shape. She had plenty of food, always went on field trips even if I
had to scrimp and save well in advance to cover the fees. What was I
missing?
I didn' t have time to think about it, since Emma walked toward the car
only moments later. I climbed out, all smiles, bending down to gather
her up in my arms. It was a challenge, since the pain had returned, but I
needed to hold my baby. I only hoped she didn't ask me to lift her into
her car seat.
"Mmm, you smell so good." I took a deep breath, catching the smell of
her hair. "Like cookies. I wanna eat you up!"
"No, Mama!" Emma giggled, making the little problems and worries in
my head all but disappear. She had a way of doing that for me.
"Come on, big girl. We need to get you home so I can cuddle you
forever and ever."
"You don't have to work tonight?"
"No way! This is my day off! We're gonna hang out all night and have
your favorite dinner and watch a movie on the couch. " Emma
practically jumped for joy. It was so easy to make her happy. I hoped
she managed to keep that sense of joy no matter what life threw at her.
The whole way home, Emma prattled on and on in the back seat. "And
then, Mrs. DeSilva did this... and Priscilla and Madison aren't talking to
each other... and then Mrs. DeSilva did that... and then..." I was
perfectly happy to let her talk until she was blue in the face. As long as
she was happy.
"Hey, Mama?"

"Yes, baby."
"You were asleep when I woke up this morning."
"I know, baby, but I kissed you while you were asleep. Mama was so
tired when she got home that she just had to sleep."
"Because you worked all night long."
"That's right. It was a very, very long night." You have no idea, my love,
and I hope you never do.
"Mama, are we poor?"
"What?" I nearly slammed on the brakes, I was so stunned by the
suddenness of her question. "What do you mean? Why are you asking
me that?"
Emma looked down at her shoes. Shoes that needed to be replaced.
"Priscilla said her mommy said we were poor."
Damn that Wendy. I wanted to have a word or two with her majesty the
next time we ran into each other. "What else did Priscilla say?"
"Nothing. Just that we were poor. Are we, Mama?" Emma's chin
quivered. I glanced in the mirror to find my baby on the verge of tears,
and there was nothing I could do about it. No, bullies never went away.
"No, baby, we're not poor. We're just having a tough time right now."
"What does poor mean?"
I could have laughed. The kid didn't even know what the word

meant. She probably knew enough about it from the way that little brat
Priscilla said it, though. If ever a little girl was destined to grow up like
her mommy, it was Priscilla. "Poor means we don't have a lot of
money. Like, we have to save up for things. And we can't take
vacations like we used to, or go out to eat all the time."
"Because we don't live with Daddy anymore," she said.
"Right." It was like a minefield, never knowing where to step. The next
step might lead to an explosion.
"Because you and Daddy got divorced."
"That's right. And you know what divorce is."
"Oh, yeah. Lots of people have divorces. I know what that is. How
come I never get to see Daddy? Olivia and Madison see their Daddy on
the weekends."
I wanted to scream—not at my daughter, but at her worldliness. Why
were three-year-olds talking about things like this, anyway? "That's a
very long story, sweetheart. Daddy and I don't get along, but it doesn't
mean he doesn't love you." Oh, I hated lying to her. I didn't think her
father was capable of love, but how could I explain that to a
three-year-old? Hell, I wouldn't have told her about it if she were
thirteen, or eighteen. It was too much for her to handle. For all his
distance, for all his neglect, Emma had idolized him. She'd learned to
hang on every little bit of attention he gave her, the poor thing.
"I understand." She sounded so old, so wise.
You'll never understand, I wanted to say, because I'm going to keep it
from you if it kills me. You'll never understand the man he truly is. You
don' t need to know. It' s too much for you to know.

"Things are okay for you and me, aren't they?" I asked, glancing at her
again as I drove. "I mean, you're happy with us living together.
Right?"
"Yeah, I love living with you." "Even though the apartment is small?"
"I like when we play games, and when we watch movies and sing songs
and stuff." She was so resilient, too. Looking for the positive in
everything. Even though the apartment was roughly the size of the
kitchen in the house she'd grown up in, she didn't appear to mind. I
hoped she hadn't also learned how to lie to make her mother feel better
when she learned about divorce and the way certain people looked
down on others who were poor.
Once we got home, I didn't have much time to think since my daughter'
s needs eclipsed my own. I helped her with homework, which
thankfully was still only a little bit at the age of three. The fact that she
had homework at all was shocking to me at first, but that was before I
heard kindergartners were learning about computers. A simple
three-line synopsis of a book we read together didn't seem like such a
big deal in comparison.
I left Emma in the living room to watch her favorite show while I went
in to take a shower. "I'll get dinner started as soon as I get dressed," I
promised, knowing I couldn't live another minute with the smell of
food still in my hair from the double shift. I turned the water up as hot
as it would go, and the heat helped my muscles relax. I tried to
remember if I had a heating pad somewhere, and laughed at the thought
of shoving one more thing into the cramped place I called home. There
was nearly nothing in terms of closet space. Where would I store a
heating pad?
I was still chuckling almost deliriously as I went back to the room I

shared with my daughter. The mirror hanging on the back of the door
told me what I needed to know about my arms. There were big, nasty
bruises around both biceps. I dried off in a hurry, throwing a shirt on to
cover them before Emma got bored and decided to visit me while I
dressed.
I' d left my phone on the dresser, and it buzzed angrily with an
incoming call. I looked at it, then recoiled in horror. Eric. No way I was
going to take his call. A fist-sized ball of fear took root in my stomach,
growing bigger and bigger. I stepped away from the phone like it was a
deadly animal, until my back was against the opposite wall. It wasn't
very far.
Why was he calling? He hadn't called in weeks, maybe even an entire
month. What did he want from me? Did he plan to finish the job he had
started at the diner? My stomach churned—had I had a bite of food in
it, I might have thrown up. I closed my eyes instead, forcing myself to
breathe. In, out. In, out. Slowly. Deeply. With purpose. Counting to
four on the inhale, then four on the exhale. Over and over until the
nausea and panic passed.
By then, the phone had stopped ringing. I picked it up, gasping to find
ten missed calls. He'd been calling all day—I just hadn't checked the
phone carefully when I first woke up, in all my haste to get out the
door. It was the first time I was paying attention. The horror grew.
A single buzz. A voicemail. I closed my eyes, trying to decide if I
should listen or not. I knew what I would hear—blatant insanity.
Evilness. Threats and ugliness. I didn't need that in my life.
Still... I couldn't help myself. I opened my voicemails and listened to
the latest one.
"You fucking bitch." I recoiled in horror, his words hitting me like a
hand across the face. "You think you can do this to me? You think I'm

gonna roll over and play dead while you keep my kid from me? Oh, no,
sweetheart. Do you have another thing coming. Oh, do you have
another thing coming to you. You're gonna be so surprised when you
find out what I have for you. And then Emma will be mine, and there's
nothing you can do about it. Enjoy her while you still can."
I couldn't listen to anymore, and deleted that message, along with all
other messages. My hands shook almost uncontrollably as I did so.
What could I do? I felt trapped like an animal. I took even more deep
breaths, telling myself to calm down, that there was nothing he could
do to us. Still, I checked the locks on the door twice when I got back to
the living room, just to be sure.
"Are you okay, Mama?"
"I'm just fine, sweetie. I'm gonna get dinner ready now. How about
your favorite spaghetti and meatballs in the whole world?" We threw
an impromptu dance party in honor of the spaghetti and meatballs, then
I danced my way into the kitchen. As soon as I was out of my daughter'
s field of vision, the dancing stopped. I leaned against the counter, arms
around myself, shivering. What was I supposed to do?
***
"Mama? Did you quit your job? Did I quit school?"
"No, baby. Why do you ask?" It had been five days since Eric's insane
string of phone calls. He'd stopped calling since then, relying on text
messages instead. The thing was, no sooner had I blocked one number
then he'd started texting from another number. We'd played that game
for the first two days, until I gave up. Still, he'd left us
alone—physically, at least.

I looked up at my daughter, where she worked on a page in her coloring
book. I looked forward to the weekend—at least then I wouldn't have to
feel guilty for keeping my child out of school. I did, however, feel
guilty about calling out of work all week. I wasn't sure how much
longer our savings would last.
Emma kept her eyes on the page she colored while she spoke. "I was
just wondering. I didn't go to school anymore this week. I didn't get to
say goodbye to Mrs. DeSilva. It was her last day before she has her
baby." I heard tears in my daughter's voice, and the sound tore at my
heart. I'd been praying she wouldn't pay attention to the calendar, that
Friday would come and go without her remembering that her teacher
was leaving for months.
"I'm sorry, honey. Do you not like the time we're spending together?
Like I said, I thought it would be fun to have a vacation, just the two of
us." I did everything I could to make things sound as fun as possible,
but even I knew how terribly I'd failed. Emma, at least, tried to make
me feel better.
"I love vacation, I just don't know why we took it. You didn't say
anything until Tuesday morning."
"It was a surprise, like I said." My patience was quickly wearing thin,
and I told myself to stay cool for the sake of Emma. None of it was her
fault. I couldn't take it out on her.
"Will you get fired from your job?"
I slid off the couch, lying on my side on the floor beside my daughter.
"How come you care about so many grown-up things, huh? That's the
sort of thing Mamas worry about, not their little girls. Okay? You let
me worry about that. You just color in your book, and we'll put on a
Disney movie in a little while, and I'll make popcorn. Okay? And

tomorrow's Saturday, and then Sunday. Hopefully by Monday, we'll
have things worked out a little more, and vacation will be over. Okay?"
"Okay." Emma went back to coloring in her book. I bit my lip,
watching her. No way I could extend our "vacation" past Monday. I had
a choice to make. Either I could pull her from the school, which wasn't
mandatory, or I could find some way to get Eric out of my life for good.
How could I manage that, though? Aside from murder—which I'd
considered many, many times—there was no realistic way of getting
rid of him. I couldn't very well run even further away. I didn't have
enough money in the bank to fund a big move, and without my mother,
I wouldn't have anybody to watch Emma when I needed help. I didn't
think I'd be able to afford a babysitter or daycare—that was why I'd put
her in school, even though I didn't think kids needed to be in school so
young.
I sighed, rolling over onto my back. I stared up at the popcorn ceiling,
with its faint glimmer of glitter here and there. Why had anybody ever
thought that was a good idea?
"What are you thinking about, Mama?"
"Hmm?" I looked at Emma, who watched me carefully. She was
always doing that, watching when I least expected. The wisest little girl
I'd ever known. "Oh, I don't know. I was just thinking about bad
choices. Like the paint on that ceiling." And so many other things.

Chapter Eight
By Sunday afternoon, it seemed clear that I would have to remove
Emma from school. I couldn't risk leaving her there all day when her
father could come swooping down at any minute to take her away from
me.
My stomach turned at the thought, but it was a very real fear. I couldn't
dismiss it.
When I dared turn my phone on for a little while after dinner that night,
since leaving it on only meant having to hear Eric's texts coming
through one after another, I called my mom. She needed to know what
was up, if only because it would affect her over time.
"What do you mean you're not sending Emma to school anymore? Did
something happen there?"
"No, Mom. Not there. Promise me you won't freak out when I tell you
what's been going on. Okay?" I pulled my feet up onto the couch while
Emma worked on a puzzle I'd spread across the living room floor. I
smiled when I saw the way she poked her tongue out of the corner of
her mouth when she concentrated. I knew the puzzle would keep her
busy enough that she wouldn't listen in on the conversation.
"Oh, Jesus, Kara. I thought we talked about this, you and me. About not
keeping things from me anymore. After all the time you never told me
about Eric.."
I closed my eyes, sighing. "I know, Mom. But you don't understand
how hard it is. I never wanted to worry you, just like I don't

want to worry you now. I don't know. Maybe I'm stubborn. Maybe it's
really hard for me to admit when I need help. I always want to solve my
problems on my own, without bothering you. You have enough to deal
with."
"Never too much that I can't help you when you need it. Please, honey.
It's better to tell me now than it is to hold it all inside and tell me later.
Like when you called to say you had moved into a new apartment
without even telling me you were going to leave your husband." There
was no missing the accusation in her voice, as though I had hurt her in
some way by not making her privy to my plans. Like she felt slighted. It
amazed me that she could take it personally.
"Eric's been calling and texting for almost a week—ever since last
Monday, after he came into the diner."
"Kara! You didn't say anything?"
"Mom, we just talked about this. I mean, he's only calling and texting.
No big deal."
"All right. What else?"
"Well.. .I haven't been to work since then."
"And you say no big deal? Kara. What do they think about this?"
"Charlie understands. I mean, he was there when Eric came in. He
knows what I' m up against. He would never fire me. Darlene and the
other girls have been covering my shifts. Darlene even showed up here
the other day with groceries. She knew I didn't want to take the time to
leave the apartment and walk around the store. She wouldn't let me pay
her back for them." Again, I reminded myself to do something nice for
her as soon as my situation turned around. If anybody ever deserved it,
it was Darlene.

"That's good of them. I'm glad you have good people in your corner."
Her voice changed. "What about Emma? I guess this is why you
haven't needed me all week?"
"Yeah, I was lying when I told you I kept her home because she didn't
feel well. I kept her home because I'm afraid to send her to school." I
cupped my hand around the phone, speaking low. "I'm pulling her from
the school."
"Oh, honey. Do you think this is a good idea for her? She's already been
through so much. Her whole little world has shattered, you know?
Away from her father, her home. Now her friends?"
My jaw clenched and my nostrils flared as I breathed heavily. "You
make it sound like this is all my fault. Like I decided to get up one day
and ruin my kid's life."
"I didn't mean it that way. I just think you have to take her into
consideration."
I let out a short, barking laugh. "What do you think I've been doing all
this time? The reason I can't send her to school is that I'm scared to
death Eric's going to show up and take her from me. I can't let that
happen."
"Kara, do you think he would stoop so low as to kidnap her? I mean, he
doesn't know where she goes to school."
"You always underestimated him," I said, laughing bitterly. "Like he
can't find her in a heartbeat. Like he couldn't call up one of his friends
in the Department of Education. Like he couldn't show up there, tell
them he's her father and watch as she ran to him. She misses him, Mom.
She would go in a heartbeat. And nobody would stop him from taking
her because Emma would tell them he was her daddy." I laughed

again. "Like I haven't stayed up late at night just thinking about this
over and over."
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to underestimate him. I guess if anybody
knows what he's capable of, it's you. And you're sure that's what he's
after?"
"Mom, if I read some of these texts out to you, it would chill you to the
bone. He talks about how he's going to take his daughter from me no
matter what. I won't be able to do anything about it. I don't have to
wonder too hard about what that could possibly mean. I'm pretty sure
he wants to kill me."
"Kara! Don't even say that."
I shrugged. "It's true. If it were between me and her, he'd kill me to get
to her. I really believe he's that obsessed. If only you could have heard
the hatred in his voice in the only voicemail I listened to. I deleted the
rest—I couldn't bring myself to listen to another word of it. Believe me.
He sounded capable of just about anything. He hates me now."
"Oh, honey. What do you need from me? I mean anything. I'll do
anything at all to help you."
I smiled. "I appreciate that. Maybe visit tomorrow? I know Emma
would like that—she needs to see another face beside mine."
"I will. What about him, though? What are you going to do about him?
You can't lock yourself in your apartment forever."
I looked at Emma, playing happily on the floor. "I don't know. I really
don't. One day at a time, right?"

Chapter Nine
Dom
"Where have you been all week?"
I sat at the table in the clubhouse, with the rest of the club staring at me.
We were taking a vote on whether or not to bring in another member.
Rat was a good kid. He'd proven how valuable he could be time after
time. I had no problem letting him in. I just couldn't make myself
concentrate on anything that used to be important to me. According to
Spike, who glared at me from the seat next to mine, it had been a
problem for more than just that night.
I ignored him. "I vote aye. Let's bring him in."
Chase pounded the gavel on the table, signaling the end of the vote.
"The ayes have it. Rat's an official member." We brought him into the
room, and Chase presented him with a brand new patch for his kutte.
"It's time to party!" The rest of the guys filed out to the bar area. I
stayed behind—because Chase's hand gripped my arm, holding me
back.
"What's really wrong with you?" he asked, sitting me down. "I mean,
Spike's not the sharpest, and even he sees it. What's happening?
Something on your mind? Anything I can help you with?"
I knew Chase saw himself as sort of a surrogate father to me, and I
measured my words carefully. I didn't want him to think I wasn't

grateful for everything he'd done to keep me safe over the years. I
wanted to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business.
"I'm okay. Just distracted. That's all."
"You still thinking about that waitress?" He grinned.
"What's she got to do with anything?"
"Oh, come on. Ever since that night at the diner you've been different. I
figured you'd get her outta your system and everything would be okay.
I guess I was wrong. What is it about her that you can't get her outta
your head?"
I wanted to tell him how wrong he was, that I didn't have her in my
head. I wanted to tell him she didn't mean anything to me. It would
have all been a lie.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know why I can't get rid of her." My
shoulders slumped. I wanted to put my head on the table, I was so
fucking tired. I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep all week.
"Shit, man. That's rough. But you've gotta get rid of her sometime. You
know that, right?"
"Of course I do." That time the anger came out in my voice, and I didn't
try to hide it. I didn't need him talking to me like I was some kind of
child. "Like I don't know that. Like it's not fucking killing me inside
that I can't stop thinking about her."
"So why don't you go and do something about it?"
"Like what?"
"Like going back to the diner, dumbass. Talk to her. Figure out

what it is about her that you can't let go of. You never even told me
what happened between you guys that night. If I knew more, maybe I
would be able to help you."
I hadn't told anybody, mainly because I didn't think anybody needed to
know. Maybe Chase was right, though. Maybe he would be able to talk
me through it without me having to go back to the diner, which was the
last place in the world I wanted to go to. If she saw me there, I didn't
know what she'd do. I remembered the way she'd pushed me away, and
all I knew was I didn't want to see that look on her face ever again.
I told him about her asshole ex-husband, the way he'd been hurting her
when I walked into the kitchen, the way he'd threatened her. Chase
listened to everything with a blank face, eyes hidden like they always
were. Then I told him about the kiss. His mouth curved into a smile,
and I knew what he was thinking. He stayed quiet, though. I had to give
him credit for that.
"So that's what happened. Beginning to end. She told me to go to hell,
and I left, and there you were, and we came here. End of story." I sat
back in my chair, shrugging. "So, doctor. Tell me what my problem
is."
He grinned, shaking his head, but the grin disappeared pretty fast.
"Okay, here's the thing. I didn't think I was gonna be able to help
you—not really. I mean, I could give you a little advice, tell you there
were plenty of fish in the sea, yadda, yadda, whatever. That ain't the
case here, though. Not after what you just told me."
I leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. "Well?" I asked, waiting
for him to go on.
"You might not like what I'm gonna say. I don't need you getting all
pissed with me or anything." His old, weathered fingers tapped on the

table. He had the same callouses I did, except the hair on the backs of
his fingers was white, while mine was still dark.
"I think I'm a big boy. I can handle it." I braced myself and reminded
myself he was only trying to help.
"Okay, here it is. It's natural that you can't stop thinking about her.
There's nothing weird about it. You wanna save her. Plain and simple."
"That's it?" I asked once he had stopped talking. "That's your big
wisdom? I wanna save her? What, I have some hero complex?"
"I don't know nothin' about hero complexes. You got further along in
school than I did. All I know is she's in trouble. You wanna help her.
Any of us would wanna help her, I think, if we walked in on her
shithead ex hurting her like that. Shit, I wasn't even there and I wanna
shove the bastard's head through a wall." Chase's fists clenched.
"I know. You have no idea how bad I wanted to do it, too. I kept
thinking, if I could only tighten my arm around his throat..."
Chase grinned. "Yeah, I can see how you'd wanna. A stronger man than
me for not doing it. So you're worried about her. Hell, I'm a little
worried myself. How's she gonna get out of it? How's she gonna move
on with her life with him threatening her? You said it sounded like he
was serious."
"Oh yeah. Real serious." I could hear his voice in my head like he was
standing in front of me. Telling her she would be sorry. You'll get
what's coming to you.
"So, yeah, you're worried. Okay. Even more reason for you to go back
there, find out what's up. Maybe even see if you can help somehow. I'm
not sure how...though we have our ways..."

"Don't think I didn't already think about that." I had been thinking about
ways to kill him all week. We knew people who specialized in things
like that. Real professionals. In and out in no time, with no evidence
left behind. "The only thing is the owner of the diner saw the whole
thing between us in the kitchen. So there's a witness who could testify
that I once met him."
"Well, hell."
"I know." We both sighed, thinking.
"You should go," Chase decided. "Even if you think she's gonna spit in
your face, you'll know she's safe and still able to spit in your face.
Sometimes that's all a man's got in the world."
I had to laugh. "Spoken like a man who's had a lot of women spit at
him."
"And I deserved it every time."
I laughed again, standing. Then I stopped laughing when I remembered
something she said to me. "Remember when I told you it was trouble
that happened back in the kitchen that night? I never told you what I
mean. She thinks he'll make trouble for us. He's super connected or
something. Eric Cantrell."
"Oh shit." Chase sat back down with a heavy thud. "Yeah, he could be a
real pain in the ass. Oh shit. You had to go picking a fight with him."
"Me? I didn't pick a fight. Besides, you just say here saying you wished
you could put his head through a wall."
"I still do, only now I'd make sure there were no witnesses when I did it,
and no way to identify the body when I finished the job."

"Who is he?"
"He's a super-rich asshole with everybody in the city in his pocket. I
mean it. You name 'em, he's got 'em. Judges, lawyers, politicians,
everybody."
"Oh great. So she wasn't just making that up. He could start shit with
us."
"Hell yes. If he hasn't already, we don't know it yet." Chase looked up
at me, his wrinkled forehead even more wrinkled than usual.
"I held off from hurting him because I wanted to do what was right for
the club. I didn't know doing anything at all would be bad for us."
There I went, fucking everything up, just like I always did.
"Calm down. It might not be that big of a deal. We're guessing at all of
this. He probably didn't even get a good look at you, or any of us. This
was all coming from her, right? He didn't threaten you or the club?"
"No, it was all her."
"Don't worry about it, then. Go ahead, find her. See if she's okay, see
why you can't forget her. Get it out of your system, okay? Because the
club needs a vice president with a good head on his shoulders. You've
got a good one—or you did, before you lost it. Get it back."
"I will," I promised.

The ride to the diner was familiar not because of the trip we took there
the week before, but the times Mom had taken me there when I was a
kid. I wasn't joking when I told the guys I wasn't sure if the place would
be open anymore. It had looked ancient even when I was five years old.
Twenty-five years hadn't done it any favors, but there was something to
be said for the memories that came up when I saw the neon lights from
the sign in the distance. The few good memories I had of my mother
before the drugs took over everything that used to be good about her.
I couldn' t think about that while I rode, though. I could only think
about Kara. Would I screw things up with her, too? Would I make her
life even worse, the way I had ruined Lauren's? Was her ex even
angrier with her because of me? If he took it out on her, I would never
forgive myself.
The diner's parking lot wasn't very crowded, but it was Sunday
afternoon. I couldn't imagine who would be there for a snack. A Friday
or Saturday night, sure. Lots of people went in to soak up the alcohol
with greasy food. When I was a kid, I could drink all night long, eat a
double cheeseburger with bacon and a full side of fries, go to sleep
right after and wake up feeling like a new man. At thirty, I had to take a
Zantac before eating anything spicy. That kind of drinking and binge
eating might have killed me.
I pulled up out front, looking in the windows as I walked up the ramp to
the front door. I didn't see her, but I guessed she could be in the kitchen.
I did see that other waitress, that Darlene woman. She'd be able to tell
me something, even if Kara wouldn't.
Darlene's face showed surprise and a weird sort of understanding when
I walked in alone. "Just you tonight, hon?"
"I' m not here to eat, but thanks. I was looking for Kara. Is she
here?"

Darlene's face looked just the way it did when Eric was in the kitchen
with Kara, and she didn't want to tell me anything about it even though
she knew she had to. "What is it?" I asked, looking in that direction. "Is
she back there?"
"No, she's not. She's not even here, actually. She hasn't been here all
week."
I stared at her. "All week? Not once? Is that normal?"
"No, of course not. She needs the money like crazy. She's...no. I can't
tell you. It's not my place."
"Darlene." I followed her as she walked to a table to drop off a check,
then stood in front of her when she turned around so she couldn't get
past me. She huffed. "Please let me by."
"Not until you tell me what's up with her."
"I don't know all the details, and that's the truth. Okay?" She finally
gave up and took me by the arm, leading me to the counter. There
weren't any customers sitting there, so it was pretty private. "She hasn't
been in all week because of him. Okay? She won't tell me why. She
won't tell Charlie why. She just says it has to do with him. I mean, I
went to her apartment this week to drop off some groceries..."
"You went there? And she was okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, she seemed fine. So did the kid."
"That's good to hear." At first I thought maybe he had one of his
girlfriends call, pretending to be Kara, calling out of work, when he had
done something to her.

"But she still wouldn't give me any details, you see, and I did try. You
don't know how hard I tried." Darlene looked like she was about to cry.
I patted her on the shoulder, feeling like an awkward ass, but it looked
like it meant something to her that I tried at least.
"Did she say when she's coming back? I mean, she needs the money,
right? She can't stay away forever."
"I know, I know. I'm worried sick about her, really I am." I heard
Darlene's name called behind me. She waved to a customer. "I'll be
right back," she said. "Just sit here." I did like she said while she rushed
off.
So she was gone all week, and she said it had to do with him. Why
would she stay home because of him? Was he threatening her? Had he
hurt her, and Darlene just didn't know about it? Maybe he was
following her around and she knew he would attack her at the diner
again? None of my theories sounded any better than the others. They
were all trouble for Kara.
"So? What do you think?" Darlene asked.
"Is she gonna lose her job if she doesn't come back soon?"
"Oh, God, no. Charlie loves her too much. She's a good waitress, too. I
know that isn't saying much..."
I waved her off. "It's not easy. I get it." I thought it over. There was only
one thing I could do. I looked at Darlene, wondering if she would go
along with me.
"I need Kara's address," I said.
She looked just as nervous as I had known she would. "Oh, gee, I don' t
know about that."

"Come on. Please."
"Listen, I know you wanna help her, but...I mean, she's gonna be pissed
enough when she finds out I was talking to you about this. She's a very
private person. She doesn't want anybody knowing her business. And
between you and me, I think she blames herself for a lot of what went
down between her and that asshole. A lot of women get that way, you
know?"
Yeah, I knew what it was like to blame myself for something. More
reason for me to want to talk to her, at least.
"I' m worried about her, Darlene. Now, either you give me her address
so I can maybe protect her, or you worry about pissing her off.
Meanwhile, anything could be happening to her right now."
"Don't you do that. Don't you put that on me," she whispered.
"It's true, though. What are you more worried about?"
"I don't want to violate my friend's privacy."
"And I promise, I'll tell her you put up a fight before you gave me her
address. I swear it."
She grimaced, but pulled out her order pad to write down the address.
"God, she's gonna hate me for this. But you're right—I would hate
myself even more if anything happened to her and I didn't help her in
any way I could." She pulled the sheet from the pad, smirking. "You're
good, you know. You should've been a lawyer."
I laughed. "Yeah. Well, I've had enough experience with them."
She blushed when she realized what I meant.

Chapter Ten
Kara
After getting off the phone with Mom, it was a quiet afternoon. There
was never anything good on TV on Sundays, and we'd gone through
every single movie in our collection over the course of the week. We
stuck to reading stories together instead. Emma was getting better
every day when it came to reading her simple little books, though there
was more than once that I caught her making up the stories as she went
along based on the pictures she saw on each page. I was more than
happy to let her go at it. How much longer would I get to have her as a
baby
after all?
How much longer would I get with her? No. I couldn't allow myself to
so much as entertain the thought of losing her to Eric. It was an
impossibility, plain and simple. She was my little girl, not his. He was
only her biological father, part of her genetic makeup. She might have
gotten his nose, the curve of his mouth, but did he know the songs she
liked to sing during bath time? Did he know how to cut her
sandwiches? Did he know her favorite food? Color? Movie? Book?
Did he know she was afraid of the dark and needed a nightlight at all
times? No. He'd never bothered to find out either. I couldn't let him ruin
her imagination, her spunk, her need to know things. He would never,
ever have the patience to sit and answer her endless questions. He didn't
love her. He only wanted to make me suffer. I was so sure of it.
I leaned in, taking a whiff of my daughter's freshly-washed hair. She
smelled like Johnson's baby shampoo, but something else, too.

Something entirely her. I could never quite put my finger on it. I
couldn't get enough of whatever it was.
Naptime couldn't have come soon enough. I loved my daughter, but an
entire week with her had started taking its toll on me. I needed a little
quiet time. Darlene had been kind enough to include two bottles of
wine in my grocery delivery. I made it a point to ration them carefully,
since I didn't know when I would next be able to get my hands on any.
Money would be tighter than ever after missing a week of work.
"I love you, sweetheart." I smoothed the dark, baby-fine hair back from
Emma' s temple before kissing her forehead. She was so sweet, so
loving, and so sleepy. She curled up in a ball, arms around her favorite
teddy bear.
"I love you, Mama." She closed her eyes, a resigned note in her voice. I
realized just then that she hadn't asked all day if she would go back to
school in the morning. I wondered if she already knew. Had she heard
me talking with Mom? Or did she sense it somewhere deep inside? I
wouldn' t have put it past her to figure it out on her own.
My thoughts sent me straight to the kitchen for a glass of wine. I
savored the first sip of the cold, crisp Chardonnay, then sighed when I
realized how important that glass of wine had become. Who was I?
I walked to the living room, swirling the wine in the glass. I used to
drink a lot of really nice, expensive wine when I was with Eric. Just
another one of the little extravagances he'd assured me were only for
my benefit. The wine had become a crutch after a while, one which I'd
had to monitor carefully from that point forward. That was something
he'd never picked up on, the drinking. The eating, yes, and he'd
bothered me incessantly over it. But not the drinking. I would still have
a glass of wine with dinner, especially if we went out—something
which became less and less likely over time. Otherwise, I'd cut out the
glasses I used to drink alone, while he was on a business trip or golf
outing or anywhere

else. The wine I would drink to dull the incessant aching of my heart.
My phone was off, as I tended to leave it when not in use. I decided to
take a chance, letting the wine bolster my courage a bit. I squeezed my
eyes shut as I turned it on, then held my breath as it started up and
eventually showed me the number of missed messages. Only a half
dozen since I'd gotten off the phone with Mom. I couldn't help but
check those which had come in before then. The same insanity as
before. How could I do it to him, why didn't I know how good I'd had it
with him, I would pay, whatever. I couldn't even care as much as I had.
I was still on my guard, but I wouldn't let him break me.
A sudden knock at the door was enough to send me into a paroxysm of
panic. I froze, looking around the room for a weapon. I never had
random visitors, and Mom would have told me when we chatted if she
planned to visit. Besides, I'd told her to come over the following day.
There was nothing in my reach to use as a weapon. I didn't even have
any big knives in the kitchen. I wasn't sure I wanted to get close enough
to use a knife, anyway. A bat would have been perfect, but I didn't have
one of those either. I would have to buy one. If I could.
Another knock. I jumped a little that time, staring at the door. I thought
my bladder might give way. If I stay very still, he won't know I'm here.
He'll think I'm out. I thanked God that Emma was in bed, quiet. I closed
my eyes, forcing myself to breathe very slowly and quietly. He' ll go
away. He' ll go away.
"Kara? It's Dom. From the diner."
My eyes flew open. "Dom?" What the hell? How did he know my
address?
"Yeah. It's me. I'm glad you're here. Can I come in, please?"

