Carol Lynne Solo (Grave Diggers MC 1)

Grave Diggers MC

SOLO

By Carol Lynne

Stiff Rain Press

http://www.StiffRainPress.com

Grave Diggers MC: Solo

Edited by Christine Allen-Riley and Jessica Berry Cover Art by Reese Dante, www.reesedante.com

Published by Stiff Rain Press 1093 A1A Beach Blvd, #146 St. Augustine, FL 32080

Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-62344-023-7

is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is

investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Electronic Release: February 2014

printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author, Carol

Lynne.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Carol Lynne. Unauthorized or

restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal

prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and

Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the

artwork.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers.

Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the

licensed material is a model.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks

mentioned in this work of fiction:

Nova: General Motors LLC

Harley:H-D LLC

Honda Accord: Honda Motor Co., Ltd

Starbucks:

Toyota:

Walmart:

Spiderman:

Jack Daniels:

Starbucks Corporation

Toyota Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha TA Toyota Motor Corporation Wal-mart Stores, Inc.

Jack Daniel's Properties, Inc. Glock: Glock, Inc.

Smith & Wesson: Smith & Wesson Corp Led Zeppelin:

BROUGHT BY Kiti FOR SUPERIORZ.ORG

*****

Sam “Solo” Braun lives by one truth, the Grave Diggers Motorcycle Club above all. The creed has
served him well, giving him the only real family he’s ever known. He would die for his brothers and
them for him, but they don’t know he prefers men over women. Coming out to a group of men who
fear no one isn’t high on Solo’s priority list, especially because he’s never indulged in more than one
night stands.

Everything changes after one night with Eric James. For the first time, Solo can’t stop thinking about
a single night he’d spent with a man. When fate intervenes, Solo comes face to face with his blue-eyed
obsession only to find out Eric is a cop. Solo hates cops, and so do his brothers in the club. However,
Solo decides to gamble everything and spend more time with Eric under the guise of getting
information.

Falling in love with a cop is a very dangerous proposition for a man in Solo’s position, so why can’t
he walk away?

Dedication

To my dear friend, Kristina. Thank you for your continued advice and support.

Chapter One

Sam “Solo” Braun leaned against the bar at Lucky’s and stared at the candy store laid out in front of
him. He didn’t fit in with the rest of the patrons, which made him stick out in a good way. Men who
were interested in sweet words, long walks or cuddling didn’t give men like him the time of day.
Nope, those sweater-wearing assholes looked at a man like him for just one reason, they wanted to be
fucked and fucked hard. Letting some corporate do-gooder ride his pole for an hour or so was all he
was after, and he rarely had to wait long before the one he chose approached him.

Case in point: Solo had spotted the black-haired, light blueeyed piece of ass the moment he’d walked
in. Whoever the hell he was, Solo had never seen him in Lucky’s before. He would have remembered.
Shit, the bastard making his cock hard was a snack wrapped in a package of snug blue jeans and a
black T-shirt.

Those fucking eyes. He shook his head. He’d never seen anything like them. Light blue wasn’t quite
the right word to describe them; they were the color of soft faded denim. Yeah, that’s exactly what
color they were.

Solo lifted his beer to his lips, but kept his gaze on the prize. He didn’t approach guys, ever. All he had
to do was watch them until they eventually realized they had eyes on them and turned to find out who
was staring.

Blue Eyes threw his head back and laughed at something his friend said, flashing a twin set of fuck-me
dimples.
For a brief moment, Solo considered fucking the guy more than once just to see those fucking dimples
again. “Christ,” he groaned.
Before he could get too far into thinking once might not be enough, Blue Eyes pushed back his chair
and stood. He grabbed the empty pitcher on the table and turned toward the bar.
Solo knew the moment Blue Eyes spotted him. One minute he had a grin on his face, and the next he’d
stopped dead and met Solo’s gaze, his smile falling away in an instant. Solo continued to wait.
Blue Eyes set the empty pitcher on the bar. “Another one, please,” he told the bartender as he dug out
his wallet. He glanced at Solo three times before eventually speaking. “Hey.” Solo dipped his chin in
reply.
“It’s really crowded in here,” Blue said.
Solo shrugged and finally gave in to his needs. “There could be a thousand men in here, and I’d still
have seen you.”
Blue’s cheeks flushed as he handed the bartender a twenty. “You wanna dance?”
Solo shook his head. Instead, he pushed out the stool beside him with his booted foot. “I don’t dance.”
Blue bit his bottom lip and glanced over his shoulder at his friends. “Would you wait for me to take
this to the table and hit the restroom first?”
“Fair enough.” Solo watched Blue go. He could always follow him and take care of business in there,
but he wanted a closer look at those damn eyes, and the lighting above the urinals was all kinds of
bullshit. No, he’d wait until he gotten his fill of Blue’s eyes before fucking him.
* * * *
Eric James stared at his reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands. “What the hell are you
thinking, James?” he asked himself. A man like that is trouble and you know it, he continued silently.
“Fuck!” he spat, knowing he was going back to the bar regardless of how long he tried to talk himself

out of it. Despite his misgivings, the man was too hot, too dangerous, too tattooed not to explore for a
few hours. That Goddamn shoulder-length dark brown hair and those wicked brown eyes had attracted
him, but that fucking black widow spider tattoo on the side of the guy’s neck had made him hard the
moment he’d spotted it.
The door opened, and the biker walked in. “Thought maybe you’d changed your mind,” he grumbled,
his voice so low it made Eric’s balls vibrate.
“There was a line,” Eric lied. He turned to face the biker. “I’m Eric, by the way.”
“Solo.”
Eric knew most bikers had street names, but Solo seemed odd for the tough sonofabitch backing him
against the wall. “Like the cup?”
Solo stared down at Eric as ifEric had lost his damn mind. “Why the fuck would I let people nickname
me after a fucking red cup? Solo because I prefer to be alone.” He pressed his much bigger body
against Eric. “Most of the time.”
Eric felt a moment of panic but quickly pushed it back. Christ, he hadn’t realized how big Solo was.
At five eleven, he knew he wasn’t qualified to play professional basketball, but he’d never before felt
so damn small. There had to be at least a six inch height difference between them, and he had no clue
how many pounds Solo had on him. Not fat by any means. From what Eric could tell, Solo’s body was
rockhard perfection. He rested his hands on Solo’s chest. Oh, hell, yeah, there was hard muscle under
his palms. Fuck.
“You wanna get outta here, Blue?” Solo cupped Eric’s ass. “We can go back to your place or grab a
hotel room down the street.”
Eric wasn’t sure he cared for either option. He didn’t know Solo enough to take him home, but a hotel
seemed so…seedy, but, damn, he liked the nickname Solo had already given him. “What about your
house?”
Slowly, Solo shook his head from side to side. “My place’s off limits.”
Eric’s entire body went rigid. Fuck.He’d known it was too good to be true. He’d been in this situation
before. “You married?”
Solo grinned. “Nope. No wife, no girlfriend, no pussy of any kind, but it’s not uncommon for people to
stop over at all hours.” He squeezed Eric’s ass. “Your place or a hotel?”
God, please protect me, Eric prayed. “I live a couple miles from here.”
“Good.” Solo released Eric. “Did you drive?”
Eric shook his head. He’d been drinking, of course he didn’t drive. “Cab.”
“You can ride with me,” Solo grunted before opening the restroom door.
“Have you been drinking?” Eric asked. He had no doubt there was a big motorcycle waiting for Solo in
the parking lot, and he wasn’t about to hitch a ride with a drunk man, regardless of how sexy he was.
“Two beers, but I was born drinking whisky from my wasted mom’s tit, so I’m good.” Solo curled his
right hand around the back of Eric’s neck as they made their way through the crowd.
Eric caught his friend’s gaze as they passed the table and nodded toward Solo. No doubt he’d get raked
over the coals by John later, but that didn’t deter him. He was going home with a sexy badass. All the
years of fantasizing had finally come to an end.
The warm July air hit Eric as soon as they stepped outside. He opened his mouth to comment on it, but
snapped his jaws shutwithout a word. They weren’t on a date, and he needed to remember that. He was
going home with Solo for one reason, and that was to fuck. It wasn’t as though he was new to onenight
stands, but he’d always preferred to spend a couple of carnal-filled days with men before parting
ways. He glanced up at Solo. No way that was happening. Solo didn’t strike him as the kind of guy
who would stay the night, much less the weekend.
Solo dug a set of keys out of his jean pocket before straddling the bike. He jerked his head, motioning

for Eric to climb on behind him.
Although they didn’t live in a state with strict helmet laws, Eric was uncomfortable riding without
one. “No helmet?”
Solo reached behind him and dug into a soft-sided saddlebag before producing a black halfhelmet. He
held it out to Eric all without uttering a single word.
“Thanks.” Eric put the helmet on before tightening the strap under his chin. He threw his leg over the
bike and settled on the seat behind Solo. “Down to Wabash and take a left. I live at thirteen twentynine
Grant Avenue.”
“Hang on, Blue,” Solo grumbled. He reached back and pulled Eric closer.
Eric wrapped his arms around Solo and rested his cheek on Solo’s broad back as his cock pressed
between them. He hoped the wind would sober him up enough to remember every last detail of the
time he and Solo shared.

* * * *

“Solo!” Switch bellowed.
Solo stilled his pool cue and glanced up at the Grave Diggers Motorcycle Club Prez. “Yeah?” Hours
earlier, Solo had delivered the custom bike he’d built after working on the damn thing night and day
for nearly a month. It was the first chance he’d had to relax and kick back, and Switch knew it, so why
the fuck was he interrupting his game? He handed his stick to his best friend Rowdy before
approaching the Prez.
Switch held up a small plastic bag of weed. “I thought you took care of this shit!” he yelled.
“I did. Beat the motherfucker selling it so bad he won’t be sitting upright for weeks.” Solo snatched
the bag out of Switch’s hand. “This isn’t Stevie Boy’s shit. He always puts a black mark on the corner
of his bags.” He studied the bag before handing it back to the other man. He had no doubt the bag had
contained more of the meth laced marijuana they’d run across lately. “Where’d you get it?”
“BlackJack, over at Turner High dropped it off. He said it was knocked loose from someone’s pocket
during a fight in the hall this morning. He found it under the drinking fountain when he cleaned up the
mess.”
“If you talk to him again, tell him I’m on it.” Solo handed the weed back to Switch, knowing it would
probably go right into the pipe Switch kept in his office.
Turner High School was in the affluent section of town. No way could a dealer make money on laced
weed anywhere else, but those rich high school fucks were stupid. Luckily, they had BlackJack.
Sometimes, it was cool having a member entrenched in the local schools. Once he’d been ready to step
back from the club, BlackJack Stevens had taken a janitorial job at one of the local high schools. It
was the way of the club. When a brother got too old to fight, he turned his attention to other things the
club had going. In BlackJack’s case, he helped with the Keeping it Clean project the MC spearheaded.
Solo had come up with the idea nearly eleven years ago after his baby sister, Jessica, had overdosed in
a high school bathroom stall during her lunch break. Working to keep assholes from selling drugs in a
fourblock radius of the schools sure as hell wasn’t easy, but the club had supported the idea and still
did.

“Find out where that shit came from, and take care of it,” Switch ordered before walking away.

Fuck. Solo glanced at Rowdy. He doubted the motherfucking dealer was still standing on the street at
eleven o’clock at night, but it was worth a shot. He grabbed his cut. The black leather vest was like a
second skin to him most of the time, but the air conditioning in the club had gone to hell in the last

week. “Let’s ride.”

Rowdy laid the pool sticks on the table before following. They reached the parking lot behind the MC,
but instead of heading to their Harleys, they walked straight to Solo’s black, seventy-three Nova.
Words didn’t need to be exchanged for the two of them to be on the same page. Rowdy had patched
into Grave Diggers the same year Solo had, and the two of them had clicked immediately. Yeah,
Rowdy was his boy, and Solo couldn’t think of a better man to watch his back.