I didn't know him from Adam. How was I supposed to trust him to
come into my apartment? I didn't even know for sure that it was him.
That thought sent me scrambling off the couch, tiptoeing to the
peephole.
There he was, just as I remembered him. Same stunning body, same
dark hair flopping over a tanned forehead. Same dark eyes. Stubbly
cheeks. He looked good enough to eat.
Down, girl. A half a glass of wine and your hormones rage out of
control. It wasn't the wine—at least, not entirely. It was the memory of
our kiss, too. The best kiss of my entire life. A woman didn't forget
about a kiss like that. The promise of it. What would come after it, if
only I would allow it to happen.
"You still there? Hello? I feel like a real asshole, standing here, talking
to a door."
I flipped the locks, then opened the door. "You might want to watch
your language," I hissed, waving him in.
"Oh, sorry. The kid around? I wasn't thinking."
I sighed as I closed the door, locking up again. "She's not 'the kid.' She's
Emma. And no, she's napping, so please be quiet." Once he was in the
apartment with me, I didn' t know what to do. He was there. Really
there. I couldn't deny the little bit of relief I felt at the knowledge that I
didn' t have to be alone. I was so tired of being alone, having to
shoulder everything myself.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, wanting to get that little bit of
information out of the way before we could talk about anything else.
"How did you find out where I live? Let me guess. Darlene?"
"She fought tooth and nail against giving me your address, I swear

to God. I finally convinced her. She cares about you."
"Yes, I know she does. I'm lucky to have her in my life. Okay, so she
gave you the address. Why did you want it in the first place? Did I not
give you correct change?" Then I remembered the more-than-generous
tip waiting for me at the club's table, and some of the arrogance melted
away. "I' m sorry. That was uncalled for."
"No, it's okay. I get it. I'd wonder why I was here, too." He pointed
to the couch. "Can I sit?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Make yourself comfortable." Why the hell not? I' d
evidently lost all control of the situation, so why not let him do
whatever he wanted?
He looked around. "This is... small."
I snickered. It looked even smaller with him in it, since he was so big. I
wondered if his body would even fit on the sofa if he laid down on it.
He had to be six and a half feet tall, maybe a little less. And all of him
was muscle. My heart got a little fluttery when I looked at him. What
would he want with me?
"Yeah," I said, bringing myself back to the topic at hand. "It's all I can
afford right now. You know how it is. Times are tough. Ex is an
asshole. I have no money. And so on." I still stood, unsure what to do.
Should I sit? Between the two of us, there wouldn't be much room left.
I'd have to sit fairly close to him, and he'd spread himself out to the
point where we'd make contact whether I wanted us to or not. Standing
was safer, I decided.
"You still haven't told me why you're here," I reminded him. "I would
like to know. Why did you look for me at the diner? What is it that you
wanted?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I had to make sure you were
okay."
Something lit up inside me. A little spark which grew into a tiny flame.
It burned in the darkness of my heart, where so many things had died
over time. The hope that there were still nice, genuine men in the world
being foremost among those dead beliefs. I didn't want to fool myself
into thinking he was nice, but the hope was there. I hoped he meant it.
"But Darlene could have told you that. Right?"
"I' m the type of person who likes to find out for himself. I like to see
with my own eyes." He looked me up and down, and I cursed myself
for the ratty workout pants and tank top I wore. Not only did I look like
a slob, but a half-dressed slob. I knew the outline of my breasts was
clear through the thin cotton material, and a blush colored my skin. It
didn't help that he gave me that sexy smirk when he read my mind, as
he could clearly do.
"Now you've seen me. You know everything is okay here. Why don't
you leave now? My daughter is taking a nap, but she's bound to wake
up soon. I don't want you... confusing her."
"Confusing her?" He shrugged. "What's so confusing about me?"
"The fact of you, for one. I don't have...men here." I blushed again.
Would he ever not have that effect on me? I told myself I wouldn't
know him long enough to find out, so it didn't matter.
"So you tell her I'm a friend of yours."
I smirked. "I don't like lying to my daughter."
He smirked in return. "So what do you tell her about her father?

You tell her he's a good guy, right? How is that not a lie?"
My skin went hot again, but this time it was out of anger. "Don't you
dare presume to tell me how to talk to my daughter. What I tell her is
my business, not yours. Now I would appreciate it if you would leave
my home. Please."
He didn't budge. I sighed in exasperation. "What do I have to do to get
rid of you?"
"Oh, you're not getting rid of me. Not until I know why you didn't go to
work all week."
I opened my mouth to reply, planning to give him an excuse, when my
phone buzzed. Crap! I'd left it on the end table, right next to Dom's arm.
"I wasn't feeling well, and then Emma wasn't feeling well. Somebody
had to stay here with her."
He nodded. I noticed how he didn't seem to care about the phone,
which was a relief. "Who watches her when you work those super late
shifts at the diner? They couldn't have stayed with her?"
"I can't ask my mother to spend all day with a sick child," I explained.
"She's older now. It's too much for her to deal with. And why the heck
am I justifying myself to you? It's none of your business!"
He grinned. "I don't know, but I know you're full of shit. You would do
anything for that kid. You would find a way, just to be sure you could
make money that day. No, I don't believe you. You're holding
something back."
"What difference does it make? Oh my God, you're driving me crazy.
I've never felt like I was literally speaking to a brick wall before."

I would have thrown my glass of wine in his face if I hadn't fretted over
wasting it. Instead, I finished the glass.
"Wine? This early in the day?"
"Again, none of your business. If it bothers you so much, you're more
than welcome to leave."
"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "I've never spent all week with a
three-year-old before. I'm sure I would have been hitting the hard stuff
days ago, like before breakfast."
That made me laugh. I sat on the edge of the sofa, as far away from him
as I could get. If he felt offended, he didn't show it. His face remained
bland, impassive.
"So, like I said. Why don't you try telling me the truth. What's
happening?"
My phone buzzed again. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't notice it
that time either.
"Do you wanna take care of this?" he asked, picking up the phone to
hand it to me. He must have seen the name on the ID before he did,
however, not to mention a snippet of the text which showed up on the
home screen. He sat up, all pretense of joking or teasing me ending.
"What is this?" he asked, looking at me, then back at the phone.
"That's. the reason why I've been home all week." Something about
admitting the truth to him felt even better than it had when I told my
Mom. There was something different about Dom, something that made
me trust him even though I didn't know the first thing about him aside
from his club's name and the fact that he was the best kisser I'd ever
kissed. A burden left my heart. I felt lighter than I had in days.

"Because of this? He's been harassing you all week?"
No point in lying. I nodded. "It started that day, or rather, the following
day. After the diner. The following morning was when it started. He's
been changing numbers, so blocking is no good. At least he stopped
leaving voicemails. That was the worst. The things he s a i d . " I
shivered.
"You stayed home with your kid rather than leave?"
"I couldn't leave her," I explained, shrugging. "He wants her, and he'll
stop at nothing. I can't send her to preschool, or else he might take her
while she's there. I don't want to leave her here either. Without me. So
I've been staying with her. I'm the only person I trust to keep her
safe."
Dom nodded thoughtfully. "You're gonna have to add another person
to that list," he said.
"Who?"
"Me. Who else do you think?"
"You? Oh, no. I mean, no offense, but no." I couldn't help laughing at
the thought of the big, bad biker hanging out with my daughter.
Granted, she would have him wrapped around her finger in no time, but
it still didn't present the best example to her.
"It's not just her I wanna protect, Kara. It's you, too. I wanna stay here,
on the couch, to make sure you're safe."
"You're serious."
"Dead serious." His face told me the same thing. He meant it. He
intended to spend whatever amount of time it took sleeping on my sofa,

just to be sure I was safe. I didn't know what to say. On the one hand, I
was terribly flattered. and more than a little bit turned-on. A sexy man,
sleeping just feet away from me? Yes, please. Still, it was totally
uncalled for and beyond strange. The three of us in a tiny apartment?
Not the best idea.
"I don't think it's going to work," I said, shrugging. "I'm sorry, I just
don't. This place is too small. You could never be comfortable. I don't
love the idea of my daughter's exposure to.. .club members."
"She had exposure to her father," he pointed out nastily.
"Yeah, which is why I left." I glared at him, daring him to come back at
me with anything else. I was about sick to death of his attitude, his
arrogance, the cocky way he had of getting the last word. He managed
to stay silent.
Then he sighed, rubbing his large hands together, then rubbing them
over his jeans. "You wanna know why it's important for me to stay
here? To protect you?"
"Very much." I held my breath. He wasn't going to say he was in love
with me or anything crazy like that. was he? Or maybe he was on the
run from the law.
"I couldn't save my fiancee," he murmured. I had to strain my ears to
hear him. When I realized what he'd said, my heart sank.
"What happened to her?" I asked softly.
"She died. A gun fight. I couldn't save her. She was innocent. Just in the
wrong place at the wrong time. I should have made sure she stayed far
away from me. I was selfish to keep her in my world, where she didn' t
belong. She was good. A doctor. She helped people. What did I ever do
to help people?" He smiled bitterly, still looking down at the

clasped hands in his lap.
Then he looked at me, and the pain I saw in his face, especially in his
eyes, nearly broke my heart. He looked a lot older all of a sudden. "I
couldn't protect her. I'll protect you now. I have to do this. Don't you get
it?"
I understood what a big deal it was for him to admit that to me. I didn't
know a lot of men like him—or any, frankly—but I had the feeling they
didn't walk around talking about things like that all the time. But he'd
shared it with me to prove a point. He had a reason for being there with
me.
There was nothing I could do but say, "Okay. You can stay. I appreciate
your help."
We did need him. I knew that much. It was the feeling that I was about
to get more than I'd bargained for which left me unsettled and a little
excited.

Chapter Eleven
Dom
The first thing I noticed about the apartment was the size. A shoebox
might have been more comfortable. How could she live there with a
little kid? Kids needed space to run around. I didn't have much when I
was a kid, but I had that at least.
It was shitty. That was the next thing I noticed. The carpet might as
well have not been there, it was so old and worn out. It needed a new
coat of paint, all over. I could see into the kitchen from where I stood in
the living room, and it didn't surprise me how old and rundown the
appliances looked.
But she had tried to do her best with it. I noticed that, too. Kara had
hung pretty pictures on the walls. There were bright, cheerful curtains
on the one window, the only window I could see from where I stood. A
slipcover on the couch. I guessed it covered up how old the couch had
to be. And it was clean, neat, tidy. She wasn't a cluttered person—she
couldn't be, or else she wouldn't have been able to move in the place.
But it was her home. I hated that sonofabitch ex of hers for putting her
there. Even if he hadn't physically put her there, he was the reason she
ran away. He was the reason she couldn't afford anything better. She
deserved so much more than what she could afford. I would bet her kid
deserved more, too, and I hadn't met her yet.
Kara looked at me, and I could tell she felt embarrassed. "It's not

much," she said, spreading her hands.
"You don't have to be that way," I said. "It's not much better than what
I grew up in, though it was a house, not an apartment. But this looks
familiar." I sat on the couch, feeling the way the springs sagged. I
couldn't wait for the chiropractor bills after I spent a night or two there.
Well, it was my big idea. I would have to live with it.
"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked, moving toward the
kitchen. The awkwardness in the air was almost crushing.
"No, thanks. Don't worry about it. Sit down, please." She waited a
second, like she couldn't figure out what I wanted from her. "I just
wanna talk to you. I wanna find out more. That's it." I had never
bothered to care what women thought about me. They usually wanted
to screw me, which was fine as long as I wanted to screw them, too. But
I didn't care if I scared the rest, or I didn't until I met Kara. She made me
want to talk a little slower, a little quieter. I wondered if it was the
wounded look in her eye, like she was just waiting for me to explode.
That was what she was used to from men, I guessed. A dog could only
get hit so many times before it flinched when it saw a hand coming at it.
"What do you want to know?" She sat at the opposite end of the couch,
pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her
legs. She wore a pair of stretch pants with a big, baggy shirt. She
looked like a little kid, swimming in a grownup's clothes.
"When did it start? When did you leave? How long has it been?"
She laughed, shaking her head. "Wow. You just jump right in. Why
should I tell you all of this? It's kinda personal."
I shrugged. "I wanna know more about the guy who's making your life
hell. That's it. The more I know about him, the better I can keep you
safe."

She thought about it, nodding. "Fair enough." She laughed shakily. "I
wish I had a drink. A real drink. It's a long story."
"I have the time."
She grinned. "Okay. Let's see. Um, I married Eric the week after I
graduated college. He was a teacher's assistant, a grad student. A big,
mature man." She chuckled. "I thought I knew so much back then. So
we dated for a couple of years, got engaged in my senior year, and got
married almost right after. By that time, he had his master's in finance
and his career had already taken off. It seemed like a no-brainer, right?"
"How did he treat you then?"
She looked at me, eyes narrowed. "He was possessive. I felt flattered,
though. Like. he cared enough to feel protective. He didn't like me
talking to other guys because he didn't want them to steal me from him.
Because he loved me so much." She laughed, running her hands
through her dark hair, shaking it out. "Ugh. It's like a miniseries about
the typical idiot girl who should have known better than to marry the
creep."
"It's easy to look back and see everything we missed," I said.
"Yeah. That's the truth. So anyway, we got married. The first time he
hit me was about a month after the wedding. He found out I hadn't sent
out the thank you notes yet. I didn't have a job—I mean, I had just
graduated, and he didn't like the idea of me working outside the home,
anyway—so what else did I have to do? That was the way he thought
about it. I was doing everything I could to get us set up in our condo. I
made practically gourmet meals for him every night. I liked doing that
back then. I liked being the happy little homemaker. And I'd forgotten
the thank yous. So he slapped me around.

"You know what the worst part is? I thought it was my fault. If I weren't
so stupid, I wouldn't have forgotten the notes. I finished and mailed
them out the next day. I got comments from friends on how surprised
they were to see them so soon, since most people don't send theirs out
so early. You know, because they have lives."
She sighed, pulling her legs closer to her chest. "A few weeks later, I
found out I got pregnant on our honeymoon. Timing, right?"
"You were, what, twenty-one?"
"Yeah. Twenty-two when I gave birth to Emma. I convinced myself I
was being selfish, wanting too much, so I had nothing to complain
about. Besides, I had a daughter to think about. I had to keep things
stable for her." She shook her head. "It wasn't enough. I left. That was
eight months ago."
"And you've been here since then?" When I saw the way her face
changed, I knew that came out all wrong.
"Yeah. I've actually survived here ever since. Crazy, huh?"
"I didn't mean it that way. Like I said, I grew up just like this. It's not
something to be ashamed of."
She looked around. "It's a pretty far cry from the life Eric gave me—the
things, that is. The house, the car. I still drive the car, lucky me, since
he put it in my name. One of the only things he let me have. We had a
huge condo. More space than a family twice our size would have
needed. I had help around the house sometimes. I could get my hair and
nails done—I had to, to keep him satisfied. I was never happy." She
smiled sadly. "I'm actually happier now. Can you imagine that?"
"I can. Hopefully, once this douchebag's out of your life, you'll be even
happier."

The sad smile never left her face. "He'll never be out of my life."
I heard a noise down the hall, and Kara almost jumped. "Emma," she
whispered. Like I needed her to tell me once I saw the little person
come around the corner, rubbing her eyes.
"Mama?" she whispered, but she looked at me when she said it.
"Emma, honey, this is one of my friends. His name is Dom. Can you
say hi to him?" The little girl scrambled up onto her mother's lap and
put her face to Kara's neck. Kara laughed. "Oh, come on. Are you
gonna be shy now? The most talkative person I ever knew." She
laughed again.
"It's okay," I said. "You can be shy, Emma." I didn't have any idea how
to act around kids—I was just glad she wasn't one of the ones who walk
up to people and start asking questions right away. I wouldn't know
what to say if she was.
"She'll warm up to you," Kara said.
I smiled like I was glad. I didn't care if she did. I never liked kids all that
much. Whiny brats, snot-nosed, throwing temper tantrums when they
went out. Whenever I saw a kid throwing a fit like that, I would thank
God I didn't have any kids of my own.
Emma whispered something in Kara's ear. Kara pulled away, frowning
at the kid. "What an interesting question."
"What did she ask?"
"She wanted to know if you're a giant, because you're so big."
I had to smile. The kid looked at me with wide eyes that reminded

me a lot of her mom's. "No, I'm not a giant. I used to think my dad was
one. You think I'm big? He was a really big guy. When I was little, I
thought he was the biggest man in the world."
"You were little?" she whispered. She had a sweet little girl voice. I
grinned.
"We all start out little. I was as little as you."
"No way."
"Yeah, I was." She sat up. I guessed she thought I was okay—I talked
like a normal person, and I smiled. I didn't growl and roar like a
monster.
"When was that?" "What? When I was little?"
"Yeah."
I cleared my throat. "I'm thirty now, so that was a long time ago."
"Like a million years."
Kara laughed. I had to laugh, too.
"Yeah, well, sometimes it feels that way." I met Kara's eyes, and for the
first time since I met her, she looked happy. She looked young, as
young as she really was. I knew how to do math—if she was
twenty-two when Emma was born, that made her twenty-five. When
she laughed, I could believe it.
Emma looked at Kara. "I' m hungry."

Kara looked at the clock. "Yeah, I should get dinner started." She
looked at me. "Will you join us?"
"Depends on what's for dinner," I said.
"Spaghetti!" Emma clapped her hands.
"Her favorite," Kara said, rolling her eyes. "And meatballs."
"Guess what? That's my favorite, too."
"Really?" Emma asked. "Mama makes the best meatballs in the
world."
"I guess you would you know, since you're a pretty big girl."
She smiled at me, and I thought all kids might not be so bad. She was
polite, she didn't yell or scream. I had only known her for less than five
minutes, though. But I could usually tell right away if a kid was
trouble—it wasn't hard to tell. She seemed okay.
"Do you mind if I leave her out here with you while I make the
meatballs?" Kara asked. I looked at Emma, squinting like I thought
about it.
"I don't know. Is it okay with Emma?"
"We can watch TV," she said, getting off Kara's lap to sit on the
sofa.
"I guess that's a yes," I said to Kara. She smiled like she had never felt
so relieved in her life. I thought she might have needed a lot more help
than she would admit. She had been alone with the kid for a week, too.
That might have had something to do with the way she smiled.

Emma turned the TV on. It was already on a cartoon channel. I could
handle cartoons. "Is this a show you watch a lot?" I asked.
"Mm-hmm. It's my most favorite." She twirled a strand of dark curly
hair around a finger, watching the TV. I watched her. She looked
mostly like Kara, but there was enough of her father in her, too. Like
the shape of her nose and mouth. It was weird, seeing that nose and
mouth on a face I didn't want to crush with my fists.
I looked around the living room. There were a lot of books—I could
already tell she was a smart kid. A few toys. I wondered how many
more were in her room. I wondered if she missed her father, her old
bedroom. Kids were pretty good at getting over things, though. The big
things. They just wanted to love. I knew how that felt. I might have
been a grown man, but I remembered the little kid who just wanted his
mom to come home at night so he wouldn't be alone.
I heard pots and pans making noise in the kitchen. "Need any
help?" I asked.
"No, I'm fine. I love to cook." Right, the gourmet meals for Eric. It was
a shame she had wasted so much of herself on him, but she was still
young. She had time to find a good man—most girls her age were still
dating around.
I could see her from where I sat. She had a smile on her face, even
though she didn't know I could see her. I wondered what she smiled
about. Was she relieved that somebody was finally taking care of her?
If that was true, I was glad I could do that. I was glad I could make her
smile. She had spent too long crying.
Something about watching her cook made me feel good inside. It felt
right. And it terrified me. The kid, the apartment, the woman in the
kitchen. I got up so fast, Emma looked scared.

"Sorry, kid. Just gotta.. .go to the bathroom."
"It's right there." She pointed around the corner, where she had come
from. I followed the path and locked myself in when I got there.
No way you 're doing this, I thought, my forehead against the door to
the tiny, tiny room. There was hardly enough space for a tub, toilet, and
sink. It felt claustrophobic as hell, and I didn't usually have a problem
with that. It was the way I felt inside that got to me. I felt pressure all
around me. I wanted to help her. I wanted to stay far, far away.
What did it say about me that I felt so comfortable with her so fast?
With the kid? I went from hating kids to kind of liking Emma in about
five seconds. Was I that desperate for whatever I thought I could get
from them?
"Don't do this," I whispered. "Don't do it. Help her. But stay away from
her."

Chapter Twelve
Kara
I couldn' t help smiling to myself as I made dinner. I even hummed as I
mixed meat and breadcrumbs in my hands. It seemed natural to feel
happy, relieved. It wasn't the wine, though, that had helped me get
through the awkward conversation with Dom. It was the feeling that I
didn' t have as much to be worried about that left me smiling from ear
to ear.
It was a false feeling. I knew that much. I wasn't deluded. I could think
I was as safe as I wanted to, but that didn't make it true. Eric was still
very real. The ever-dwindling number in my bank account was
painfully real. I couldn't ignore those things any more than I could
ignore my child.
But I didn't have to worry about it alone. I'd nearly gone crazy the week
alone with Emma. I had seen almost no one but her, had spoken to only
a few people. I'd lived like a prisoner. And it didn't hit me how deeply
affected I was until Dom walked in and took a little of the burden off
my shoulders.
I wondered if he knew what he was getting into. I'd tried to warn him
about Eric, and I would have to do it again to make certain there was no
misunderstanding. The man was dangerous, and connected. I
shuddered to think how connected he was. Maybe connected enough to
make a person disappear.

The thought made my blood run cold. If I put Dom in danger, I
wouldn't be able to live with myself. It wasn't that I had feelings for
him—that much I knew. He still sort of scared me, with his sheer size
and that certain animal magnetism of his. I couldn't explain it, but I
knew it was there. It freaked me out, the way he repulsed me and drew
me to him all at once.
If Eric hurt him, I might never forgive myself. Just another slab of guilt
to tack onto the already heaping portion I carried around with me. I
shouldn't have married him. I shouldn't have stayed. I shouldn't have
left and uprooted my daughter's life. I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have, I
shouldn't have. My ever-present litany of self-abuse.
I glanced into the living room to find the two of them on the sofa.
Emma didn't normally warm up to people as quickly as she had to
Dom. That told me something about the person he really was. Kids
could always tell, couldn't they? A sort of sixth sense about others. She
seemed to trust him. A good sign, I thought. And he put up with her
insane cartoons. Another good sign.
I grinned, rolling the meat into uniform balls which I then put in the
heated oven. I thought that night's dinner should be a bit fancier since
we had guests. Darlene had been kind enough to include a loaf of
frozen garlic bread, which I put on the oven's lower rack. I made a
quick salad, too, just a few things I had in the fridge. It was such a rare
treat, having a guest for dinner who wasn't my mother.
My mother. I closed my eyes, imagining what she would say when she
found out her granddaughter was about to coexist in a tiny apartment
with a biker. I would have to do a lot of talking to convince her not to
take Emma home with her. I couldn't risk the two of them being alone
at her house. I didn't trust Eric as far as I could throw him.
I couldn't worry about Mom until she showed up. Until then, I had a
daughter to keep happy, and a biker to entertain.

I giggled at the thought of "entertaining" him. I had a feeling I knew the
sort of entertainment he usually got from women. I had a little girl to
think about. It was off the table, even though the memory of his kiss
was still enough to inspire dirty thoughts.
I glanced into the living room. No Dom. "Sweetie? Where did Dom
go?"
"Bathroom," she said, never taking her eyes from the TV. Sure enough,
when I stepped into the hall, the closed door greeted me. I hoped I
hadn't left any feminine hygiene products lying around in there. Just the
thought was enough to make me blush a deep, furious red.
I took the chance of knocking on the door. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Sorry," I said, stepping back when I heard the irritation in his voice.
Maybe he already thought he'd bit off more than he could chew. Maybe
he regretted his offer. I chewed my bottom lip, wondering what to do
next.
"You don't have to be sorry. I just needed a minute."
"When you've had a minute, can I talk to you? In the kitchen?"
A brief pause. "Sure."
I went back to dinner duty, setting the little kitchen table. It wasn't even
big enough to include all the food. We'd have to serve ourselves
buffet-style, then sit.
When I turned around, there was Dom in the doorway. I put a hand over
my heart. "Jesus." I laughed. "You're quiet as a ghost."

"Sorry. What did you wanna talk about?"
I held a finger to my lips, beckoning him to come further into the
kitchen, away from the living room. "Listen, I just wanted to say. you
don't have to do this if you don't want to. The offer alone means a lot to
me. More than I could ever tell you. But I won't hold you to it."
He blinked once, twice. "Uh, thanks?"
I waited. "Is that all you have to say?"
"I didn't think I had to say anything. I mean, I'm trying to do something
nice, and you keep telling me I shouldn't. Why not?"
"Well, you didn't sound too happy just then." I jerked a thumb in the
direction of the bathroom, next door to the kitchen.
He scowled, his handsome face twisting into an ugly caricature of
itself. "I don't like it when people knock on the door while I'm in the
bathroom. I didn't know that was a crime."
"It's not. I just...I don't know, this is all so much. And really, we never
spoke about Eric. What he can do to you."
"This shit again? We did talk about him. You told me what a big deal he
is, how everybody knows him, they're all in his back pocket. I get it. I'
m not afraid of him. Hell, I' ve dealt with a lot worse than him. He's a
coward. Don't you know that?"
"Yes." That much I was sure of. I'd known how cowardly my husband
was since the first time he hit me. It had all become so clear—the
possessiveness, the controlling behavior. Telling me what I looked best
in as a way to control the way I dressed. Telling me what a bad
influence my friends were to keep me away from them and their

all-too-true opinions of him. Keeping me away from other men. Afraid
I would leave him for them. On and on. Yes, he was a coward, all right.
A coward and a bully.
"I' m not afraid of anything. I wish he would come at me so I could tear
him limb from limb. All I need is the excuse to kill him." His voice was
a growl, sending shivers down my spine. The thought of a man going
that far for me.
"I wouldn't want you to do that," I said, though reluctantly. "Not for his
sake, but yours."
He smirked. "Yeah, I know. And I know he's still kinda big in your life.
Like he's right there in front of you. You remember all the shit he did.
So maybe he seems a little scarier. I don't give a shit about that. Got
it?"
"Got it." I couldn't argue with him anymore. I was too tired, and scared,
and just plain worn the hell out. I had gone so long without trusting
anyone, without believing in happiness, that it was tough for me to
accept the help of another person.
"So stop worrying about it and finish cooking my dinner." He grinned,
effectively changing the subject.
I didn't mind. It was time to talk and think about something better.
More positive. I felt so heavy with the weight of my burdens bearing
down on me. How refreshing to let go. I realized then that I was
starving, too.
"I just have to cook the spaghetti and heat the sauce. Go back and make
sure my kid isn't tearing the place up." I smiled to myself as he walked
away. I could hear the two of them talking in the living room—he
asked questions about the show which had just come on. It was nice to
hear a man's voice in the apartment for once. I could almost

imagine.
"Stop that," I whispered, clenching my fists so hard they hurt. I couldn't
let myself go there. It was so tempting, though. What woman in my
position wouldn't want to hear their kid giggling and happy while a
man paid attention to her? Who wouldn't want to feel that they were
part of a family unit again, even if it was a bit unusual?
I concentrated on finishing dinner, reminding myself as I did that I
didn' t need a man in my life. Not Dom, not anybody. He was good for
help, and I appreciated him, but that was as far as it went. I only hoped
that Eric went away soon, so life could get back to normal.
***
"I've gotta say, these really are the best meatballs in the world." Dom
grinned at Emma, then tried to steal a bite from her plate. She giggled
helplessly, pulling the plate out of his reach.
I didn't say anything, preferring to watch and smile. I didn't want to
break up the moment by speaking. What would his buddies think if
they could see him playing with a kid? I remembered the rowdy,
harsh-mouthed men at the diner and had the feeling they'd tear him up
if they had the slightest clue how quickly Emma had wrapped him
around her finger. I wouldn't have given up his secret for anything.
"They're my mom's recipe," I said, taking another for myself. "She
wasn't the very best cook, but she had her specialties."
"You mean Grandma?" Emma asked over a mouthful of food.
"Yes, young lady. Don't talk with your mouth full."

She swallowed. "I don't like Grandma's food."
"She hasn't gotten much better over the years," I admitted.
"Her baked beans are gross," Emma added.
"That's not nice," I chided. Then, I looked at Dom and nodded my head
slightly. Her baked beans were, indeed, gross.
Dom snorted. "Hey, at least your mom cooked," he said, shrugging.
"Did your mom cook?" Emma looked at him with big, wide eyes. So
innocent. I glanced at Dom, wondering how he would react.
He looked chagrined. "No, she didn't. She used to take me to the diner a
lot, though."
That got my attention. "The diner? Like, my diner?"
"Yeah. A long time ago. That was a treat, usually on Friday night.
Sometimes for breakfast on Sunday. She would, uh, come home and
take me for breakfast."
Emma seemed enchanted by this idea. "Did your mommy work at night
like my mommy sometimes does?"
Dom smirked, looking down at his place. "Something like that."
Then our eyes met, and I felt an intense sympathy for him. It made
sense, didn't it? His mother was never around for him. She probably
had a pretty wild life, and he had adopted that lifestyle for himself. Just
like doctors and lawyers tended to run in the family. Who would he
have become if he'd been born into a different family? I thought back to
the way he commanded his friends to be more respectful of me. He
wasn't like Eric, who would have bullied and derided and made a big
show of

being the hero. Dom only had to tell them to lay off, and they had. He
was a leader, respected. He could have been anybody he wanted to be.
Stop it! I took a sip of iced tea, wishing I could swallow back the
thoughts swirling through my head. If I humanized him, it would be
that much more difficult to get rid of him when the time came. And the
time would come. It had to!
"I think I had enough," Emma said.
"I should think so, seeing as how you cleaned your plate." I tickled her,
and she giggled again. It was music to my ears. I couldn't remember the
last time she had spent so much time feeling so happy. It was uncanny
the way she picked up on the energy around the apartment. Which is
why it's a good thing you got away from Eric, I reminded myself. She
would easily have picked up on the way he treated me. Who knew how
badly it would have affected her?
I washed her up, then patted her bottom to direct her to the living room
while I cleaned up. Dom sat back in his chair, looking satisfied.
"You remind me of Henry the Eighth after a binge," I said, laughing at
the way his hands rested on his stomach.
He smirked. "I don't get food like that all the time," he said.
"So you liked it?" I glowed with pride.
"Who wouldn't?" He let out a loud, echoing belch to punctuate his
words.
I shook my head in disgust, while Emma's laughter filtered in from the
living room.
"That's gross!" she declared, though she still laughed.

"Well. Three-year-olds appreciate you," I said. "That's a start."
"You'll appreciate me one day, too," Dom said. Again, the power and
promise in his voice undid me a little bit. Like I'd been stitched up,
closed off, and he pulled one stitch at a time. I didn't want to be
vulnerable, though. I fought against it.
"Who says I don't appreciate you?" I asked, turning my back to him. I
rinsed the dishes, running the garbage disposal—one of the apartment's
only amenities—wishing I had an excuse to splash myself with cold
water. That wouldn't have been enough. I needed an ice-cold shower.
When I flipped the switch, turning off the roar of clashing gears in the
sink, I realized Dom had gotten up and stood behind me. I jumped a
little when I turned to find him there. How I didn't feel him without
seeing, I didn't know. The heat radiating from him was almost searing.
"You'll appreciate me one day," he repeated, his mouth only inches
from mine. I whimpered softly, the naked need inside me overriding
my good sense. My heart nearly stopped in anticipation of what was to
come.
Nothing happened except for Dom's derisive snort. He went back to the
living room, leaving me burning and quivering and mad as hell. So that
was the game he thought he could play. He had another thing coming.

Chapter Thirteen
Dom
It was almost too easy. Hell, if I have to spend the night breaking my
back on a sofa, I might as well have fun. And it was fun to see her
practically melt in front of me. She needed time to cool off and think
about the way she treated me.
My phone rang before I could sit back down with Emma. Chase. I had
almost forgotten to call him. Where was my head?
"Where the hell did you go?" he asked. "I thought you were just gonna
go to the diner. That was hours ago."
"Sorry." I went into a tiny little room with a set of bunk beds. Emma' s
room. "Things got a little outta control here."
"Where's 'here'?"
I rolled my eyes, knowing the shit storm he would rain on me. "I'm at
her apartment. The girl's."
"What? Why? She okay?"
I gave him the rundown. "She's living like a prisoner here. But I think
she's right. This guy sounds like a seriously sick fuck. She's scared to
death to let the kid out of her sight, or else he might take her. And if she
goes to work, he might follow her there."

"Shit. How the hell do you get yourself into problems like this?" "I'm
gifted."
"Yeah, at making your life a mess." He didn't sound happy—he wasn't
even jokingly giving me shit. He really meant it.
"What's wrong? Who pissed in your cereal today?"
"I've been sitting here, doing a little research into this guy. This Eric
asshole."
"Yeah?" I looked to the doorway, making sure Emma didn't wander in.
If I closed the door in a little girl's bedroom, it would just look like I
was doing something sick. "What did you find out?"
"He's like the town's darling, the little shit. I'm sitting here looking at a
picture of him, and I wanna beat the hell out of him. He looks like the
typical wife beater."
"Funny," I said. "People would say the same thing about you and me
and everybody we know."
"That's different. I don't need to hit a woman, and neither do any of us.
He needs to hit a woman because he's afraid of them." I thought he was
pretty much dead-on.
"You should hear some of the stuff she told me about him. I wish I
could find him right now and kill him."
"Yeah, well, hold on. Like I said, he's the big-shot you told me he was.
Committees, councils, boards, you name it. He's like a whore, just
spreading it around."

"Cute," I said, smirking. "So you're saying I can't touch him?" "I didn't
say that exactly," he said. "So what, then? What exactly?"
"Nobody's as clean as he pretends he is. I mean, he's abusive, yeah. But
do you think he only acts like that with women?"
"I don't get it."
Spike growled. "He's gotta have a secret out there. Something he did
wrong that didn't have to do with his marriage. He's a finance guy. You
really think he's not hiding something? Some sort of money thing?"
My eyes went wide. If I couldn't get him one way, I would get him
another way.
"I'm gonna make a few phone calls," I said. "Meantime, I'm staying
here."
"With her?" I could almost hear the laughter he barely tried to hold
back. I could imagine him sitting there at his desk, feet up, still wearing
those aviators. Maybe with a cigar hanging out of his mouth.
"Yeah, with her. And her kid. We're not talking orgy here," I said. "I've
gotta be a good boy."
"And if I know you, you'll be a good boy right up until the minute the
kid goes to bed." He laughed, then hung up.
I was still shaking my head as I dialed Jax's number. He was one of the
younger guys in the club, better with computers than an old man like
Chase. He thought he was savvy just because he knew how to use
Google.

"What's up?" It sounded like the party for Rat still went strong. For a
second, I wished I were there. Nothing like a party to welcome a new
member. There were always at least a dozen girls, maybe more. The
girls who wanted more than anything for one of the guys to make them
an old lady. They were always good for some fun at the end of the
night. I could be sitting there, drinking, laughing with my friends,
getting my dick sucked if I wanted to. Instead, I was standing in a little
girl's bedroom, wondering whether she slept on the top or bottom bunk.
"Sorry, man. You're in the middle of it. I'll call you up tomorrow."
"No, it's cool. Where are you? I thought you were coming back. Evie
and Layla are here, waiting for you."
I stirred in my pants. Two of my favorite on again, off again hookups in
one room and I was at Kara's. I deserved it for making a decision
without thinking it through first.
"Yeah, well, I can't make it. You'll have to take care of 'em for me. I
know you're heartbroken." They wouldn't mind. Jax looked like a GQ
model with his blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He was the pretty boy of
the club for sure, although I didn't do too bad myself. Far from it.
"Yeah, you're breaking my ass." He laughed. "So what do you need?
Everything cool?"
"I' m gonna need your help in the next few days," I said. "I need you to
do a little digging on somebody for me. I can tell you more about it
tomorrow—you know, after you recover."
"Yeah, well, you might not wanna call 'til the afternoon. Layla's eyeing
me up right now."
"Oh shit. You're gonna need a lotta time to recover." I laughed.

"Enjoy, man. Oh, and be careful. She likes to stick a finger up a guy's
ass when she's sucking him off. I don't know where she got that idea
from. It was a surprise the first time she tried it with me. I almost kneed
her in the face, I was so shocked."
"How do you know I don't like that?"
I was laughing when I hung up. Jax was a whiz with computers. He
knew how to find things when nobody else would know how to start. I
wanted to go after Chase's idea. He was right—Eric was probably just
as much of an asshole in business as he was in the rest of his life. Men
like him didn't pick and choose where to be a dick. They were just dicks
in general.
Careful, Eric. You think you can get away with ruining people's lives.
Not for long.
***
I wondered what Kara would think if I had a new couch rush delivered
to her house the next day.
First of all, my feet hung over the end. They didn't build it for tall men
like me. I thought all couches should be built for men of all sizes to fit
on, for when their women made them sleep in the living room. It only
made sense. I wondered if I could cash in on that idea if I ever decided
to stop riding and go legit.
Then there were the lumps. And the sagging. I considered saying fuck
the sofa and trying the floor instead. I was practically on the floor
already. It didn't matter.
I sighed, wishing I could fall asleep instead of having stupid

thoughts. And I could have been sleeping it off with two gorgeous,
curvy, sexy women. Instead, I suffered endless hours on a piece of shit
sofa in a piece of shit apartment that reminded me way more of my
childhood home than I liked to admit.
And there was Kara, only a room away. I wondered what she wore to
bed. I wondered if she was asleep. I wondered if her bed was any more
comfortable than her sofa. Maybe that was why she looked so tired all
the time.
I wanted to be in there with her. Not just because anything would have
been better than the piece of shit I was trying to sleep on, either. I was
tired of playing games with her. When I saw what I wanted, I took it. I
wanted her. What was stopping me? Maybe I didn't want to take
advantage of somebody who was already so hurt. It would've felt like
stealing from her.
I heard a noise and jumped up like somebody set fire to me. Was it
Eric? Did he finally show up? I couldn't wait to make him pay. I almost
hoped it was him.
It wasn't.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think I would wake up," Kara whispered. All I
could see in the shadows were the outlines of her curvy little body. She
wore a tight top and stretch pants. I saw so much, but not nearly
enough. I wanted to touch her, feel those curves.
I shook myself a little. "You didn't wake me. I wasn't sleeping."
"I'm sorry," she said. "It has to be so uncomfortable there."
"Yeah, well, it was my idea."
"I have extra quilts and things, if you'd rather make up a bed on the

floor."
"Eh, maybe I'll send one of my guys out for an air mattress or
something. No big deal." I followed her into the kitchen. She flipped
the light switch, which let me see even more of her. I wished she hadn't,
almost, because actually seeing how much of her shoulders, arms and
chest were bare was too much. The tank was a little too short, too, so a
strip of her stomach was visible, too. I balled my fists in my pockets
and willed myself to stay soft so she wouldn't know what I was
thinking. I looked at Emma's drawings on the fridge instead of staring
at her.
"How many nights do you think it will be?" she asked. I heard rather
than saw her fill a glass of water at the sink.
"I don't know. As many as it takes." How many nights would I be able
to control myself? I hadn't counted on her being so fucking hot. Most
women didn't look sexy when they went to bed unless they meant to. I
didn' t think she was the kind of girl who would mean to. She wanted
me far away from her. She wasn't the type to seduce me.
"You're pretty stubborn, huh?" I heard the smile in her voice, and
turned around. She leaned against the counter, arms folded. I groaned
inside, wondering if she would think it was weird if I asked her to
uncross her arms. All she did was push her tits up and out, like she
presented them to me. What man in his right mind wouldn't want to
grope them, test their weight, squeeze them? My willpower faded fast.
"Yeah. Stubborn and fucking insane," I muttered.
"What's that mean?"
I couldn't help myself. She was so gorgeous and standing right there.
Every instinct screamed at me to take her. She had to be mine.
I went to her without saying a word, taking her waist in my hands.

She flinched, just a little. But she didn't ask me to get my hands off her.
We stood there like that for what felt like forever. Her fast, sharp
breathing made her chest go up and down in time. Her lips, those sweet,
firm lips I still tasted after our kiss, parted so she could breathe easier.
Her breath was hot, a little ragged. She wanted me the way I wanted
her. Had she come out just to wake me up? It didn't matter. We were
there in the moment. The moment was everything.
I leaned in, pressing my body to hers. She shivered, and that shiver sent
my cock roaring to life. She was so small, fragile, like she would break
under my hands.
I searched her eyes. Did she want it? Did she really? Was I a late
rebound, or just somebody to keep her safe? Was she using me? I
realized I didn't care. If she used me, she used me. I would be using her,
too, in my way. I would take her the way I had wanted to from the
moment I saw her at the diner. I would make her scream my name.
She nodded, then whispered, "Take me to bed, Dom."

Chapter Fourteen
Kara
What was I thinking? Hadn' t I just said, only hours earlier, that I
couldn't let him get to me? I had a daughter to think about. I had myself
to think about. Yet there I was, letting my hormones take over. More
than that—my need. I had been so lonely, and he had a way of simply
looking at me that made me want him. My body screamed for him, so
close to getting what it had missed for so long.
I let him take control, giving myself over to him. Once the bedroom
door shut behind us, he took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply.
His tongue forced into my mouth almost instantly, but I welcomed it,
the way he sent fire throughout me just with a kiss. His hands quickly
moved to my body, skimming my curves, taking the time to feel me,
touch me, stroke and fondle. The heat between my legs built to a raging
inferno almost instantly as he took inventory of me. I sighed, my arms
wrapping around his neck, then sliding down so I could take his body
in. The broad shoulders. The bulging biceps. A thick, muscular chest
and chiseled abs. He took off his shirt, and I ran my fingers over the
washboard, feeling the muscles leap to my touch.
I hooked my fingers in his waistband, drawing a groan from his lips. I
pulled back, signaling for quiet. He nodded, then pushed me back onto
the bed. I didn't know whether to squeal or feel afraid. The power of
him, the strength. He was so rough. What would he do to me?
He started by pulling the straps of my tank top over my shoulders,

kissing the bare skin of my chest. I sighed, running my hands over his
back and shoulders. His lips set blazes wherever they touched.
He worked the front of my top down, exposing my breasts to his hands
and mouth. He sucked them hungrily, his tongue moving over them, his
hands kneading them as he worked. My eyes rolled back in my head,
and when I felt his hardness press against my hip, I gasped. He drove
himself against me, promising so much more than what he gave. I met
his pressure with my own, pushing upward, grinding against him as he
sucked my delicate flesh.
He moved lower, leaving a trail of wet kisses down my stomach before
pulling down my pants and panties in one quick motion. I gasped,
reaching down to cover myself. He pulled my hands away, pinning
them to the bed for a second. My heart raced.
He knelt beside the bed, between my legs. I closed my eyes, willing
myself not to be embarrassed. I wondered if there was a woman in the
world who didn't feel even the slightest bit embarrassed when a man
went down on her for the first time. What would he think? Did I look
weird? Smell or taste weird? Eric had been down there a few times, but
I had never liked it very much. Dom made me think otherwise. He
made me think differently about a lot of things.
When his lips touched my inner thigh, I sighed. It was so sweet and
gentle. Another kiss, then another. Like the beating of butterfly wings.
His hands told another story, however. He gripped my thighs with all
the strength of his powerful arms, telling me he barely held himself
back for my sake. I couldn't believe it, but I actually felt even more
aroused at the thought.
Then he dragged his tongue up the length of my cleft, until he paused
just over top of my hot, aching button. He didn't touch it, though,
licking down instead. Up and down, making me crazy with need,
aching for more, straining upward, desperate for the feeling of his
tongue on my

most intimate places. I wasn't shy anymore. All I wanted was to feel
good.
Then he gave it to me, finally dipping inside until he made contact with
my throbbing clit. I arched my back, holding his head in place, tangling
my fingers in his hair. It was unbelievable. I didn't want it to ever end,
his slow, methodical licking, touching every bit of me, making my
body sing and burn and ache. He took his time, building my pleasure
higher, higher.
I didn' t think I could take any more. I was almost sure of it. I would die
if it got any better. I couldn't handle it. I couldn't. And still he licked, on
and on, driving me wild. My head rolled back and forth on the bed as
cries poured from my open mouth in between gasps for air.
"Dom! Please! I can't take anymore!" It was like he didn't hear me—if
anything, he doubled his efforts, focusing attention on the tip of my
throbbing, aching button. The tip of his tongue touched it, rubbing ever
so slightly back and forth. It was exquisite, it was almost torture. I
couldn't take it for sure. I would die. Didn't he know I would die if he
didn' t stop making me feel so good? I clutched the sheets, balling them
up in my hands until the fitted sheet pulled from the mattress. And on
he went.
He held me still, keeping me in one place while his tongue worked on
me. How he could do what he did, I didn't know. He flicked back and
forth so rapidly, with just the right pressure. He knew just what to do.
How did he know? I trusted him, even though I wanted it to end.
Anything to stop the torture of being so close to completion, my nerves
were on fire.
"Dom...please..." I begged, so close. "Please don't stop." If he stopped,
my whole body would burst into flames. The pressure in my core
pulled tighter...tighter... I couldn't bear it if it got any tighter.

"Yes! " I gasped, back arching, writhing as an orgasm high me. I
gripped his head with my thighs, my hands, holding him in place while
my entire body exploded. Still he licked me, slowing down, letting me
ride it out, swirling his tongue up and down my cleft as I pulsed and
shuddered.
"Oh my God," I whispered, my head spinning. I didn't know what to do,
so I just stayed there, certain I could glow in the dark. He had
completely overtaken me and made sure I felt more pleasure than I ever
had. Even when I didn't want to, even when I didn't I was able to, he
had faith in me. And I could never look back.
I opened my eyes, feeling like a different person. He grinned up at me,
still between my legs, kissing the insides of my thighs. I sighed,
running my hands through his hair. I saw the pride in his face, the pride
of a job well done. He had no idea. My muscles still pulsed and
twitched, coming down from that massive high.
I waited while he rolled a condom over his length—his massive length,
twice the size of Eric's. Could I take him in? I had given birth, so I
thought it wouldn't be too difficult. Still, I didn't want him to hurt me. It
had been so long since I'd been with a man, and as ready as I was, I
didn' t think there was any getting ready for what Dom packed.
He climbed up the bed, up me, until he covered my body with his. My
heart beat even faster than it had before I came, because this was it. No
going back. I wondered how he would be, how he would treat me.
Would he ride me, break me in, treat me like a thing to screw? No, he
couldn't. Not after the way he had been with me already. Whatever he
did, I knew I would like it. I spread my legs, wrapping them around his
waist as he positioned himself against me. The pressure alone was
enough to send shockwaves through me. He's so big.
The first thrust was like nothing I could have imagined. It was nothing
like I ever experienced with Eric, and he was my first and only.

Dom was a different person. A different man. More of a man, even.
When he entered me, I gasped, throwing my head back in shock as he
filled me so completely. I didn't know it was possible to be filled like
that, to feel pleasure like that from a single thrust. I thought,
somewhere in the back of my mind, that I finally understood a little bit
of what made sex such a big deal.
"Okay?" he asked.
I nodded quickly, wanting more and fast. He slid out, taking me again.
Again. Thrusting into me. Invading me over and over the way his
tongue had invaded my mouth, my folds. Taking what he wanted, the
way he wanted it. Hard and deep, his hips rotating as he went, grinding
against me. I let him ride me as I held on for dear life, my arms and legs
around him, gripping him, touching him. His bulging muscles working
under my hands as he moved, his butt flexing as he worked his hot
length in and out of me.
He licked my lips, then moved down to my neck where he licked and
sucked my skin, his tongue flicking over me there as it had when he
was between my legs. I gritted my teeth against the cries that threatened
to erupt, unwilling to wake Emma. I couldn't let the pleasure end. It
would have been too much if it ended.
His thrusts were deep, hard, filling me again and again. He was so
thick, I felt every inch of him as he slid in and out. It was unspeakable,
the pleasure of him inside me and on top of me and all around me. I met
his mouth again for a kiss, his teeth on my bottom lip making me hiss. I
loved it, though. I loved all of it. My legs tightened around his butt,
pulling him closer, harder, faster. He took my cue, picking up his pace.
"Yes," I whispered. It was all I could say, but it spoke everything I was
feeling. Yes. More of that. Yes. Deeper. Yes. All of it, give me all of you.
Yes. I want it. This is all I want, all I need. I didn't know I needed it until
now. I didn't know I even deserved it until now. This was what I'd

always needed, what everybody needed, the feeling of fulfillment and
passion.
I felt it building again, bigger than before. I thought it might swallow
me whole when it crashed down upon me—and I welcomed it. I wanted
it. I wanted to lose myself in total abandon, to finally feel the sort of
passion I'd always wondered about but had never felt for myself. I
wanted Dom to take me to the heights of what was possible.
I moved with him, jerking my hips upward. His free hand traveled over
me, gripping my thigh, my hip, squeezing my breast. I closed my hand
over his, signaling him to keep doing that. The pleasure built even
more. I cried out softly, the side of my fist in my mouth, stifling what
threatened to come out and give us away.
"Yeah. come for m e . " His whisper in my ear was all I needed to
shoot up over the edge. The wave crested, broke, then slammed down
and nearly drowned me. I went wild, legs, arms, everything tightening
around him. My mouth found its way to his shoulder and I bit down to
vent some of the soul-rocking ecstasy radiating through me. I couldn't
scream, though I wanted to more than anything. I wanted to scream the
whole building down. I wanted everyone to know what he had done to
me. Done for me.
I couldn't. All I could do was ride it out until it subsided. In the
meantime, Dom's thrusts grew faster until he came as well, his face in
the pillow, crying out as he shuddered. I held him close, a feeling of
total protectiveness coming over me. I wanted to hold him as he let go
inside me. It was the least I could do for him after what he had done for
me. I couldn't explain it.
He stayed there after he'd gone still, stretched out on top of me. I didn' t
know what to do, what to think, how to feel.
So that was what it was all about! I felt like a veil had been lifted

from my eyes. For my entire life, I'd been seeing a shadowy version of
the way things were supposed to be. A sort of blurred version of how
men and women could be together. Dom lifted that veil, showed me the
world in living color, clear and sharp and vital and primal. I had never
felt that way—I didn' t even know it was possible.
I didn't know who it made me, or who it made the person heaving and
panting above me. His face was on my shoulder, his breath hot and
moist against my skin. I didn't mind it. I thought I might even love it. I
loved the feeling of being totally one with another person, even to the
point where his sweat mingled with mine. It was all so fresh and
exciting, and deeply satisfying.
Satisfied. That was a word I would never have used with Eric. It was all
I could think about with Dom. For once, I didn't feel like I'd have to
finish myself off later—if at all. I didn't have to swallow back my
disappointment at yet another encounter which did nothing for me. I
never, ever could have told Eric that. He would have lost his mind if he
didn' t think I came every time. Not like he ever bothered to find out if I
had, or if there was anything he could do for me to get me there better
or faster or more. He was content to think a few minutes of thrusting
into me was enough.
But this was a revelation! I felt like I didn't need anything more.
Whether I wanted more was another story—I already wondered if we
could do it again.
I closed my eyes, saying a silent prayer. If I had to put up with years of
Eric to find out how good life could be, I could accept that as long as it
kept being good. I couldn't handle it if I woke up to what I really
wanted or what I was really capable of, only to have it taken away. That
wouldn't have been fair.
And it was a prayer of thanks, too. Thanks for finally, at the age of
twenty-five, having an orgasm I didn't have to make happen on my
own.

Chapter Fifteen
Dom
She was quiet for a very long time afterward. So quiet I thought she
maybe passed out—I had thought once or twice that she might.
I looked down at her from where I still pinned her to the bed. She was
still, eyes closed, breathing calm and normal. Not what I had expected
to see or hear after how wild she got. At least she was breathing.
"Hey. You okay?" I pushed myself up a little to let her breath easier.
All she did was nod her head. I got up, sliding out of her, taking care of
things on my end. I pulled the sheets around me and settled down on
my back, and still, she didn't say anything. She didn't even move.
"Are you sure you're okay? You're freaking me out a little." A horrible
thought hit me. What if he did things to her sexually? What if he abused
her that way, too? What if she had all kinds of scars inside from that?
Oh, fuck. I couldn't ask her about it. All I could do was wait for her to
talk. If I had made it worse, I didn't know what I would do. As it was, I
didn't know what to do to make her talk to me.
She opened her eyes finally, and turned her head to me. "Thank you for
that," she whispered, a slow smile creeping across her face.
"You're welcome." My heart could start beating normally again. I
couldn't believe how much she'd scared me. Nothing scared me, so it

was hard for me to handle.
She rolled onto her side. "Was I okay?" she asked.
"Were you okay?" I almost laughed before I realized how serious she
was. I pulled her a little closer. "You were more than okay. Couldn't
you tell? I came, too, you know."
"Yeah, but that's the biological imperative," she said, waving a
hand.
"The what?"
She chuckled. "Men have to come to further the species. Women don't.
So men are wired to come, while we're not. Notice how the act of sex is
over when a man comes? There's a reason for that—the sex doesn't
have to continue any longer."
"Wow. It's like you read a book or something," I said.
"I did. A lot of books. It was what I studied in college. I wanted to be a
psychiatrist, and study sexual issues. I had to understand human
sexuality to help my future patients." She sighed. "It got me really far,
didn't it?"
"Well, it made you sound smarter than me, so it did something." She
giggled. "Great. Where's my fee?"
"I'll give you your fee." I pulled her even closer, until our bodies
touched from head to toe. I nuzzled her neck, making her squirm and
giggle. Then she stopped giggling when my mouth traced the lines of
her throat. I held back before we went too far, though—I was a young
guy, but I wasn't ready again that fast.

I settled back down against the pillows. "So you wanted to be a
psychiatrist. What stopped you?"
"You know what stopped me," she said. Her voiced sounded dead. "I
mean, I'd still be in school if I had stuck to my guns, but I would be
closer to my goal, too. I should have stuck to them."
"You mean he didn't want you to work or even go to school?" I asked.
"I was stupid. You don't have to remind me." She rolled over onto her
back, staring at the ceiling. She swiped a hand across her cheek once,
twice, catching tears I couldn't see.
"Hey. I didn't say you were stupid. If I said it that way, it was because I
was surprised is all. I can't imagine being so selfish. He was so
selfish."
"He was."
I didn't say what I thought—that he was a spineless, dickless piece of
human waste who was too scared to let his wife have a better career
than him. He didn't want a strong woman, a smart woman. He wanted
one he could control. The further she got in school, the stronger she
would be. She might even have met a halfway decent man while she
was there. His fear wouldn't let him allow that. I clenched one of my
fists under the pillow, willing myself to stay calm.
"You could always go back to school," I reminded her. "You're
definitely not too old. People take time off, you know."
"Yes, I know. And I' m being silly, anyway. I could never have done
the coursework and the internship with Emma around. It would have
been impossible. I wouldn't trade her for anything, even the best
career."

"I can tell. You're a good mom."
"You've never seen me on my bad days. I swear, there are times when I
think if I have to watch another Disney movie or another stupid cartoon
that doesn't make any sense, I'll lose my mind. I'm sure I'll just throw
myself out a window."
"All moms feel that way sometimes. The moms I know, the ones with
young kids, need a break sometimes. You need a break."
"Yes, well, that's not going to happen anytime soon." Bitterness
dripped from her voice. She shook her head. "I shouldn't say it that
way," she said. "It makes it sound like I don't love her. I do love her, so
much. And I love being her mom."
"You don't have to make excuses for the way you sound," I said. "I'm
sure it's not easy. It's okay. I'm not judging you, you know."
"You're not?"
"No. Why would I? I've been judged my whole fucking life. I know
how it feels. You don't need that."
"What do you mean you've been judged your whole life?" She rolled
onto her side again, and even in the almost pitch darkness I knew she
was looking at me.
"No. We don't talk about that."
"We've talked about just about everything with me. I mean, things I
never thought I would tell another person, I've told you. I guess because
I don't know you very well. The way people tell their secrets to
bartenders. Does that make sense?"

I had to laugh a little. "Yeah. That makes total sense."
"So you can tell me, too. I promise. No judging, no anything like that.
I'll listen, that's all. Besides, I would like to know a little more about the
man who's going to be staying with me and my daughter. If you liked
killing little animals when you were a kid, we might have a problem."
I put a hand over my mouth to quiet the laughter, and finally gave in.
"There's honestly not all that much to tell. I grew up an only child. Like
I told you, I had a tiny house, so this apartment doesn't seem like a big
deal to me. I'm used to it. Uh, we didn't have any money. Almost none.
I always grew out of my clothes so fast, and nothing ever fit right. I hit,
like, five or six growth spurts, I think. My mom was the only parent at
home. I didn't know my dad. I don't know if he's alive, or dead, or
what."
"So it was just the two of you?"
"Yeah. Just like you and Emma." Only nothing like them.
"And what did your mom do? You said she worked at night? While we
were at the dinner table, I mean."
I winced. I had forgotten that remark. "Yeah. She was a whore."
"Oh." Kara put a hand over her mouth. "That was so insensitive of me
to ask. I' m sorry. I should mind my own business."
I shrugged. "It's not a big deal. It's just a fact. She did what she had to
do to support me the little she did. Most of her money went to her drug
habit."
"Oh, this just keeps getting worse. We absolutely do not have to talk
about this anymore."

"I don't mind, really. Unless you do." "I don't."
"There's not much else to say now that I think about it. I had some
friends on the street, but they weren't good friends—they might have
been poor, but their mothers weren't crack whores. So they all kinda
looked down at me. Their mothers felt sorry for me, though. So they
would sometimes feed me, or give me their husbands' or boyfriends'
hand-me-down clothes when mine stopped fitting. That sort of thing.
And I grew up, and I turned out okay. I think so, anyway. Other people
might not."
"Fuck other people." The way she said it, and the language she used,
shocked me into silence. "I mean it. Fuck them. They don't know.
Listen, do you know how many of my so-called country club friends
probably talked about me for months after I left Eric? They had no
fucking idea what I went through. As far as they were concerned, I'm
sure, I was leaving a perfectly good husband who provided for my child
and me. And I went and walked out on him. I'm sure that gossip fed the
mill for a long time."
She laughed bitterly. "The worst part is what was the real last straw was
the cheating. Even the abuse wasn't enough to make me open my eyes.
When I found out he was sleeping with other women and didn't care if I
knew, that was it. But those women, my so-called friends? Every one of
them knew their spouse cheated, and every one of them cheated right
back. I don't know. That was never my idea of marriage. I guess I'm
old-fashioned or naive."
"I don't think you're wrong. My club's president, Chase? He's never
cheated on his wife, and women throw themselves at him all the time."

"Is he the one I saw with you at the diner?" she asked. "Yeah, the one
with the sunglasses."
She made a noise like she hardly believed it. "No offense to him or
anything, but I don't see it."
"It's the power thing. These are women who love the club life, too.
Keep that in mind. They wanna sleep with the man in charge. They
wanna be able to say they fucked the president of the Blood Bandits.
Like it means a lot. I guess it does to them, I don't know. Besides, he's
not a bad guy, even if he acts like he is."
"I didn't mean to insult him," Kara insisted.
"I know. It's okay, I don't think it would hurt his feelings. He knows
he's not a model," I said. "Anyway, he has plenty of opportunities, and
before he met his wife, Trisha, he took it every chance he got. The
man's a legend. Two, three women at once, sometimes twice in the
same day. He was a machine."
"Sounds like a prince." She smirked.
"My point is, the minute he met her, it all stopped. He devoted himself
to one old lady."
"Old lady?"
"C'mon. You've heard that before." I stroked her arm, her hair. It was so
soft. "The old lady of a biker. The girlfriend or wife, the one they settle
down with."
"Oh, I see. And that's it? He's faithful to her?"
"I think if a person is the kind of person who settles down, they

find the right person and settle down. Eric's not that person. I can't
believe I just said his name while I'm here in bed with you. Fuck, I can't
believe I' m talking about him while I' m in bed with you. How fucking
stupid am I?" I laughed a little.
"Well, I'll tell you one thing." Kara got up on her knees, straddling me.
She pinned me to the bed with her hands on my shoulders. "Whoever
he's been sleeping with isn't getting very much. Nothing like you." She
wriggled a little, her hot mound just above my cock. I could feel myself
getting hard.
"Oh really?" I didn't mind hearing that—what man would? That they
were better than a woman's ex?
"He's nothing," she said.
I pulled out another condom, handing it to her. She unrolled it over my
hard length, then hovered over me again.
"When you're inside me, it's like something else entirely. Like nothing I
ever felt before." She positioned me, then lowered herself until I was
fully inside. We both groaned.
Kara threw her head back, dark hair fanning out behind her. "When you
touch me," she whispered, rocking back and forth, undulating like a
wave. "It's so good, I can't stand it."
"When I do this?" I ran my fingertips over her tits. They were so big, so
perfect, so firm—even though she had a kid, her body was incredible.
She sped up her rocking, groaning again. "Yes. Like that. You know
just what to do. I can't take it, I swear. I feel like ...like... I'm going to
crack open into a million pieces..."

I played with her tits, watching her rock her body to another orgasm.
She was a beautiful thing—eyes closed, mouth open, little grunts of
pleasure coming from her as she thrusted onto me. I held her hips,
digging into her soft flesh, working her up and down as I thrusted
upward from below.
"Yes. yes. oh, Dom. so g o o d . " She leaned forward, tits in my face. I
sucked one, then the other, taking turns. Listening to the way she
mewled and whimpered, feeling the way she got tighter around me the
more excited she got. I pounded away at her, holding her ass, moving
her up and down while my mouth worked on her delicious body.
"Oh. baby. oh, D o m . " she whispered in my ear, trying to be quiet
just like I tried. The last thing we needed was for the kid to walk in the
room. I bit her neck, holding back a grunt as she slammed onto me
again and again. She gasped, digging her fingers into my shoulders
until I was sure she had to draw blood.
"I' m coming. oh, God! Yes!" Her body tensed, shook, while her
muscles pulsed around my cock. I didn't wait until she finished to keep
fucking her. I moved her up and down while she came, quiet little
shrieks coming from her as I kept going. She never loosened around
me, never stopped gripping like a vice. I thought she might still be
coming, over and over. I held on as long as I could. I wanted her to keep
feeling it for as long as her body would let her.
I couldn' t hold on forever, though, and finally I broke loose with a
long, low groan as I shuddered. It was bliss, the feeling of letting go
everything built-up inside me. From the sounds of it, Kara had a lot to
let
go of.
She rolled over, gasping, panting for breath. "That's why," she
whispered between gasps.
"Why what?" I looked over at her—sweaty, messy, breathing like

she just ran a marathon. Probably more beautiful and sexy than she had
ever been in her life.
"Why. I acted like I did after the first time. I never felt that way before."

Chapter Sixteen
Kara
It was amazing how different the world looked after that first night with
Dom.
So that was what I had been missing all those years! Eric had
sometimes demanded sex a few times a week—less and less the longer
we were together, of course, once he started cheating on me. He'd left
me alone after a while, for the most part. Looking back, it had slowed
down after Emma was born. He had tried to convince me to do it even
when I was beyond the point of exhaustion. When he finally figured out
it wasn't going to happen when I was fast asleep, he'd started looking
elsewhere. It had almost been a relief.
But for all the times when I'd thought things were best, when I had
thought it couldn't get more hot and steamy, I'd had no idea just how
good sex could be. I had been playing in the minor leagues before Dom
came along, teaching me things about my body I hadn't known were
possible. I giggled to myself as I made breakfast, thinking that if
nothing else, I'd be grateful to him for that alone.
It was more than that, though. The way he'd held me like he would
always protect me. I believed him when he said the words, mostly
because of the way it had felt with his arms around me. In those quiet
moments, I'd believed him. Just being able to believe a man for the first
time since my father died meant the world to me.

He was a late sleeper, I noticed. Emma scurried down from her bunk
and looked for him the moment she woke up. "Where's Dom?" she
asked, poking her head into the kitchen in case he was with me. I
laughed at her bedhead, and the way she hadn't changed out of her
nightgown with the princesses from Frozen printed on the front.
"He's asleep," I said. Then my heart nearly stopped, and I froze in
panic.
"Where? I thought he was gonna sleep on the couch."
I scrambled for an excuse. "Yes, and he did. When I got up, I told him
he could sleep in my bed for a while, so I didn't wake him up while I
made breakfast. He was still very sleepy. I don't think the sofa is
comfortable for him."
"It's very lumpy," she said. "Maybe he could sleep on my bottom
bunk?"
"I don't think so, sweetie." It was hard not to laugh when she offered it
so freely, so willingly. "I think it would be a little small for him."
"Right." She shrugged, then went off to the living room to say good
morning to her toys. It was part of her daily routine. I sighed with relief,
slumping against the kitchen table. Mental note: make sure Dom goes
back to the living room before Emma gets up.
I filled our bowls with oatmeal and berries, then settled in to watch the
news with my girl. For a three-year-old, she really liked watching Good
Morning America. It seemed strange to me, but maybe she was
destined for a career as a journalist or broadcaster. She always had
comments on the news stories, too, some of which were unnervingly
dead-on. Her savviness was a worry to me. How much did she
understand about her father? How much did she not tell me?

I heard a noise coming from my room through the paper-thin wall
between the living room and bedroom. That was another worry. Had
we woken her at any time during the night? I thought not, or else she
would have come to the bedroom door. It still amazed me how I'd
managed to keep quiet. Just the thought of being with Dom was enough
to get me a little wet again.
"Oh, hey." He tried to look casual when he came around the corner. I
had to give him credit for that. He ran a hand through his dark, messy
hair, then over his stubble-covered cheeks.
"Good morning," I said. "I told Emma how you moved to my room
once I woke up, so I wouldn't wake you." I smiled brightly.
"Right. That was nice that you did that." He nodded emphatically.
"Good morning, Emma."
"Morning." I didn't know why she acted so shy again. She hid behind
my arm.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing. I just don't want to talk yet."
I shook my head—was this the girl who had looked for Dom the
moment she got out of bed? "Okay. You don't have to. Do you mind if I
go to the kitchen to make Dom some breakfast?"
"Don't worry about it," he said. "I have to go out for a little while so I
can pick up something."
"You're leaving?" I asked, standing up. My heart took off at a gallop.