Keyed up and pissed off, Solo tore out of the parking lot. How the hell had someone snuck under his
radar? He glanced at the healingscabs on his knuckles from the beating he’d given Stevie Boy the
week before. He made a right onto Lowell Avenue and kept his eyes open. It wasn’t a secret among the
dealers that the Grave Diggers watched the area, which is why Solo opted for the Nova. One rumble
from his Harley and the little fuckers scrambled like cockroaches.
When he hit Brookline, Solo slowed the car to a crawl. If someone was out selling, he knew he’d look
like he was buying.
“There. Up and to the right,” Rowdy said, pointing his finger at two shadows huddled together under a
low-hanging branch.
“Got ‘em,” Solo replied as he inched the Nova toward the men. The moment he pulled to a stop, the
two men took off in different directions. “I’ve got the one in the hoodie,” he yelled to Rowdy as he
threw open his door and took off. His heavy black boots ate up the pavement in pursuit of the crazy
motherfucker. Who the fuck wore a hoodie in August?
Solo made a sharp right as the scum in the jacket disappeared between two houses. When he rounded
the corner of the white two-story house, he slowed. Shit. The weasel was nowhere in sight. A dog in
the neighbor’s backyard was barking its fool head off, so he had no doubt the scumbag was still close,
probably hiding. He heard the backdoor open and quickly stepped back into the shadows as the dog’s
owner started yelling. Although he was trying to catch a fucking dealer, Solo was sure the homeowner
wouldn’t believe him. With his above average size and wearing the cut, most people he encountered
were scared shitless whenever he approached them.
After several moments, the homeowner got his dog inside and shut the door. Unfortunately, the dealer
was probably long gone. Irritated, Solo blew out a breath and turned back toward the Nova.
Solo made his way onto the street and jogged toward Rowdy, who was currently in a fistfight with the
second man. He knew Rowdy didn’t need help, but Solo enjoyed watching punks get the shit beat out
of them so he stopped several yards away.
In their scuffling, Rowdy and the second man had moved out from under the tree as they went blow
for blow. Solo crossed his arms over his chest and settled in to watch the fight, impressed with the
bastard’s ability to take a punch and stay on his feet. When the overhead streetlamp gave him a
glimpse of Rowdy’s opponent’s face, he went still.
Blue.
Solo’s breath hitched at the sight of the man he’d fucked weeks earlier. It had been one of the best
he’d had in a very long time, and on more than one occasion, he’d considered knocking on Blue’s door
for a repeat.
“Rowdy!” he yelled. He uncrossed his arms and took a step toward them when Blue landed a solid
punch to Rowdy’s jaw.
Solo pushed between Rowdy and Blue and wrapped his arms around Blue, stilling the smaller man.
“Stop!”
Blood dripping from his nose, and his eye already swelling, Blue stared up at Solo and froze. “What
the fuck?”

Solo glanced over his shoulder at Rowdy, who was bent over with his hands braced on his knees. “You
okay?” Few people could go toe to toe with Rowdy and stand afterward, but Blue had done it. A
certain amount of pride filled Solo.
“Why the fuck did you stop me?” Rowdy asked, spitting blood onto the sidewalk.
Solo returned his attention to Blue. “Because I know him,” he said to Rowdy while keeping his gaze
locked on those pretty blue eyes. Usually, he was a damn good judge of character, and not once had he
thought Blue was anything other than the typical executive. How had he been so wrong? “You buying
or selling?”
Blue skirted his gaze to the school. “Buying.”
“Bullshit,” Solo called. No way was Blue a user.
“If you’re not going to believe me, why’d you ask?” Blue pushed against Solo’s chest. “And get your
hands off me.”
“I wanted to see if you’d lie. I got my answer.” Solo released Blue but remained vigilant. If Blue
decided to run, Solo would go after him. It helped that he knew where Blue lived, and that he had a
huge king-sized bed with pale blue sheets and a navy and white handmade quilt.
Blue righted his shirt. “I could ask you the same thing. You here to make a buy?”

“I’m here to make sure fuckheads don’t sell their shit to kids.” Solo waved his hand in a circular
pattern around him. “This whole area is off limits to drugs, so I’m gonna ask again, are you buying or
selling?”
Blue looked past Solo to Rowdy beforereturning his attention to Solo. “I’m not talking to you here out
in the open. You need to rough me up some more and shove me into the back of your car.”

* * * *

Detective Eric James wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “I said rough me up, not try to
knock out my fucking teeth.”
Solo climbed into the backseat with Eric after tossing the keys to the other bad-looking biker dude. “I
don’t like playing games.” He gestured to Eric’s mouth. “Now you know.” He leaned over until his
mouth was an inch from Eric’s. “Talk.”
“Not here. Pull out like you’re taking me to your club or something,” Eric said, touching the tip of his
tongue to the cut on his lower lip.
Solo tapped the other man on the shoulder. “Drive.”
Eric had been so close to getting something out of the lowlevel dealer. If it hadn’t been for the
vigilante bikers, he would no doubt have either a name or a time to meet the guy in charge. Once they
were several blocks from the school, he chanced a glance at Solo. Who fucking knew the man he’d had
unbelievably hot sex with was a member of the Grave Diggers? Shit.Shouldn’t Solo have been wearing
that damn battered black leather vest or something? Now that would have clued him in. His captain
was going to be pissed if he ever found out. His walk on the wild side could end up getting him
bumped down the ladder. He’d be lucky if he landed a job as a patrol cop, but he’d never been that
fortunate. He saw years writing parking tickets in his future.
“Talk,” Solo practically growled.
Eric glanced at the man driving.
“You can trust Rowdy,” Solo said as if reading Eric’s mind.
“I don’t trust you, so the fact that I can trust your boy isn’t that comforting,” Eric replied.
Solo’s eyes narrowed. Fuck, the guy was scary. “You have two seconds to open that pretty mouth of
yours and tell me what the fuck you were doing trying to make a deal outside a school.”

“Or what?” Eric asked. He’d end up talking to Solo. Hell, the biker probably had better intel than he
did, but he knew if he came off as weak, Solo would chew him up and spit him out. In other instances,
Eric would probably enjoy being on the receiving end of Solo’s mouth again, but this wasn’t one of
them.
Solo reached down, grabbed Eric’s dick through his jeans, and gave it a firm squeeze to the point of
pain. “Or I’ll make sure this never gets hard again.”
Unlikely, Eric thought. His cock had been hard since he’d looked up, ready to do battle, and stared
into Solo’s dark brown eyes. “My name’s Eric James, but of course you already know that. What you
don’t know is that I’m a detective with the Albuquerque PD.”
Solo released his hold on Eric as if he’d been burnt. He scooted as far away from Eric as he could get
and started cussing. “Motherfuckin’ sonofabitch!”

“Yeah, something like that,” Eric said, agreeing with the expletives. “A junior at Turner was rushed to
the hospital earlier today. He’s in the intensive care unit not expected to live,” he volunteered in a
matter-of-fact tone. He tried his best not to let his job get to him, but the cases involving kids were the
worst. “The only thing we have to go on is his girlfriend’s statement that he bought a bag of weed after
school. I was checking out the area when that piece of shit approached me. Before I could get anything
good out of him, that big fucker burst out of a car and jumped me,” he said, gesturing to Rowdy.

“Fuck!” Solo pulled out a cell phone and began punching numbers so hard it was a wonder the glass
didn’t crack. “Don’t smoke that shit,” he said into the phone. He waited a heartbeat before growling,
“Well don’t smoke any more of it.”

Eric shook his head. For a minute, he’d thought maybe he could work with the MC on getting the shit
off the streets, but the problem with bikers was that they didn’t work within the confines of the law.
He was a cop, yet there Solo was openly talking to someone about smoking weed.

Solo hung up the phone. “Where’re you parked?”
“Back of the school.” Eric touched his tongue to his lip again to check whether or not the bleeding had
stopped.
“Head back to the club, Rowdy,” Solo instructed.
“I’m not going to your club,” Eric protested. “I probably shouldn’t be in this car.”
Solo chuckled. “We ain’t stayin’. I’ve got something else in mind.”

Chapter Two

“What the hell are you thinking?” Rowdy asked as he shoved the keys into Solo’s hand. “He’s a
fuckin’ cop. You hate cops, and if the club finds out, you’re both fucking dead.”

“I didn’t know he was a cop when I stuck my fuckin’ dick in him,” Solo fired back. He made sure to
speak low enough to keep the conversation between him and Rowdy. Finding Eric on that sidewalk
had thrown him, something that rarely, if ever, happened. He didn’t have a clue what his next move
was, but one thing was certain, he wanted more one on one time with his little cop friend. “Fuck, man,
just give me some time to figure this out before you say anything to Switch or the brothers.”

Rowdy, the only brother in the club who knew Solo was gay, slowly nodded. “You have any clue what
you’re asking me to do?”
Solo knew if the club found out Rowdy was lying, he’d be in the same shit as Solo. “Yeah.”
Rowdy exhaled. “Next time, try a bit of small talk before you fuck a stranger.” He touched his bruised
and swelling jaw. “What do you want me to tell Switch?”

Solo ran his fingers through his hair. “Tell him I went home, but don’t let him smoke anymore of that
shit until we know what the hell’s wrong with it. Dusting weed with meth or cocaine wouldn’t put a
kid in the ICU.” He grabbed two handfuls of hair and pulled in frustration, a habit he’d picked up as a
kid who’d had little to no say in the fucked up house he’d been raised in. “Not all the dusted weed is
bad, otherwise there’d be a hell of a lot more kids in the hospital, so maybe Blue can shed some light
on the victim’s background. Maybe the guy was targeted.” He was grasping at straws, he knew it, but
it was the best excuse for why he needed to spend more time with Blue.

“Blue?” Rowdy chuckled.

Solo growled in answer. “Call me tomorrow,” he said before opening the driver’s door. He slid into
the car and glanced in the backseat. “You can sit up as soon as we clear the parking lot.”
“I feel like a teenager trying to sneak into a drive-in movie without paying,” Blue grumbled.

“Obviously, you never did it because everyone knows the only way to get away with it is to hide in the
trunk.” After turning the Nova around, Solo headed out of the parking lot. The MC had purchased an
old brickyard years ago. The lot consisted of three large buildings and a few smaller outbuildings, all
made of the finest brick underpaid laborers could manufacture. One of the buildings housed the club’s
social area, complete with a few rooms to take the club girls when the booze flowed and cocks grew
hard. The other two buildings were used for storage and the custom bike shop the club owned.Despite
what people thought, the club wasn’t into the really hard stuff. They sold guns on occasion when cash
was low, and offered protection at a price on certain shipments of illegal items, but they left the really
bad shit for other clubs in the area. For the most part, they were just a group of like-minded men who
preferred to spend time with each other rather than the outside world. That wasn’t to say they didn’t
fight with each other and other bike clubs throughout the area, but that was boys being men.

Solo cleared the large twin brick columns and pulled out onto the street. “Okay.”
With a groan, Blue sat up and ran a hand across his hair. “Now are you taking me back to get my car?”

“Not until we settle a few things.” Solo took a left at the light. He was going to go against his number
one rule and take Blue to his house. Where else could they go? It wasn’t like they could share a
friendly cup of coffee at the local diner. They were from two separate worlds and nothing more than
fucking could possiblycome out of a night spent together, but he wasn’t willing to go to Blue’s house
again. There was something unsettling about the pristine white cottage with its big welcoming front
porch. It was a façade. Life wasn’t neat and orderly in Solo’s world. It was bloody and messy, and men
like him didn’t get the happily ever after others dreamed of. He wasn’t bitter about his future. Once
he’d figured out he enjoyed cock over pussy, he’d accepted his lot in life.

* * * *

Eric stared at the singlewide trailer in front of him. What a dump. No wonder Solo hadn’t wanted to
go to his place the first night they met. The shithole was at the end of a small trailer park, only yards
away from a busy highway. A single chair sat on the small, crudely made, front porch along with a
mini-grill.

“Get out,” Solo said from the open door.
Eric had been so shocked at the sight of the biker’s home he hadn’t noticed Solo getting out of the
Nova. Embarrassed by his reaction, he climbed out of the backseat. “Why’re we here?” He stared at
the line of trees behind Solo’s trailer. “You planning to kill me and bury me in that stand of trees over
there?”

Solo, who was already making his way to the porch, stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t
give me any ideas, cop.”

Cop? What happened to Blue? Although Eric was embarrassed to admit it, he’d liked Solo’s nickname.
Blue sounded like a pet name. Cop sounded like an insult when issued by the gorgeous biker. He
followed Solo up the steps, still smarting. A single recliner, end table, television and lamp were all the
furniture in the trailer’s living room. “You must be real popular,” he mumbled in an attempt to hurt
Solo. “You’ve got a spot for all your friends to sit.”

The muscles in Solo’s clenched jaws ticked for several moments. “I told you I didn’t get my name
from a damn red cup.”
It wasn’t in Eric’s nature to be vindictive, and seeing Solo’s reaction to the comment made him feel
like shit. “I’m sorry. Lashing out because my feelings got hurt isn’t like me.” He stared up at Solo. He
could get lost in Solo’s masculinity, but he knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere. Better to get back to the
reason he’d agreed to talk to Solo. “I have to do my job and find the sonofabitch who put that boy in
the hospital.”
“So do I,” Solo said, his gaze raking down Eric’s body. “We may have different ideas of how to deal
with the asshole, but we’re essentially on the same side on this one.”

Eric had an idea of how a man like Solo would handle the dealer, and, although, there was a side of
him that agreed with Solo’s methods, he couldn’t be a part of them. “Let me do my job, and he’ll be
put away for attempted murder among other things.”
Solo leaned against the front door and crossed his arms, drawing Eric’s attention to the tattooed body
that had held him only weeks earlier. “If anyone but a Digger picks this guy up, we’ll lose our
reputation for keeping the schools clean. I’ve worked too fuckin’ hard to earn that respect to just hand

it over.”

“I can’t sit by and let you kill the guy no matter how much the idea appeals to me,” Eric shot back.
What the hell was he saying? Solo could use his words against him in a heartbeat if he had a mind to.
Solo stared at Eric for a long time before dipping his chin. “Okay. Here’s how it’s gonna play. If I
catch the fucker, I exact my brand of justice before calling you to pick him up and take him in.”
“You won’t kill him?” Eric questioned.
“Not completely.” Solo pulled his T-shirt off over his head. “It’s the only way for us both to get what
we need.”

Eric tried to control his body’s reaction to the expanse of Solo’s chest. Black ink decorated Solo’s skin
from wrist to pecs on both sides. He wasn’t sure if Solo had more ink under the short dark brown hair
that covered his chest, but he was betting there was. Unable to resist the lure, he moved to run his
fingers through the coarse curls. “What else do you need?”

In answer, Solo reached down and unfastened his jeans. “Take my boots off,” he ordered.
Eric touched the tip of his tongue to his split lip and tried to rationalize his desire to spend another few
hours in Solo’s bed. They’d be working together until they caught the dealer. No way would he be able
to see Solo on a regular basis and not keep his hands to himself, so maybe a deal of another kind was
in order. “One condition. We enjoy each other until we catch the asshole hurting kids. After that, we
go our separate ways.”

Solo narrowed his eyes. “If the club finds out, I’m a dead man, so whatever happens between us,
happens in private.”
Eric nodded. He was out at work, but the other cops knowing he was fucking a Grave Diggers biker
would kill his reputation and possibly his career. “Agreed,” he said before sinking to his knees.
Solo held his left foot off the rust-colored shag carpet while Eric pulled the boot off along with the
sock. They repeated the process with the right foot. Solo pushed his jeans down his muscular thighs.
“No kissing. No sucking cock until that lip of yours is healed,” he proclaimed.
Eric got to his feet. “You can blame your boy Rowdy for that.”
The corner of Solo’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Rowdy does love to fight.”
“Yeah, he should. He’s good at it.” Eric gently touched the swelling on his jaw and eye. “Still not sure
how I’m going to explain this.”
Solo began to undress Eric, starting with his bloodstained shirt. “You don’t have to explain shit. It’s
no one’s business.”

Eric chuckled. “You live in a different world than I do. Most men I know don’t walk around sporting
split lips and black eyes, especially cops.”
Solo grunted and unzipped Eric’s jeans while Eric toed off his athletic shoes. “That’s why I don’t live
in your world,” Solo replied with disgust in his tone. “Cops are nosy assholes who pry into your
business just enough to stir up trouble but never give a fuck about the aftermath they leave behind.”
Eric paused in the process of kicking out of his jeans and underwear. There was a level of hatred and
distrust there that needed to be explored further. “You talkin’ from experience?”
Solo walked naked to the small kitchen and retrieved two beers from the refrigerator. “I’m going to
bed. Join me if you want,” he said before disappearing into the hall.
Eric glanced down at his erection. It would be a shame to waste something like that, so he followed.
He’d get an answer to his question but it didn’t have to be immediately. He walked toward the light at

the end of the hall. On the way, he passed a bathroom and a bedroom, if you could call it that. The
bedroom looked more like a garage with motorcycle parts littering the floor and a bike frame in the
middle of the room. It didn’t make sense to him, but a lot of things about Solo didn’t make sense.

Eric entered the bedroom to find Solo sitting on a mattress with his back against the wall. The bed had
no blankets, and he briefly wondered how clean the sheets were. The thought of Solo fucking other
guys in that bed without changing them didn’t sit well. “I’m not going to catch anything from those,
am I?” he asked, pointing to the sheet Solo had kicked to the end of the mattress.
“I don’t fuck here.” Solo took a sip of his beer and held the other out to Eric. “You want this?”

Eric took the bottle as he sat on the edge of the bed beside Solo’s thigh. “If you don’t fuck here, why’d
you bring me?”
“Good question.” Solo tipped his beer back and took a swallow. “I only have the one pillow, but you
can use it.”
Eric assumed it was the closest he’d get to an invitation, so he stood and moved around to the opposite
side of the mattress. He mimicked Solo’s position as he studied the room. Posters of girls and a nudey
motorcycle calendar were the extent of Solo’s decorating. “I thought you said you didn’t have pussy at
your place.”

Solo glanced at Eric and grinned. “I don’t fuck club pussy, so I have to make it seem as though I get it
elsewhere.”
Eric lifted the bottle to his mouth and winced when the hard surface hit the split in his lip. “I know
you’re not much into sharing, but why join an MC if you can’t live the way you want?”
It took several minutes, but Solo eventually sighed. “I was already a member when I realized I
preferred dick.” He shrugged. “Rowdy, that fucker, talked me into a threesome with him and one of
the club girls.”
“Rowdy’s gay, too?” Eric asked.
Solo chuckled. “No. Rowdy’s a sick fuck who likes to see a woman get drilled in both ends.”

Eric sipped his beer and thought about Solo’s explanation. “So, when you were watching Rowdy fuck
this girl, you realized you were gay?”
Solo stared down at Eric. “Why the hell do you need to know this?”
“Curious, I guess. I knew when I was in high school,” Eric replied. “A guy on the football team
popped my cherry. I just find it interesting that you were an adult before you figured it out.”
“I didn’t say that.” Solo finished his beer. “Growing up, I spent a lot of time in juvie. Teenage boys
think of nothing but sex, so we fucked each other. I thought I enjoyed it because that’s all I had. I did a
short stint in county lockup after I turned eighteen, and the same happened there, but it wasn’t until I
had both a pussy and a cock in front of me that I figured out which oneI preferred.”
“Wow. Did that freak Rowdy out?” Eric handed Solo his beer. “You can have the rest of that if you
want.”

“Rowdy doesn’t freak out about much. He still has me go back to his room with him and whatever
woman he’s fucking at the time, but it’s more for show. I usually end up sitting in the corner acting
like I’m getting my rocks off while he fucks her. It’s enough to throw the other brothers off.”
“But you and Rowdy have never…” Eric didn’t finish the question.
“No.” Solo grinned and reached down to wrap his hand around Eric’s cock. “Jealous?”
“No!” Eric shot back. “I told you, I’m curious.”

“I’m done talking.” Solo drained Eric’s bottle of beer before setting it on the nightstand. He opened
the drawer and removed lube and a strip of condoms. “We gonna fuck?”

One thing was clear. Eric would not get subtlety or romance from Solo. The sexy biker was blunt to
the core, but he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to the man. He moved down to lay his
head on the borrowed pillow. Spreading his legs, he realized he didn’t mind Solo’s lack of social
graces. Solo’s hard edge made him who he was. Eric doubted there would ever be a dull moment with
Solo. He stared up at Solo who hadn’t moved. “Well?” he prompted.

“Are you always this easy?” Solo asked, moving to stretch out beside Eric.
“Only when I wanna be.” Eric reached for Solo’s cock. “And with you, I want to be.”
Solo started to lean in for a kiss but stopped himself before reaching Eric’s lips. “I almost forgot about
your cut. We’ll have to stick to fucking tonight.”
Eric nodded. He’d been with quite a few men who didn’t get into kissing, but Solo seemed to love it,
and he was damn good at it. “I’ll suffer until I heal.”
Solo poured lube onto his fingers before moving to brush them over Eric’s hole.
Moaning, Eric tucked his legs under his torso, opening himself further to Solo’s touch. He rested his
cheek on his hands and closed his eyes as Solo’s finger slowly pushed inside. “Fuck,” he groaned.
“I thought about knocking on your door for more of this,” Solo admitted. “I fucking love your ass.”

Pleased with the compliment, Eric smiled to himself. He still didn’t know how things could work
between them for anything beyond fucking, but, for now, fucking was enough. “Funny, because I’m
rather fond of your fingers.”
Solo grunted and removed his fingers. He reached for a condom on the bedside table. “I’d rather you
felt that way about my dick.”
“Give it to me, and I’ll consider it,” Eric replied, issuing a challenge he knew he’d pay for.
Fortunately, he’d pay in the best way possible.
“Oh, you’ll do more than consider it,” Solo groused, slapping Eric’s ass.

Eric jumped at the smack. He wasn’t into being beaten by a lover, but found the slight sting on his butt
cheek felt rather pleasing. Fuck.He didn’t know what Solo was doing to him, but he doubted he’d be
the same after spending time with the sexy biker. He reached back and rubbed his ass, finding the skin
warm. “That wasn’t nice,” he reprimanded.
Solo dripped lube down the crack of Eric’s ass before rubbing his sheathed cock up and down the
crevice. “You’re not here because I’m nice.”
True, but Eric didn’t verbally agree. He glanced back at Solo, watching the concentration on his face
as the thick cock pressed inside of him. The stretch was just as he remembered. The one night they’d
spent together hadn’t been enough, and he’d kicked himself afterward for not taking note of Solo’s
license plate. Although he tried to stick to the law, he wasn’t above looking someone up in their
system, but he’d worried their interlude hadn’t been as good for Solo as it had been for him.

His cock fully buried inside of Eric, Solo leaned over Eric’s back to place a kiss on his neck. “Ribs
okay? I know Rowdy packs a punch.”
“I’m fine,” Eric shot back. He didn’t like being reminded of the fight earlier. His fighting skills had
always been something he’d taken pride in, but, damn, Rowdy’s fists had felt like they’d been filled
with cement.
“Good.” Solo gripped Eric’s hips and began to move in and out of him.

Eric’s mouth opened as he struggled to breathe. Fuck.Solo’s thrusts had gone from zero to sixty in a
heartbeat. The big biker may not be much of a conversationalist, but, Christ, could the man fuck.
“Yeah,” he encouraged once he’d caught his breath. He rocked back in counter to Solo’s surges,
needing everything he could get. When Solo reached under him and wrapped his hand around Eric’s
cock, he swore he could feel every hair on his body stand on end.
“Fuck! I’m coming,” Eric cried out.

Several loud grunts sounded in Eric’s ear before Solo whispered. “You’re squeezing my dick off,
Blue.”

Blue.Hell, if Eric hadn’t already come, he’d have done it with the whisper of the nickname. It was a lot
better than cop.

Several thrusts later, Solo howled his release before collapsing on top of Eric. Easing them both down
to the mattress, Eric couldn’t help but grin. It was a good thing Rowdy hadn’t cracked one of his ribs
or it would be broken with Solo’s weight on top of him. He sighed contentedly as his eyes drifted shut,
but before he could drop off to sleep, Solo pulled away with a groan.
“I’ll take you back to your car whenever you’re ready,” Solo said before leaving the room.

Eric rolled over and stared up at the water-stained ceiling. What the fuck? When Solo walked back
into the room, Eric cleared his throat. “Is this the way of it then?”
“What?” Solo asked, tossing Eric’s clothes and shoes onto the bed.
“Well, when you lit out of my place the way you did, I tried to tell myself it was because it was just a
one-time thing, but I thoughtwe’d agreed to see each other until we catch whoever’s selling the tainted
shit to kids,” Eric explained.
“Yeah,” Solo answered. He pulled his jeans on without bothering with underwear. “You can’t stay the
night.”

“Why?”
Solo glanced at Eric and sighed. “I’m not sure you understand how dangerous it could be if the club
finds out I’m fucking a cop.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head. “There’ll be no going out on dates.
It’ll be fucking behind a locked door for a few hours.” Solo sat on the edge of the bed and reached for
his boots. “You accept that, and we’re good.”
“It would be safer if we did it at my place,” Eric offered. “Then maybe you could at least stay in bed
long enough for my cum to dry on the sheet.” Truthfully, he didn’t feel comfortable at Solo’s even
without the threat of being found out. It wasn’t the trailer itself that bothered him, it was the lie
perpetuated within. The naked posters and calendar, the complete lack of anything personal on the
tables or walls. He didn’t know a lot about Solo, but there was no way in hell the man was a blank
slate. In bed, Solo was incredibly passionate, but there had to be more to him than that.

“I’d rather be here.” Solo reached for his other boot. “Your house gives me the creeps.”
Shocked, Eric sat up. He’d worked damn hard to rehab his home. He’d put years into the place, going
to estate sales to help furnish the rooms on a budget. “You’re calling myhouse creepy?”
“It’s too perfect, like a damn TV show. No one really lives like that.”
Eric climbed off the bed. His house wasn’t perfect. It was nice, but far from a TV show. He grabbed
his jeans and underwear.
“I wasn’t trying to piss you off.” Solo was fully dressed and standing with his legs slightly apart and

his arms crossed over his chest. “We could do the hotel thing.”
“No!” Eric snapped. “I have a nice house. I’ve worked damn hard on that house,” he spat.
“Let me guess, your place looks just like the house you grew up in? Your dad’s probably some kind of
IT geek and your mom stays home and bakes pies and shit.”

Angrier than ever, Eric stalked over to Solo and stared him in the eyes. “Wrong, asshole. I grew up in
a series of foster homes. I don’t even know who my dad is, and my mom liked selling her pussy more
than her own son.” He shoved his feet into his shoes. “Fuck you for making me question something
I’ve worked so hard to get. And, maybe you’re right. Maybe my place is something you’d see only on
TV, but it makes me feel like I have a home for the first time in my life.”
So upset he couldn’t see straight, Eric shoved by Solo and walked toward the front of the trailer. “I’ll
find my own way back to the school.” He unlocked the front door and was gone without a single word
from Solo.