"Just for a little while. I have some stuff to take care of, like getting
clothes. I have to talk to my guys about club things. And I thought I
could pick up some food, too. You're running a little low."
I thought about my nearly empty wallet. "I don't have money for a lot of
things, so just the basics, please."
"Like I was gonna charge you," he said with a smirk. "Come on."
"Don't do that," I said. "Please. Don't pity me."
"I don't pity you. Damn it." He glanced at Emma, who shook her
head.
"That's a swear word," she said, shaking her finger.
I bit my lip to hold back a smile. "He's a grown up, honey. He can say
what he wants." I turned back to him. "Though it would be nice if he
could hold back a little."
"That was holding back," he growled. "You don't know what I really
wanna say to you right now. You're lucky she's here."
"Oh, is that it? I'm lucky?" I dropped my voice to a whisper. "Maybe
you're the one who's lucky that she's here, so I could tell you a thing or
two about how I don't like it when people tell me what to do and how to
feel. I don' t need pity or charity."
"Which. This. Isn't." He rolled his eyes. "I've gotta go. Do me a favor
and text me a list of things to buy from the store, okay?" He pulled his
leather vest off the armchair, sliding it on.
"Ooh! Are you gonna ride your motorcycle now?" Emma asked.
I frowned. "How do you know he rides a motorcycle?"

"I told her," he said. "Was I not supposed to do that? Is it bad?"
"Cut it out," I muttered just low enough for him to hear me but not her.
"You're not amusing."
He turned to Emma rather than answering me. "Yeah, I'm gonna ride
my motorcycle. Maybe I'll let you ride with me sometimes, if your
Mommy isn't too mean to let you."
Oh, that son of a bitch. "That's enough. Go. Do what you have to do." I
pushed him toward the door.
"If you don't tell me what to buy, I'm gonna come back with nothing but
sugary cereal and soda. It's up to you." He left, chuckling to himself. I
wanted to slap the snide attitude out of him. The nerve!
I turned back to my daughter, who was totally enamored of him the
way only a child could be. He was big and interesting, different from
anyone else in her life.
"Is he gonna come back?" she asked.
"Yes, honey. Whether I like it or not, I think he's gonna come back." At
least he'd left before my mother showed up. I thanked God for small
favors as I took a shower, then convinced Emma to change out of her
favorite nightgown. At least she wasn't begging me to let her watch the
movie for the ten millionth time. Another small favor.
By the time mom showed up, Emma was coloring while I read a book.
Funny how little pleasure reading I'd managed to get done after leaving
Eric. I'd lost so much of myself, both to him and then after I left. When
I opened the door for mom to enter, I laughed at the sight of two
grocery bags.

"What's so funny?" she asked as I took the bags so she could hug
Emma.
"Nothing. It's a long story. Thank you for the food," I said. I went to the
kitchen to unload, then texted Dom that I already had more than enough
food thanks to my mother. He asked what she'd brought, and I gave him
the brief rundown, though I didn't think he needed to know,
particularly. He didn't reply. I thought he might have felt a little
insulted that he couldn't prove his masculinity by providing food for his
weak little females.
"You want a cup of tea?" I asked, smiling to find a box of chai tea bags
in with the rest of the haul.
"Yes, please. Lots of milk."
I went about heating the water while I put away the rest of the food.
Lots of spaghetti—the one thing we knew Emma loved to eat. Cereal,
tuna, bread, milk, chicken, rice. . . lots of staples, plus fresh and frozen
veggies and a bunch of bananas. I thought we would do okay for a
while with everything she'd bought.
"You really didn't have to do that," I said, sitting down with her and
handing her one of two mugs. "I mean it."
"Would you just accept someone taking care of you for once? You
know you like it. Just admit it." I wondered how she would feel if she
knew how much she sounded like a certain biker I happened to know.
"Okay. Thank you. I just hate to think of everybody's lives thrown
around because of Eric."
"That's not your fault. You're making the only choice you can make."

"Hey, Grandma," Emma said from her spot on the floor. She was on her
stomach, coloring away. "Do you know Dom?"
My heart sank. I should have told her not to mention him—then again,
I didn' t want to teach her to be a liar. Mom looked at me, eyebrows
raised. "No, dear," she said, eyes locked with mine. "I don't know Dom.
Tell me about him."
" M o m. " I said. She held up a hand to silence me.
"Well." Emma sat up, legs crossed, to count off Dom's attributes one at
a time on her little fingers. "He's a big giant man. He's funny. He likes
mommy's meatballs like I do. Um.. .he rides a motorcycle."
"He does? That's interesting." Mom kept smiling, but I heard the
sinister note in her voice.
"And he stayed with us last night, but he had stuff he had to do." Her
job complete, my daughter went back to coloring. She couldn't have
done a better job of sinking me if she'd tried.
"Well, he sounds like a very nice person," Mom said. Her smile was
tight. "Can I talk to you in the kitchen?" She was off the sofa and on her
way without waiting for me to reply. I dragged my feet like a woman on
her way to the electric chair. That might have been better than what my
mom would give me, I thought.
"Is this the one you told me about?" Mom whispered angrily.
"Yes," I said. "He's the one. He looked for me at the diner yesterday,
and Darlene gave him the address."
"You should have a few words with Darlene," Mom advised. "Like
about privacy, and how you don't appreciate people violating yours like
that."

"Yes, Mom. I know."
"It doesn't sound like you know. And don't roll your eyes at me, I
swear." I looked at the floor instead, feeling for all the world like a kid
who got caught breaking curfew. "What sort of example is this for your
daughter?"
"Mom, please. I can't take this right now. He didn't stay over to sleep
with me, for God's sake." Mom scoffed, clearly offended by my
bluntness. "It's true. It's not like he came over and I said, 'Hey, baby,
I'm single, let's do it.' He came over to check and make sure we were
okay. He thought it was a big red flag when I didn't go to work, and yes,
Darlene should have kept my address to herself, but I can't change that.
All I know is I slept well last night." I didn't tell her it was because we
had, in fact, slept together.
"You know what else?" I continued. "I felt better. Safer, for the first
time all week. Funny, huh? In the presence of an outlaw. I felt safe and
protected, and I felt even better knowing that he would take a bullet for
my child. Emma laughed and laughed when we ate dinner together. She
felt safe, too. I know she's just a little kid, but you know how she picks
up on things. She's not stupid. She knows something is wrong, or else
why wouldn't I let her go to school? She never once asked me about it
this morning."
"That's good, at least," Mom said. I could tell it killed her to admit she
was wrong, so I didn't wait for her to say it.
"He just wants to help. Like you said, I have to learn how to accept help
when it comes to me."
"I didn't mean from people like him," she pointed out, her voice
sour.

"You don't know him," I said. "And I know that sounds like my typical
response. Especially when you had a problem with Eric. I was wrong
then, but I'm not wrong now. Jesus, I'm not talking about marrying the
man. Just letting him help me, because I need all the help I can get."
"You don't think he'll.. .kill him, do you?" Her eyes were wide. "No. I
wouldn't want him to, though he wants to." Mom gasped. "Kara! "
"Come on. Haven't you wanted to? When I told you everything that
happened?"
"Well, yes, but I wouldn't do anything about it."
"We can't assume he would either. Just relax. It'll be okay." I wasn't
sure how, but it had to be. It just had to be. "In the meantime, let's put
this behind us and enjoy the rest of the day with Emma. I don't want her
thinking there's anything to be afraid of, especially from Dom. I need
her to trust him."
"Whatever you say," Mom said, much in the way she would have
delivered the line, "It's your funeral."
I sighed, shaking my head. Like I didn't have enough on my plate.
"Hey, Mama?" Emma finished her picture, bringing it to me.
"That's beautiful, sweetheart. You're such a great artist. You wanna
hang it on the fridge with the others?"
She gave me a shy grin, ducking her head. "No. I wanna give it to
Dom. Can I?"

"Sure, honey. When he gets back." I kissed the top of her head,
deliberately avoiding my mother's scornful gaze. Yes, I knew how
dangerous it was for my little girl to become too attached to him, but
there was nothing else I could do. If I had any hope of the next however
many days going smoothly, she had to like Dom. Otherwise, she'd only
heap a lot more trouble onto an already crappy situation.

Chapter Seventeen
Dom
The last thing I thought I would see when I came out of the bedroom
was the kid. I was glad Kara had caught me before I made up a stupid
bullshit story about how I . did something that meant I had to be in the
bedroom instead of on the couch.
I was glad for the ride on my bike, too. I needed to clear my head, and
riding was the only thing that ever really did it for me. The night with
Kara had been good—better than good. It had been the first night since
I lost Lauren that I had felt really happy with a woman. Not, like,
cheesy romance happy. Not the kind of happy that only happened in
movies. But real happiness. Comfort. Connection. I didn't know how
much I'd missed it until I had it again.
I didn' t know how much I had missed my clubhouse until I pulled up in
front of it either, and I had only been away a day. Less than a day. How
was it possible that so much had happened in so short a time? It felt like
weeks instead of hours.
From the number of bikes out front, I could tell most of the club had
spent the night in the bedrooms we kept on the second and third floors.
It was always safer to give the guys a place to sleep it off after a good
party. We were already in enough trouble with the law. We didn't need
the guys getting themselves arrested or God forbid killing somebody.
Or themselves.

When I walked through the front door, all I could smell was vomit. "Oh
shit," I said, holding my nose. "Who the fuck puked in here?" I looked
around, and the sight of club members and groupies stretched out over
every flat surface made me laugh and cringe at the same time. I had
missed a hell of a party. I wasn't sure if I was jealous or glad.
Spike was asleep on the pool table, a blonde whose name I didn't know
in his arms. She wasn't wearing a top, and her big, fake tits spilled out.
Rat had fallen asleep with a woman's hand down his pants, the woman
on top of him. Like they had been in the middle of making out or more
before they both passed out. I saw Jax stretched out on the couch in
Chase's office, and I went there to talk to him. I didn't care about
waking him up—I looked forward to it, actually.
"Oh fuck," he groaned when I shoved him. "What the hell happened?"
"I was gonna ask you the same thing," I said, snorting with laughter. "It
looks like the last fucking days of Rome out there. And it reeks of puke.
We're gonna have to get a cleaning crew out here to take care of the
smell."
"Nah, have a couple of the prospects do it. That's what they're for." He
had a point, and I shrugged it off. I stepped back, letting him slowly sit
up like he was testing to make sure sitting up was even a good idea.
"Holy hell. I can't believe we partied that hard, man."
"I was thinking the same damn thing. I guess when you 're sober, you
see things clearer." I leaned against Chase's desk. "Where's the big
man, anyway?"
"Upstairs. I saw him go up there with Trisha early on in the night."
I nodded. He would never have cheated on his old lady. Trisha was a
patient woman, but she told him straight-up that she'd cut his balls off

if she ever found out he cheated on her with one of our regular girls.
That got me thinking.
"What about Evie and Layla? You have fun with them?"
Jax groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face, then looking at them in
horror. "Oh fuck. Did I even wash my hands after?"
"Oh, come on. You're fucking sick."
He stumbled to the bathroom just off of Chase's office, washing up,
then washing his face. He came back in, hair slicked back. "I feel a little
more human now," he said. "Yeah, they drained the life outta me."
"So both at once, huh?"
"It was either that or let one of 'em go off with Rat. He's a good guy and
I ' m glad he's in the club now, but I'll be fucked if I let him take one of
them away from me."
I laughed. "Yeah, Rat's not in that league yet. Maybe one day, when
both balls drop." He was sorta the club mascot in a way, the young,
skinny kid who nobody would thought would patch into a club like the
Blood Riders. Looks deceived. He always came through when we
needed him, and could be just as tough and cold as any of us.
"What about you, man? Where have you been? You didn't say last
night.. .or maybe I just don't remember."
"Y'all have to rethink starting parties in the afternoon." I laughed. "I'm
surprised you're still alive."
"Yeah, well, whatever. I'll put it to the vote during the next meeting."
He leaned back, one hand over his eyes like it hurt just to see
the light. "So? Where were you?"

"Remember the waitress from the diner?"
"How could I forget? Tits and ass for days, brother."
I held back the urge to knock him around for saying shit like that, since
he didn't know what went on between us. I wouldn't have cared if he
said it about Evie or Layla, though, and I had fucked the shit out of
them, too. More than once. What did that mean?
"I was there."
"At the diner?"
"No, at her apartment."
Jax raised his hand, looking at me. "So, what, you're seeing her now or
something? Is she gonna be your new old lady?"
"Don't go that far," I said. "I'm not even seeing her. I was there to keep
her and her kid safe." I gave him the quick-and-dirty story, finishing
with, "And that's where you come in. Chase gave me the idea that if
he's such a crotch to his wife and probably all women, he's probably
that way all over the place. Including in his business."
"So you think he's probably doing some shady business?" he asked.
"What do you think? It's likely, right?"
"I think it's more than likely. I think he's probably doing more than just
giving people money for charity. He's probably fucking with the books,
laundering, doing all kinds of shady shit. I mean, you talk about them
living in a big place, and he's got all this money. At his age? I saw the
guy leave the diner. He couldn't be older than you."

"That's it, right? I thought that, too. Why's he so successful, so young?
What if he's doing one of those, whaddya call 'em schemes?"
"A Ponzi scheme?" Jax snickered.
"Something like that. Maybe not that, exactly, but something like it.
Like the way those assholes got rich right before the housing market
collapsed. They collected high commissions off of shit loans. I ' m
sorry, but that's the only way a person could all of a sudden get as rich
as him. It doesn't make sense otherwise."
"Did Kara say anything about that?"
"No, just that he went from being a grad school student to having a
ridiculous career in, l i k e . " I did the math, ". three years."
"That's weird. Okay. I'll look into him. I ' m not sure what I ' m looking
for, though."
"Anything. Find out the clients his firm handles, I guess. Find out what
they' re all about. There has to be some sort of whispering going on
somewhere. We're near Flagstaff, but we're not Flagstaff. We're still a
small town. Word gets around."
"You're right about that," he said, smirking. "Like the way word gets
around on us."
"Well, right. That' s what I mean. People have to be talking about him,
even if they' re bragging about how much money they make with his
firm. I remember watching this thing on the news about that one guy,
the one who's in jail now...what's his name...I don't remember, but he
ran one of those schemes. Some big shot they interviewed said his
clients always bragged about how he made profits every quarter, every
single time. And he said that's impossible. There have to be losses
sometimes,

too. That should have been the first red flag. Who knows? Maybe
there's a red flag out there with Eric's name on it."
"And you think maybe his clients are talking about how great he
is."
"Right. That's what's gonna shoot him in the balls. I know it." The more
I talked about it, the better I felt about it. I was sure we would come up
with something. It only made sense.
"I'll get on it as soon as I don't feel like I ' m gonna die," Jax said,
slumping down on the leather couch.
"Don't hurl on that thing, or Chase will kill you. Hell, I might kill
you—that might be mine one day." I left him there, going back out to
the lounge to put on a pot of coffee behind the bar. By that time, Chase
was coming downstairs with Trisha. He looked about as disgusted as I
felt, and held his nose when the smell hit him.
"Oh, fuck me. What the hell happened?"
"Your club got a little outta hand, prez. That's what happened." I
grinned at him.
"Shit, they're not my club right now. I'll take off the patch and hand it to
you if it means getting to forget I ever saw this."
I laughed, then deliberately slammed the door to the cooler to get
everybody up.
"Come on. Up. Let's go." Chase nudged them—he wasn't gentle, either.
Spike almost fell off the pool table.
"What did you do that for?" he asked, holding a hand to his head as he
got up. "What did I ever do to you?"

"I think you puked somewhere around here, that's what. You're always
the one who ends up drinking until he pukes. You could never handle
it."
He shook his head. "I think it was Rat. He was the one doing shots, like,
all night. I told him to slow down, skinny shit."
"You're probably right," Chase said. He nudged an unconscious body
under the pool table. One of the prospects. "Hey. Drake. Who the fuck
told you that you could party last night? One, two drinks, minimum. I
swear to Christ, I can't go to bed with my old lady without shit going to
hell around here."
"I only had two drinks, Chase. Swear to God." Drake stumbled to his
feet, weaving back and forth. I turned my head so Chase wouldn't see
me laughing.
"Right. Take a shower, clean your ass up, then clean this place up. Find
your buddy Frankie, too. He's probably around here somewhere."
Chase shook his head like a disappointed parent, his eyes scanning the
room.
Trisha only smiled indulgently, waking the girls. "Oh, Chase, don't be
so hard on them. They deserve a little party every once in a while."
Very much the forgiving mother. The two of them never had kids, but
in a way, Trisha acted like every one of us was her kid.
"I don't wanna hear it. Puking in my clubhouse. A bunch of punks." But
he didn't really mean it. I could tell he liked the liveliness of his club,
how rough and dirty we played. "I hope this whole place isn't covered
in cum."
"Oh, Chase." Trisha shook her head. "I always tell the boys to wrap it
up. We don't need any more little ones running around the clubhouse."

That made me laugh, and Trisha laughed with me as she helped the
nameless girl off of Rat's still unconscious body. The girl looked at her
hand like she couldn't believe she'd spent the whole night with it down
somebody else's pants. I laughed again, drinking my coffee.
"How did it go last night?" Chase asked. I shrugged. "Oh, that
good, huh?"
"What went good?" Trisha poured herself a coffee. "What am I
missing?"
"Nothing, dear. Your husband is giving me shit." I gave her a kiss on
the cheek.
"He's shacking up with a waitress at the diner on the other side of
town," Chase told her.
"What? You are?" She looked thrilled. "I'm so glad! What's her name?
Maybe I know her."
"Kara, but we're not shacking up. I ' m just staying there until her
ex-husband clears out. She's scared of him. That's as far as it goes." I
shot Chase a warning look. He held his hands up.
"Hey, I ' m just calling it like I see it," he said, grinning.
"That is so noble of you, sweetheart. I always thought you were the
nicest of all these idiots. Including you." She smirked at her husband,
then turned back. "I'm sure she appreciates it. He's bad news, huh?"
"The worst," I said. "But it's more than that. She's got a kid. It's real
complicated."
"It doesn't have to be," she said. "If you like each other, you like

each other. That's how it happens. That's how I ended up with this sack
of shit." She grinned, nudging Chase.
"Yeah, and she's been making me pay for it ever since," he grumbled.
But he couldn' t hide the way he loved her. "So take my advice and take
your time."
"Asshole." She turned back to me, still smiling. "So, are you going
back there today?"
"Yeah. I have to get some clothes, and I was gonna get some food for
them, too. She's afraid to leave. She thinks her ex will come back and
steal the kid."
"Oh Christ. What a mess." She shook her head. Then, she tilted it.
"How are you gonna get groceries when you only have your bike?"
"Oh shit." I forgot my car was in the shop. "I'll have to borrow
somebody's."
"I have an idea." She put down her cup, hands on her waist. "Do you
have the first clue on what to buy for a growing child?"
"Uh...cereal? Cookies? I don't know." I shrugged. "But they're running
low on food, and if I ' m gonna be there, I wanna make sure I can
actually eat something."
"Right. How about I go with you, or even for you, and I can meet you at
her place."
"I'll go, too," I said. "I wanna get a few things just for Kara. Like wine.
The woman needs more wine."
Trisha grinned. "Of course, she does. She's dealing with you."

Chapter Eighteen
Kara
I checked the time without being too obvious about it. I wanted Mom
gone before Dom got back.
She knew it, too, which was why she kept finding excuses to hang
around. I could have screamed, she frustrated me so badly.
"Hey, Emma. Why don't we watch one of your movies?" she asked.
"Why don't we not?" I countered. "I mean, you know how long those
movies are. And besides, we've been watching too much television
lately. I thought the three of us could take a walk."
"What if your friend comes back while we're gone? What will you
do then?"
I glared at her. "He'll have to wait for us, won't he? He's a big boy. He
can handle it."
"Mama! Let's watch Frozen, please? Pretty please?" My daughter got
on her knees, hands folded in supplication.
"Who taught you how to do that?" I asked, only half amused at the way
the two of them were pushing me around.

"I don't know. TV." She still knelt there, begging me.
"That's my point." I put her on her feet. "Too much TV."
"One more movie won't hurt. And we can sing to all the songs the way
Emma likes. Right, honey?" Oh, great. A singalong, too. I felt a
headache brewing before the movie had even started, and glared at my
mother for using my daughter as a pawn.
"Fine. Put it on, sweetheart." It was lunchtime. "I'll make sandwiches."
I stood, looking down at my mother. "I assume you'll want one, too."
"I did buy the food," she murmured, returning my glare.
I turned away, cursing her under my breath. A grown woman, and my
mother treated me like a child. I should have known she would hang the
groceries over my head, too. Like I should do anything she wanted
because she had bought some food for my daughter and me.
It' s all about Emma, I thought, taking a few deep breaths. She was
sometimes the only thought that kept me sane. It was all for her. I could
eat a little crow if it meant knowing she had more than enough food to
eat until I started working again.
When would that be? I couldn't stay home forever. God, the fact that it
would drive me crazy alone was enough to convince me I needed to go
back. I knew Mom would help as much as she could, and I had a feeling
that Dom would help, too. I didn't want to be indebted to him, as much
as I liked being with him, as crazy as he drove me, in every good and
bad way possible.
I heard singing going on in the living room, and I left them to it while I
made tuna sandwiches and heated soup. Funny how the sound of my
mother singing with Emma didn't soothe me the way hearing Dom

joke with her had.
I thought about him as I waited for the soup to simmer. The way he
smirked when he knew what he was about to say would piss me off. In
the moment, all I wanted to do was make him regret his
attitude—afterward, though, it made me smile to myself. He was cocky
as hell, but I liked it. He kept me on my toes.
And the way he touched me. I closed my eyes, sighing deeply as I
almost felt his hands on me again. So firm and strong, but so skillful.
He hadn' t climbed on top of me and thrusted madly away until he
came, the way Eric had. He knew what he was doing. I knew it had to
be because he'd been with so many women in his time. I couldn't bring
myself to hate the thought since that experience had led him to pleasure
me. I wanted to send all the women flowers, in fact, though I knew I
couldn't afford that kind of florist bill. And he wouldn't know who they
all were, anyway, I thought tartly.
When I opened my eyes, the soup was boiling away. Just like my
emotions. I pulled it from the heat, pouring it into bowls. I added a few
ice cubes to Emma's just to be safe.
"Soup's hot," I said, serving it on TV trays. Emma sat between Mom
and me while we ate, and insisted on singing with a full mouth. I
couldn't wait for the stupid movie to be over, though I had a feeling
Mom would find another reason to stay after Anna and Elsa found their
happily ever after. I cringed at the thought.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. I cringed even harder.
"It's Dom!" Emma cried out, kicking her feet and trying to get up to
answer.
"Sit still," I ordered. "You have your tray in front of you, and you'll
spill the soup." At least Mom didn't try to answer the door. I got

up, my heart heavy.
When I saw not only Dom but a woman with him, my heart sank even
further. "Hi," I said, holding the door for the two of them. Both carried
two bags of food, and both looked stunned to see my mother sitting
with her arms crossed.
"Mom, this is Dom. I ' m sorry, I don't know your name," I said, turning
to the woman who came in with him.
"I'm Trisha. It's nice to meet you," she said, nodding to me, then to my
mother. "I knew this lug couldn't be trusted to get decent food, so I took
him to the store."
"That was very sweet of you," I said, smiling with genuine relief. "But
this is far too much." I looked up at Dom, doing everything in my
power to stay cool. "I told you my mother was already generous
enough to bring groceries with her."
"She did?" Trisha elbowed Dom. "You're just about the dumbest. How
insulting does that look? Apologize to the lady."
I almost laughed. Dom? Apologize? To a woman, let alone one he'd
never met? Still, he looked down at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to
insult you."
Who was this woman, and could I adopt her? She was amazing. Mom
even looked slightly mollified, like she felt impressed in spite of
herself. She wanted to hate him, to hate the woman he was with. But
Trisha seemed like a real sweetheart. I couldn't imagine anybody hating
her.
I showed her the way to the kitchen, then let Dom hide out with us
while we unpacked.

"I' m sorry," I said, shrugging. "I thought she would have left before
now."
"She wanted to get a look at you," Trisha said, winking at Dom.
I watched her without making it look like I was watching—at least, I
hoped it didn't look as though I was. She could have passed for forty,
though the laugh lines around the eyes and her lined hands told me she
was closer to my mom's age. Yet she dressed youthfully, in tight jeans
with knee-high boots, a baggy tank top, arms filled with bracelets. She
had a great body for a woman her age, and her hair was beautifully cut
and styled. Mom was more the sweater set type, and I rarely saw her
wear her hair in anything but a ponytail. It was like the two of them
could have grown up together, only one took up with the bad crowd
while the other stayed home and studied.
Dom grimaced, taking an apple and sinking his teeth into it. "She can
get all the looks at me she wants," he said, shrugging. "I don't care."
"You'd better care," I said, my voice low. "She's likely to stay here all
night if she decides she doesn't like you. You think this place is
cramped with just the three of us?"
He rolled his eyes. "Point taken."
"Oh, she'll like him. What mother wouldn't like him?" Trisha even went
so far as to pinch his cheeks. He reddened, more in embarrassment than
anger.
"Okay, you're gonna have to knock that shit off," he said. "I don't care if
you're Chase's old lady."
"Oh, Chase? The club's president?"
"That's right," Trisha said, beaming with pride the way most

women would if their husband were a CEO or president of a Fortune
500 company. "He leads the Blood Riders. They're like my boys."
"They have a good mama," I said. "And I appreciate you going to the
store with Dom. Otherwise, I don't know what he would have come
back with—list or no list."
"He made sure to get you lots of wine," Trisha said, pulling two large
bottles out of one of the bags. I took them, grateful but guarded. I
couldn't drink too much of them at once. I didn't want to go down that
road again—I ' d worked too hard to get away from it.
"Thank you," I said, smiling at him. He looked pleased, but didn't want
me to know. I left it at that.
"Dom! I colored you a picture! "
Dom shot me a look of what I thought might be terror.
"You've been summoned," I said, my voice low and ominous.
"Come with me," he said.
"No way. You wanna be around? You have to put up with my mom.
She just wants to be sure I ' m not making another terrible mistake. I
trusted another man once. Know what I mean?"
He nodded. "Got it." I watched him square his shoulders before
marching out to the living room.
Trisha snorted. "I've seen that boy ride into enemy territory without
looking as scared as he did just then."
"He doesn't have anything to be scared of," I said, chuckling.

"So you say. That's the funny thing about men like him and my
husband. They're tough. Tougher than other men, you know? Hard.
Life made them that way. They're not afraid to fight, to get hurt, even
shot. They would do anything for their brothers, the other members of
the club," she explained. "But when it comes to things like this, they're
all thumbs. They don't know how to relate. They don't want to do the
wrong thing. They all have good hearts—really, no matter what they'd
done, they're good men inside. They just never figured out how to show
it."
I remembered the way he'd made Emma laugh at the dinner table when
he tried to steal one of her meatballs. "Yeah, I've seen a little bit of
that."
"Already?" Trisha grinned. "He must like you more than I thought
he did."
I blushed and turned away, very concerned with the exact placement of
cans in the cabinets. She laughed outright at my reaction. "Don't let it
worry you. Don't be scared. It's not all bad, being a biker's old lady. Not
bad at all, really."
"I'm not his old lady." I turned to her. "I don't ever want to be anybody's
old lady. Not to insult you, there's nothing wrong with it. But it's not for
me, because I've already been with a man who told me what to do and
how to do it. I don't want to go through that again. That's what kills me
about him. He's impossible, controlling. Deciding he's going to spend
the night without asking me first, telling me he's going to protect me
without even asking how I feel about it."
"And you love it, don't you? Admit it." She put a hand on my arm, one
full of gentle understanding. The same understanding was written all
over her face. "Honey, and I ' m saying this as nicely as I can, if you're
drawn to men like that, maybe there's just part of you that likes a
powerful man."

"Yes, but what if that powerful man hurts me?" Tears welled in my
eyes, which I quickly brushed away in case Emma wandered in.
"That's the difference. Powerful men, strong men, real men? They don'
t hurt women. This first man of yours, your ex, he sounds like a piece of
shit. Not," she added, holding up a hand when I looked surprised, "that
he told me anything specific. He didn't. He left your privacy."
"Thank you for that," I murmured.
"But the little he told me made my blood boil. You poor thing. No
wonder it's hard for you to trust. See, the man you married only
pretended to be strong. He was really weak. Dom? He's strong all the
way through. He wouldn't treat you that way. I believe that with all my
heart."
"You know him pretty well, then, huh?" I pulled out the wine, figuring
we might as well have a glass together since she knew so much about
me already. I found glasses in the cabinet, while Trish uncorked.
"Sure. I've known him since he was a kid. I had just started going with
Chase, my husband. Dom had just joined. He didn't have an easy life
growing up."
"Yes, he told me about that—a little, anyway," I said.
"So you see a kid like that and you think, he could go one of two ways.
Either he's the type who's gonna hate women for the rest of his life
because of the way his mother was, or he's gonna be a good person who
wants to protect women since he saw it wasn't her fault she turned out
that way." Trisha smiled like a proud mother. "Guess which one he
is?"

"You say it wasn't her fault?"
Trisha shook her head. "Honey, I've never done drugs myself, but I've
seen what they can do. They'll take a perfectly smart, normal person
with a good head on their shoulders and a good future and turn them
into a monster. Like a person you wouldn't even recognize if you
passed them on the street. It's a sin. And that person can't be held
accountable for their actions. Everything they do is about their
addiction. I know she must have loved him—she never hurt him, never
beat him, or so he tells me."
"It didn't sound that way when he talked about her," I agreed. I took a
sip of the cold, crisp wine, so glad for a little break from the insanity of
the day.
"She was hooked, plain and simple. Poor woman. And he sees that, you
know? He never held it against her. That's how I know he has a good
heart. He wouldn't hurt you. If anything, he thinks about his mother
when he thinks about you. The way men hurt her, I mean. It's a real
shame."
"It is," I mused. What had happened to me was probably nothing
compared to what Dom's mother went through. Pimps and johns and
drug dealers—who knew what she had seen and heard and been forced
to
do?
Trisha made quick work of the wine, then brushed her hands together
with a satisfied smile. "Well, my job here is done. You and your girl
have actual food, not a bunch of macaroni and cheese and Pop
Tarts."
I laughed. "I do like mac and cheese, though."
"We got you some. Just not the ten boxes Dom wanted."

I laughed, walking out to the living room with Trisha. Mom's face had
an expression I didn't think I've ever seen before. Like she couldn't
believe the way life turned out—sitting there, watching a
muscle-bound biker going through her granddaughter's coloring book.
It was surreal, to be sure, but Mom's expression added a level of humor.
"I guess I ' d better go," Trisha said, smiling down at Emma. "I'm glad I
got to meet you, little girl. Your mama loves you very much."
"I love her, too." Emma beamed. "Do you wanna color with us?"
"Oh, that is tempting," Trisha said, eyeing Dom with a grin that said
more than words could, "but I have to leave. I have some things to take
care of. You have fun, though. Make sure Dom stays inside the lines." I
could hear her laughter as she walked down the hall, away from the
apartment.
Mom surprised me by standing. "I should go, too."
"But, Grandma, the movie's not over yet!" Emma pouted.
"I know, but I have things to do at home. I've been here a long time."
She gestured for me to meet her in the hall, but turned before she left.
"I' m glad to meet you, Dom."
"Likewise," he said, his face hiding whatever went on beneath it.
"I mean, I ' m glad you're here."
Dom looked a little warmer after she said it. He smiled, nodding, then
went back to Emma's book.
I closed the door behind me when I stepped outside.
"She adores him," Mom said, shrugging. "What else can I say?"

"She really does, doesn't she? There's no accounting for what a child
will think," I said, shrugging.
"Do you?" "Do I what?" "Adore him?"
"I wouldn't go nearly that far, Mom."
She shrugged again. "Okay. I ' m just making sure. I want you to take
care of yourself. Guard yourself. I don't want to see you get hurt. That's
all I care about."
"Thank you." I gave her a hug, then watched as she left. Just before
walking through the main door, she turned back.
"Something to remember," she said. "Emma adored Eric, too."