Eric made it out of the trailer park before he heard the deep rumble of Solo’s Nova coming up behind
him. He didn’t bother turning around. With a few flippant words, Solo had tainted something precious
to him. What the hell was he supposed to do when they caught the dealer and Solo walked out of his
life for good? Fuck!
Solo pulled up next to Eric and motioned for him to get in.
Eric shook his head and kept walking.
With a roar of the engine, Solo drove up several yards before slamming on the brakes and opening the
driver’s side door. “Get in the goddamn car, Blue.”
The nickname made Eric pause. “Fine,” he growled. He slid in before slamming the passenger door
shut.
Solo climbed back in. “Never start something with me unless you’re gonna stick around long enough
to finish it.” He took off toward the school. They drove in silence for several minutes before Solo
spoke, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did.” Eric continued to stare out the passenger window.
“Funny thing is, our pasts are a lot alike. I didn’t grow up with a dad either. He got into some kind of
trouble and the cops started sniffing around. Next thing I knew, he was gone, leaving me with my
drunk of a mother. Hell, she didn’t even stop drinking during her pregnancy if that tells you anything.
My place is a palace compared to the apartment I grew up in, so I can understand wanting something
more.”

Eric glanced at Solo, wondering if he’d say anything else.
“Your house reminds me of everything I didn’t get as a kid. Just a sore spot, I guess,” Solo added.
“The club tried to take up my dad’s slack, but even they couldn’t get my mom to put down the bottle.”
“Your dad was a member of the Grave Diggers?” Eric crossed his arms over his chest before he did
something stupid like reaching out to Solo.
“Yeah. Switch, our Prez knows where he is, but he’s not talking. My dad didn’t even care enough to
come back for my little sister’s funeral.” Solo reached up and yanked at a handful of his own hair. “I
joined the club hoping I’d eventually get answers as to where he is and why he left, but I’ve learned
absolutely nothing.”
“So why stay?” Eric asked.
“Where else would I go? The club’s the only family I have.”
Eric wasn’t sure what to say, so didn’t say anything. They rode the rest of the way in silence until Solo

pulled up next to Eric’s black Honda Accord. Before getting out of the Nova, he reached over and put
a hand on Solo’s arm. He wasn’t ready to forgive and forget, but there were more important things
they needed to deal with. “Are we still working together?”
Solo grabbed the back of Eric’s neck and pulled him close enough to place a soft kiss on Eric’s split
lip. “Only if you’ll let me give your house another try. Who knows, maybe I’ll see it differently next
time.”
“I’ll think about it.” Eric pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and held it up. “Can I at least get your
number in case I have a lead I need you to check out?”
“Yeah, but put it in under Sam, that’s my given name,” Solo said before rattling off his number.
“I like the name Sam.” Eric added Solo to his contacts.
“Might be a nice name, but it’s not me.” Solo tapped the buttons on his phone. “I’m putting you in as
Blue.” He glanced at Eric. “If anyone but me or Rowdy answers, hang up.”

Eric hated the lie but knew it was necessary. “Okay.” He gave Solo his number. Armed with a way to
get in touch with him, Ericran his thumb over Solo’s lips before climbing out of the car. He’d always
been a terrible liar.

Chapter Three

With Rowdy at his side, Solo pounded his fist against Stevie Boy’s door. “Open up.” When no one
answered, Solo pounded again.
Rowdy chuckled. “He may still be bedridden after that beating you gave him.”
“You’re right.” Stepping back, Solo used his heavy boot to kick in the dealer’s door. Thankfully,
Stevie lived in a shithole, otherwise the door wouldn’t have opened so easily. He stepped inside.
“Stevie!”
“What?” a croak came from an adjoining room.

Solo moved to the bedroom and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. Damn. Poor Stevie didn’t
look good. “You dying?”
“Fuck you,” Stevie said, despite the cuts and bruises marring his face.
“Who’s dealing at Turner now?” Solo asked.
“How the hell should I know? I’ve been in this bed since last week,” Stevie shot back.
From the smells of body odor, cum and cigarettes filling his nostrils, Solo didn’t doubt what the dealer
said, but that didn’t help him. “Give me a guess,” he ordered.

Stevie shook his head, wincing as he did so. “What’re they selling?”
“Weed dusted with meth.” Solo glanced around the room. Not only was the apartment a dump but
filthy as well. Evidently, dealing wasn’t as lucrative for Stevie as Solo had first thought. Either that, or
Stevie was using his own shit. He inhaled again. Yeah, definitely using. He didn’t say anything about
the boy in the hospital. If Stevie knew the cops were involved, he’d clam up tighter than a virgin in
church.
Stevie blew out a loud breath. “Could be a couple guys I know. What’s the information worth?”
Solo stepped into the room and moved to tower over Stevie. “Your life.”
Stevie broke eye contact and glanced toward the door where Rowdy was no doubt standing. “They’ll
kill me if they know I talked.”
“Well then, you have a choice. Die now or take your chances later,” Rowdy said.
“Fuck, guys.” Stevie scowled.
“Names,” Solo prompted.

“Could be Marco from the Devils, Easy Ed or one of your own,” Stevie eventually replied. “What the
fuck’re you saying? Grave Diggers don’t sell,” Solo argued, hands curling into fists.
Stevie held his hands in front of his face. “Roach. He’s been dealing for extra cash. He’s not a big
player or anything, but I know he likes the money from dusting, same with the others.”
Solo leaned over and put his finger in Stevie’s face. “You tell anyone we were here and you’ll be dead
within the hour.” He turned and headed toward the door.

“Hey, what about my door?” Stevie Boy screamed after them.
“Call a contractor,” Rowdy yelled back as they left the apartment.
Settling on his bike, Solo glanced at his best friend. “What do you think about Roach? You think
Stevie’s telling the truth?”
Rowdy fired up his Harley. “Only one way to find out.”
“Yeah,” Solo agreed. Although it wasn’t uncommon for fights to break out in the club, it was frowned
upon if not for a good reason. Solo couldn’t think of a better reason than keeping drugs out of the

hands of kids.

* * * *

“What’d you find out?” Captain Wallace asked when Eric arrived at the station. “And what the fuck
happened to you?”
“How’s the kid?” Eric yawned as he stashed his lunch in his bottom desk drawer. It had been a long
night of lying awake with thoughts of Solo plaguing him. The way they’d left things between them, he
wasn’t at all sure he’d even see Solo again.

“Better. They’re planning to move Andy to a private room sometime today.”
“That’s good, right? He’ll be able to tell us who sold him the drugs.” Although Eric was happy they’d
get the dealer off the streets, it didn’t bode well for a continued relationship with Solo.

The captain motioned Eric into his office. “I need to speak to you.”

Shit. Wallace only wanted to see one of them in his private office when he was preparing to chew
someone’s ass. Eric closed his drawer and stared longingly at the Starbucks coffee on his desk. It
wasn’t often he indulged in the expensive brew, but he’d needed a few shots of espresso after the night
he’d had. Unfortunately, Wallace would kill him if he took it in with him. With a sigh of resignation,
he left the caffeine behind and entered the captain’s office. “What’s up?”

Wallace shut the door before taking his chair behind the messy desk. “Andy Sparks isn’t talking. No
matter what we threaten him with, he’s not giving up the name of the dealer, so our orders are to stand
down on that front.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. The kid could’ve died. Surely he wants someone to pay for that.” Eric
would never understand the unwillingness of some victims to name their attackers. It was the same
with some domestic abuse victims. He simply didn’t get it.
“Sense or not, we’re going to have to find the prick on our own because Andy’s father is standing
behind his son’s decision. My guess is the boy’s scared shitless,” Wallace explained. “That means it’s
up to you to find out who our dealer is, and to make it worse, Chief Brower called. Seems he plays
poker with Andy’s father and wants this tied up quickly.”

Eric hated the fucking politics involved in his job. “Then maybe the chief or Andy’s dad can get the
kid to talk,” he suggested, knowing it wouldn’t happen.
“I hear what you’re sayin’. You need a partner on this one?” Wallace asked.
Eric shook his head. No way could he keep his dealings with Solo a secret if he had a partner assigned
to the case. “I’ll be fine.”

* * * *

Solo stepped into the club, Rowdy right behind him. He scanned the darkened interior, but didn’t see
the brother he was looking for. “Brawny, you seen Roach today?”

Brawny, the patched brother who tended the bar during the day, shook his head. “Hasn’t been in yet.
Did you check the garage?”

“Not yet,” Solo answered. He turned to face Rowdy. “I don’t want to do this in the garage. Let’s have a
beer and wait.”
Rowdy nodded before heading to his favorite booth. Like the members themselves, the club was made
up of cast-offs. Deep red booths sat next to avocado green ones with a sprinkling of dumpster couches
here and there. The result wasn’t pretty, but Solo had always considered it home.
Solo slid into the booth across from Rowdy. “Shit. We should’ve grabbed a pitcher before we sat
down. You know Brawley’s not gonna wait on us.”

One of Rowdy’s black eyebrows rose. “Are you asking me to get the beer?”
“Yeah, guess I am,” Solo acknowledged. He wanted to check in with Blue and would rather do it
without an audience. The visit with Stevie Boy weighed on his mind. Roach had belonged to the club
for years, a lot longer than Solo had. Questioning the brother about selling wouldn’t be an easy thing
to do, nor would it be appreciated if the other brothers found out about it. Even if Roach was dealing,
Solo had to believe he wouldn’t taint his shit. It really didn’t make sense for a dealer to sell his
customers something that could kill them. The scumbags who sold were all about repeat customers
and getting kids hooked while they were young.

“You’re an asshole,” Rowdy grumbled as he climbed out of the booth.
“I know.” Solo pulled out his phone and sent Blue a text.

Anything?

A minute later Solo’s phone rang. The caller ID made him grin. “Hey,” he answered. “Are you alone?”
Blue asked.
“I’m at the club. I talked to Stevie Boy and got three names that I’m going to follow up on,” Solo said.
“And, no, I’m not giving you the names, so don’t ask.”

“I need something. The captain’s on my ass because the chief plays fucking poker with the kid’s dad,
and even though the punk’s awake, he’s not talking,” Blue informed Solo. “Meanwhile, I’m
sitting here with my thumb up my ass with nothing to do. I’m planning to go by Turner after
school and see if I can spot anything going down, but I know it’s a long shot. Tomorrow, I’ll try to
get permission to talk to some of the students.”

Solo turned sideways in the booth and rested his back against the wall. After their exchange
the previous night, he wasn’t sure Blue would speak to him. Something inside him shifted at the
realization that he’d get another chance to be with the hot cop. “You want to meet later?” He
thought about it for a second before adding, “I can come to your place.”
“Yeah. I’ll have to text you because I have no idea what I might find at the school.” Rowdy set a
pitcher of beer on the table, putting an end to Solo’s conversation. “Okay, do that,” Solo told Blue.
“Someone there?” Blue asked.
“Yeah,” Solo answered.
“Okay. I get it. I’ll text you in a couple hours,” Blue said before hanging up. Solo ended the call and
shoved his phone into the small pocket of his cut. He waited for Rowdy to say something while he
filled a glass. When no smart remark came, he eased back against the wall. Rowdy stared at him, but
remained silent.

“Just until we catch the guy,” Solo said in explanation. He began picking at a piece of red tape that

covered a slit in the vinyl booth. It wasn’t a lie, necessarily. He did hope he could stop
thinking aboutBlue by the time the investigation was over. He’d fucked people out of his system
before, so it wasn’t entirely out of the question.
Rowdy narrowed his eyes. “He’s a cop.”

Even though he said it quietly enough Solo barely heard it, he couldn’t help but look around.
Luckily, it was still early enough that there were only a handful of brothers in the club, and they were
busy with other things. He tried to play off Rowdy’s concerns. “He doesn’t wear his badge when
he’s naked. You’ve fucked prostitutes, so don’t sit there and tell me you have to agree with someone’s
job
in order to fuck ‘em.”

“Not the same; and you know it. A whore can’t put me in jail, and a whore didn’t destroy my family.
Everything you went through as a kid was caused by a cop, or have you conveniently forgotten that
cop was fuckin’ your mom before your dad left?”
Solo slid out of the booth. He stared down at Rowdy, trying to keep his rage in check. If anyone else
but his best friend had dared bring up his past, they’d be lying on the floor in a pool of their own
blood. Instead, Solo turned and stormed toward the door. He needed a ride to clear his head. Solo was
almost to his bike when he heard heavy footsteps running up from behind. “Go back inside,” he told
Rowdy without glancing over his shoulder. He threw his leg over his bike and settled
on the seat.
“I didn’t mean that,” Rowdy mumbled, unable to meet Solo’s gaze.
“Yeah, you did.” Solo started the Harley. “Talk to Roach. If I do it now, I’ll kill the sonofabitch.” He
pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted Blue. I need to C U. “Solo,” Rowdy began.
With a shake of his head, Solo took off, shoving the phone back into his pocket as he rode out of the
parking lot. He’d gone three blocks before he realized what he’d done. Pissed off and hurt weren’t new
emotions for him, but reaching out to someone to help deal with them was. He pulled to a stop at the
side of the road and checked his phone. Blue had answered. Something wrong?
Solo bit his bottom lip, wondering how much to say.
Just need to CU.
Can U get away?
Meet at your place?
Thirty minutes.
Satisfied, Solo pocketed his phone and decided to take a cruise around two of the schools on his way
to Blue’s. He had thirty minutes to figure out why the hell it was so important he see the cop.
Thirty fucking minutes to get his head on straight. He still didn’t understand why he was drawn
to Blue. Sure, the man was hotter than shit, but no more so than other men he’d fucked throughout the
years. Knowing what Blue did for a living should have sent Solo riding off in the opposite direction,
so why hadn’t it? Was fucking Blue worth risking his life?