Chapter Nineteen
Dom
Every day, I told myself I could only stay one more night with Kara and
Emma.
Every night, when I held her in my arms after we had sex, I told myself
it had to be the last time.
Six days passed that way. By Sunday night, I could hardly remember a
time when I didn't live in the tiny apartment. We still kept up the whole
"Dom's sleeping on the couch" thing for Emma's sake, but the minute
she went to bed, all bets were off. Usually, I could hardly wait for the
bedroom door to close before my hands were all over her.
On Sunday, things felt different. I couldn't figure it out. It might have
been the end of the week, the way I ' d spent over a full week with her.
We were looking at another Monday, another week with no answers.
Eric hadn' t shown his face even once. No phone calls, no texts. They
had stopped, too, almost right after I decided to stay. It was strange, like
he knew more than he should have. Was he watching her all along? Did
he know I was there? Was he afraid of me? If that was true, he was right
about something for the first time in his miserable life. He should have
been afraid.
"I've made a decision," Kara said, sitting down next to me. Emma had
just finished with her bath and was watching her thirty minutes of TV
for the night. It hadn't been easy, spending the week with a kid

whose mother decided to stop letting her watch so much TV. I had gone
out to get every board game for her age level that I could find, plus a
bunch of puzzles and books. If she wasn't occupied, I might have gone
nuts—even if she was a good kid.
"What did you decide?" I asked. She looked serious.
"I have to go back to work tomorrow."
I waited for her to keep talking, but she seemed to think that was all I
needed to hear.
"What will you do with Emma?" I asked.
"She can stay with Mom. I already asked, and she was fine with it. I
wouldn' t feel right leaving her with you for that long a stretch of time.
Not that I don't trust you, I just don't think it would be fair to you."
Hell, it wasn't like I told her to leave the kid with me. What was the first
thing I asked? What she would do with the kid. That told a story, right
there—I liked her, but I wasn't trying to babysit alone.
"What shift?"
"I usually worked the day shift whenever I could, since that was when
Emma went to school. Now, I'll take whatever I can get. I called
Charlie earlier and he sounded really happy about me coming back."
"I bet. You're a good waitress. You kept my guys in line, and that's not
easy."
"No, you kept them in line," she said with a smile. "Don't think I've
forgotten that either, because I haven't. You made sure they didn't
intimidate me that night. I liked you from that minute, I think."

"You had a funny way of showing it." I smirked, then saw how serious
she was. She meant it. "Uh, you're welcome," I said, feeling
embarrassed.
"So I have to go in for the three-to-ten shift tomorrow. It's the most
money on a Monday, so I ' m happy about that."
"I'm happy for you, then," I said. "One condition, though."
"What's that?"
"You let me drive you to and from. I don't want you going alone."
"I don't exactly ride a motorcycle," she said, grinning. "Not in that
waitress uniform, especially."
"I could drive your car. I always wanted to drive a Lexus." I winked.
"Yes, that would work. I don't see why not." I was glad she didn't put up
a fight. She sounded relieved, in fact. She was probably scared to death,
I thought.
"Great. I ' m glad you feel like you can do that—I mean, like he's not a
threat. I think he forgot all about it," I said. "Seriously. He disappeared.
He got bored. Something else got his attention and he went
after that."
"Yeah," Kara said. She sounded about as confident as I felt. The fact
was, neither of us knew what was going on in his brain, and I hated it. I
wanted to know everything that made him tick, but I hadn't gotten
anything good from Jax either.
"I have to make a phone call," I said, standing up. "I'll go to the
bedroom."

"Oh, sure." She didn't ask why, or who I was calling. That was for the
best.
After I shut the door, I called Jax. "Tell me you found something about
Eric," I said instead of saying hello.
He sighed. "Nothing yet—nothing worthwhile, anyway. I just wanted
to keep you in the loop. I've talked to a few people, who talked to more
people, and everybody says the same thing about him: h e ' s a whiz kid
when it comes to investments. His clients adore him. They love how
successful their portfolios are."
"So I was on the right track," I said. For a guy who barely graduated
high school, I wasn't too stupid.
"Hang on," Jax said. "I know you don't wanna hear this, but just
because he's everybody's favorite doesn't mean he's up to anything
illegal. I mean, he might be that good. He just might be. "
"Yeah, and he might be a dishonest piece of shit," I said. "I can't believe
that somebody like him would be honest. I can't."
"I don't think you're wrong, but I think we've gotta be smart." He
paused. "What do you wanna do with this information once I find it, if I
find anything?"
"Tip off the cops. Tip off the news. I don't care. Somebody's gotta
know."
"If he's really doing something illegal."
"Yeah, if." I hated that word. I didn't wanna use that word. All I could
do was believe I was right. I had to be right. He wasn't a good person,
and he sure as hell wasn't honest. He had to be cutting corners or

skimming off the top—something I could catch him in.
"You find out anything else?" I asked. "Women he's seeing, maybe?"
"Yeah, he was dating this country club chick for a while," Jax said.
"They were in a newspaper article together, in a picture from some
charity event. Something for the hospital. She's gorgeous, of course.
Rich. I guess he likes that. But I never found anything else about her.
She doesn't even have a Facebook page."
"Of course," I said. "Why would we get a break?"
"What difference would it make if I knew anything about her?" he
asked.
"We might tail her. Find out if he's hitting her, too. Maybe, between the
two of them, we could get him locked up."
"You're stretching right now," Jax warned.
"Listen, I can't kill the fucker, or Kara will know I did it, and she'll
never fucking forgive me. He's still her daughter's father. So I've gotta
come up with a way to get him. Besides, you know if I touch him,
they'll throw my ass in jail, and then who's gonna protect her?"
"If she means that much to you, any of us would," Jax said. "I mean it,
brother. We're all behind you."
"Thanks." There was nothing else to say, so I asked Jax to keep looking
around for me. Then I had another thought.
"Hey. What's going on tomorrow night, club-wise? Any runs?
Meetings?"

"Wouldn't you know if there were?" he asked. He had a point, and I
hated him for bringing it up like that. I hadn't been paying any attention
to the club except for the hour to two I visited the clubhouse every day,
just to keep myself caught up. Other than that, the focus they used to
take up in my life had changed. I had something else to care about for
the first time since Lauren died. How had I kept things in balance then?
I didn't want to think I had ignored her or neglected her. She was
always so busy, too, with school and her residency. It was easy to spend
all my time with the club. She never needed me the way Kara did.
"Yeah, you're right, I guess," I said. "I just wanted to be sure."
"What's up?"
"I want a watch put on the diner tomorrow night. I don't want her to
know about it, though. She's working again, and she hasn't in weeks.
She has the three-to-ten shift. I'll pick her up, so tell whoever it is to
leave around nine forty-five. That way she won't see them when she
walks out. She'll have my balls in a sling if she finds out I had
somebody watching her."
"Fair enough. I'll get Ralph or Rat on it."
"Whatever. Just make sure they hang back so they don't scare the
customers," I said. "She needs to make tips, you know."
Jax laughed. "I'll make a note of that."
"Thanks, brother." I hung up, throwing the phone down on the bed. He
might put together a security detail but otherwise wasn't any help to
me. I didn't know what I expected. Major evidence, I guessed.
Something to make it all neat and organized. Something I could take to
the cops and wave in their stupid faces. For once, the guy on the right
side of the law was the one breaking it.

Kara came in. "Everything all right? I could hear you from the living
room."
"Did you hear what I said?" I asked.
"No, just your voice. You know how it is, when you can hear somebody
talking but can't make out their words."
"Oh." That was a relief. I didn't want her knowing anything. "It was just
some club shit with Jax. No big deal." I leaned back on the bed,
propping myself up on my elbows. "Emma in bed?"
She nodded, grinning. "And the living room's all cleaned up, and the
kitchen's clean, and all is well." She stepped all the way into the room,
shutting the door behind her. "It's just you and me."
"The way I've wanted it all day," I grinned, twitching in my jeans at the
way she chewed her lip. She would never know how sexy she was.
***
Later, I told myself the same thing I kept saying every night. That had
to be the last time.
It was so good. Too good. I didn't want to give her up once I had her.
She was mine. I just didn't know what do to about it.
"You okay?" she asked, her head on my chest.
"Yeah. More than okay. Couldn't you tell?" We both laughed softly,
not wanting to wake up the kid. "I don't know how much longer I ' m
gonna be able to keep it down, though. My voice, I mean. I was never
exactly quiet during sex."

"Doesn't that sorta make it a little more fun, though?" She looked up at
me. "Like, two naughty kids who don't want to get caught."
"Oh my God. Do you think about it that way when we' re doing it?"
"No, no." I would have bet anything she was blushing, though. I didn' t
believe her, anyway.
"Sure you don't. All women think about something else when they're in
bed with a man."
"That's not true at all," she said. "I've never thought about anything else
but you. . . and not getting caught by my daughter, of course. You think
you know so much about women, but I bet there's a lot you have no idea
about."
"Oh really? Like what?" I couldn't wait to hear what she had to
say.
"Like when you look at us like we' re beautiful even when we feel
ugly? That means a lot. When I wake up in the morning, and my hair is
a mess, and I don't have any makeup on, and I ' m ratty old sweatpants,
you look at me like I ' m beautiful."
"I do?" I asked.
"Don't you think so? Oh, please don't tell me I just made a huge fool of
myself," she whispered.
"I do, I do." I held her closer. "I do think that. I just didn't know you
could see it in my face."
"I can. That means more to me than this. Being in bed together, I mean.
Don't get me wrong—it's good. It's unreal, how good it is. But

it's not everything. Maybe it's so good because you do look at me like
that. I carry that around inside me, and when we're together, I
remember it. Okay, so now I feel like a huge fool." She put her head
down again, burrowing her body close to mine. I still had my arms
around her, and I didn' t say a word as I stroked her back.
She was starting to feel things for me. I knew it would happen if I gave
it enough time—you didn't spend a week with a person, having sex
every night, without starting to feel a little something. Not when you
were already drawn together the way we were.
The worst part of all was not knowing how I felt about her. Because
when I held her, I thought about never letting go.

Chapter Twenty
Kara
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I couldn't help the nervous tone in
my voice when Dom pulled my car up in front of the diner.
"You're the one who thinks he finally backed off," Dom said. "I mean,
if it were up to me, no. You wouldn't be doing this. But you need to
live, and you won't accept any more help from me, so..."
"And I mean that," I said. "I can't be your charity case."
"Would you stop saying it like that? I hate that."
"It's true, though. I can't let you support me. I let another man support
me once, and look where it got me. I have no usable job skills outside
of a bachelor's degree, which in today's job market is roughly the same
as having a high school diploma used to be. A necessity, but it doesn't
say anything about the person who has it. I ' m already four years
behind everybody my age. I can't let you pull me any further behind."
"Is that how you see it?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual. "I' m
pulling you further behind by offering to help you?"
"No. It came out all wrong. I know what I ' m thinking in my
head—why does it keep getting all messed up between my brain and
my mouth?" I sighed, feeling clumsy and stupid. "I only mean I can't let
myself take what feels like the easy way out. I appreciate it, but let's be

honest. It would be the easy way out for me, wouldn't it?"
"Maybe you deserve to have something be easy for once," he said. "I
mean, you earned it."
"But I don't want easy. I want a challenge. Who doesn't want a
challenge in their life? Otherwise, life is boring. So I have to try and
support myself, and my daughter. Even if it means going in there when
I know he might walk in. "
"But he won't," Dom said. He sounded awfully sure of himself.
"How can you be so sure?"
"I just know. And don't forget, you can call me if anything happens. I
want you to. Promise?" Then, without warning, he pulled me to him.
"By the way, I can be a challenge. If that's what you're looking for." His
sheer magnetism almost drove me crazy, just like his hands did, and the
way his mouth barely grazed my skin. He didn't kiss me, didn't even
fondle me. But he promised so much more. I lost my breath, then
chuckled shakily.
"Down, cowboy," I whispered, extracting myself from his grip. "Or I
might lose control right here in the car. I do need to keep my job. Even
if I still have one after skipping almost two weeks, I think Charlie
might draw the line somewhere."
He chuckled, groaning as he adjusted the bulge in his jeans. I eyed it,
biting my lip. Damn him for being so sexy.
He settled for a deep, searching kiss that sent tongues of fire down to
my toes. "Something to think about while you're working," he growled.
"Great. Now everybody's order will be all screwed up." I laughed,

climbing from the car on shaky knees. I leaned in before closing the
door. "Ten o'clock, right?"
"I'll be here," he promised. I already couldn't wait.
When I walked through the diner door, Darlene nearly tackled me. I
laughed, a little overwhelmed but happy that she was happy to see me.
"I've missed you around here!" She looked at me critically, like we
hadn' t seen each other in years instead a little more than a week.
"Dar, you were at my place not that long ago. Remember?"
"I know, I know, but something's different about you. I can't put my
finger on it." She looked serious, too. I waited for her diagnosis. Then
she smiled cattily.
"I know what it is." She walked away, whistling, while my cheeks
burned.
"Cut it out," I said, tying an apron around my waist. I was glad for a
light crowd at three in the afternoon, or even more customers might
have been privy to my sex life. As it was, the few elderly couples taking
advantage of the senior citizen discount didn't seem to pay much
attention.
"What? I ' m happy for you. You're finally getting some. And, unless
I ' m completely crazy, it's gotta be pretty good. Right? I mean, just look
at the man. A sex god if I ever saw one."
"Yes, you told me your thoughts on that when he first came in,
remember? You wanted to, ahem, climb him like a tree."
Darlene hooted. "Yes, ma'am. If you weren't already getting some of
that, I would do it."

"He's not my man, if that's what you're implying." I walked away,
getting an order pad, pens, straws, and putting them all in the pockets of
my apron. How could it be that everything seemed so foreign after such
a short time? Probably because I felt like a different person. Darlene
wasn't off her mark when she said something had changed about me. It
seemed like almost everything had changed.
"Please, honey. So what if he is? You deserve a stallion, somebody
who can help you live it up while you're still young enough to live it up.
I mean, look at some of these old geezers in here."
"Darlene! " I whispered, looking around.
"Oh, please. They can't hear me when I scream at the top of my lungs
directly in front of them." She waved a dismissive hand. "Do you want
to wake up one day and realize you're as old as them and you never
lived your life? I mean, think about it. You had a shitty marriage. You
're only twenty-five, though. You have plenty of time to make up for it.
Start making up, stop burying yourself."
She left me with that, going to one of her tables to refill decaf coffee.
She wasn't kidding about having to holler at the older customers. She
practically shrieked, yet they still couldn't make out her words. I
wondered if they were only screwing with her.
She wasn't kidding about me burying myself either. I gave it a lot of
thought for the first hour or two of my shift, before the dinner rush hit.
I polished silverware and rolled it into napkins, married the ketchups,
did all the side work I ' d skipped out on when I hid at home. I had to
make things up to Darlene somehow. All the while, I thought about
what she'd said. I acted as though my life were over, like my marriage
ended and that was that. I was a mother, yes, but a young one. Lots of
young people got divorces when their marriages didn't work out, called
them "starter" marriages, and moved on to the "real" one. Not that I
looked to get

married again, but it didn't mean I couldn't have a little fun. I didn't
have to put on a chastity belt and leave it there.
It might have been easier if Dom weren't a biker. I couldn't kid myself
into thinking it was anything other than that. If he were, say, a
firefighter, I wouldn't feel the same way. Then I thought about Dom in
a sexy firefighter uniform, which distracted me for a while.
If he were that, or any other profession on the right side of the law, it
wouldn't have been a big deal. I would have been proud of being with
him. I wouldn't feel as though I had to play down the way I felt.
Because I did have feelings for him—there was no other way to
describe it. He had proven to me that not all men hit, not all men hurt,
not all men would run around and cheat and lie and make me feel
unworthy or unlovable in the process.
It might have helped, too, if I had any idea how he felt about me. I was
thinking about it as Darlene came over, giving me the heads up on a
new table.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked. "You look like something's
bothering you."
"No.. . I mean, not exactly. I just wish I knew what he felt."
"Dom, you mean?"
"Yes." No use pretending.
"He looked pretty upset when I told him you hadn't been here all
week," she said.
"That's one thing, being concerned. I mean, how does he feel now?
After.. .you know." I blushed a little.

"Why don't you put on your big girl panties and ask him?" she replied.
"Yes. I guess I should do that." It was just about the last thing I wanted
to do, though. "Men like him don't talk about feelings."
"I've known a lot of men, honey. And when a man like that finds the
woman he feels something for, he talks about his feelings. Now go,
take care of that table. Make up for some of the money you lost out on."
She smacked my fanny, making me hurry off.
***
"Gosh, I ' m out of practice." I grinned at Darlene, rolling my aching
feet on my equally aching ankles. It had been a long, challenging shift,
but a profitable one, as I ' d made nearly a hundred dollars in tips. The
thought of having a little money in my wallet lifted a worry from my
shoulders.
I sat at the counter while the next shift got themselves ready. I wasn't
very familiar with either of the girls—Charlie thought Darlene and I
worked best together, and he was right. I rarely worked with anyone
else.
Darlene sat beside me, putting her feet up on the empty stool next to
hers.
"Hey, hey! " Charlie called out. "Feet off the stools! How many times
have you told customers that same thing?"
"Oh, buzz off," Darlene retorted breezily. "I just made a bunch of
money for your greasy spoon tonight by upselling the desserts. You
owe me a stool to rest my feet on."

I only laughed at their banter, marveling at how nice it was to hear adult
conversation again. Not that Dom wasn't good company in his way, but
I had always liked being around people. Aside from the fact that it
didn't pay very much, working at the diner was perfect for me.
"Why don't you go?" I asked Darlene. "I know Dom will be here any
minute for me."
"And miss the opportunity to feast my eyes once again? No way,
sweetie. I want something to dream about when I go to bed." She
closed her eyes, smiling. I had to giggle.
"Fine, just don't be too obvious about it, okay? And pretty please, don' t
make any jokes about us sleeping together. Okay?"
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say." I didn't trust her one bit, but I didn' t
have a choice.
I saw the Lexus pull up in the parking lot. "Oh, there he is now," I said.
I waved goodbye to Charlie, then Darlene followed me out the door.
"Right on time. He must be excited to see you," Darlene murmured.
"You said you would be good," I reminded her.
"Sorry. I had to get it out of my system." We laughed together as we
stepped outside, but the laughter died in my throat when I realized my
mistake. I had seen a Lexus pull up, all right—not mine, though. Eric's.
"You fucking slut! " He advanced on us, eyes bulging out, face bright
red. I saw the veins popping out on the side of his neck.

"Quick!" Darlene tugged my hand. "Back inside! Come on!" "Call the
police," I said to her, not turning away from my husband.
"Please."
"What do you think they're gonna do?" he screamed. "You think they're
gonna arrest me for being here? For asking my wife what right she has
acting like some common biker slut?"
My mouth fell open. "You've been watching me?" I asked, terrified and
infuriated at once. The emotions mixed strangely together, creating a
sort of calm. Maybe even numbness. "I can't believe you would stoop
that low, Eric."
"And I can't believe you would ride around with that biker! A filthy
fucking biker! Who is he, huh? Who do you have in bed with you at
night? Who do you have around my daughter? And you think you 're
such a good mother! What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid
bitch?" He cornered me against the diner's front wall. By that time, the
customers must have heard what was going on. Eric screamed so
loudly, I thought he would damage his vocal chords and my ears.
Nobody came outside to help me. Even in the panic racing through me
at his nearness and the wild, crazed look in his eye, I thought it might
be for the best. I didn' t want him to escalate any further.
"Tell me who he is. Tell me who he is so I can kill him. It's the one from
inside, right? The one in the kitchen that night. You're such a slut, you
would fuck any random guy who came in here as long as he made you
feel like he was saving you from me. Right? Because you're always the
victim! "
His rage was deep and terrible. Why did he hate me so much? It was all
I could think of, even more than the possible danger. I could only
wonder what I had done to make him hate me the way he did.

I opened my mouth to answer him—what I was about to say, I didn' t
know—when, once again, a pair of hands wrenched him away from
me. Just like they had back in the kitchen. That first time, Dom had
only looked concerned. Weeks later, he looked murderous.
"Oh, it's you!" Eric laughed, sounding hysterical. "I should have
known. Your slut's ready to go home, biker trash."
Dom didn't say a word. He only pulled back his right fist, slamming it
into Eric's nose. Blood immediately spurted from it. Eric crumpled to
the ground.
"Don't! No more!" I pulled Dom away, hoping he would come to his
senses before he murdered my ex-husband in the parking lot.
Dom turned to me, his eyes blazing. I ' d never been so turned on by
something so brutal. "Are you okay?"
I nodded. "He never touched me. I ' m fine."
He jerked his arm out of my grasp, then turned back to Eric. Leaning
over him, he said, "The only reason I ' m leaving you alive is because
she's here, and you didn't touch her. If you had, I 'd kill you right now.
Tell that to your buddies at the police station, you piece of shit." He
spat on the ground to punctuate his statement.
" I ' ll . . .s u e . . . you." Eric could hardly speak through the blood flowing
down his face and into his mouth. I watched with a sort of detached
fascination as his smart tan trench coat got spattered.
"Yeah, you can try. I bet I have a bunch of witnesses right inside who
could tell what you did to her before I got her off you. If you tripped
and fell after that, nothing I could do about it."

Eric looked stunned. He opened his mouth as though to speak but
clearly thought better of it.
"If you ever go near her again, I ' l l kill you," Dom said. Every word
struck fear in my heart, even as the rest of me responded lustily at the
thought of a man saying that about me. He would kill Eric. I believed
he would. And for me. It was sick, and I knew it, but I couldn't help the
way I felt.
Dom stepped back when Eric tried to get up. He stumbled back to his
car, still holding his spurting nose. "I'll make you pay for this," he said
before getting into his car and peeling out of the parking lot.
Dom didn't seem to care. He turned, gathering me in his arms. "I'm
sorry I had to do that," he said. "I couldn't stand seeing him in front of
you like that. I had to do something."
"I' m glad you did," I assured him, resting my head against his chest. In
my heart, though, I was anything but glad after Eric's threat. His words
echoed in my head long after his taillights faded in the distance.

Chapter Twenty-One
"I'm here to file a restraining order against my ex-husband."
The cop behind the desk looked at me with an expression severely
lacking in sympathy. In fact, if he had said, "You, too?" I wouldn't have
been surprised.
"Okay, well, it's not as easy as they say it is on TV," he informed me,
sounding as though he were reading from a script.
"I'm sure it isn't," I said. "Still, I want to file one." It took everything in
me to stand there and say that. Every good girl instinct in me said to
stand down, let the officer do his job, believe what he says, go along
with him. I ' d been raised that way. Listen to them, trust them, obey
them. In most cases, that was a fine attitude to have. Not in this one. I
had to stand strong, though my knees shook.
At least he didn't roll his eyes. "Okay. Have a seat, and somebody will
call you."
"Um... don't you want to know my name?"
He scowled. I did everything in my power to stay calm, but the panic in
my chest started to swell.
"Sir, I ' m sorry to take up your time, and I realize there's a lot of violent
crime out there, but this is important to me. My husband laid hands on
me two weeks ago, stalked me via phone and text message since then,
and last night tried to attack me as I left my place of employment. I
need a restraining order to protect myself, and hopefully

my little girl. I need your help."
I said it with all the dignity I could muster, and it seemed to get through
to the sour old desk cop. He frowned with at least a little sympathy,
then did a little typing on his keyboard.
"All right. What's your ex-husband's name?" He glanced at me,
waiting.
I took a deep, shaky breath. "Eric Cantrell."
His eyes widened. I knew it wouldn't be easy.
***
"It only took three hours, but I finally filed it."
Mom sat across from me at her kitchen table, worry creasing her
forehead. "They didn't want to believe you?"
"Isn't it funny? I mean, I understand it isn't easy to hear that somebody
you know and respect isn't everything they seem to be." I took a sip of
my coffee, remembering the disbelief on the faces around me. "But that
doesn't make the accusation any less true. You would think a bunch of
cops would know what goes on in private life, behind closed doors.
That they would have seen it all, that nothing could surprise them
anymore."
I took yet another deep breath—what felt like the millionth that
day—and tried to let the simplicity and neatness of my mother's kitchen
calm me. There was something about a clean, sparkling kitchen that
always soothed my soul. Even at its cleanest, my kitchen at the
apartment would never really look nice thanks to its age and rundown

condition.
"What did they say when they first heard his name?" Mom asked.
"They didn't believe it. One of them even laughed a little before he
could stop himself. It made me feel like such a fool, like a joke.
Another one, I think he was a sergeant or something, he made it sound
like I was just a pissed off ex-wife looking for revenge. Asking me if I
had any witnesses to the alleged attempted attack last night. As though
I need witnesses."
"Oh, sweetheart, I ' m so sorry."
"They'll never understand how it feels. The courage it takes to ask for
help in the first place, and to have them make light of it."
"I'm sure they didn't mean to."
"I know they didn't mean to, but that doesn't mean they didn't. I wish
they knew how it felt, I really do. They might be a little more
compassionate."
"It was a shame Dom couldn't have gone with you," Mom murmured.
" M o m. "
"I mean it. What? Why the attitude?"
"You're trying to say it would have been better if he weren't an outlaw
who's afraid to go near a police station. I get it."
"I didn't mean that." Of course she did. "You're the one putting words
in my mouth."

"You don't hear your tone sometimes," I argued. "You don't know how
you sound."
"Fine. Make me the bad guy because you need a bad guy right now."
She got up and turned away from me, making a big deal about
scrubbing the sink, though it was obvious she'd already scrubbed it.
I sighed, giving up. She had a way of making me do that, giving up
though I knew I was in the right. It wasn't worth fighting over. "I'm
sorry," I said, standing behind her. "I didn't mean to lash out at you.
You're the one person I shouldn't be lashing out at."
"What about your boyfriend? You shouldn't be lashing out at him
either."
Give me strength with this woman. "He isn't my boyfriend, Mom, and
you know it."
"He seemed that way at the apartment."
"Mom, why are you doing this?" I wanted to throw something. Maybe
one of her precious porcelain teapots, which she'd collected since I was
little. That might get through to her, or it might at least let me vent
some of the extreme aggravation she made me feel.
She shut off the water, turning to me with red-rimmed eyes. "Wait until
Emma gets a little older. Wait until you know how it feels to watch
your daughter make poor decision after poor decision. See how that
makes you act." She ran the back of her hand over her eyes.
"Poor decisions." I felt the way I had when I faced down the cop at the
station. When would I be able to relax and stop playing on defense all
the time? "I hate that you're calling it that. The last time I checked, you
wanted me to marry Eric. You were insane with excitement over it.
You wanted me taken care of. You wanted me married to a man like

him, who had such great prospects. Right?" "I didn't know..."
"No, you didn't, but you sure commended my good choice back then.
Didn't you?"
"Yes, I did. Are you saying it's my fault?"
"No. I'm saying it's easy to sit back, years later, and say it was a poor
decision. I hope you're not saying it was a poor decision to leave him."
"God, no."
I nodded. "Good. Because it wasn't, and I know it wasn't. I made a
strong decision for the first time in my life. I'm not paying for marrying
him right now—all this struggle, working like a dog just to make ends
meet. I' m paying for the decision to leave, but I would do it again."
"I know. I know that."
"So I guess you're talking about Dom, then." I sat again, all the fight
leaking out of me. I was so very tired, down to my bones. "He's not a
decision so much as a necessity right now. I need him in my life. I need
something good and strong."
"Is he good, though? Tell me truthfully. Is he good?"
Was he? I didn't know. "I think he has a good heart. I think he's made
poor choices. But he's hurting, too, Mom. We're all hurting."
"Please." She scoffed, turning her face to the window.
"You don't think so? The man held his dying fiancée in his arms as

she bled to death."
She glanced at me. "And how did she bleed to death? Did she suddenly
start bleeding? What caused it?"
I sighed, looking down at my hands. I shouldn't have brought it up.
"Somebody shot her."
"And I guess he had nothing to do with that?" Oh, the superiority in her
voice. It made me gag a little.
"His lifestyle did. All right? Is that what you want to hear? Fine." I
couldn't win. "I'll tell you this, though. If he weren't there for me last
night, I don't know what Eric would have done. Nobody else came to
help me except for Dom. If you think that's no big deal, you're entitled.
But you weren't there. You didn't see how crazy Eric was. It was
insane."
"I just don't want to see you hurt again. I want you to have a good life,
with good friends and good people in it. I want you to be comfortable
one day so you don't have to work to make ends meet. I want you to be
happy. Is that so wrong?" Mom's chin quivered, and I felt sorry for
arguing.
"It's not wrong," I muttered, putting my arms around her. "You know I
don't think it's wrong, for heaven's sake. This isn't the way I thought my
life would go, you know. Nobody plans for something like this or
wants it. I'm doing the best I can from one minute to the next. I hope it
dies down in time and I can feel a little more secure. For right now, I'm
in panic mode. The house is burning and I can't question the firefighter
who wants to catch me when I jump. Does that make any sense? It's the
best way I can describe how I feel."
Mom nodded, pulling away to splash her face with cool water. "Yes,
that makes sense. I understand. I hate feeling so helpless, standing

here, watching it happen when there' s nothing I can do."
"I can only imagine," I admitted. I waited until she calmed down, and
the two of us sat at the table again. Emma, oblivious to just about
everything, sat in the living room and watched some educational
program. She counted to ten in Spanish, clearly proud of herself though
I couldn't see her. I grinned at Mom.
"She's worth working for, by the way. I don't work for me."
"Oh, I know that. I know you're a good mother. I would never question
that. I just want to protect the two of you, and I feel powerless."
I smiled grimly. "I know that feeling."
I had decided that morning that it was too much to ask Emma to sit in
the apartment all day. She was bored, antsy, and she needed sunshine.
Mom had agreed to keep an eye on her while I worked. I needed to get
out, too, so I spent the morning with the two of them before going to
work.
"Honey?" I called Emma into the kitchen, and she obliged with a spring
in her step. Where she got her energy, I had no idea. I wished I could
bottle it. "Why don't you go outside and play for a while? You need
vitamin D."
"What's that mean? I take vitamins every day."
I grinned. "Yeah, but sunshine gives you more of it." I patted her
behind, directing her to the back door. She wasn't in a contrary mood
that morning, which was a blessing. I didn't feel like explaining every
little request.
Mom waited until she was outside. We could both see her in the
fenced-off yard, playing with a few toys Mom kept out there especially

for her. "Does she understand anything about this?"
I watched my little girl, inspired and fearful at the same time. She had a
way of shaking off all setbacks, ignoring the things that worried or
upset her and focusing on the joy in life. I wished I could be more like
her. I hoped she wouldn't lose that quality too soon.
"I don't think so," I said, wishing I were more certain. "She's so
observant, isn't she?"
"She is," Mom agreed. "She sees and hears everything. You were the
same way."
"It's funny. I don't want her absorbing all of this and coming to her own
conclusions. I want to straighten things out for her, to make her feel
better. You know? But that means going to her, asking what she knows.
What if she doesn't know anything? What Pandora's box will that
open?"
Mom nodded, smirking. "I know that feeling. You don't want to start
trouble where there might not be any."
"Right. What should I do?" I looked to my mother, thankful that she
was still in my life. As much of a pain as she could be, she kept me
centered.
"Let her go. Observe for a while. See how she acts when Dom is
around. See if she asks about Eric. Then start asking questions about
how she feels. Don't go to her first. Make sure she knows she's loved
and protected no matter what. That way, if something comes up in her
little head, she'll remember you're there to love and protect her."
I sighed, feeling some measure of peace. "You're right. I shouldn't start
trouble where there isn't any. I have enough to worry about as it is."
Like whether Eric would press charges against Dom for the little love
tap

the night before. My heart pounded just a little harder at the memory of
watching him reduce my ex-husband to a shrinking, shaking pile of
mush. It was beautiful. Still, I knew it could result in big trouble for
Dom.
He didn't seem to care—at least, he told me he didn't. "It felt fucking
great," he'd said in his usual blunt manner. I'd put ice on his knuckles
when we got back to my apartment. Mom had been aghast when she
saw how keyed up he was. I could understand why—his energy was
through the roof. Not long after Mom left, he'd made it clear how much
hitting Eric had excited him when he took me on the kitchen table. I'd
clung to him for dear life, struggling to hold back my ecstatic cries as
he drove himself into me.
The next day, I was as confused about the two of us as I was about
everything else in my life. When would things start making sense?
"Are you sure the two of you will be okay here today?" I asked when it
came time to go to work. I put on my uniform, my heart pounding.
Would Eric show up at the diner again?
"I' m more concerned about you," Mom said, chewing her bottom lip.
"I'm worried that you'll run into something or somebody you
shouldn't."
"Let's come right out with it. You're worried about Eric." I put my
hands on her arms, telling myself to be strong for her sake. "Now that I
have the restraining order, he'll be a fool if he shows up. The cops will
have contacted him by now, so he knows. Everything will be all right."
She didn't look convinced. It was all right. I didn't feel convinced
either.