After circling the block around Turner High School twice without spotting anything suspicious, he
headed toward the middle school eight blocks away. The thought of someone selling drugs to
twelve, thirteen and fourteen year olds made him sick, but he knew from experience that no age
was too young for dealers to make a buck on. According to her friends, his sister, Jessica, had only
been
twelve when she’d started using. Unfortunately, Solo had been so busy with his own fucked up shit
he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

He shook off the clawing guilt that threatened to suffocate him each time he thought of his baby sister.
It was too late for Jessica, but he would do what was necessary to keep it from happening to another
kid. Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He slowed and turned his head in time to
see a man wearing a navy hoodie disappear around the corner. “Fucker,” he growled, sure it was the
man he’d chased away from Turner.

Solo took off, hoping the punk stayed to the sidewalk long enough for him to catch up. Scanning the
area, he rounded the corner. “Stupid fuck.” The man in the hoodie was getting into a burgundy, rusted
piece of shit Toyota. Solo pulled up behind the car as it tore away from the curb. He pulled his phone
out of his cut and looked away from the car long enough to call Blue.
“Almost there,” Blue answered.
“I’m following your friend from last night. Got a piece of paper?” Solo asked. “Hang on. Okay, go.”
Solo rattled off the license plate number along with a description of the car. “I’m going to see where
he goes, but just in case he loses me, you’ve got the info.”
“Be careful,” Blue said. “Call me back.”
“Yeah.” The car took a hard right at the last minute, just as Solo was trying to stuff the cell back into
his cut. “Fuck!” Releasing the phone, he tried to make the turn but his back tire fishtailed on a patch of
gravel. He knew before his body hit the pavement hewas screwed. It wasn’t the first time he’d laid his
bike down. In the split second before his skin grated against the pavement, he covered his head with
his arms.

* * * *

Dressed in nothing but a pair of faded blue sweats, Eric stared at the television screen. He wasn’t
paying much attention to the sitcom. Laughing was the last thing he felt like doing after the day he’d
had. The license plate Solo had him check out belonged to Harold Sterling. The guy’s first name had
meant nothing to Eric, but the last name was all too familiar. Everyone in the Albuquerque PD knew
who Easy Ed Sterling was. Evidently, Solo had been following the brother of Edward Sterling. At the
time of his discovery, Eric had been more than pleased with the progress on the case, but when he’d
heard nothing from Solo, he’d become worried. After hours and still not a word from the biker, Eric
had grown angry.

He and Solo had made an agreement, and it appeared Solo wasn’t holding up his end of the deal. The
repeated calls to Solo’s phone had gone unanswered, and Eric couldn’t help but wonder if he’d get
word any minute that Easy Ed’s body had been found dumped outside Turner. The distinctive sound of
the Nova caught Eric’s attention, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned off the television before
getting to his feet. Opening the door to Solo could put him in a very
bad situation. If Solo admitted to killing Ed, Eric knew he’d have no choice but to do his job.
He leaned his forehead against the door, waiting for the tread of booted feet to sound on the porch.
Even though he knew the knock was coming, Eric jumped when Solo’s heavy fist hit the door.

“Think, goddammit,” he mumbled to himself.
“Let me in,” Solo growled. “Need you.”
Eric took a deep breath before unlocking and opening the door. “Fuck,” he gasped. Shirtless, but still
wearing a battered leather vest, a heavily bandaged Solo staggered into the house. “I wanted to see
you.” Shocked, Eric couldn’t stop staring at Solo’s arms and the bloody scrape down the side of
his face. “What the hell happened to you?” Solo grimaced as he moved to lower himself onto Eric’s

brown leather sofa. “I wrecked my bike chasing that fuckwad.” He glanced down at his bandaged
arms. “I spent three hours in the emergency room getting fucking sand and gravel plucked out of my
body and another hour and a half reassuring the hospital that I’m not going to die from a bad case of
road rash.” He rested his head against the back of the sofa. “I’m so fucking tired, but I didn’t want to
go home.”
Eric stood over Solo. The man grinning up at him wasn’t the grumpy man he knew. “You
on something for the pain?”
Solo grunted a yes, his eyes drifting shut.

Heart expanding, Eric leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Solo’s lips. “Go get in my bed, and I’ll be
in as soon as I close up the house.”
“I can’t fuck tonight.” “I didn’t say anything about fucking, but you’re obviously in no shape to drive,
so go get in bed.” Eric strode to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge. He
turned out the light before entering the living room once more. Solo was on his feet but didn’t look
steady. “Hang on a sec,” Eric said, locking the front door.

“I can do it,” Solo argued, shuffling toward the hallway.
Rolling his eyes, Eric wrapped his arm around Solo’s waist. “There’s no way I can pick you up
if you fall.” He led Solo into the bedroom and onto the side of the mattress. “Water?” he offered. Solo
shook his head.
Eric set the bottles on the bedside table before kneeling at Solo’s feet. “How’s your bike?” “Fucked,”
Solo mumbled, shrugging out of his vest.
“I got worried when you didn’t call me back.” Eric removed Solo’s boots and socks. He hated to sound
like a nagging wife, especially when the two of them had only fucked twice, but he also hated the
thought of something serious happening to Solo without being informed.
“Broke my phone.” Solo unzipped his jeans as he fell back onto the bed. Eric stood and reached for
Solo’s waistband. He felt a bandage and pushed Solo until he rolled to his side. “Shit,” he said,
drawing his finger over a gauzy bandage on Solo’s lower back. “Should you sleep on your stomach?”
Slowly, Solo shook his head from side to side. “Doesn’t hurt,” he said before rolling to his back again.
Eric assumed it was the pain medication doing its job. He tugged on the faded denim until he managed
to work the other man’s jeans down. When he revealed Solo’s flaccid cock, he couldn’t help himself.
He sucked the cock into his mouth for just a moment before releasing it. “I told you, I can’t fuck
tonight,” Solo groaned without opening his eyes. “Just wanted to be here.”
“I know, but I needed a quick taste.” Eric pulled Solo’s jeans off before folding them up. He set them
beside Solo’s boots along with the scuffed leather vest. “You’ll have to get a new vest.” Solo opened
one eye when Eric pulled the quilt and sheet back. “You’re going to have to move enough to get in
bed,” Eric informed Solo. “I’ve already told you, you’re too heavy for me to lift.” With a series of
grunts, Solo maneuvered his body under the sheet until his head rested on a pillow. “Suck my dick
again.”
Eric touched his tongue to the healing split in his lip. He could suck Solo soft without reopening the
wound, but if Solo got hard, the cut would surely split again. “Hang on.” Eric returned to
the living room to turn off the lights. He repeated the procedure with the bedroom lamp on Solo’s
side of the bed before shucking his sweats and climbing in next to the injured man.
“Did you forget something?” Solo mumbled, sounding wasted.
“Nope, just wanted to take care of a few things first.” Eric reached down and pulled the top sheet and
quilt up to Solo’s mid-thigh before scooting down until he was eyelevel with Solo’s cock.
He cursed himself for turning off the lamp as he reached for the long flaccid cock. A soft snore

came from Solo just as Eric wrapped his lips around the head of Solo’s shaft. Shit. If he were a nice
guy,
he’d leave Solo alone so he could sleep. He sucked and twirled his tongue around the crown,
knowing he wasn’t that nice.

Solo groaned in his sleep. Eric grinned and released his cock. As much as he wanted to continue, he
felt like a perv. It was obvious Solo was too out of it to wake up. Grabbing the covers, he pulled them
up and pressed as close to the other man as he could without hurtinghim. Both of Solo’s arms were
bandaged, but Eric had no way of knowing how bad the wounds were.

Eric pressed his lips to the spider tattoo on the side of Solo’s neck. Why, he didn’t know, but just
looking at that fucking tattoo made him horny. He’d asked Solo what the significance of the tat was
and the only answer he’d received was that the spider was cool. Eric realized it was as good a reason
as any to get something inked onto your skin, so he’d let it drop. Kissing the tattoo now, he couldn’t
help but wonder whether he’d been told the truth or just the reason Solo gave to outsiders. Pulling
back, Eric laid his head on his own pillow. There was so much about Solo he didn’t understand, and he
wondered if he ever would.

Chapter Four

Solo woke with Blu e’s cheek resting on his chest, his bandaged arm slung around the other man’s
lean body. He smiled, feeling content as he rubbed his lips against the top of Blue’s dark head. He
stilled when it hit him. Never in his thirty-four years had he slept with someone else. He closed his
eyes and tried to remember the previous night. Had they had sex?

“Morning,” Blue said, kissing Solo’s chest.
Solo opened his eyes and stared down at Blue. “Why am I here?”
Blue carefully extracted himself from Solo’s hold. “You don’t remember?” “Did I fuck you?” Solo
licked his lips. The last thing he remembered was being rushed to the hospital in the back of an
ambulance. No, that wasn’t exactly true, he realized. He did remember the commotion at the hospital
between staff and his brothers from the club. How they’d found out about his accident he wasn’t sure,
but he’d heard them, and he thought he remembered Rowdy taking him home, so how had he gotten
from his place to Blue’s?

“No. You got here around ten -thirty, high on pain meds and so tired you couldn’t keep your eyes
open.”

Solo didn’t understand his actions. It wasn’t like him. He looked down at himself, seeing the
homemade quilt covering the lower half of his body and felt like he was going to get sick. He thrust
the blanket away, groaning as his sore muscles protested the move. “Bathroom,” he said. He clenched
his jaws against the pain as he got out of bed.
“Did you bring your pain meds with you?”

“I don’t know.” Solo spotted his neatly folded jeans and bent to pick them up. “Christ!” he growled as
pain shot up his back.
“Let me.” Blue scrambled out of bed to retrieve Solo’s jeans. He held them up and gave them a shake.
It was obvious Solo had indeed brought the pills. “Is it okay if I search the pockets?”
“Sure.” Solo continued on toward the bathroom.
“You’ll need to take them with food. You take care of business while I make breakfast,” Blue
suggested.
Solo stopped in the doorway to the bathroom. “You’re gonna cook?” Fuck. His own mother hadn’t
cooked for him.
“Sure. If that’s okay?”

Solo thought about it for a moment, wondering what it would mean if he let Blue make him breakfast.
“Ummm, yeah, guess so.” He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. As soon as he was
alone, he relaxed and blew out a breath. It was just a moment, he tried to tell himself. The contentment
he’d felt waking with Blue in his arms had to have something to do with the pain meds he’d taken the
previous night. Had to be, right?

Staring at himself in the mirror, he scowled. “What the fuck’re you doing here?”
“Eggs fried or scrambled?” Blue asked from the hallway.
Solo glanced toward the closed door. “Either,” he replied. When he turned back to find a grinning man
reflected in the mirror, he growled.

“Okay, I left a robe for you on the bed.”
Solo moved to the toilet and relieved himself, flushing before he’d finished peeing.

“I should go back to the bedroom, get my shit and get the hell out of here,” he said to the artfully
arranged black and white framed photos above the commode. Who the fuck decorated a bathroom?

Blue. The answer came to him as quickly as the question popped into his head. He thought about
Blue’s obvious desire to build a home for himself. How had two people with such similar backgrounds
grown up to be so different? It wasn’t the first time he’d asked himself the question, and as long as he
hung around Blue, it wouldn’t be the last.

After looking around, he found a stack of plush washcloths in a small cabinet beside the shower. He
stared at the slate-tiled shower and shook his head, wanting nothing more than to climb inside with a
naked Blue in his arms. Unfortunately, it would be another day or two before he’d be able to handle
the spray against his road rash.

Instead, he’d have to settle for a whore’s bath and brushing his teeth with his finger and borrowed
toothpaste. By the time he felt somewhat human again, he decided to stay long enough to eat before
heading back to the safety of his place.

* * * *

Eric was just about to call Solo when he heard shuffling footsteps working their way toward the
kitchen. “Did you find the bathrobe I left for you?”
“Yeah,” Solo replied, appearing in the doorway. “Thanks.” He glanced down at the black satin robe.
“Really?”
Eric shrugged as he set a bowl of scrambled eggs in the center of the table. “I wear it sometimes. Give
it a while, and you’ll figure out why.” He returned to the stove and placed ten sausage links on a plate.
“Orange juice or milk?”
“Whatever,” Solo grumbled, taking a seat at the table. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“I know.” Eric would have offered to make breakfast for anyone who’d spent the night, but for some
reason, he wanted to cook for Solo. Normally, it was a sense of obligation that made Eric offer, but
with Solo, it was the fact he wanted him to stay longer. He set a gallon of milk and a carton of orange
juice on the table along with a carafe of coffee. “Do you take sugar in your coffee?”

“Goddamn, Blue, you’re not running a fucking restaurant here. Sit down and stop waiting on me. If I
need sugar, I’ll fucking get up and get it myself.”
Solo’s use of the nickname was the only thing that kept Eric from getting angry. It was obvious Solo
hurt, and equally obvious he wasn’t much of a morning person. With a resigned sigh, Eric sat to Solo’s
left at the small square table. He placed the pain pills next to Solo’s plate. “If you want, I can help you
wash your wounds and change the bandages.”

“Why would you do that?” Solo asked.
“Why do you keep asking me that?” Eric returned. “Haven’t you ever had someone care enough to do

shit for you?”
The expression on Solo’s face nearly crushed Eric. “Not that kind of shit. Rowdy’s got my back when
I’m riding and fighting, but no way in hell would he offer to wash my back.”
“His loss.” Actually, Eric was happy Rowdy didn’t take care of Solo the way he deserved to be taken
care of. It was obvious from Solo’s reaction to the question that he hadn’t experienced a loving
relationship of any kind. It was sad, but it made Eric more determined than ever to show Solo what
he’d missed out on. He used his fingers to pick up a sausage link. “I ran that license plate.”
Solo dropped his fork. “Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot about it. Who’s it registered to?”

“Harold Sterling. Name sound familiar?” Eric asked.
“Yeah. You get an address?” Solo asked.
Eric contemplated the question while he bit into the sausage. If he gave Solo the information, he had
no doubt Solo or Rowdy would try to go after the asshole. Shit. Not for the first time he wondered why
the hell he’d agreed to work with the big biker. It was beyond stupid.

Eric had joined the police force in an effort to bring a sense of order and stability to his life. It had
worked until he’d spotted a sexy-asfuck wet dream sitting at the bar at Lucky’s. His gaze locked on
the spider tattoo creeping its way up Solo’s neck. “Is our original deal still in place?”

“We have no deal when it comes to Harold. We agreed that when we found the man responsible for
making that kid sick, I wouldn’t kill him.” Solo poured a glass of milk. “Now, do you have an
address?”
Eric leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck!”
“Maybe later,” Solo mumbled around a bite of eggs. “For now, I just need the address.”
“I’ll give it to you tomorrow. I doubt Harold’s going anywhere between now and then. In the
meantime, you stayhere. I have to make an appearance at the station, and I’d still like to talk to some
of the students at Truman, but that shouldn’t take more than a few hours. While I’m out, I’ll pick up
some first aid supplies and something to make for dinner. You can spend the day sleeping, watching
TV or whatever.”

“I’m not staying here,” Solo argued. “I’ve got my own damn house.”
“Yeah, and those wounds need to be washed and bandaged. Besides, you just took your meds, so
you’re not fit to drive anywhere.”
“I could call Rowdy to pick me up,” Solo countered, a scowl on his handsome face.

“Do you really want him to know my address?” Eric asked. He wasn’t afraid of Rowdy, but things
could get complicated if the Grave Diggers found out where he lived. “Listen, you can barely walk.
There’s nothing you can do today, anyway. Be the tough guy tomorrow. Today, just relax, and let me
take care of you.”
“Speaking of Rowdy, I need to call. There’s no doubt he’ll at least stop by my place to check on me.”
Solo reached for a second helping of eggs and stole the last two sausage links.

“Want me to pick you up a prepaid phone while I’m out?” Eric asked. He’d do damn near anything to
keep Solo put for the day. He couldn’t explain it, but he liked the way the other man looked in his
house. The thought of spending time with Solo thrilled him.
“My wallet should be in my jeans. Grab whatever money you need,” Solo replied. He glanced around
the kitchen. “You really like those black and white pictures. I saw some in your bathroom, too.”

“I took ‘em,” Eric confessed. “I can’t afford good artwork, so I decided I could do as good a job as
some of those I see in Walmart and stuff.” Truth was, he’d really gotten into photography once he’d
started. His camera wasn’t fancy, but he’d been saving up for a nice one. Most of his photographs
were of scenery, but for the kitchen, he’d decided to go to an antique store and take pictures of old
kitchen utensils. He wasn’t sure how they’d work at the time, but he loved them once they’d been
framed and matted. Thatwas something else he’d taught himself to do. The price custom shops
charged for a cheap frame and a colored border of cardboard was ridiculous.

Solo nodded. “Nice. I like them.”
“Thanks.” Eric thought of the artwork Solo had on his bedroom walls. “I have a bunch I didn’t use. If
you’re interested, I could give you some.”
Solo shrugged, but didn’t say no.
Progress, Eric supposed.

* * * *

After a short nap, Solo stretched out on the couch and used Blue’s house phone to call Rowdy.
“Yeah?” Rowdy answered.
“It’s me.” Solo crossed his ankles on the arm of the couch. “Checkin’ in.” “I was getting ready to head
over. You need anything?”
“No.” Solo had gone back and forth with himself on whether or not to tell Rowdy where he was. In the
end, he’d decided it would be easier to tell the truth. “I’m at Blue’s.”

“Goddammit, Solo!” Rowdy exploded. “You gotta stop this shit before the club finds out. I can’t keep
covering your ass, motherfucker.”
“Tell Switch I’m shacked up with someone licking my wounds. He’ll understand.” Solo knew Switch
suspected he wasn’t into pussy, but he’d never come out and asked him about it, and Solo respected
the man enough not to offer information that might make it uncomfortable between them. “What
about Roach?” Rowdy asked.

“What about him? Did you talk to him yesterday?” Solo moved and the slick satin of the robe brushed
against his cock. Christ. He reached down and ran his bandaged palm across his dick. Blue hadn’t been
kidding about the robe.
“He never came into the club. I was planning to go look for him when Switch got the call from the
hospital,” Rowdy explained. “You want me to do that today or wait?”
Solo stared up at the ceiling. He could tell the pain meds were kicking in because he found it difficult
to concentrate on the conversation. He rubbed his dick again, barely biting back a moan. “You there?”
Rowdy asked.
“Yeah. Wait.” Solo sighed. “I wanna look into Roach’s eyes when we talk to him.” After
the information Blue had given him earlier, he no longer thought Roach was guilty of selling bad shit,
but the fact he was selling shit at all needed to stop. “I’ll call ya tomorrow.”
“Don’t get too comfortable over there,” Rowdy warned. “I like having you at my back. It’d suck if
Switch ordered me to take care of you.”
It was a very real possibility. If the club found out Solo was gay, he’d get jumped, and depending on

how many brothers were against him, he could end up in the ICU. That was kid stuff compared to what
would happen if they found out Solo was fucking a cop. “I hear you loud and clear.” “Later,” Rowdy
said before hanging up.

Yawning, Solo set the phone on the coffee table. He had an idea of where to find Easy Ed, but it would
be at least a few days before he could lean on him. If he hadn’t made the deal with Blue, he’d
havealready found the fucker and plugged him between the eyes, but, no, he’d let his dick make
the deal. Solo shot to a sitting position when he heard footsteps on the front porch. His body rigid,
he looked around for his knife. Fuck. It had to be in his jeans. The sound of a key fumbling in the lock
put him at ease, and he exhaled. Sinking back onto the couch, he watched as a smiling Blue opened
the door.

“Hey,” Solo greeted, trying to make his voice sound casual.
“How’re you doing?” Blue set down several plastic shopping bags before sitting on the coffee table
next to Solo.
“Just woke up.” Solo nodded toward the phone. “I called Rowdy. Told him I was here.” He tried not to
stare at Blue, but goddamn, the cop was fucking sexy. He reached out and rested his hand on Blue’s
thigh. “Did you find anything out at the school?”
Blue shook his head. “There’s something going on, that’s for sure, but I couldn’t get anyone to talk.”
He tapped his temple. “My spidey sense tells me the kid isn’t as innocent in what happened as he’s
pretending. I think I’ll pay him another visit while he’s still in the hospital. Once they get him home,
he’ll feel safer. Better to get him talking before that happens.”

Careful of the bandages, Solo rolled to his side and pressed against the back of the sofa, making room
for Blue to join him. He didn’t try to analyze the desire to have Blue close; he just went with his gut.
With a wicked grin, Blue pulled off his shoes before stretching out on the deep leather couch.

“This is the reason I bought this, so you know.” He leaned in and gifted Solo with a soft kiss. Staring
into those fucking blue eyes, Solo knew he could lose himself in the cop. There was an ease between
them like he’d never felt before. “Tell me more about this spidey sense of yours?” Blue rested his
head on the stack of pillows he’d put down for Solo. “Well, from what I’ve been able to piece
together, Andy is a privileged asshole with a huge chip on his shoulder.

His friends won’t talk about him out of some misguided sense of loyalty, and his enemies seem afraid
to talk.” “You thinking this is more than a stupid kid buying a bad bag of weed?” Solo asked.
He’d thought it strange when the victim refused to talk to the police, so it definitely made sense.
“Yeah,” Blue acknowledged. He brushed the back of his hand over the satin robe covering Solo’s cock.
“I’m going to run into the station pretty soon and talk to my captain.”

Solo moaned as the slick fabric rubbed against his dick. “How soon?”
Blue grinned. “That depends on how sore you are.”
“Too sore to fuck you the way I want, but my dick wouldn’t mind a suck.” It was the truth.
Solo would love to fuck the hell out of Blue but hated to do anything halfway. Maybe he was a
pig because in his mind, the next best thing to fucking was getting his cock sucked.
Blue wrapped his hand around Solo’s cock, keeping the satin material between his palm and the
sensitive skin of Solo’s hard shaft. It said a hell of a lot that Blue had the power to get Solo so hard
even through the haze of pain medicine. “Why don’t we get you in a shallow warm bath first so I can

wash your wounds? Once your bandages are changed, I’ll put you in bed, suck you dry then go talk
to the captain.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a busy afternoon ahead of you,” Solo said. As much as he wanted a blowjob,
it made sense to take care of his back and arms first because as drowsy as he was anyway, once he shot
his seed down Blue’s throat, he’d be out for several hours.
Blue leaned in for another kiss, but Solo didn’t let him get away with a quick peck. With a groan, Solo
parted Blue’s lips and thrust his tongue inside. He’d never been good with words, so he did his best to
show Blue with a kiss how glad he was to have stumbled through his front door. Throughout the day,
Solo began to remember snippets of the previous night. Rowdy had taken him home from the hospital,
had even helped him into bed, but the longer Solo laid there, the lonelier
he felt. All he could think about was Blue and the need to be with him.

There were still stretches of time he didn’t remember, the drive over to Blue’s being one of them, but
he couldn’t shake the feeling, the undeniable need of another person. How had he let a cop get so far
under his skin? He broke the kiss and stared into a pair of big blue eyes. The truth hit him like a fist.
When he looked at Blue, he didn’t see a cop. “What do you see when you look at me?” he asked Blue.
Blue’s expression turned questioning. “What do you mean?”

Feeling stupid, Solo shook his head. “Never mind. Did you get me a phone?” “Yeah, but I want to get
back to that question.” Blue released Solo’s cock. “I’m guessing that the reason you’re asking is
because you believe we’re so different.”
“We are,” Solo admitted.
“Why do you care so much about keeping drugs away from the schools?”
“Because my sister, Jessica, overdosed. She was only fifteen, and I was so busy causing and getting
into trouble that I didn’t even know she was using.” Solo swallowed. “I wasn’t there to look out for
her, so I’m making up for it by trying to keep someone else’s baby sister safe.” He broke eye contact.
“Switch, the club’s Prez, was the one who told me she was dead. I’d just gotten out of county and was
all kinds of fucked up. Switch found me, cleaned me up, and took me to the morgue to identify her
body because my mom was too drunk.” When he felt the sting of tears, he cleared his throat. He
wasn’t a fucking girl and refused to act like it. “After Jessica’s funeral, I walked away from
my mom and moved into the club until I saved enough to buy the trailer.” Blue gave Solo an
understanding smile. “For me, it was a cop named Martin Lee who lived next door to the last foster
family I was with. He had this gold nineteen seventy-two Mustang, you know, the ones with the wide
strip of black running down the hood?”

His smile grew wider. “Anyway, Mr. Lee used to bring that beautiful baby out of the garage every
Saturday and wash it. The family I
lived with didn’t give a shit about me, so I’d hang out with Mr. Lee. I suppose he’s the closest thing I
have to a father. I’m sure if he’d have been an accountant, I’d have followed in his footsteps, but he
was a cop.”
“Is he still alive?” Solo asked.

“Yeah. He’s retired from the force, but I meet him a couple times a month for lunch.” Blue rested his
forehead against Solo’s. “I didn’t get a job at the police department because I had some grand plan of
wiping out crime in the world. I went to the academy because Mr. Lee pulled some strings and got me
in. You may not be able to see it, but I’m a hell of a lot more than my job.” Solo did see it. Part of the
problem was that he often forgot what Blue did for a living.

H e understood the point Blue was trying to make, but he wouldn’t let himself get sucked into
a conversation about feelings. Hell, he’d only just discovered he had them. He decided to change
the subject. “Where’d you take that picture?” He pointed to the large black and white photo over the
sofa. “Olympic National Forest in Washington.” Blue stared up at the photograph. “I went a few years
ago. I was having a bad time, so I decided to get in my car and drive until I was surrounded by green.”
He glanced at Solo. “Yeah, I found it before I reached the park, but the green pulled me in.” A wistful
expression graced his handsome face. “I thought about coming home, selling everything and moving
up there.”