Chapter Twenty-Two
Dom
"And you're sure you'll be okay there today? I would feel a lot better if
I were there with you."
Kara laughed softly. I could hear her laughter on my end of the phone
just like she was in front of me, and the sound went straight to my cock.
She had the sort of deep, throaty laugh that turns a man on.
"What would you do? Sit at the counter all day? That would be a
surefire way to keep the customers outside. Charlie would throw a fit."
I knew she was only kidding, though she wasn't totally wrong. Her boss
wouldn't have liked it too much if I hung around.
"I could hang out outside, then. In your car. He can't give me shit about
that, can he?"
Kara laughed again. "Don't worry so much, all right? I'm only going in
until five. I'm sure he's at work until then. If there's one thing he would
never miss, it's a day at the office."
"Yeah, with a broken nose, though? I don't know about that." I knew I
had broken it. I had felt the bones crunch under my fist, had heard the
sound. There was no mistaking a sound like that. It had been fucking
incredible, laying him out flat. I would do it again if I could.
"Hmm. That's true. If I know him, he would go in just to get

sympathy from the women around the office." I heard the loathing in
her voice, and I couldn't blame her. He was worth loathing.
"Okay. If you say you're safe, you're safe." I made a note to get another
security detail out there—this time, I wouldn't have them leave before
her shift was over. I didn't care if she knew they were there or not. I' d
feel a lot better with somebody keeping an eye on her, and would deal
with her attitude later.
"I'm safe. But thank you." She giggled a little. "And thank you for last
night."
There went my cock again, stirring at the thought. "I should be the one
to thank you."
"Okay. Thank me, then."
I smirked. "How about I thank you later on? At your place?"
She groaned. "Sounds good. Let's take it to the bedroom this time,
though. I don't need my kid getting a lesson in human anatomy so
soon."
"Copy that." I didn't know what got into me—she was right, of course,
if the kid woke up she would've seen us. I had to have her at that very
minute. It was like some animal force took control of me. If I had been
thinking clearly, I never would have risked it.
We got off the phone then, since she had to get out of the car and into
the diner, and I had to get some work done. It was my job to take
inventory at the clubhouse once a month. Weapons, ammo, that sort of
thing. We kept everything in a triple-locked shed behind the place, just
in case anybody got a little handsy and decided to take what we had. I
was the only one who knew the combinations to the locks on the door,
too. It was really a retooled bomb shelter—Chase had insisted on it, so
nobody could break in. People had tried, but once word got around that
it was

impossible, they'd left us alone.
I stood there with my clipboard, making sure the numbers matched up.
We had an entire arsenal back there—weapons we'd collected from
other clubs, weapons we'd purchased for ourselves, enough ammo to
keep us locked and loaded until kingdom come. There was something
about standing in the middle of all that potential destruction. Jax,
meanwhile, kept a lookout just outside the door.
"So," he called in, "how are things going with that girl?"
"Why are you so interested in my sex life?" I asked, checking off a few
boxes after counting the boxes of shells.
"I don't know. I'm bored shitless out here. I wish you would hurry
up."
"I'm going as fast as I can, and I'd go faster if you'd keep your mouth
shut." I didn't want to talk about Kara. She wasn't like one of the club
groupies, up for grabs, topic for conversation. I wasn't about to
compare her to other women like we did when we slept with the
groupies. I wasn't trying to one-up Jax the way we normally did with
each other. No bragging, no locker room talk. I didn't feel that way
about her. I didn't know what I felt.
"I wish you would at least tell me how it felt to break that fucker's
nose," he said.
"Oh, that felt awesome." That much I would talk about to anybody who
asked. "He had it coming. I wish it would heal up real fast so I could
break it again."
Jax laughed. "I know what you mean, man. I used to feel that way about
my stepfather. He would scream at my mom and hit me, and when I
was a kid I wished so hard that I was bigger so I could do it right back

to him. I wished I could give him back everything he gave us."
I left the shed, locking it behind me. "Did you ever?"
"Oh, hell yes. When I got big enough. He never touched me or my mom
again." I heard the vicious sound in Jax's voice. So he knew how I
felt.
"That's what it was like last night. I wanted him to get up and try to
fight me, you know?"
Jax laughed. "He's stupid, but he's not crazy."
"Yeah, I wonder about that, too." I remembered the way he had
screamed at Kara, how crazy he looked and sounded. Like a mad dog
that needed to be put down. I wished I could be the one to do it.
I was still thinking about it as I walked into the clubhouse, and it must
have shown on my face because Trisha whistled when she saw me.
"Boy, somebody pissed you off."
I grinned. "How could you tell?"
"You look like you wanna murder somebody." She sat on a stool at the
bar, watching me. "Is it that guy? Kara's husband?"
"Why is everybody so obsessed with my life right now?" I turned my
attention to the bottles behind the bar. I had to inventory those, too, and
finish the job in the cellar, where we stored cases of liquor. It was
thirsty business, being an outlaw.
"Because you're always there to help everybody else, and you never ask
for help or even talk about yourself. Sorry, but I'm getting a little bored
consoling the girls whose hearts Jax has broken."

Jax chuckled, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "That's because I'm too
busy being in love with you to commit to them. Don't you know
that?"
"Don't you let my old man catch you talking that way," she advised.
She smacked his arm. "I heard him." Chase's voice rang loud and clear
from the office. "I just don't give a shit. He's not man enough for my old
lady."
Jax turned a deep shade of red. I turned away, laughing.
I didn't like feeling like everybody's science experiment, like they
wanted to know what I would do or say next with Kara and Eric. I hated
that so many people knew what went on in my private life. I was never
a public person. I guessed when a man's fiancee died in front of the
people who have become his family, they paid attention to what he did
after that.
I thought about her, and I couldn't help the familiar twinge of guilt that
bloomed in my chest. What would she think of Kara? Of Emma? Of the
shit with Eric? I didn't think she would be happy I'd punched him out,
but she wouldn't have made me feel bad either. She hated women
beaters just as badly as I did—she used to see the effects of their fists in
the ER all the time, and she would come home crying some nights after
seeing the same woman for the third or fourth time. With the same lies
as the first time, she'd say. A fall down the stairs. A door. A cabinet. I
didn' t think she would blame me for hurting Eric the way I had.
But would she blame me for sleeping with Kara? I believed she would
want me to be happy. She was never like me. If the tables were turned
and I was the one leaving Lauren behind, I would haunt the fuck out of
whoever she slept with after me. I would make that asshole's life a
living hell. But Lauren was different. She'd want me to be happy. Just

knowing she would tore me up inside.
"What are you thinking about?" Trisha asked, and her voice sounded a
lot softer than it had before. I waited a while before turning around,
pretending to be busier than I was.
"I' m thinking about the amount of Jack Daniels we go through in a
month. We' re either gonna have to stage an intervention or buy a
distillery."
"That's not what I mean, and you know it."
I sighed. She wasn't gonna let it go, obviously. I wished she
would.Turning, I looked at her. "I don't know what you want me to
say."
"I want you to say that you'll think hard about being with this woman. I
know you care about her. You don't have to say you do—you don't like
to talk that way. I get it. And she'd be good for you. But you can't just
walk in and out of her life. She's the type who needs somebody to settle
down with. She needs a good, strong man. I know you're that kind of
man, but I think you forgot who you are for a while there."
I scoffed. "I know who I am."
"You know who you think you are," she said, her voice low. "I'm not
trying to, ya know, shrink you or anything. I'm not trying to break you
down. I just want you to be honest with yourself. You shut down a little
a couple of years ago. I won't talk about it, but you know what I mean.
You gotta get back to being the person you used to be if you 're ever
gonna be happy."
I wanted to snarl at her. I wanted to tell her to mind her own business.
She didn't know shit about me or what I went through. They all thought
they did, but none of them had the slightest idea.

"You tell me how you would act if you held the only person you ever
loved in your arms as they died," I muttered. I poured a drink—a little
early in the day for a shot, but I needed one to calm my nerves. Warmth
flooded my veins and I felt a little steadier.
"You don't think I know what happened? I was here, man. I saw it. I
saw you. I can't imagine how you felt, but I saw what it turned you into.
And I'm telling you, that's not you. You have it in you to get close to
somebody again, but you can't just back out when you decide you're
scared to feel for somebody again."
"I'm not scared. Don't ever say that to me."
"Fine, fine. You're actually a brutal badass, then. You're a violent
sociopath. Whatever you want me to believe." She held up her hands,
surrendering.
I sighed. My shoulders slumped. "I'm not that either. Well, not the
sociopath part. I don't even know what that is."
"It's nothing good." She smiled softly. "And I know you're not. You're
one of the good ones, or else you wouldn't have acted like you did after
Lauren died. It hurt you badly. I get it. I' m just saying, if you wanna be
with this woman, you gotta let yourself feel again the way you did
about Lauren. You can't hold her at arm's length. Get what I mean?
She's been hurt, too. She doesn't need more pain from you."
I saw what she meant, and I didn't like it. She was telling me to shit or
get off the can, basically. To decide how I felt and go with it. Only I
didn' t know how I felt, or if I wanted to go with it. Did that mean I had
to leave Kara alone?
I thought about it as I went down to the cellar, walking down the
rickety, narrow stairs. I didn't want to leave Kara alone. She meant too
much to me. I felt too good when I was with her—not just physically,

when we were fucking, though that would have been enough to stick
around. It was just that good. But I felt good inside, too. Better about
myself. I liked spending time with her and the kid, and I didn't think I
liked kids before I met her. What else would they show me about
myself? It was a scary thought, but it was something I didn't mind
thinking about as long as I could be alone while doing it.
That wasn't my day to be left alone, I guessed, since Chase followed me
to the cellar. "How's inventory?" he asked.
"Fine. We're gonna need a new order with the liquor store, of course,
but I think we'll be okay until it comes in. Unless the guys decide to
finish off the last case of Jack."
"You never know," he said, sitting on the steps. "With those alkies? All
they need is an excuse."
I laughed. "I wouldn't call them alkies. They're just...heavy drinkers."
"Same difference when you're the one shelling out the money for the
liquor. Something to remember when your time comes." I hated when
he talked like that. It would just be that I'd take over the club when he
left. It would mean he couldn't run it anymore. That bothered me more
than the idea of being president. That, I could handle.
"Is there something you're not telling me about your health?" I asked. "I
mean it. Be honest. It's just you and me down here. Nobody else needs
to know."
He shrugged—but he didn't tell me I was wrong. That was my first clue
that I had the right idea.
"Tell me," I said.

"It's nothing serious. Just my heart."
"Oh, that's not serious," I said, leaning against the wall. "That's
nothing."
"Well, it is nothing. Too much shitty food, too much smoking. You
notice how I cut back?"
"I noticed you only smoke one or two cigars a day," I said, smirking.
"Hey, that's cutting back. Anyway, it's because of my heart. It's not in
the best shape, but it's not like it's gonna kill me tomorrow either. Doc
wants me to cut back on a lot of shit. Not just the food and the
smoking."
"Like what else, then?"
"Like the club." He stared at me. "He wants me to step down. Says I
can't handle it anymore."
I gulped. That wasn't what I expected to hear. I thought he had a few
more years, maybe more.
"But it's up to you, right?"
He shook his head. "Wait until you get married." I understood what he
meant. Trisha was on him about it, too. I had a feeling she was trying to
get me settled down before I took over.
"What are you gonna do?" I asked.
"You tell me, prez. What do you think I should do?"

Chapter Twenty-Three
Kara
"I swear, he was like something out of a movie." Darlene sighed softly
as she remembered the way Dom protected me outside the diner.
"Yeah, he was something, all right. I only wish he never had to do
it."
She nodded sagely. "But that Eric, he's asking for it. You know? What
else was Dom supposed to do? He wants to keep you safe and away
from that creep."
"I know. Still, it worries me." I couldn't shake the feeling that Eric
would come back for revenge somehow. "I mean, you didn't hear the
way he threatened Dom and me when he drove away."
"Oh, threats. That's all he is, a bunch of empty threats. Don't even let
him get to you, honey. It'll be okay." She nodded like all I needed to
hear was her reassurance and everything would be okay. I wished she
understood a little better. I wished somebody did. I wanted to be as sure
as she was, but she hadn't lived with the man. She didn't know the way
he thought, the twisted way he had of turning everything around to
make it my fault. I hated that I lived in fear of him the way I did. I hated
knowing him so well.
"Come on," Darlene said, smacking my butt. "Get your head in the
game. I need you out there." She nodded toward the dozen or so tables

waiting for food during the lunch rush.
"Aye, aye, captain." Work would take my mind off things. It always
did. While I never exactly liked a rush—I preferred a nice, steady
stream of customers rather than dozens at once—it would at least give
me something else to think about. I remembered playing a game when I
was a kid where the object was to keep a diner's customers happy at all
times. It started out slow—take their order, get their food, give them
their check, clean up their table. One table, two tables. Soon, there
would be a crush at the door and dirty tables everywhere and lots of
angry customers who wanted their food. And to think, I ended up doing
that very job in real life. I was better in real life than I was in the game,
that was for sure.
I tried not to look outside at the spot where Dom had punched Eric. The
spot where Eric had terrorized me. I saw a motorcycle, with a burly
man I vaguely recognized as one of Dom's friends sitting astride it. Oh
great. He sent me a security guard. I didn't know whether to be angry or
flattered. Or relieved. Maybe a mixture of the three. I hated that he
thought he had to keep tabs on me, but didn't hate that somebody cared
enough. And I had the feeling the sight of a man on a bike would be
enough to keep Eric away if he were crazy enough to consider stopping
by.
"See that?" I nodded toward the window, and Darlene grinned.
"Well, I feel much safer now," she said with a wink. I never thought she
would feel unsafe, but I could see the possibility. Eric could easily have
hurt her the night before.
"I'm sorry, Dar. You don't feel like he would hurt you, do you? God,
why did I never think about that?"
"Because you were too busy heaping blame on yourself for all sorts of
other things. Don't worry about it. I think we're all a little shaky right

now, but it will blow over—especially since you got the restraining
order."
"Yeah, that's true." I only hoped he chose to honor it, but I wouldn't say
that out loud. I didn't want to worry Darlene more than I already had.
The rush went by in a flash, leaving me with much less to do between
the hours of two and five. Only a trickle of customers came in during
those odd, in-between hours. I waved to my knight in dirty armor,
asking him if he was hungry. "Come on. I'll treat you to a late lunch," I
called. He came in moments later. Yes, I recognized him. Tall, burly,
auburn hair with a mustache and overgrown goatee. His patch said
Spike.
"Thanks for the offer," he said, sitting at the counter. "I wondered if
lunch was included, but I didn't wanna say anything."
"I appreciate that." I smirked.
"I was here last night, too, but Dom told me to leave before you
did."
I frowned, pouring him a soda from the dispenser. "What do you mean,
he told you to leave?"
"He didn't want you to know I was there."
"Oh, I see." It was all clear. He didn't want me to be angry. I wished
Spike had stuck around after all. I had the feeling Dom would have
wished the same thing, no matter how much fun it was to break Eric's
nose.
I handed him a menu. "Anything you want, on me," I said. "It's the least
I can do, seeing as how you already gave up so much time to keep an
eye on me."

He grinned, a scar visible when he did. It extended from the corner of
his mouth to just beneath his nostril. The mustache covered it most of
the time. I wondered at the violent life those men led, and what it would
mean to someone like me who thought she might be falling for one of
them.
"Oh, so we're letting the criminal element lunch here, now?" Darlene
wasn't serious, as the smirk on her face told me. She was actually
flirting with him, and I saw from the way he smiled that he appreciated
it. I decided to let her take care of him, reminding her that I would pick
up the tab. I gave them some space, choosing to focus on side work
while I waited for new customers.
It was slow, tedious work, which gave me plenty of chances to think. I
thought about that first night, when the club came in to eat. Fate had
stepped in that night, I was certain. Otherwise, where would I be? Eric
would have still come in, and he might have hurt me if Dom hadn't
saved me. He might have hurt me the night before if Dom hadn't
stepped in again. I might have gone crazy sitting in that apartment with
my daughter, unable to leave for fear of my ex-husband. I wouldn't
have slept a wink, afraid to relax in case Eric showed up. Over and
over, Dom had protected me.
But was that enough? Once the excitement died down, would it be
enough to keep him around? Did we have enough to common to make a
good match? Love took a lot more than just a show of protection. It
wasn't enough for Dom to beat the crap out of anybody who got in my
way—though it was helpful. I smiled to myself, a little smug, knowing
he would go that far to help me.
But I couldn't keep smiling when I thought of the future. Did we have
one? I didn't know. I didn't even know if he wanted to have one with
me, or if he would scare off as soon as things got too real. Once we
settled into the boring everyday stuff of real life. I remembered the
story

he'd told about his fiancée, too. How much pain did he still carry
because of that? How much of that would I have to suffer for, though I
'd never known the girl?
Spike must have noticed the way I stood there, staring at the counter
instead of working. "Hey. You okay?"
I looked up, trying to smile. "Sure. Just thinking. Nothing important."
He scowled. "You're as shitty a liar as Dom is. You're a perfect match."
He took a bite of a big, juicy burger, the juice dripping down his goatee.
I looked away, nauseated.
"Yes, well, that's one thing we have in common, then." I brushed it off,
trying to ignore him. He wasn't anything like Dom. More like the
stereotypical biker, the one "nice" people crossed the street to avoid.
Dom might have looked like one, but he at least had manners. Even if
he burped loudly after eating.
I waited for Spike to finish his meal, then cleared his plate. "Thanks,"
he said, standing and stretching. The t-shirt he wore beneath his leather
kutte was a bit too small, revealing a strip of white belly. I tried to hide
my laughter, and the slight disgust I still felt. He was a piece of work,
for sure.
"I'll go back outside now," he said, ambling to the door. "Let me know
if you need me."
"Thanks. I will." He might have been a pig, but he was an obliging pig.
I appreciated his time, even if all he had to do was sit on the back of a
bike all day.

As I walked out of the diner, I waved at Spike. He pulled up to my car,
and I rolled down the window for him.
"Everything cool?" he asked.
"Yes, thanks. Just going to my mom's now to pick up my daughter."
He nodded. "You want an escort?" I was tempted to accept, but then I
pictured the horror that would cross my mother's face if she saw Spike
out front. Dom was bad enough. Spike was another thing entirely.
"Thanks, but I'm sure I'll be fine."
"Okay." He shrugged with a grin. "See ya later, then."
"Thanks again!" I waved, and he waved back as he pulled away. Maybe
they weren't all bad. Maybe Dom wasn't the exception to the rule. No
man so intent on protecting a woman could be bad.
I was still smiling to myself as I pulled up in front of Mom's. I
wondered how many of Dom's friends I would meet. Maybe all of them
if we stayed together.
The first thing I noticed when I walked into the house was the quiet. It
was completely silent. No TV, no anything. I thought Mom might have
turned off the TV to give herself peace and quiet while Emma napped,
but it was way too late in the day for that. It was almost dinnertime.
They would have been in the kitchen, fixing something to eat while the
news played on the little TV on the counter.
"Mom?" Nothing. I walked through the little walled-off entryway
between the front door and the living room, where coats hung along the

wall. "Mom? Where are you?"
When I got to the living room, I found my mother on the floor with
blood running down her face.
"Mom! Emma?" I ran through the house, panicked. No sound. Nothing.
"Oh God, baby! Where are you?" I ran upstairs, searched every room. I
looked under beds, in closets. "Please, baby, if you're here, tell Mama!
Please!" Nothing. She was gone.
I fled downstairs, falling to my knees beside my mother's body. She
was so still, so silent.
With shaking hands, I dialed Dom's number. "Pick up, pick up, pick
up," I whispered, wiping the blood from my mother's face.
"Hey, what's going on?"
"Hurry! Please! Please, come!"
"What is it?" I could hardly hear Dom's voice, my screams
overpowering him. "Kara! Stop screaming. What is it? Where are
you?"
"He took Emma! He hurt my mother, oh my God, I think she's dead!" I
screamed and screamed, unable to stop. Terror poured from me.
"Where are you?"
"Her house!" I gave him the address, and he told me he'd be there right
away. I dropped the phone to the floor, holding my mother's face in my
hands.
"It'll be okay, Mommy. It'll be okay." I couldn't think straight. It never
occurred to me to call an ambulance. I could only think about Emma.
Where was Emma? Would I ever see her again? How could I

have been so foolish as to leave them alone? I didn't even know how
long ago he'd come for her! He could have had hours of a head start on
me, and I would never know where he went. Ever. I would never see
my daughter again. I let out a loud, heartbroken sob. I would never see
my baby again.

Chapter Twenty-Four
Dom
"I don't know what to tell you," I said, feeling like the world's biggest
ass. "I don't. I want you to take care of yourself, but I wanna see you in
front of the club for a long time, too. You brought the club more
success than it ever knew before."
"You sound like Spike or Ralph," he said, snickering.
"It's true. And they say it because it's true. You've done everything you
could for the club, and we all love you for it. Nobody wants to see you
go."
"Even if it's gonna save my life in the end?"
I sighed. "Nothing I say is right. Everything I say right now makes me
look like the world's biggest prick."
Chase laughed a little at me. "It's not so bad. You don't sound like a
prick either. I'm glad you're not standing at the head of the group,
wanting to stab me in the back so you can take power."
"Don't even joke about shit like that," I said. I wasn't kidding. I didn' t
want to hear it. The last thing I needed was for people to get the idea
that I would kill Chase to take the seat at the head of the table. I didn't
want it that badly—I didn't want it yet, at all. I had too much to learn
before I could do that.

"Sorry. I'm just trying to keep things light," he said with a shrug. "I don'
t want you walking around here with a frown on your face, expecting
me to kick the bucket at any minute. I have time left. I just have to be
careful with it, or else that little spitfire upstairs is gonna be what kills
me."
I grinned. "Yeah, Trish would kill you for not listening to the doc," I
said.
"That's how women think, you know? Who knows, maybe she wants to
do it herself. She doesn't want any old heart problem taking me
out."
"Shh." I looked up the stairs. It didn't look like anybody was standing
there, and I didn't see any shadows on the wall. "Do you really want the
whole club knowing about this right now?'
"See? You're a smart kid. That's why I know you're gonna do such a
great job with the club." He grinned.
"Yeah, thanks." The damp cellar was cold, sending shivers down my
spine. I told myself it was just that, and not the idea of taking over the
club so soon.
Chase stood up, having to duck when his enormous height left his head
almost scraping the ceiling. "Do me a favor and keep this between you
and me, huh? And I mean in every way possible. I don't want your
shitty attitude ruining things either."
"Got it."
"There's plenty of time, okay? We'll work it out. I just thought you
should know." He patted me on the back and might as well have added,
"It's your funeral." Because that was how I felt. I'd always seen myself

being happy to take over the reins when Chase retired. I didn't want it to
be for such a shitty reason. I didn't want to look like I was taking
advantage of him being sick.
Rule number one, I thought, stop caring so much what other people
think of you, or what they might see in you. It doesn't matter when you
wanna be an effective leader. It was something Chase had told me
years before, and I remembered it then. I had to stop caring so damn
much how things might have looked. It wasn't my problem what the
rest of the club thought. Chase was our leader, and if he decided to step
down, they had to respect that.
I had it on my mind when I went upstairs, and I called in the liquor
order only half paying attention to the names and quantities I ordered. I
had the girl read it back to me twice to be sure I got it all right. The last
thing I needed was a bunch of bitching when I didn't order somebody's
favorite liquor.
I sat at Chase's desk after I hung up the phone. It would be my desk
soon. How soon? I didn't know. I still hoped it wouldn't be for a long
time, but I had the feeling the clock was ticking—no matter how much
better Chase tried to make me feel about it.
Don' t be a pussy. Another pearl of wisdom from Chase. He had never
said it to me, but he said it to the other guys in the club sometimes when
they didn't want to do something that was in the club's best interests. He
would tell them to man up and stop being a pussy. I needed to do that
myself.
I would be president. It wouldn't be long. I had to step into the role and
take it over and not look back. I was ready. More than ready—Chase
had groomed me for it for years. Once it was mine, nobody could take it
from me unless they wanted to run the risk of banishment, or worse. I
would have the power.

And I would need an old lady. Trisha was right about that, and so was
Chase. I would need somebody at my side to be there when I had the
tough choices to make. I would ask Jax to be my VP, but that wasn't the
same as having a steady old lady at home, someone to talk with when
the day was rough or the club was going through tense shit. A woman
who would help a man see his way through things. It was what Trisha
had been for Chase ever since they got married, even before then. It
was what I needed.
And Kara was that kind of woman. The only problem was I didn't know
if being an old lady was something she wanted. She might have seen it
as being beneath her. She went to college. She could still have a bright
future. And there I was, thinking about asking her to help me run an
MC. What the hell was I thinking? She was too good for the sort of life
I led. I needed a woman who was used to things being the way they
were, who wouldn't question the late nights, the dangerous situations,
the activity we got into. If we went into lockdown and I needed to bring
her and the kid to the clubhouse, would she put up a fight? That kind of
old lady didn't help anything. She would only get in my head and make
me a bad president.
I went out to the bar, pouring myself another drink without looking
around to see if anybody noticed. I had too much on my mind to give a
shit, anyway.
"What's the matter?" Trisha asked, still sitting at the bar. She only
drank water, and was more than halfway through the crossword puzzle
she had started before I went downstairs.
"Nothing," I said, taking a deep breath.
"Really? That's your second drink this afternoon, and I happen to know
you were in the cellar with my old man." Her voice had dropped to
nearly a whisper. "So you talked to him, huh?"

"He doesn't want me to tell anybody," I said.
"Of course he doesn't. But I knew he was gonna have to tell you
sometime, honey. You need to know. But you're the only person who
does, so we'll leave it here."
"We will," I agreed.
"Now you know why I want you to settle down."
"Yeah, I thought about that already. You're pretty obvious."
"Only now that you know the full story," she pointed out. "Before that,
you had no idea."
"You're not just pushing me into something with Kara because you
want me to settle down, though, are you?"
"No. It's because she's the right woman for you, if you think you can
handle it." She pushed her reading glasses up on top of her head,
looking at me. "Listen, she's got a lot of issues with her past. She's got a
kid. She's not going into it without baggage, and neither are you. That's
a big responsibility for the both of you. If you can both handle it, I say
why not. She's a smart girl with a good head on her shoulders, and you
obviously care about her. Go for it, then. I think she would fill my
shoes just fine."
I wasn't so sure, and the look on my face must have said so.
"Listen, none of the girls around here would know their ass from a hole
in the ground if they had to help their old man run this club. I remember
Lauren fondly. She was a great girl, and she was good for you, but she
didn't have that... that grit, you know? She was a great doctor, but she
was still too much in the other world. Kara, though? She's got what it
takes. She knows how shitty life can be, but she knows how good

it can be, too. She's a fierce mama, too, which means a lot. She'll be a
mama to this pack of idiots whether she likes it or not. I think she has a
heart big enough to handle that."
"But can she handle me? That's my question."
"Oh, get over yourself. You're not that hard to handle." Trisha laughed,
lighting up a cigarette and ending the conversation. Jax strolled up. We
switched topics.
"I was just telling Chase we'd better buy a Jack Daniels distillery if
some people don't stop drinking it all the time," I said, clearing my
throat.
"Like you didn't just have two drinks today. I don't wanna hear your
bullshit." Jax rolled his eyes. Trisha laughed.
"Just blame it on the new guy and his party. It's always good to have a
new patch around so that you can blame everything on him." Jax and I
looked at each other, nodding. That made a lot of sense.
My phone rang. Kara. I smiled, figuring she would tell me she was
back home and wanted me to come over. I stirred at the thought of her.
Would I ever get tired of having her in my arms? I didn't think so. I
hoped not, anyway.
When I answered the phone, all thoughts of sex with Kara were wiped
out by the sound of her screaming.
"Hurry! Please! Please, come!"
Everything went fuzzy and gray around me. The only thing I could hear
was her voice, and the blood suddenly rushing in my ears. Trisha stood,
her face showing she could hear Kara's screams.

I couldn' t understand anything she was saying, though. "Stop
screaming. What is it? Where are you?"
"He took Emma! He hurt my mother, oh my God, I think she's
dead! "
My body went cold, numb. I should have known. Fuck him. I should
have known. I should have thought it out. I was too cocky. I put them in
danger. He took Emma. That fucker took her away.
"Where are you?"
Jax looked at me, obviously shaken by my tone of voice. I couldn't pay
attention to him, or to Trisha. I needed to know where to find Kara.
"Her house! " She screamed out an address, then just shrieked for a
while before I told her I would be there, and hung up. I saw red. I didn't
know what to do first. I needed to find him. No, I needed to make sure
Kara was safe. Then I needed to find him. But what if he was getting
away?
I needed to get to Kara first.
"Dom?"
I didn't answer Jax. I didn't have the time. I ran out the door, on my bike
in the blink of an eye. The address Kara gave me wasn't far from the
clubhouse, probably in the middle of the route I took to get to the
apartment. I hoped traffic would be light because I didn't have any time
to waste.
The whole way there, I looked for Eric's Lexus—it didn't seem likely,
but I hoped, anyway. Who knew when he had taken her? It could have
been right after Kara went to work. Why the hell hadn't I posted
somebody in front of her mom's house? I knew she was taking Emma

there, she'd told me so. Damn it! I wanted to scream, curse, howl. I
never felt so helpless in my life. except that night.
No. This wasn't Lauren all over again. I would fix things this time. I
would get Emma back. Kara would be happy. She would be happy with
me. That was the way it would go because that was the way it had to go.
I had to win this one. I couldn't lose twice in one lifetime.
I couldn't think straight. Emma. Kara. Emma. It was all I could think,
do, breathe. They were every beat of my heart. Emma. Kara. Emma.
Emma was gone. I had to find her. First, I had to get to Kara. I should
have asked her if she was sure she was alone, damn it. What if
somebody was hiding out in the house?
When I got there, I saw the door standing open. My heart in my throat,
I ran up the stairs, gun still in my kutte pocket but my hand around the
butt in case I needed to draw.
"Kara?" I heard her rather than saw her, lying on the floor next to her
mother. No Emma. My heart sank. What could I do?

Chapter Twenty-Five
Kara
That was how Dom found me, in a heap on the living room floor, my
mother' s body at my side. He checked her first, holding his fingers to
her neck.
"She's alive," he said. "Here, let me put her on the couch." "What if she
has a neck injury?" I asked.
"I think they hit her on the head. See? There's a cut here. It's probably
no more serious than that."
"No more serious? How can you say that?" I was frantic, unable to
think straight or reason. Everything was a mess in my head. I didn't
know what to think or what to do. Blind panic overtook me.
"Kara! " Dom took me by the forearms and shook me until I cleared up
a little. He didn't hurt me. I didn't think he would ever hurt me. He only
wanted me to get my act together.
"This was how you found her?" he asked. I nodded, gulping for air,
trying to keep my head straight. "And there was no one around? No
cars out front, nobody sneaking out the back door? Nobody at all?"
"Nobody I knew of," I whimpered. I tried to think back. "I didn't see or
hear anybody, and I was paying attention. Oh, why did I leave

her? Why?" I started spiraling out of control again.
"Calm down! " He barked it, and it was enough to snap me out again.
"Listen to me. We're going to get her back, okay? No matter what, he
couldn't have gotten far with a kid. We just have to find him. I'll have
my guys look his financials. His credit cards and stuff. They'll track
him."
"How can they do that?"
"Don't worry about it." I thought it would be best not to know, anyway.
He pulled me to my feet, then lifted Mom onto the couch. Her head
dropped back, and Dom lifted it carefully, gently, as he lowered her.
"Okay. I'm gonna hit the streets, find out if anybody saw his car." I
followed him to the door, shaking. "You should call the police."
"Are you sure?" I asked. Since when did I not trust the police?
He turned, looking at me, trying to decide. "Yeah. An Amber Alert is
gonna get all the cops looking for his plates, at least. And when you call
9-1-1, tell them you need an ambulance for your mother. Tell them she
was watching Emma. Get it? Make sure they know he took her by
force."
"Okay. I understand." I could hardly speak in clear sentences, but I
nodded. Dom kissed me briefly, then turned toward the street.
"Oh shit." He froze rather than going for his bike. "Maybe I don't have
to look after all." He turned to me. "Get back in the house," he said, his
voice hard and tense. "Now. Inside."
"What is it?" I didn't understand at first. Then I saw two cars pull up.
One of them was Eric's. The other was a black van, fairly

nondescript. Two men climbed out, while another two climbed out of
Eric's car. Eric followed them...after pulling Emma from the back seat.
One of the random men picked her up, and all of them walked up the
steps and came inside.
"Oh my God! " I screamed, hands over my mouth. There she was, in a
stranger's arms. I jumped forward, wanting to take her and hold her and
never let her go. Dom stopped me, and I saw why—a gun in the hand of
one of the other men. He put himself in front of me, just enough to hold
me back. I let out a whimper, which turned to a sob. How had things
turned so terrible, so quickly? Meanwhile, my mother was on the sofa,
still bleeding, still unconscious. The whole world crumbled around me
and there was nothing I could do about it.
"Hey, wifey." Eric grinned, his eyes blackened, a bandage over his
nose. When he spoke, he sounded like a man with a bad cold. I was glad
Dom had broken his nose. I wished he had broken more in that
moment. Much more.
"What are you doing, Eric? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What am I doing? What are you doing? I'm only making sure I protect
our little girl." He smiled at Emma, who shrank away from him. My
poor baby.
"Please, let me have her," I blubbered, holding my arms out. Dom still
restrained me, and with good reason—though I was sobbing, I would
have clawed any one of them to pieces for so much as touching my
daughter.
"No, no, no. You had her, remember? And look what you did. You got
yourself hooked up with a scumbag like this loser." He gestured to
Dom. "I can't trust you with her. And there you were, acting like the
better parent. What a hypocrite you are."