“So why didn’t you?” Solo asked. He’d never been further north than Utah, which had some pretty
country, but not enough to pull up stakes and move. Blue sat up and swung his legs over the side of the
couch. “For the first sixteen years of my life, no one gave a fuck whether I lived or died. Then I met
Mr. Lee.” He shrugged. “You don’t just give something like that away.”

Solo stared at Blue’s muscular back. He wanted to tell the man that he cared whether he lived or died,
but he couldn’t force the words out of his mouth. Instead, he went with the easiest answer.
“Yeah, that’s the way I feel about the club. They may not be blood, but they’re the only family
I’ve got.”

* * * *

Eric entered the house and tossed his keys on the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen.
He was in a sour mood after talking to his captain, and he hated to admit to Solo how fucked up the
situation was. He stopped short when he noticed the sexy man smiling at him from the stove.
“Hey.”
“I made dinner. Hope you don’t mind.”
Eric paused in the kitchen doorway, his mood lightening enough to grin. He should go take a shower
and try to get his head on straight, but not without a moment with Solo. “Yeah? What’d you make?”
Solo actually winced. “Well, I’m not much of a cook, so I made what I call Biker Chili. Pork and
Beans, hamburger and barbeque sauce.” He shrugged. “Not sure you’ll like it, but you had
the ingredients in the fridge.” Although it didn’t sound appetizing, Eric would never tell Solo that.
Knowing Solo had been comfortable enough in his house to cook, meant more than the actual meal
prepared. “I’ve never had it,
but I’ll give it a shot.” He gestured behind him. “Do I have time for a shower?”

“Sure. It’ll keep.” Solo started toward Eric. “Everything okay?”
“Not really, but I need some time to think,” Eric replied. When Solo was close enough to touch, Eric
gave into the need and pressed his palms against Solo’s chest. He brushed his fingertips over the dark
brown curls, but couldn’t meet Solo’s gaze. “I know in my gut Andy’s dirty, and I think my captain
agrees with me, but he told me to drop it, to focus on the dealer who sold Andy the weed in the first
place.”
Solo wrapped his bandaged arms around Eric’s waist. “The kid’s dad’s all chummy with the police
chief, so why does that surprise you? Haven’t you figured out yet that money and position
buy privilege?” Eric pressed against Solo, needing to hold the bigger man, but afraid of hurting him.

He’d only been a detective for six months, and it was the first time he’d been ordered to look the other
way. As a patrol officer, he knew the guys in the expensive cars often bought their way out of trouble,
but by then he’d already done his part. The situation with Andy Sparks wasn’t the same at all.

How could he explain to Solo that in a fifteen minute conversation with his captain, he’d lost some of
the faith he’d had in his career. With a sigh, he pulled away from Solo. “I’ll be back.” Solo let Eric go,
but it was obvious he had to fight himself to do it. “It’ll be okay. We’ll focus
on whoever dusted the weed with bad shit, and go from there.”
“Yeah,” Eric replied before walking away.

* * * *

Solo stirred the chili before turning the burner down. Fuck. He hated the defeated expression he’d seen
on Blue’s face. There had been moments in Solo’s life when he’d worried he didn’t expect enough out
of himself or his life, most recently, after he’d spent time with Blue that first evening.
However, after witnessing Blue’s disillusionment, he was grateful he’d never wanted anything
more out of his life than a warm place to sleep and enough food to eat. Solo rinsed off the spoon and
set it on the counter before wandering out of the kitchen to the bathroom door. He stood outside for a
moment, listening to the shower run. For the first time in his life, he wished he knew how to comfort
someone. Other than watching his brothers’ backs, he’d never truly thought of taking care of anyone
but himself. He knocked on the door before opening it. “Mind if I come in?”
From behind the glass shower door, Blue shook his head.
“I know you said you wanted some time to think, but I wanted to check on you,” Solo said
loud enough to be heard over the exhaust fan. He closed the toilet lid and took a seat. “I’m not good at
this sorta thing, so I need you to tell me what I can do to help.”
“Nothing much you can do.” Blue rinsed the shampoo from his short black hair. “I was smacked in the
face with several realities today, and I need to deal with ‘em.”

Several?Solo watched Blue’s perfect body through the slightly fogged glass. “I know the meeting with
your boss freaked you out, but what else happened today?”
Blue turned around and rinsed the soap from the front half of his body. He didn’t answer Solo right
away; instead, he continued to stand under the spray. Finally, Blue turned off the shower and opened
the door. Deliciously nude, Blue stared down into Solo’s eyes. “I think I’m falling in love, and I don’t
know how to deal with that. It’s not the love I’m afraid of—hell, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Solo stood
and handed Blue a thick pale green towel. He didn’t need Blue to explain further. The two of them
couldn’t work, and they both knew it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to hold the moment for as
long as he could. “Switch tells me that my dad loved me, but I don’t remember it.” “What was your
dad’s name?” Blue asked. Solo stepped back to give Blue enough room to climb out of the shower.
“His real name was Samuel, same as mine, but he went by Widow Maker.”

Blue reached out and brushed his finger over the black widow spider on Solo’s neck. “That’s why you
have that?”
Solo nodded in acknowledgment. “I still don’t understand why he had to leave. Hell, for all I know,
he’s dead and the club covered it up.”

“Want me to look into it? If he was running from the cops, surely there’s something in the system
about him.” Blue wrapped the towel around his waist. It didn’t miss Solo’s notice that neither of them
had addressed Blue’s statement of falling in love. Solo assumed there wasn’t much to be said because
saying the words wouldn’t change the fact that it was too dangerous to build a life on them. He
considered Blue’s offer. He’d told himself for years he was better off not knowing the truth. “I don’t
want you to do anything that’ll get you in trouble.”

“I won’t.” Blue reached around Solo and turned off the exhaust fan.
Solo took the hint and backed out of the bathroom, keeping his gaze on Blue. “Then, sure, see what
you can find.”

Chapter Five

Solo waited for Blue to finish the dinner dishes before reaching for his hand. “Come on.” He’d thought
of nothing else but making love since Blue had confessed the way he felt. Just knowing his cop liked
him enough to say he was falling was a huge deal, and even if it was premature, he wanted to
pretendhe was truly loved. It was a first for him, so it was fitting that he give Blue something he’d
never given another.

“Did you take your pills?” Blue asked, allowing Solo to lead him down the hall to the bedroom. “I
took the antibiotic, but no more pain pills for me. I’ll be fine without them, and I need to remember
everything from now on.” Solo released Blue’s hand and allowed the satin robe to fall from his
shoulders. “I don’t know how good it’ll be in the shape I’m in, but I want to fuck you.”
Blue noddedand pushed his sweats down and off. “I want that, too, but I don’t want you to hurt
yourself.”

Solo wanted to tell Blue that nothing would hurt more than when the two of them would have to walk
away from each other, but he couldn’t, so kept his mouth shut. Earlier in the day, he had actually taken
the time to make Blue’s bed. It was a rarity for him, but he wanted Blue to know how much he
respected his house. He reached for the blanket and top sheet and pulled them down to the foot of the
mattress.
“Lay down,” Solo instructed. He wanted to show Blue the same care and commitment Blue had shown
him earlier in the day. The blowjob he’d received had been one of the best ever, and he wanted to
return the favor. He’d never been into sucking cock, but Blue’s cock was different because it belonged
to a man who cared for him despite everything he was.

Blue climbed in and moved to the center.
Solo knelt at the bottom of the mattress between Blue’s spread legs. “Close your eyes.” Touching
someone tenderly was new to Solo, and he worried he’d look stupid doing it. “Think about that place
in Washington, the one in the living room photograph.”
Blue sighed when Solo started licking and kissing his inner thigh. “Nice.”
Solo brushed his lips across Blue’s balls before swiping the soft wrinkled skin with his tongue.
“Fuck,” Blue groaned, spreading his legs farther apart. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of
you.”
Solo lifted his head, teasing the base of Blue’s cock with the tip of his tongue. “And this is me
thanking youfor being so good at it.” The attention he paid Blue’s cock went against his natural
instinct to fuck—and fuck hard. Foreplay was a chick thing, or at least he’d always thought of it that
way. In the past, Solo had needed the physical release of being buried in someone’s ass while he came.
Taking time to learn every inch of someone else’s body hadn’t been a priority when he rarely saw
them again. Blue was different. Solo knew he’d need every memory he could latch onto in the weeks
and years ahead.
When Solo slipped his lips over the head of Blue’s cock, Blue let out a string of curses. “Goddamn,
babe, your mouth is fucking perfect, but I need you in me.”

Solo released Blue’s cock and crawled his way up the cop’s body, stopping to lick and nip each of the
taut nubs. “Babe?” he questioned.
Blue grinned. “I like it. You call me Blue,” he pointed out.

“Yeah.” The endearment created an ache in Solo’s chest. He reached toward the bedside drawer. He
retrieved a condom and the bottle of lube and set them on the mattress. Giving Blue what he wanted
wasn’t a problem, but Solo felt like he needed to make Blue understand how he was feeling.

“You know what you said earlier, when you first opened the shower door? I feel the same,” Solo
whispered in Blue’s ear. There. It was the closest he’d ever come to confessing his feelings to anyone.
Even his brothers thought he was a cold-hearted bastard most of the time, and if he were honest with
himself, Solo would have to agree they hadn’t been far off the mark.
Blue turned his head and pressed his lips against Solo’s. “What’re we gonna do about it?”
Solo shook his head. He reached for the bottle of lube. They needed a distraction because no way in
hell was he prepared to discuss walking away. The fact that it would eventually have to be done was
beside the point. Stretched out at Blue’s side, Solo slicked his fingers. He touched the puckered
opening of Blue’s ass and began to rub his lubed fingers over the ridged skin. “Later.”

Blue stared at Solo for several moments before giving a sharp nod.
Solo prayed Blue understood. Their moments together had become very special to him, and he didn’t
want the harsh words that would need to be said anywhere near his Blue. Watching Blue closely, he
eased a finger inside. He wasn’t afraid of hurting his cop. It was more the changing expressions on
Blue’s face that he was looking for.
Blue started out angry, or perhaps it was frustration. Yeah, Solo thought that was probably it. He
couldn’t blame Blue for that; Lord knew he felt the same way. As he continued to loosen the muscles
of Blue’s ass, the frustration slowly morphed into need. Yes, that’s what he’d been waiting for. He
removed his fingers and reached for the condom.
“Where can I put my hands so I don’t hurt you?” Blue asked when Solo insinuated himself between
Blue’s thighs.
“Around my neck,” Solo replied. It would be easier to fuck doggy-style, but he wanted the face time
with Blue. He applied more lube to Blue’s hole before handing back the bottle. “Just watch that you
don’t catch my back with your heels.”

“I won’t. Hurting you is the last thing I want to do,” Blue said.
Yeah, Solo completely understood that sentiment. He gripped his cock by the base and eased the
bulbous head into Blue. Fuck.
Blue’s body squeezed Solo’s cock as it drove deep.
“After that first time, I couldn’t get you off my mind. I should’ve known.”
“Known what? That you’d be back for seconds?” Blue asked.
“That the first time was about more than the way my dick felt buried inside you. I didn’t see it because
I didn’t want to see it,” Solo admitted.

Solo had thought a lot about his initial reaction to Blue’s house after spending most of the day alone in
it. The two bedroom cottage had made him long for something he’d always felt was out of his reach.
When Blue had explained why he loved his home and why he’d worked so hard to get it, Solo had felt
even worse. The two of them had come from very similar situations. Evidently, it hadn’t been that
something like Blue’s house was out of his reach, more that Solo had never reached for it in the first
place. It had him wondering what else he’d denied himself because of his circumstances.
Once his cock was buried to the root, Solo gave Blue a soft kiss on the lips. “You make me question
everything,” he admitted, “and that scares me.”
Blue pulled Solo’s head down for another deep kiss as Solo began to ease his cock in and out of Blue’s

hole. Breaking the kiss, Blue licked his lips. “I’m feeling the same way.”

Solo closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the honesty that hovered between them. Fucking. He
needed to concentrate on fucking before regrets of what couldn’t be deflated his cock. Out. He
mentally reminded himself as he withdrew. In. Yes, the in was his favorite part of fucking Blue.
Becoming one with a man who had opened his eyes to everything he hadn’t known he’d wanted and
needed.

Blue hooked his forearms under his knees before drawing them against his chest. The action opened
him further, allowing Solo room to fuck, and fuck he did. He shoved a pillow under Blue’s lower back,
lifting his ass further into the air.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Solo grunted as he surged deep inside. He no longer had to concentrate on what to
do, his dick, his heart and his mind finally synchronized in a battering of thrusts meant to bring Blue
pleasure.
“Christ, you feel good,” Blue growled, his voice dipping lower than Solo had ever heard it.
Six thrusts, seven, oh, fuck, Solo prayed he could hold on until he at least made Blue come. “Fuck, I’m
trying to hold on, but the feel of your ass is making it really difficult.”
Blue licked his lips. “Come on my cock, and I’ll blow.”
The thought of shooting his seed on Blue’s dick and stomach was fucking hot. Solo pulled his cock
from Blue’s ass and stripped off the condom. On his knees, towering over Blue’s sexy as fuck body,
Solo wrapped his hand around his cock and started jacking off while meeting Blue’s gaze. “This what
you want?”
“Oh, yeah,” Blue moaned, drawing each word out as he reached for his cock.
It was one of the first time in his life that fucking had turned into a dual masturbation scenario, but,
hell, it was Blue. Solo worked his knob, using his pre-cum to grease the head. He gasped as the first
strand shot from his dick, painting a glossy strip across Blue’s cock and hand. “Fuck!”
“Uh huh,” Blue agreed, adding his own cum to his stomach.
Marking Blue with strands of seed made Solo feel like a king, something he desperately needed after
all the shit he’d put his ego through since waking in Blue’s bed that morning. He used his free hand to
rub the warm fluids into Blue’s skin. “Damn, you’re sexy like that.”
Blue yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “I aim to please.”
Solo chuckled, a rarity for him. “And you did.”