I took a deep, shaky breath. Fine. If that was the game he wanted to
play, so be it. "You're right, Eric. I'm a terrible parent. I did the best I
could, though. Please, please, let me have her. I'll do better now." I felt
like the woman I used to be, the one he used to push into a corner. The
one who would apologize for things she hadn't even done, all to get him
to stop yelling and hitting and cursing. All to get him to back off, go
away, leave the house even. I would have said anything back then to
make the hurting stop, and I was willing to do it again. It was as though
he' d flipped a switch inside me.
He nodded. "At least you're willing to admit what you've done wrong."
"This is bullshit," Dom snarled.
Eric tsked, shaking his head from side to side. "Language, and in front
of a kid. You're worse than I thought you were. Don't talk that way in
front of my little girl."
"I'll talk any way I want to," he said.
It was my turn to get him to stop. I looked up at him, shaking my head
ever so slightly. All Eric wanted to do was draw him into a fight so he'd
have an excuse to kill him or at least do serious damage. I couldn't let
that happen, though I wanted more than anything to watch Dom murder
him. I would have paid good money to see something like that.
"Eric." I turned back to him. "Look what you've already done. My
mother. I need to call an ambulance for her." I moved toward the
phone, but he made a sharp noise that stopped me in my tracks. No, he
wouldn't let me pick up the phone, would he? I could easily have called
the cops instead.
"Yes, I' m sorry that had to happen. She never did me any harm—if
anything, she listened to the stories you told her and believed them.
Why

else would she have gotten in my way when all I wanted to do was
collect my own daughter and take her with me?"
"She fought you?" I asked, glancing at Emma. The poor thing shivered.
"Oh, yes. She fought hard. I didn't think a woman her age would have
that much fight in her—then again, they say adrenaline makes a person
do crazy things." He laughed, a shrill laugh I wasn't used to hearing.
Yes, adrenaline made people crazy. And he was the case in point.
"If I leave her like this, she might die," I said. "She's bleeding from her
head."
"Oh, stop. I didn't hurt her that badly. I only knocked her out. It's
probably nothing more than a cut—head wounds bleed the worst. It's
not like I broke her nose or anything." He glared at Dom, his eyes
burning.
Something inside me roared in triumph, even as I shook with
something beyond fear. Fear was too weak, too easy a word for it.
"Still, Eric. Please. Call the ambulance yourself if you don't trust me to
do it. But please. I need you to help her now. You have what you want.
You have Emma. What do you have to lose?"
He seemed to consider it, and hope leaped to life inside me. If he called
the ambulance, there was a chance Mom would wake up and tell the
EMTs what happened to her. They might at least be able to call the cops
and tell them about Eric's restraining order, how he'd attacked her.
Something. Anything. All he had to do was listen to me and call for an
ambulance. It was a struggle to keep my face in calm, neutral lines.
Then he shook his head, and I sobbed again, this time with frustration.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, tears streaming down my face. Dom
was ominously quiet, his body shielding mine ever so slightly. If any of
them so much as raised a hand, he would have jumped in front of me.
Somehow I knew it without having to be told. I felt the raw energy
coming from him, and it scared me a little. He would have taken them
all on, were it not for Emma. They looked like pretty fearsome men,
too. I had faith in him, but even that faith didn't lead me to believe he
would make it out all right.
"If you would've been the wife you tricked me into thinking you would
be, none of this would be happening. This is all you, honey. We could
have had a good life together. We could have been happy, the way we
were before we got married. But then you ran off. And I find out today
that you filed a fucking restraining order?"
Language, I thought. I didn' t dare call him on it.
"I only filed it because you threatened me," I said, feeling pitiful.
Nothing I could say would change his mind, but I had to say something.
I felt like I needed to keep him talking. Otherwise, he would take
Emma away from me. Would I see her again? I didn't think he would
let me. I was pretty sure he would do anything in his power to keep my
child from me once he got a hold of her.
"I didn't threaten you," he said. "You felt threatened. That's your
problem, not mine. Your boyfriend here," he gestured to Dom, but
looked at me, "couldn't keep his hands to himself. If he had, this might
have ended a lot differently."
"Listen, Eric. I know you can be reasonable. I know it. You just have to
control yourself right now, okay? Emma has nothing to do with any of
this. Please let her go. Don't punish her for this." I tried to go to her
again, but Dom planted himself more firmly in front of me. His entire
body trembled, but I didn't think it was from fear. More like the

strain of holding himself back.
"This doesn't have to involve either of them," Dom snarled. "It only has
to be you and me. Let's be men about this and fight it out the way we
both want to."
Eric laughed that strange, high-pitched laugh he seemed to have
adopted since he went crazy. "You think I'm stupid, don't you? Only a
world-class fool would fight somebody like you. Come on. When you
were out there making your bones, or whatever it is you biker trash do,
I was studying and working. It's no contest."
"So that's why you had to bring four of your friends with you. You
probably hired them, though, right? A guy like you doesn't have
friends."
"Dom, stop," I whispered. "Please." All I needed was for him to fly off
the handle and kill Emma.
He ignored me. "Come on. Be a real man for once in your life. Or can
you only hit women? Are men too much for you to handle?"
"Stop this," I begged. I could see Eric's face twitch, the muscles
jumping. He wanted to kill Dom. I could feel it.
"Stop," I said, raising my voice. "Both of you, stop. It doesn't have to be
this way." I glanced over my shoulder, to where my mother had started
to stir. She was regaining consciousness, which was a relief, but all I
needed was for her to wake up in the middle of a fight. Just another
person to be caught in the crossfire. My mind worked fast, looking at
the situation from every angle. I couldn't believe how sharp I was with
everything going on.
"You don't get to talk right now," Eric sneered. He looked at Dom.
"Fine. You want a fight? You'll have your fight." He raised his hand,

gesturing toward Dom. Suddenly, all four of his pals jumped Dom.
Emma was dropped to the floor, forgotten.
"Baby!" I reached for her, scooping her up, moving away from the
fight. Dom did the best he could, but he was quickly outmatched. They
hit him with their guns, their fists. They knocked him to the floor. I held
Emma in a vice grip, pressing her face to my shoulder. I didn't want her
to see what was happening. I glanced toward the back door, wondering
if I could make a run for it. Would I have time to escape? But I couldn't
leave Dom. But I couldn't risk my baby's life.
Dom fell to the floor, beaten and bloodied. I squeezed my eyes shut,
unable to look at what they'd done to his beautiful face. Eric snickered,
going to him. I heard Dom grunt, and opened my eyes in time to see
Eric pull him to his knees. He pulled a gun from his coat pocket, and I
let out a whimper. He looked at me.
"It's up to you," Eric spat, pressing the gun to Dom's temple. "Either
you come with me, or I kill him." He cocked the gun, the click making
me jump and shriek before I could hold back. "And I'll kill her, too, for
good measure."
"No!" I screamed, squeezing Emma tight. She didn't cry, the brave
thing, but she trembled.
"Come on, Kara. It's all up to you. Either you do what I want, or I'll take
what I want anyway. No matter what you decide, you'll be mine."
I thought fast. What would he do with me? Where would he take me? I
looked at Dom, half conscious, bleeding from his nose, his mouth, a cut
on the side of his face. He mumbled something I couldn't understand,
tried to open his eyes to look at me. I didn't know what he wanted me to
do.

And I realized it didn't matter. I had to make the choice on my own.
There was no choice, not when my daughter was involved.
"Fine." I stood, still holding my baby. "I'll go with you."
"The kid, too." He wouldn't look at her.
My heart froze, but I had no choice. "Emma, too," I replied. Did he
even care for her? How could he, when he threatened to kill her if I
didn' t give him his way?
"See? None of it had to be this difficult. All you had to do was give me
what I wanted right away. That was one lesson I could never quite
teach you." He let go of Dom, who fell to the floor in a daze. I could
have wept with relief. Dom would be safe. He would find me, no matter
where I was.
Eric looked at his men. "Take care of him," he said, his voice flat and
serious. He grabbed me by the arm, pulling me to the door.
"No! No! You have to let him go! " I screamed, keeping a tight grip on
Emma but unwilling to leave Dom.
"That wasn't part of the deal. I only said I would kill him if you didn't
come. I didn't say my guys wouldn't take care of him for me if you did."
He chuckled nastily, giving me one more tug to get me out the door and
down the front stairs. One of the neighbors stood on his front porch,
watching. I noticed him from the corner of my eye.
"Where are you taking us?" I asked, my voice loud and strong. Let him
hear me. Let him call the cops, please.
"You'll find out when we get there."
"No, I need to know now. Are we going to your house?" I pulled

against Eric's grip, making sure I went because he forced me to.
"No. We'll go through the desert and drive to the Petrified Forest.
Remember when we took that trip years ago?"
"The Petrified Forest?" It was the last thing I managed to say before
Eric shoved me into the car. I refused to get in the front seat with him,
preferring the back seat with Emma.
"Yes. Are you deaf now, too?" Eric sneered at me in the rearview
mirror when he slid behind the wheel. He was too worked up to notice
my neighbor looking right at us. Thank God, I breathed silently. He
might be able to help us.
I cast one more look at my mother's house. Dom was still in there. What
would they do to him? All I could do was pray that he'd survive, and
find some way to save us.

Chapter Twenty-Six
Dom
I heard the sound of cars passing by on the road, but I didn't know
where the road was. I didn't know where I was. My eyes seemed glued
shut. I couldn't open them. What held them shut? I thought I might have
been blindfolded at first, then realized it was dried blood. I had bled so
much, my eyes were stuck.
My body started to come back to life slowly. Most of what I felt was
pain—in my ribs, in my back, especially in my head. My face felt like a
swollen mess. I sensed the ground beneath me, and when I curled my
hands into fists, I felt dirt and grass.
I didn't want to move anymore. I didn't want to think. I wanted to go
back to sleep, where it didn't hurt. Where I wouldn't feel anything
anymore...
Wake up! The thought raced through my brain like fire, reminding me
what happened, what was at stake. I couldn't just lie there. I had to find
Kara and Emma. Every instinct I ever had screamed at me to get up and
find them.
But how? And where? I could hardly move without pain searing
through me. I couldn't open my eyes. I didn't know where I was.
Open your eyes. Open them. I tried, but it didn't work. Try again. It hurt
too fucking much. Try anyway. Try. They need you, damn it. Be a

man and do whatever you have to do. Get to them. Start here.
I ran the back of my arm over my eyes, trying to help my eyelids open
by rubbing the blood off. It worked, and both eyes seemed to function
fine. They weren't swollen, so those assholes didn't hit me in the eyes.
They hit me in the head. Pistol whipped me until I blacked out. That
was where the blood came from.
I tried to look around, turning my head slowly in case I had a neck
injury. What the hell did that matter, though, since I had to get out of
the fucking ditch they had left me in? I couldn't stay there forever,
hoping somebody drove to the edge of the road and saw me. It would
never happen. I would starve to death.
There were trees around me, grass under me, garbage here and there
from people tossing it out the windows of passing cars. It stank like
somebody died there. Maybe they had. Maybe I had come close, too.
How the hell would I get out of there? How would I find Kara and
Emma? I considered getting up, hitchhiking back to the clubhouse.
Who the fuck would pick me up? I could only imagine how horrible I
looked. And who would drop me off at the clubhouse even if they
picked me up? They'd probably want to take me to the hospital instead.
My phone! I patted my pocket and felt the bulge. Thank you, God.
They didn't take my phone. I reached inside, pulled it out, and dialed
Jax.
"Where are you, man? You ran outta here like you were on fire," Jax
said.
"I need you, buddy. I need you bad." "Dom. Where are you? What
happened?"

I tried to look around to give him an idea of where to find me. I sat up,
and immediately felt like I was gonna hurl. The whole world spun. No!
Do not pass out! If I passed out, I would have to do it all over again, the
waking up, the opening my eyes. I would lose even more time.
"Gimme a second, brother." I closed my eyes again, clenching my jaw
to hold back the flow of puke that threatened to pour out. I took one
deep breath, then another. Do not pass out. Do not pass out. Stay
awake. She needs you. They both do.
"You still there?" I asked.
"Of course. Where are you? What do you need?"
"I need you to come get me, brother. Some guys beat the shit outta me,
left me in a ditch on the side of the highway."
"What? Who?"
"I'll tell ya later. I need help, please."
"Where are you exactly? Can you tell me anything?"
I looked around, my head pounding every time I moved. "Uh, there's a
billboard on the other side of the road for a dentist's office."
"I know where you mean," he said. "It's maybe five miles away. I' ll be
there in a few minutes."
"And hey, bring backup," I said. I had to lay down for a minute, to get
myself together before he got there. "Bring maybe three guys. There
were four guys total who beat me, and that Eric twat."
"Fuck," Jax muttered. I heard murder in his voice. I knew how he
felt.

While I waited, I came up with a plan. I would go back to her
mother's—I might have lucked out, he might not have taken them
anywhere. I didn't remember anything after Kara told him she would go
with him. I wished she hadn't, but I could see how scared she would be.
He threatened to kill his own daughter. How sick did a person have to
be to do something like that? There was no way she could have said she
wouldn't go.
Then his guys beat me again, and I guessed they found a way to get me
into the van. I was too out of it to remember anything they did. I hoped
they left my bike alone. I would have killed them just for wrecking it, if
nothing else.
And then it would be a matter of finding Kara. I had to find her. There
was no other option. But how?
I must have gone in and out of consciousness for a minute or two,
because before I knew it, I heard the sound of motorcycles coming
closer.
"Shit!" Jax. Feet running to me. I opened my eyes, looked. There he
was, and Spike, and Chase.
"Come on. We gotta get you outta here." Chase and Jax helped me to
my feet. I groaned, biting my tongue to stay quiet and conscious.
"You've gotta go to a hospital," Spike said. He looked horrified.
"Do I look that bad?" I joked. I took a step, then another. My legs
worked fine. It was the rest of me that hurt like a bitch.
"Not too bad," Chase said, but his voice was tight.
"I can't go to a hospital. He took them. Eric. He took them both."

"No." Spike looked devastated. For a big, crusty thing like him, I was
pretty sure he might cry. "I was just with her! I was just at the diner a
little while ago!"
"Yeah, well, while you were there, he was at her mom' s. Shit. We have
to go there. Her mom was unconscious when I got there. She might still
be out, or she might need help. Come on." For once, I was willing to
ride on the back of another man's bike. I would only have done it for
Kara and Emma.
We took off, with me giving Chase directions and the others following
us. I could only imagine what people in passing cars and on the
sidewalks thought about me. I would look at myself when I got to Kara'
s mom' s, maybe clean up a little. The air on my face helped a lot. It
cleared my head.
When we got there, the front door still stood open. I went up the stairs,
while Chase pulled his gun. "I just wanna be ready," he muttered,
nodding for me to open the door.
Kara' s mom jumped. She was sitting on the couch, holding her head
when I walked in. I held up my hands to show her I didn't mean any
harm. Her face went white when she saw me.
"Oh God! What happened?"
"Are you okay? I was here before. You were unconscious."
"I have such a headache," she moaned. "And Emma! Where is Emma?
He took her. I tried to stop h i m . " She trailed off, sounding like she
was ready to cry.
"We've gotta work together on this," I said. "He came back with friends
of his. They have Emma and Kara now. And they left me for

dead on the side of the road."
"Oh God. Dom. Please find them."
"I plan on it." The rest of my guys came in. She looked scared—I didn'
t know if she was more scared of them or of the thought that her
daughter and granddaughter were in danger.
"You should go to the hospital," she said, reaching for me. "At least go
to the powder room to wash up before you do anything else. Do you
need painkillers? I have some from a surgery I had last year."
"Yeah. Gimme some of those."
"You've gotta ride," Chase reminded me. "Your bike looks fine."
"Yeah, but if I' m gonna ride, I need a mountain of painkillers. They
never mess with my head. I'll be fine." I followed Kara's mom to the
powder room. She took a bottle out of the cabinet, leaving it on the
counter, and handed me a washcloth.
I looked at myself in the mirror and recoiled. Dried blood all down the
side of my face from a gash along my temple. A bloody mouth, a
bloody nose. Not broken, though. I could breathe just fine through it. I
washed my face, wincing whenever I touched the washcloth to the
gash. Kara' s mom came back with antiseptic.
"Please, it's the least I can do," she said, wiping the wound with
antiseptic-soaked cotton, then taping gauze to it. "There. You don't
want to get an infection."
"What about you?" I asked.
"Moms don't feel these things." She looked me in the eye. "Find them.
Please."

"I'll do everything I can." I popped two pills, then Kara's mom put the
bottle in my pocket.
"Just in case you need them. I wouldn't advocate riding while on these,
but I know you need them right now. Can I give you anything else?
You must be thirsty or something."
I realized I was. "Yeah, some water, please. We'll figure something
out." We went to the kitchen while I went back to the living room. The
guys watched me, waiting for me to say something.
"I don't know where to start," I admitted. Kara's mom came back,
handing me a glass of water. "Is there anywhere special he would have
taken them?"
She looked up at the ceiling like she was thinking about it. "They took a
road trip on their honeymoon. Eric was always obsessed with the
desert. Said he felt the call of it or something, I don't know. They
visited a few national parks, that sort of thing."
"Okay. It's a start, anyway."
"Yeah, a start in a state filled with deserts," Jax muttered. "It's like a
needle in a haystack."
"But it's something, anyway." Chase stared at me. "What do you
think?"
I was about to open my mouth and suggest calling the police again, the
way I had before Eric came back, when there was a knock at the door.
Kara' s mom let out a little yelp when Chase, Jax and Spike pulled their
guns. I went to the door. It was an old man.
"You know him?" I asked, and Kara's mom said it was her next

door neighbor.
"I wanted to call the police," he said, coming in, "but I didn't know
what to tell them."
"What happened? What did you see?"
"I saw that man putting Kara in a car, with the little girl in her arms."
He looked like he could hardly see five feet in front of him, a thick pair
of glasses on his face. I reminded myself not to get too excited based on
what he said he saw.
"Did they say anything?" Chase asked.
"She kept asking where they were going. He said the Petrified Forest.
She repeated it. I know she knew I was watching. She wanted me to
know where they were going."
"Thank you," I said, shaking his hand. And thank you, Kara. Smart
girl.
"Okay. That's where we go." The others nodded.
Kara' s mom touched my arm. "Please be careful," she whispered.
I gave her an impulsive hug. "I will," I said. "I'll bring them home. You,
call the ambulance. You need to get to a hospital. You might have a
concussion or something."
"I'll wait," she said. "Have my daughter call me when you find her, and
then I'll go."
I nodded, wondering if that moment would come. Would it already be
too late by the time I found them? What the fuck did Eric have in mind?

I went outside, and Chase handed me a pistol. "Here. Brought you an
extra one, just in case."
"Thanks. Those sons of bitches took mine. Oh, I want them so bad," I
said.
"I know. One thing at a time. First, we have to find the girls." He looked
grim, determined. He turned on the bike, the engine purring.
"You sure you're up for this?" I asked, out of earshot of the other
guys.
"I don't know. Are you? You look like you're ready to fucking drop."
"I'll be fine," I said.
"Then I will be, too. Come on. Let's catch up with that piece of
shit."
I couldn' t agree more, and when I got back on my bike, it was with a
pounding heart. Kara. We 're coming.
The four of us headed east, on our way to the Petrified Forest.

Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kara
It felt like we drove forever, yet at the same time, it went by in the blink
of an eye. My brain whirred at a frantic pace, making it nearly
impossible to hang on to any one thought for too long. Things went by
in a flash. Panic. Terror. Confusion. And under it all a red-hot, boiling
current of hatred. I hated Eric with every fiber of my being,
point-blank.
I had to hold it all back for my baby. She sat in my lap, her arms around
my neck. I held onto her, trying to soothe her with every lullaby and
song I knew. "You wanna sing with me?" I whispered, brushing sweaty
strands of hair back from her forehead. She shook her head, mute. She
didn't have any songs left inside her. I knew how she felt, but forced
myself to sound cheerful anyway.
"What are you singing back there?" How could he act like nothing was
wrong? How could he sound lighthearted, happy, carefree? The way a
man would ask his wife and child what they were singing during happy
times, when he hadn't kidnapped them at gunpoint.
"Nothing," I said. He didn't get to know. He didn't get to know anything
about us, from the song I sang to what Emma like to eat for dinner.
Nothing. He had forfeited that right. I saw him frown in the rearview
mirror. Good. Let him frown, the bastard.
I rocked Emma, humming the tune to every song from Frozen. For
once, I was glad she'd made me memorize it from beginning to end. I

would do anything I could to calm her, to make it easier on her.
"Can you please turn up the air conditioning?" I asked. "It's a little
warm back here." He obliged, which surprised me. I assumed he would
want to punish me. I pushed Emma's hair back from her head, then
fixed her ponytail so her neck could be cool.
"See, honey? It's gonna be real comfortable back here in just a minute,"
I crooned. "And we'll be just fine. Nothing to worry about."
She shivered, though I knew it wasn't from the cool air pouring through
the vent. "Is Grandma okay?" she whispered, pulling me down so her
mouth was close to my ear.
"Oh, sure, honey. Just fine. She went to sleep for a little while on the
couch, but she'll be okay. I'm sure she's awake by now."
Emma didn' t look so sure, her eyes filled with trouble and fear. "I saw
Daddy hit her," she whispered.
"What are you whispering about?" Eric asked. I heard the edge of anger
in his voice.
"About how you hit her grandma and made her go to sleep. I told her
she was probably awake by now."
"Oh, sure, pumpkin. I didn't hit her very hard. Just enough to get her to
stop fighting with me. I only wanted to take you because I love you, but
your grandma didn't want to hear that. So I had to show her I was
serious." I could tell he tried to soothe and reassure Emma, but he had
no idea how to. Once again, everything was somebody else's fault. This
time my mother's, for trying to protect her granddaughter. I wondered
what it was like in his head, where nothing was his fault.
I wished I'd had time to change out of my uniform at least, the

polyester dress uncomfortable as anything. I didn't like the way Eric
looked at my body when I wore it, as though I were giving him
permission to think nasty thoughts about me. My blood ran cold. I
would never let him touch me, not ever. But what if he didn't give me a
choice in the matter? I clutched Emma even tighter. No way. I couldn't
let it happen. Not while my daughter was around. I wouldn't let him
scar her like that.
"We're going to be a family again," Eric reminded me. It wasn't the first
time he'd said it. "You'll see. We'll start over after today. We'll
recommit to each other and be happy again."
When were we ever happy? It amazed me how delusional he truly was.
He thought we were happy at one point, but he was the one who was
happy. He had a slave at home, in every way. I cooked, cleaned, did the
laundry, ran the errands, and had to be available to him whenever he
wanted me. I guessed it was when I made myself unavailable that he
became unhappy.
"Is that what this is all about?" I asked, trying to make sense of a
senseless situation. "This whole trip? So we can start over?"
"That's right. We're starting over where we started in the first place. On
our little road trip through the desert."
I tried to remember that time, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed
since then. I was happy then—he wasn't wrong about that. I had hope in
those days. I didn't know what my marriage would become, what I
would become by letting Eric dictate my life. I didn't know what he
would turn into. No, he hadn't just turned into that person. He was
always there, waiting to be let out.
"Is Dom okay?" Emma's eyes were big, tear-filled. I didn't know how
to answer that one. She had whispered it so softly, Eric hadn't heard. He
was too busy walking down memory lane to pay attention to

what really happened around him.
I tried to tackle the topic as carefully as possible. "I don't know, honey.
I hope he is. I hope he's gonna help us."
"How?" Her chin quivered. I held her tighter, her little body so
tremulous in my arms.
"I think Mr. Haskell saw us, and heard what I said when Daddy put us
in the car. So if Dom comes, or the police come, he'll tell them where
we're going. They'll know where to find us."
"What if they don't? What if Daddy doesn't take us there?"
"Then I' m not sure, sweetheart. The police are very smart, though, and
so is Dom. They'll find a way. I know they will." I hoped I wasn't lying
to her. I wanted them to find us, of course, more than anything. But Eric
was such a loose cannon, there was no telling where he would take us
or how long we'd stay. In his mind, he was reliving his honeymoon.
We' d made a lot of stops in that short time. There was no telling how
long he'd wanted to stay in the Petrified Forest, or where we would go
after that. If anybody were to catch up with us, they would have to
make it fast.
"Remember when we went there before, honey?" Eric's endearments
made me gag.
"Yeah, I remember," I said once I was sure I wouldn't gag again.
"I think that's the night we made her. What do you think?" I couldn't
believe he would talk about something like that, in front of our
daughter, too.
"I don't know. I was never quite sure," I admitted.

His eyes met mine in the mirror. "Why are you always so contrary?" he
asked. "Why can't you play along for once, for the sake of all of us? I'm
trying to get us on the path to a new beginning, and all you can do is
shoot me down. Nothing's changed, has it?"
Plenty had changed. I had the balls to stand up to him for once, though
I didn't dare do it for my daughter's sake. I wasn't sure how unstable he
was, but I was willing to bet he ranged somewhere between "very" and
"extremely."
"I'm sorry," I said, repeating the same lines I'd delivered so many times
before. "It's all my fault. I should have thought before I spoke. I know
you're only doing your best." I felt dead inside saying the things I knew
he wanted to hear. I felt like I was letting him win, giving him what he
wanted. What else could I do, considering the little person in my lap? I
couldn't push him, couldn't make him even more mental. I had to play
the game his way.
"That's right. I'm just doing my best." I'd placated him. That was a
relief, and I breathed deeply to center myself better. I needed to have
command of my faculties. I had to protect my girl.
"What was your favorite part of that whole trip?" Eric asked.
I thought it over. "Feeling like we had our whole lives ahead of us. It
was an adventure," I said. "I thought our whole life together would be
one big adventure. It was like something out of a fairytale for me. I was
pretty young, though, wasn't I?"
"If you wanted a fairytale, you shouldn't have left. Wives don't leave in
fairytales. You've never known what you wanted."
"That's true," I admitted, though he had no idea quite what he was
talking about. I only thought I wanted a husband back then, because it
was the way I thought life was supposed to be. He wasn't wrong when

he accused me of expecting things to be perfect, thanks to the way my
parents had raised me. I did expect that. And when I got married, I did
so because it seemed I needed to in order to have that perfect life. I
didn't know, and nobody told me, that it was possible to have a good
life without a husband. Plenty of the girls I went to school with weren't
married yet. They lived their lives—traveling, enjoying themselves,
working jobs they loved with people they loved. Dating, learning more
about themselves and what the world had to offer. They hadn't given up
after meeting the first man who ever paid attention to them. He was
right. I didn't know what I wanted back then.
So what did I want as an adult? I thought it over, staring out the window
of the car. For starters, I wanted to be away from Eric for good. I
wanted our lives completely separated. I would always have Emma,
and she would always be his biological daughter, but that was as far as
I wanted it to go.
Otherwise, a house. I wanted a home for my child. I wanted her to grow
up happy, well-adjusted. I wanted her to have good friends, good
opportunities. I wanted her to be strong, to know that she didn't have to
get married right out of college. That men who love women don't hit
them or hurt them with words or actions. That there was a difference
between fighting and abuse. I used to think we were just fighting in the
beginning when Eric would accuse me of talking to other men or tell
me I dressed too provocatively and should cover myself. I wanted to
teach my daughter that that kind of behavior from a man was never,
ever acceptable and to have more respect for herself than to let a man
tell her what to do.
I wanted to teach her all that and more.
What about me, though? What did I want for me?
I wanted Dom. Plain and simple.

Funny how emergencies tended to make everything so clear. I was
unsure of him only hours earlier, at the diner. I wasn't sure if I wanted
him, or if he wanted me. I wouldn't let myself care too much for him
unless I knew he was in it for the long haul. Sitting in the back seat of
Eric's Lexus, remembering the way he stood in front of me to protect
me, I knew he was the man for me. Even if he didn't want to be, that
was fine. But I would no longer try to fool myself into believing I didn't
care for him. It wasn't fair to lie to myself like that. I had to admit what
I wanted.
It didn' t matter, though. It seemed like the longer Eric drove, the
further he drove us from any chance of being free. The further away
from Flagstaff, the further from life in general. I had the feeling that as
soon as he grew tired of us, tired of living on the run—because that's
what we would surely do, since the police would eventually come after
us—he would either leave us to die in the desert or kill us outright. I
knew him too well to think it would turn out for the best.
I wanted to weep. Hell, I wanted to do more than that. I wanted to reach
up to the front seat and take control of the wheel. I wanted to cut the
wheel and drive us into a ditch, hopefully killing the two of us. If he
was going to kill me anyway, I would take him out with me.
I wished I could, but wishing meant nothing. I couldn't put Emma in
harm's way. I would have to play nice for her, if not for me.
"Emma? Have you ever seen the desert?"
"You know she hasn't," I murmured when Emma didn't answer.
"She can speak for herself, can't she?"
"She's scared, Eric. You scared her back there."
"That wasn't my fault, pumpkin. That was Mommy's fault."

Emma's arms tightened around my neck. I knew she didn't believe him,
but hated him for trying to play mind games with her. And that was
exactly what life would have been life had I stayed with him, I realized.
He would have played mind games with her, warping her little brain
until she believed what he said. Either that or she would have lived her
life torn between the two of us—pretending to believe and love her
father because she was terrified of him, but going to me for protection
against him. I knew I made the right choice by leaving...even if we
ended up with him in the end.
"Don't worry, baby. Don't worry." I rocked her, whispering softly.
"Stop telling her things about me back there," he snapped.
"I'm not, Eric. I was trying to keep her calm." My voice was much
calmer than I felt inside. I wouldn't escalate things, and I wouldn't add
to Emma' s stress. "I was soothing her, the way parents do for their
children."
"I see, and I wouldn't know anything about that, would I? Because you
took her away from me."
"I' m not trying to have this argument with you right now. If you want
to be her father, and be a good father, you have to learn what should
and shouldn't be said in front of her. She doesn't need to hear it."
He huffed and puffed, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. I
wondered if I had finally pushed him too far, to the point where he
would hurt me. Or Emma. Or both.
Then he breathed deeply, letting out a heavy sigh. "You're right. I
wasn't playing nice. I'm sorry, Em. I'm sorry. Daddy didn't mean to
make you upset."
I looked down at her, and she had a sort of glazed look in her eye. I

wondered if she hadn't gone into a state of shock, something to help
compensate for the fear she felt.
"It's okay," she said. Her voice sounded like that of a robot—flat,
toneless. Had she gone away? I held her as tight as I could, rocking her
again, a single tear dropping from my eyes onto her head.
She looked up at me and winked, the little smarty. I could have laughed
with joy. Instead, I bit my lip and winked back. We were in it together,
she told me. She was the one keeping me together, making me hold on
tight to what little sanity I had left. I should have been doing that for
her, but she did it for me. She reminded me of the good that had come
out of my marriage.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dom
I couldn' t get to her fast enough.
Chase pulled up beside me, motioning for me to slow down a little. I
knew what he meant—we couldn't risk the cops pulling us over. Then it
would have all been for nothing. I would have to say goodbye to her. I
couldn't do that.
I looked down at the speedometer, and my eyes widened in surprise
when I saw the speedometer reading ninety miles per hour. I dialed it
back a little, but it felt like I was crawling. I couldn't crawl. I had to get
to her.
It was the most frustrating feeling I could imagine, riding down a
mostly deserted stretch of road, trying to catch up with the man who
kidnapped my woman. She was my woman, the same as Lauren had
been. She would always be mine. And he took her from me.
It was a struggle not to speed up again. I couldn't help it. I needed to.
We followed the signs to the Petrified Forest National Park. I wondered
if there would be anyone else there. Did he want to be in public with her
so that nobody would dare come after her? Then again, as far as he
knew, I was good as dead. He told his guys to take care of me. Oh, I
couldn't wait to get my hands on them. I would find a way to make him
tell me who they were and where they could be found, and I would take
my guys with me when I went after them. They would find

out that when you fucked with a member of the Blood Bandits, you
didn't leave him as good as dead. You'd better make sure you killed
him.
We got off the main road, turning down a smaller road which led to the
park. There were only around twenty miles between us and it. Had he
gotten them there already? We had been riding for hours, but I was sure
we'd gone faster than he would have dared drive. He was crazy, but he
wasn't stupid. It was just as bad an idea for him to get stopped by the
cops as it was for us, no matter if he thought he was right to take them
or what.
There was nobody anywhere around us, though. Uncertainty wasn't
something I was used to feeling, but I felt a shit ton of it as I rode
further into the desert. The road was flat, even, and as far as the horizon
I couldn't see a single car. Maybe we were wrong, or the neighbor was
wrong. Maybe Eric had changed his mind. Maybe we had wasted a ton
of time for no reason, and Kara was even further away than I thought,
in another direction. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I could have screamed, I
was so confused and frustrated.
Then, just as I was about to give up, a shape shimmered on the horizon.
I looked at Chase, who rode beside me, and pointed. He looked
carefully, then nodded. I wasn't imagining it. There was a car, maybe a
mile or two in front of us.
I put on the speed, not caring about getting caught. Let the cops follow
me to the car, I didn't care. All I knew was I had to catch them. The
closer I got, the clearer it was that it was Eric's car. I wanted to scream,
celebrate. But it wasn't time for that yet. I had to make sure Kara and
Emma were safe first.
How would I do that? As I closed the gap between us, I realized I didn'
t have much of a plan. It was one thing to go off half-cocked and chase
them, but there was nothing in my head when it came to how to stop
him. He had them, he had a car, he might still have a gun. I didn't

see why he wouldn't. I had a gun, but I didn't want to hurt either of the
girls. What could I do? Whatever it was, I had to decide fast.
I was within a few hundred feet of the car by the time Eric noticed me.
I could tell he did because he sped up, kicking up a cloud of dust on the
otherwise empty road. I didn't know how far behind me the other guys
were, but I couldn't afford to wonder. I had to catch him, and I would do
it alone if I needed to.
I saw the back of Kara's head. She sat in the back, probably with the
kid, on the passenger side. I couldn't fire right into the car without
taking the chance of hitting her, and even if I didn't hit her, Eric would
crash the car. I looked down at my odometer. We were going around
seventy miles an hour. No way I could risk that, even if they were
buckled in.
Kara looked back, and her eyes went wide when she saw me. I waved
my hand at her, then moved it down. Get down, I thought. Get down.
She got my message, ducking behind the seat.
I sped up, pulling around to the passenger side of the car. I bashed in
the front window.
"What the fuck?" Eric screamed, the car swerving back and forth. I
wove to dodge him, making sure he didn't take me out when he fought
to get control of the car. He sped up, leaving me in the dust. Great. It
was bad enough when we were doing seventy. I sped up, too, catching
up easily. He couldn't beat me, though he could try.
"Stay away!" I saw a flash of metal and knew he still had a gun. He
pointed it at me. I veered, trying to get out of his line of sight. We went
back and forth like that for a while, with Eric splitting his attention
between me and the road. My heart was in my throat, afraid he was
going to hit me, afraid he would crash. I only hoped Kara and Emma
were strapped in.

"Get down! " I screamed when it looked like Kara was about to get up.
I couldn't let her in the line of fire. She didn't listen—instead, she
reached over the seat to take the gun from Eric. They struggled, the
muzzle of the gun waving back and forth. I ducked, dodged, afraid he'd
end up shooting me. The car wove back and forth, kicking up dust and
sand every time it hit the side of the road. I heard screaming coming
from inside. A little girl. No kid should have to see something like that.
It made me hate him more than ever.
Finally, Kara got a hold of the gun. Eric straightened the car out. I
followed, catching up again. There was only one thing I could do, and I
held my breath and prayed for the first time in my whole life that I
would make it.
"Stay down! " I glanced in the back seat, where Kara covered Emma
with her body. Eric looked at me, a snarl on his face. I had to do it. I
couldn't let him drive off with them.
I got as close to the car as I could. then I let go of my handlebars and
gripped the window frame, holding onto Eric's car. He tried to weave,
tried to cut the wheel so I'd have to let go. I didn't. I let go of my bike
instead, throwing myself into the car. My lower legs hung out, but most
of me was inside. The pain in my ribs was intense, but I couldn't think
about it.
"Stop the car! " I screamed. I worked my way in, my left arm around
the back of the passenger seat, and reached into my pocket for the gun
with my right. "Now! Pull over! "
"No way! You're crazy!" Eric looked terrified for the first time, really
terrified.
I put the gun to his head. "How do you like it, fucker? Huh? How's it
feel?" I could have killed him right there and not thought twice about

it. I didn't care what happened to me, if he crashed the car and I went
through the windshield. I didn't care, because it would mean killing him
after what he did to me. Or what he had his friends do. People like him
didn' t deserve to live. My finger tightened on the trigger.
"Please, Dom, don't."
It wasn't just me anymore. I looked back at Kara, who hovered over
Emma. They were both buckled in at least. I nodded at her. I couldn't
do it with them in the car. Especially not the kid.
"I' m gonna give you one more chance, Eric. Pull over and stop the car,
now."
"You can't make me! She has you so pussy-whipped, it's pathetic.
You'll do anything she wants."
That was it. I aimed the gun, looked at Kara, and shot Eric through the
left leg.
"Oh fuck! " He shrieked, and drove off the road. I held onto the back of
my seat and tried like hell to keep myself from flying out the
windshield. After what felt like forever, he stopped.
"You shot me! " he screamed over and over. "You shot me! " His leg
was bleeding, but it wasn't like I had never seen anything that bad
before.
"Are you okay?" I looked at Kara and Emma. They nodded. "Get the
hell outta here. Run." I didn't have to tell Kara again. She unbuckled
Emma and herself, then grabbed the kid and ran.
"It's just you and me, now," I said. Eric whimpered. I unbuckled him
and got out, walking around the car with the gun trained on him. I
opened the driver's side door, and he grabbed hold of the steering wheel

to keep me from pulling him out of the car. I pulled, but he was a strong
son of a bitch. At first, it was funny, listening to him whine and scream.
I got tired of it, though, and drove the muzzle of the gun into his leg
wound.
"Ow! " he screeched, but it got him to let go of the wheel. I pulled him
the rest of the way out and flung him to the ground. He tried to crawl
away, the coward.
"Get back here," I said, shooting the ground just to his left. He flinched,
but stopped. I walked to him, pulling him up by the shoulder until he
was on his knees.
"So. How's it feel?" I put the gun to his temple, the way he did to me.
"How does it feel, knowing I could pull this trigger and any second?
How do you feel about that? This is what you did to me, isn't it?"
"Y-yes! I'm sorry!" He wept like a woman. I knew I shouldn't, but I
loved having fun with him.
"Tell me again," I said, pressing harder.
"Wh-what? Tell you what?"
"How sorry you are. Isn't that what you used to make Kara say
whenever she did something you didn't like? That she was sorry for it?
Huh?"
"Y-yes, I d-did. I'm sorry about that, too. I'm sorry for everything!
Please let me go."
"You threatened to kill your own kid," I snarled. I pulled his head back
by his hair, until he looked up at me. "You threatened to kill your kid in
front of her. What the fuck is wrong with you? How sick to you have to
be?" I put the gun against his throat, under his chin. He gulped,

shaking. I thought he might have pissed his pants.
"I didn't mean it! She knew I didn't mean it!"
"She didn't know that." I clenched my jaw, wanting to blow his brains
out. Wanting that satisfaction. But I couldn't bring myself to do it, as
much as I wanted to. God, did I want to.
But Kara was there. Somewhere. She would always know what I did.
So would Emma. I couldn't look the kid in the eye again if she knew I
killed her father.
"Fuck! " I screamed with rage, then held him still as I pistol whipped
him. Then I punched him, hard, probably fucking up the way the doctor
set his nose. I didn't care. I wished I could do more, but I didn' t dare do
it. Not if I wanted to be with Kara.
"I swear to God, I will fucking kill you if you ever come near them
again. Either of them. Don't ever touch them. Don't let either of them
see you or hear your voice. I swear I'll do it next time. Nobody gets a
second warning from me. You hear what I'm saying?"
"Yes. Yes, I do." He wept, his one eye already swelling shut where I' d
punched it.
"The only reason I'm letting you live right now is because so many
people already know I went after you." I bent low, whispering in his ear
as my backup finally caught up with us, along with Kara and Emma.
"Next time, nobody will know. It'll be just between us. And I'll leave
you somewhere they'll never, ever find you."
"I understand, I swear," he blubbered. "I'll leave the country. They'll
never see or hear from me again. I'll never go near either of them."

"I won't forget about you," I whispered, then shoved him to the sand.
He wept, curled up in a ball. I left him for my guys to take care of. I
didn't want to see him again.
"Oh my God! " Kara threw herself into my arms, but only for a second.
She was too busy hitting me on the chest with her balled up fists to let
me hold her.
"Hey! What's this?" I asked, trying to cover up.
"That's for scaring the hell out of me!" She hit me again. "That's for
putting yourself in danger!"
"Hang on," I said, grabbing her wrists. "Do you remember who I
did it for?"
She wouldn't listen, cursing me out for being so crazy. Emma tugged at
her waitress uniform.
"Mama, don't be mad at Dom," she said. "Dom saved us."
"Yeah! Listen to her," I said. "I saved you. I would do it again."
All the fight went out of Kara then. "I know you would," she
whispered.

Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kara
Emma wouldn't let me go. I didn't mind. I didn't want her to.
We sat at Mom's bedside, her hand in mine. "I don't see why they want
to keep me here," she protested grumpily. "I feel fine."
"You have a concussion, Mom. That's kind of a big deal. They just
want to keep an eye on you overnight to make sure you're okay. Hey,
it's either them or me. I would keep you up all night long, and you
would get sick of me."
She smiled, reaching out to touch my face. "I wouldn't get sick of
you."
"You're sure about that? I don't know. I can be pretty annoying." I
smiled, so full of gratitude I didn't know what else to say. She was safe,
and so was my daughter. So was I, for that matter.
"How is he?" she asked, and I knew who she meant.
"He's all right. The last I checked, they were taking him in for x-rays. I
think he has a few broken ribs, but that's the worst of it. Though who
knows—he might have a concussion, too, after the way they hit him."
"Dom was a superhero," Emma whispered.

"He was a superhero. He saved us because he cares so much about us
and wants us to be okay. " I stroked her hair, sure I would never be able
to let her go after what happened that day. She would have to take me
along with her to college. That was just the way it would have to be.
"What about Eric?" Mom asked, her voice very quiet.
I wasn't so sure what to say about him, not in Emma's presence. I chose
my words carefully. "He and Dom talked it out."
"Oh, did they? And he's still alive?"
I let out a short laugh, then looked down at Emma. "I don't think that
was the way Dom wanted it for a while, but yes. He's still with us,
somewhere."
"I didn't see him on the way home, Mama. Where did he go?"
"Oh, I don't know, baby. I think he rode with one of Dom's friends.
Remember, we met them after Dom saved us."
"Right. That one man was scary. The one who wore the glasses." I was
surprised, since Spike would have been the one who scared me.
"That one boy, the blond one, he's gorgeous," Mom said, smiling
dreamily.
"Which one? Jax?"
"Mm-hmm."
I grinned. "Yeah, he's the pretty boy of the bunch." I was glad Emma
helped change the subject, since I didn't want to have to tell her that her
father had ridden home in the trunk of his car. Nobody trusted

him to ride inside the car like a normal person, and they didn't trust him
on their bikes either. So we had to improvise. Dom, meanwhile, was
like a man missing a limb after we left his bike on the side of the road,
waiting for a tow. He gave his guys the coordinates according to his
phone's GPS, and they were probably on their way back with it by the
time I sat with my mom. We'd driven home together, with Dom in the
driver's seat. I thought that was just another little dig at Eric, another
man driving his precious car.
"Did he go to the hospital?" Mom asked, referring to Eric.
"I guess he had to. I don't know. I know he wouldn't have stepped foot
in this one. I think Dom made it clear he's not to bother us ever again."
I widened my eyes, speaking slowly to convey my point without
spelling it out. Eric had been told in no uncertain terms never to come
near any of us again.
"Do you think he'll keep his promise?" Mom asked.
I shrugged. "All I can do is hope. I can't live the rest of my life in fear of
him."
"Nor should you. I think it will all work out."
"You seem very positive, given all that's happened." I eyed her
cautiously. "Are you sure you don't have more than a concussion? I'm
not sure I trust anything you say."
Mom chuckled. "I know what I' m saying, and I mean it. I trust
Dom."
"Well, alert the press." I laughed, clapping my hands. Emma laughed
with me, though she had no idea what I laughed at. "What brought this
change of heart?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the way he looked when he knew you were
gone. How determined he was to get you back, even though he was in
terrible shape himself. Oh, Kara, I'm so glad you didn't have to see him
like that. It nearly made me sick to my stomach."
"Oh, poor Dom." I hated even thinking about it.
"No matter what, he was determined to get to you and Emma. I knew
then that he was the real deal. He was willing to go above and beyond
for you—and from what you tell me, he certainly did. Climbing
through the window like that, is he insane?"
"I asked him the same thing."
"Mama hit him," Emma informed my mother. I shushed her, turning
red.
"I did, though I know I didn't hurt him. He wouldn't feel a thing after
what he went through. But yes, I did, because I was furious. He might
have gotten himself killed, and then where would I be?"
"Yes. Where would you be?" Mom smiled drowsily. "I'm awfully tired
all of a sudden."
"We have to keep you up for a little while longer," I said. "I promised
the nurse I would. They're waiting for another round of tests to come
back before they'll let you go to sleep. Just to be on the safe side."
"Oh, those sadists. I could kill every one of them." Mom folded her
arms, huffing.
"Hey. Let's not throw words like that around anymore, okay?" I held
Emma a little tighter. A lot of things would be different in my life,
thanks to what Eric had put us all through. Like I would never take
anything for granted ever again. I was sure of that.

"Can I come in?" Dom, standing by the door. My heart skipped a beat
when I saw him. My superhero.
"Dom! " He was the only person Emma would leave my lap for. She
went to him, holding her arms up for him to carry her. He looked like
he wanted to, but frowned.
"Sorry, kid." He got down on one knee. "I have a bunch of broken ribs,
and I've gotta be careful picking things up. But I'll give you a hug down
here. Is that okay?"
"Okay." Emma put her arms around his neck, and he hugged her
fiercely. My heart just about burst with love for the two of them. I didn't
know what I would do if I had lost either of them. I might not have been
able to handle it.
I looked over at Mom, and her eyes were filled with tears, too. "You
make a nice pair," she said, referring to Dom and Emma. I had a feeling
she wasn't only talking about them, however.
"How are you feeling?" Dom stood, going to her bedside.
"Just a concussion. No big deal. You?"
"Besides the ribs, not much. This cut, but you did a good job cleaning
that up." He took her hand, and they exchanged some wordless thing I
couldn't make heads or tails of. Exactly how close had the two of them
gotten?
Dom turned to me, grinning. "You won't have to worry about him
anymore."
I knew who he meant, naturally. "I should hope not," I said.

"No, I know not." He smiled at Mom and me, looking like he was ready
to burst. "All right, I was gonna save it as a surprise, but I think you
could both use the happy news."
"I' m already pretty happy, but lay it on me," Mom said.
Dom sat on the opposite side of the bed from where I sat. Emma
climbed into his lap—she would never let him go after he saved her, I
thought. Any man who entered her life from that day on would have
impossibly big shoes to fill.
"When he went to the hospital, some friends of his met him there. Well,
he might not think they're friends, but they were very excited to see
him."
"Who were they?" I asked.
"The cops," he mouthed.
Mom and I gasped. Emma was oblivious.
"You called them?" I whispered. There I was, thinking he didn't want
the police involved.
"Oh, I didn't have anything to do with it," he said. "That's the best part.
See, he's been a bad boy. Not just today. For a long time."
"What are you talking about? You'd better tell me right away, or I
might lose my mind," Mom said.
"Embezzlement," Dom announced. "And fraud. Lots of it."
I sat back in the chair, dazed. "I don't believe it. I mean, I sorta believe
it. He's no saint."

Mom snorted. "That's putting it mildly."
"But," I continued, "I didn't think he was a thief."
"Well, believe it. Once we tipped his partners off to what he was doing,
they decided to look a little deeper. This was going on for years. They
turned him right over. They wanna work with the SEC and the clients
to make things right, and that meant sending him up the river. We
might have tipped off the cops that we dropped him off at the hospital,
too."
Dom looked at me. "That's why he was desperate today. It wasn't just
the restraining order. He knew they were on to him, that he would lose
everything. So he figured, why not run away with you?"
"Yes, but what would have happened if you hadn't shown up?" My
imagination spiraled out of control. I could just picture him being
desperate enough to kill Emma and me when the authorities closed in
on him. It made me shiver.
"It doesn't matter, because that's not even an issue. You're both safe,
right? And you don't ever have to worry about him again. Ever." Dom
smiled at Emma, who beamed back at him.
I didn' t know what to think, how to feel. Finally, I would be free of
him. Finally. No more worrying about when he would show up, what
he would try to do. Even though Dom had told me he'd promised to stay
away forever, I didn't believe it. I thought he'd likely get bored with his
life outside the country and decided to take a chance, look me up,
terrorize me a little. Knowing that it was all over, I wasn't sure who I
was anymore. I was no longer the woman on the run from her
ex-husband. I was me. Just me. It felt a little too good to be true.
It wasn't. It was very real. I saw it in Dom's eyes, the relief there. He
was deeply relieved that we'd all be safe together. I could only hope

he really wanted us to be together. That was a topic for another time.
"Mrs. Vance?" A nurse entered the room. "We checked out your last
scan, and everything seems to be fine. We'll still keep you overnight to
monitor you, but you should be able to go home first thing tomorrow if
all goes well overnight."
"Great," Mom breathed. "I already can't wait to get back there."
Dom didn't look so thrilled. I knew what he was thinking—I hated to
think of Mom going back to that house, where so many bad things had
happened. I couldn't imagine how much blood needed to be cleaned
from the carpets. Mom didn't seem to mind. If I'd learned anything
about her through the experience we' d shared, it was how much
tougher she was than I'd ever given her credit for.
***
"Will you sleep with me in bed, Mama? Can I sleep with you?"
I glanced at Dom. I needed him more than anything, but my baby
needed me. "Okay, honey. I'll stay with you tonight. You can share my
bed."
"Good." The relief on her face told me I made the right decision, even if
my body cried out for Dom. "Listen, I'll tuck you in, and come out here
to say goodnight to Dom. Then I'll come to bed. Okay?"
"Okay. Goodnight, Dom." She gave him another hug, and even tiptoed
to kiss his cheek. I nearly melted into a pile of goo at the sweetness of
it. From the look on Dom's face, I had the feeling he felt the same way.
I led her to the bed and tucked her in, promising to be back in a few
minutes. I knew she would fall asleep almost instantly,

though. She was already yawning with her eyes half closed when I
tucked her in. I left the door open just a crack so she could see the light
coming from the hall, then went back to the living room.
Dom waited there for me, smiling. "Well. Talk about a cock block," he
said.
I chuckled. "You're in no shape anyway, mister. Not with those broken
ribs."
"I think I could've managed." The naked need in his eyes was enough to
curl my toes. I felt a little breathless just looking at him.
"I don't think so." I sat next to him, finally able to be alone and having
no idea what to say. I rested my head on his shoulder closed my eyes.
"Are you okay? I mean, really okay?"
I shrugged. "I think so? I don't know yet. I will be. It might take a little
time is all. I have to be okay for her, don't I?"
"You don't have to be strong with me," he said. "If there's one person
you can be exactly who you are in front of, it's me. It's all right. I wanna
be that for you."
I lifted my head, looking him in the eye. "You do?"
"Of course. And if you ever do anything crazy like fighting another
person for a gun again, it'll kill me. Please don't ever do that again. I
love you."
My heart nearly burst wide open, flooding my body with indescribable
love. "I love you, too," I whispered, feeling overwhelmed, overjoyed.

He kissed me, taking my face in his hands, as tears streamed down my
cheeks. His face was wet with them by the time we parted. I looked into
his eyes and knew he was all I would ever want or need.

Chapter Thirty
Kara
"Mom! I can't find my shoes!"
I rolled my eyes. "Emma Fiarelli, how many times do I have to tell you
to put them away when you take them off?" I was tired of yelling at her
about it, but no matter what I said, she always managed to lose them.
And she always managed to make me late for things.
We couldn't be late for this. Dom would forgive me, but I wouldn't be
able to forgive myself.
"Okay, okay, I found them." I couldn't believe how old Emma looked,
and she was only eight. A beautiful girl, I thought with her curly dark
hair and eyes just like mine. She would grow up to be a stunning
woman, too. If she lived long enough—sometimes her attitude made
me want to strangle her.
"You look great," I said, kissing the top of her head.
"Oh, Mom. Gross." She smoothed her hair down. Already I was gross,
and she was only eight. I couldn't wait to see what the tween years
would bring. I grimaced at the thought, shooing her out the door and
locking it behind us.
"Is Daddy gonna be at this thing tonight?" Emma asked, climbing into
the passenger seat of my BMW. I waited for her to buckle her

seatbelt before I pulled out of the driveway.
"Of course he will. This is Uncle Chase's retirement party."
Emma wrinkled her nose. "Retirement party. This is just the nice party,
right? For the families. And when we're gone..."
"Hush, young lady." She giggled in spite of me, and I bit my tongue to
hold back a giggle of my own. She was way too smart for a kid her age.
Then again, she always had been. She kept me on my toes with the
questions she asked, for sure.
She was right, too. The club would have its nice, PG-rated "family"
party for Chase, where all the kids and wives would show up and give
him hugs and toast to him. Then the kids would leave—and most of the
wives—and the party would really start. According to my husband, the
only thing that topped a retirement party was a new patch party. I had
already seen the results of three of those over the years, and wasn't sure
I wanted to know what a retirement party would end up being.
"So this means Daddy is the real president. Like, Uncle Chase is out for
good."
"I guess so, sweetie." Chase hadn't run things for a long time, but he
stayed around to counsel Dom over the years. Dom had wrestled with
his conscience, wanting to be a strong president and a wise one at the
same time.
I could still remember the conversation we had when Chase first
approached him with the idea of retiring full-stop. We had only been
married for around six months at that time, and I had just started my
grad school program. He wasn't sure he was ready to take full
responsibility for the club, and I told him I understood that—after all,
he was young, and the Blood Bandits had known only one president for
over twenty years. Besides, he'd had a new family to adjust to.

Chase didn't want to leave, of course—it was Trisha who had been on
his case about it. They arrived at a compromise after Chase spent more
than a few nights sleeping at the clubhouse when Trisha refused to so
much as speak to him, let alone share a bed with him. When she calmed
down, everyone decided it would be for the best that Chase stay around
to advise and keep his hand in the game. I felt more secure that way,
too, knowing that my husband wasn't walking into something he felt
unprepared for.
It was time for him to fully step up, though, without his training wheels.
I knew he was ready. He'd managed to step up and be the family man I
needed him to be. If he could manage that, there was nothing he
couldn't do.
Emma tried to hide her excitement, but she couldn't fool me. She had a
crush on Jax's stepson, who had first come into the club along with his
mother around the same time Dom and I got married. Emma had just
recently started taking an interest in boys, growing up too fast as
always, and even though she and Grant were practically brother and
sister, those things tended to change as kids got older.
When we got to the hall where the family party was scheduled, there
were already dozens of bikes in the parking lot, along with a lot of cars
that looked like mine. The club had experienced record profits after
Dom stepped up, and the amount of money in the parking lot alone
attested to that.
Stepping out of the car and walking toward the front door, I had the
strangest feeling of being the queen of the party. Even though it was
Chase's night, I was the one at the head of the club—next to my
husband, of course. I was the incoming queen, the first lady, the boss.
The amount of deference the club members already showed toward
Emma and me seemed to double.

"Are you still smoking?" I asked Rat, shaking my head. Emma went
inside—looking for Grant, I guessed—but I stuck around to give Rat
some hell.
"I tried that vaping thing you set me up with, but I don't know. It's not
the same."
"Listen, it's for the best. You want to be around for that new baby, don't
you?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I smirked, then stepped inside. I felt that way toward all the guys,
especially the single ones. I didn't know that Rat would ever get
married, even if one of his usual hookups had ended up pregnant. I felt
as though I had to take care of him, the way I took care of all the other
misguided, lost souls who banded together in the MC.
I spotted Theresa, Jax's wife, by the buffet and went over to help her.
She looked relieved to find me there. "Oh, thank God. These guys
won't shut up about being hungry, but they won't do a damn thing to
help me." Her perfectly curled blonde hair looked about ready to drop
thanks to the steam coming from the chafing dishes. I put on an apron,
thinking back to my days as a waitress, and jumped in to help.
"Come on. When's the food gonna be ready?" Spike hovered near the
table, a plate already in hand.
"I swear to you, Spike, I'm gonna get you with these." I held up a pair of
tongs. "And you're not gonna like what I do with them."
"How do you know?" he asked, winking. I rolled my eyes.
"We're almost finished here. Hold your horses." I turned to Terri.
"Sorry it took me so long to get over. I had a few last-minute things to
do

before I shut down the office for the day, and, of course, my daughter
had to look just perfect for a certain someone."
Terri laughed. "I swear, the two of them will end up married. Mark my
words." She nodded across the room, to where my daughter and her son
stood talking. She tried so hard to be cool, I noticed, standing against
the wall with her arms folded. Grant was ten, so his much older and
more sophisticated ways left Emma star struck. She couldn't let him see
that, though.
"Have you seen my husband around here?" I looked over the heads of
the members and their old ladies, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dom's
dark hair and tanned skin. I could always find him in a crowd, like he
was a beacon drawing me to him. There he was, standing there in a
corner, talking with Jax and Chase.
"Oh, he's with your husband," I said, pointing.
"Of course," Terri said, rolling her eyes. "I told him I needed help,
too."
"So he's as far away as possible. Yeah, that's sounds about right." We
laughed together, shaking our heads at the impossible nature of men.
The food was all set up, so Terri whistled through her fingers to alert
the rest of the gang. After that, it was every man and woman for
themselves.
I stayed behind the table, making sure everything was fully stocked. It
felt right for me to be there, to show everyone that I didn't think I was
anybody special just because my husband was about to take full control
of the club. I got nothing but smiles and nods from everyone, and air
kisses from the women. They were all a good bunch. It had taken me a
little time to get used to some of them—I would never have threatened
to grip Spike's balls with a pair of tongs when we first met—but after
almost five years of knowing them, they were like family.

Then came my actual family. My daughter, with her father's hands on
her shoulders. She told him a story about something that had happened
at school that day, but I had the feeling it was more for Grant's benefit.
He stood in front of her, perfecting the aloof, distant attitude that
usually drove girls crazy. I could tell it had that effect on Emma.
"Hey, missy. Why don't you take a plate and fill it with some
vegetables and protein?" She looked mortified that I would suggest she
eat—healthy food, at that—in front of a boy. Dom smirked, looking
down at the little girl he had adopted years earlier.
"Yeah, unless you're afraid the broccoli will give you gas." I thought
the poor kid would die, and I smacked Dom's arm when she wasn't
looking.
"Oh, come on. I'm just playing. That's my job, right? To embarrass the
hell out of her?"
"Yeah, well, you know how sensitive she is. It's only going to get
worse, too, the older she gets."
"Don't remind me," he said, looking grim. Then he smiled. "Hey,
you."
"Hey, you," I mouthed. I hadn't seen him all day, and he looked good
enough to eat. Better than any food in front of me. He was also last in
line, so I fixed a plate and joined him and Jax 's family at a table down
in the front of the room.
The night was a good one, with lots of toasting and language children
shouldn't hear—that became a bigger problem the more the men had to
drink. The first half of the party was supposed to be dry, but I saw more
than a few flasks throughout the night. I tried to contain my worry that
a bunch of drunkards would be on the road on their bikes.

Dom saw the worry on my face. "Don't sweat it. They've all got a high
tolerance. You know that."
"Yes, I know. It doesn't mean I don't worry about them and the other
people on the road, though."
"Because you're a good first lady."
I grinned, pushing him away in a playful manner.
"So I guess you'll be at the second party, at the clubhouse," I said.
"I never said I would be," he replied.
"Oh? You've decided to grace me with your presence tonight?" "If
you're a good girl, maybe."
I frowned. "They won't want you there? The rest of the club?"
"I don't think it has anything to do with them. Not their decision. I'm
president, babe." He winked jokingly.
"You know they're going to give you a lot of crap about being there," I
said.
"So what? I stopped caring about peer pressure a long time ago."
"I'll make it worth your while." I winked, then got up to get Emma. She
didn't want to leave, but I told her she had to or I would make Spike
drive her home on his bike. She followed me pretty quickly after that. I
noticed the way Grant's eyes followed us as we left. Oh, help me, I
thought.

I heard the front door open and close, and my heart was glad. I wouldn't
have told him to come home—that was up to him—but the fact that he
had made me very happy. Our big, rambling house didn't seem like a
home without him.
Minutes later, he was in the room and in my arms. He lowered me to
the bed, his hands and mouth all over me. It was like he needed to assert
his power over me, the way he had just officially asserted it over the
club. I didn't think the club would ever like it as much as I did.
I was ready for him, wearing his favorite satin nightgown with no
panties. He looked relieved—less work to do, less time before he was
inside me. When he pushed forward, I reflected on the way it always
felt good. It never got old, even after five years of being together.
Taking care of Emma when she was sick, then taking care of each other
when we inevitably got sick from her. Fights. Moving into the house,
doing repairs. We still had each other, and the heat between us.
I closed my eyes, arching my back as I accepted his first thrust. I
wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer for a kiss. He
made love to me, holding me, rocking slowly. I pulled the t-shirt over
his head, marveling in his beautiful body even though I'd touched it so
many times. The muscular back, moving under my hands as he drove
himself into me again and again. The strong, wide shoulders and thick
arms. His butt, flexing. I wrapped my legs around it, pulling him into
me, jerking my hips up as I did.
"Oh, you want it like that, huh?" He picked up his pace, both of us
grunting the faster he went. Our bodies crashed together, and he pushed
me higher and higher into the stratosphere with every thrust. I loved it,
reveled in it, the way I could lose myself in him. I trusted him with
every bit of me. I knew I wouldn't regret it, and I never had.

"Yes...yes...Dom, give it to me..." I rolled my head from side to side,
lost in sensation, the urge to come overriding my thoughts. I begged,
pleaded, my body desperate for satisfaction. When it came, I gripped
him hard with my arms and legs, digging my nails into his back,
clenching around him as my muscles clenched around his length. He
groaned, coming along with me. The both of us were left panting,
gasping, wrapped up in each other. No, it never got old.
I watched him as he rolled off me, smiling. "Hi," he said.
I giggled. "Hi, yourself. You're in a good mood." I rolled onto my side,
waiting for him to join me. He finished undressing, his jeans had been
puddled around his ankles, then crawled into our king-size bed.
"It was a good night," Dom said, settling back against the pillows with
a contented sigh.
I murmured my agreement. It was good. I was always happy to see
everyone in a great mood, getting along. "Chase looked good.
Positive."
Dom nodded, running his hands through his hair to contain the mess I'd
made of it just minutes earlier. "Now Trisha will stop giving him shit
about being around the club. He deserves to retire, travel. Trisha wants
to go to Europe. Can you imagine him in Europe?"
I laughed softly. "No. And now I wish we could go with them, to watch
this train wreck in person." I leaned against Dom's chest, hearing the
deep rumble of laughter there. It was a good sound. It made me happy
to hear it.
"I have something to tell you. Something interesting happened today," I
said.
"Oh?" He sounded half asleep. I decided to wake him up. I looked

at him, wanting to catch his reaction in the dim light. "I'm pregnant."
Dom's eyes widened, his mouth fell open. "You are?"
"Mm-hmm. I went to the doctor today, and he confirmed. I'm ten
weeks."
"Oh my God." He pulled me closer, holding me like he'd never let me
go. "A baby. Oh God, we have to get ready." He was so excited, I
thought he might jump out of bed and start getting things together then
and there.
I chuckled, pulling his arm to keep him from leaving me there. "Relax,
Dad. There are thirty weeks to go. We have lots of time to get a room
ready and such."
"Oh God. A baby. I can't get my head around it."
I grinned. "Well, you have plenty of time for that, too." I kissed him,
my heart just about bursting with love. I couldn't wait to tell Emma the
next day, and Terri, and Darlene. And my mom. But just for that one
night, the baby was just our secret, something that belonged just to the
two of us.
THE END

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