* * * *

“Where’re you going?” Eric asked, closing the dishwasher.
Solo struggled to get his boot on. “To the club. I need to check in before they come looking for me.”
Eric dried his hands before sitting on the floor at Solo’s feet. He took the boot out of Solo’s hands and
worked until it settled on the man’s foot He didn’t like the way Solo refused to meet his gaze. “What
about your wounds?”
“What about ’em? It’ll take a couple weeks before they’re healed and no way in hell am I sitting
around the house for that long. Besides, you said you’d give me Harold Sterling’s address if I stayed
yesterday.”
Eric got to his feet. “Is that the only reason you stayed?” Sure, he knew he was fishing, but things

between them seemed strained and he’d tried to figure out all morning what he’d said or done to upset
Solo. He had a feeling things had gotten a little too honest for the man, but he couldn’t let Solo put
that wall back up between them.
Solo shrugged into his cut. “You know it’s not, but sitting around here won’t keep the kids safe.”
Eric wanted to reach for Solo, but wasn’t sure his touch would be welcomed. Instead, he moved to the
junk drawer and pulled out a small pad of paper. He wondered if he needed to remind Solo of their
deal. “I put my number in your burner phone.” He jotted down Harold’s address. “Will you call if you
find something?” He tore off the paper before holding it out.

Solo took the address. “I’ll call.” He turned and started to leave, but stopped in the kitchen doorway,
his back to Eric. “If I can get away, is it okay if I come by tonight?”
“Of course.” Eric moved to stand in front of Solo. “I know you don’t wanna talk about what comes
after we catch this guy, but I need you to know that I will neverturn you away.”
Solo closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t talk about this now.”
Eric wanted to growl in frustration. “Whatever,” he said in resignation. “If you find out where Easy Ed
is, call me. Show me the same respect I’m giving you.”

Solo cocked his head to the side. “You doubting me, Blue?”
“At this moment, I doubt everything,” Eric confessed. He’d been disillusioned by his career, and Solo
had become emotionally walled off. How could he feel otherwise?
Solo sighed and stared at the sheet of paper in his hand. “Is this address going to be a deal breaker for
us?”
Eric shook his head. “No, but pulling away from me will be.” He settled his hands on his hips. “I need
the dealer away from the school, and I need to give my captain something that tells him I’ve done my
job. But, the way I’m feeling right now, I’m not even sure I want the job I’ve been trained to do.
Maybe I’d be better off resigning. Hell, maybe it’s time to make that move to Washington.” He
dragged his fingers through his hair, his frustration level greater than it had ever been. “I get why you
can’t let your brothers know you’re gay, but they aren’t standing in my kitchen.”

“I can live through the beat down the brothers will give me. It’s the fact that you’re a cop that’ll get
me killed,” Solo replied. “You’re not the only one questioning things. Unfortunately, you don’t risk
losing your life by making a career change. So excuse me if I’m not all fucking rainbows and sunshine
this morning.”
Shocked by the knowledge, Eric moved to press himself against Solo’s chest. “They’d kill you?”
Solo kept his arms at his sides. “It’s a possibility.” He took a step back, putting distance between
them. “I need to get my head on straight, and for that to happen, I need to go.” He kissed Eric’s
forehead before handing him the piece of paper. “You can deal with finding Easy Ed. I’ve got another
lead on a dealer I’ll check out.”
Eric clutched the paper to his chest. He knew what giving up the address meant for Solo. “Thanks. I’ll
let you know what I find.”
Solo nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”

Before Eric could say anything more, Solo turned and walked out of the kitchen. A moment later, he
heard the unmistakable sound of the front door closing.

“Fuck!” Eric kicked one of the kitchen chairs, sending it skidding across the floor. After the best night
of his life, he was losing everything he’d ever wanted.

* * * *

After stopping byhis trailer for a quick change of clothes, Solo entered the clubhouse. He’d called
Rowdy earlier and immediately spotted his friend waiting for him in their usual booth. “Coffee,” he
told the prospect behind the bar.
“How’re you doing?” Crane asked.
“Grouchy as fuck,” he growled. The kid was loyal and pleasant to be around. Solo had no doubt the
prospect would become a full patched member of the club before long.

Solo wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Walking away from Blue had gutted him, but he didn’t see a
way around it. For a moment, he’d considered urging Blue to quit the force. In the end, Solo knew he
didn’t have the right to involve himself in a decision like that anymore than Blue had a right to ask
Solo to leave his brothers and the club.
Solo carried his coffee to the booth and slid in, back to the wall. “Hey.”
“Someone shit in your cornflakes this morning?” Rowdy asked, setting his phone down.

“Is Roach working today?” Solo refused to discuss his personal life with Rowdy. Yes, Rowdy was his
best friend, but he already knew the man didn’t approve of his relationship with Blue.
“No,” Rowdy answered. “He’s off today. He was here last night drinking and fucking, but he left
around two.”

Without Harold to chase down, he had only two options, Roach orMarco. He wasn’t a pussy by a long
shot, but going into the Devil’s territory to question Marco was a bad idea. The two clubs were not
friendly, and Solo knew anything he did to Marco would come back on the Diggers ten-fold. It was the
way of clubs. He set down his coffee and fisted both his hands, checking to see if his wounds would
hinder his ability to fight. Confronting Roach wouldn’t happen without a backlash from the man in
one form or another, and he wasn’t stupid enough to get into shit like that if he couldn’t handle
himself.
“I got your back,” Rowdy said, evidently reading Solo’s mind.

Solo’s prepaid cell phone rang, drawing his attention immediately. There was only one person who
had his new number. “Yeah,” he answered.
“No luck getting anything out of Harold. He’s dead and from the smell, I’d say he’s been that way for
at least a day,” Blue informed Solo. “I just called it in.”
“How?” Solo asked. The state of the body would tell him a lot about who did the deed.
“Shotgun blast to the chest. Either that or someone set off a small bomb inside the guy, because shit,
it’s bad.”
Solo released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Roach’s weapon of choice was a
wicked-looking hunting knife he kept strapped to his leg. Which meant, either Easy Ed killed his own
brother or Marco. “I need to find Easy Ed.”
Solo noticed the grim expression on Rowdy’s face, but continued. “That okay?”
“I thought you didn’t know where he lived. You’re holding back on me,” Blue accused.
“No, I’m not. I know where he hangs.” Bright sunlight hit Solo as the front door swung open. Roach.
“Gotta go. I’ll call ya later.” He hung up before Blue could sign off and glanced at Rowdy. “Harold bit

it from a shotgun to the chest.”
“Not Roach then,” Rowdy surmised.

“Right, but I wonder if Roach’s heard anything about it.” Solo slid out of the booth and carried his
empty coffee cup to the bar where Roach had taken a seat. Roach was a squirrel, a term the brothers
used to describe someone who was small and thin but would hurt you before you had a chance to hurt
him. He was crazy and unpredictable on a good day. Unfortunately, from Roach’s bloodshot eyes to
the dirty clothes he’d obviously worn the day before, it didn’t appear to be a good day.

“Hey,” Solo greeted Roach while sliding his cup toward Crane. “Another,” he told the prospect.
Roach lit a cigarette. “Coffee with a shot of Jack.” He grinned up at Solo but didn’t meet Solo’s gaze.
“Hair of the dog.”
Solo took the refilled cup from Crane before returning his attention to Roach. There was something
off about the brother. “Bring that over and sit with me and Rowdy.”
“Can’t. Gotta see someone,” Roach said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Who?” Solo noticed the way Roach’s hands shook. The asshole was either tweaking or in need of his
next fix, so he had a good idea of where Roach was going.

“Just a friend.” Roach finished the coffee and Jack in one gulp even though the shit had to have burned
his throat on the way down. He nodded to Solo. “Catch ya later.”
Solo watched Roach leave the clubhouse before turning to Crane. “Where’s he getting his shit
nowadays?”
Crane dunked Roach’s cup in a sink of soapy water. “Haven’t heard.”
Solo knew Crane was full of shit. Always in the background, the prospect was the eyes and ears inside
the club, reporting only to Switch. Yeah, if Solo wanted to know what Crane knew, he’d have to go
through the Prez to get it. He slapped the bar. “Thanks.”
Solo walked back to the table. “Is Switch in his office?”
“Yeah, got in a while ago. Why?” Rowdy asked.
“I need to touch base with him.” Solo left his coffee on the table and strode to the large room used for
church and Switch’s office. He knocked on the door and waited.

“Yeah,” Switch’s deep voice called.
Solo opened the door. “Got a minute?”
Switch threw down a pen and leaned back in his chair. “How’re the arms?”
“Painful.” Solo entered the room and shut the door. “I think I screwed up two of my tats and my
bottom rocker’s going to need to be repaired.” He turned around and showed Switch the patch on his
lower backthat read Albuquerque. “You think Marlene can fix it for me?” Solo loved Switch’s old
lady, and she was damn good at sewing.
“I’ll call her,” Switch offered.

“Thanks.” Solo sat in one of the empty chairs. “I need to talk to you about what’s going down at
Turner.”
“Okay.” Switch swung his feet up on the desk and crossed his ankles. “You get it taken care of?”
“I don’t know. It turns out, the dealer I spotted outside the high school was Easy Ed’s brother,” Solo
began.
“Was?”
“Yeah.” Solo tried to remain calm. Telling Switch that he got the information of Harold’s death from

his cop lover wasn’t an option. “Cops found him dead. His chest was ripped open by a shotgun blast.”
Switch’s bushy gray eyebrows shot up. “Easy?”
Solo shrugged. “I don’t know. When I talked to Stevie Boy about who was selling dusted weed, he
gave me three names, and Ed was one of them.” He sat forward in his chair and leaned his forearms on
his thighs. “So was Roach.”
Solo had put off talking to Switch about his brother because he wanted to approach Roach first.
Unfortunately, it seemed Roach was into using his own shit. Weed had never been a problem for the
club. Hell, even Solo had enjoyed the mellow high weed provided, but hard drugs made a man
untrustworthy, and they all knew it.

Switchran his hand over his long beard in thought for several moments. “Are you accusing Roach of
selling at Turner?”
“No.” To formally accuse Roach of such a thing, Solo would need proof to take to the other brothers at
a formal church meeting.
“I saw Roach a few minutes ago, and asked if I could talk to him, but he left before I got the chance.
Seemed to me he was coming down and needed a fix.” Solo let the words hang in the air, knowing a
shitstorm could rain down on him at any moment. “I’d like to find out where he’s getting the meth.”

Switch continued to stare at Solo. Finally, after several uncomfortable moments, he sighed. “Easy
Ed.” He pointed his finger at Solo. “Roach doesn’t use guns and you know it, so I’m not sure what
you’re thinking, but he isn’t involved with the shit that went down with Easy’s brother.”
“I hope not,” Solo replied. “But we’ve still got a dealer out there who’s dusting their product with
poison, and if I find out Roach had anything to do with it, I’m not going to spare him anything.” He
held up his hands before Switch could jump down his throat. “I’ll bring it to church, but I won’t look
the other way. You know how I feel about drugs and kids.”
Switch dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “As far as I know, Roach isn’t dealing.”

“Then why’d Stevie Boy name him?” Solo asked. Was it possible he’d been lied to? Had Stevie tried
to throw Solo and Rowdy off the scent by naming Roach?
“Maybe another visit to Stevie’s in order.”
Solo got to his feet. He wanted to talk to Easy, too, but he’d swing by Stevie’s on the way because no
matter what, he trusted Switch’s instincts. “I’ll call you.”
“Be safe, brother,” Switch called as Solo left the office.
Solo stopped at the table and stared down at his cold cup of coffee before regarding Rowdy. “Feel like
taking a ride?”

Chapter Six

While the crime scene unit processed Harold’s living room, Eric wandered into the bedroom. Wearing
a pair of blue latex gloves, he pulled open the bedside drawer and began to search its contents. He
grimaced as he moved aside two extra-large boxes of condoms. Harold had not been an attractive man
even before his chest had been introduced to both barrels of a shotgun, so he couldn’t imagine what
kind of females the vermin attracted.

The rest of the drawer contained drug paraphernalia, a couple of nudie magazines and a tube sock that
was as stiff as a board. Disgusting. Eric swallowed the threatening bile before it could work its way
further up his throat. He’d been right, no way was Harold a fuck machine like the boxes of condoms
suggested.

Eric picked up one of the boxes and began to examine it further. Instead of happy times in a foil
packet, he found a bag of white powder with a small black X on the corner. “Shit.” He searched the
second box and whistled as he pulled out a roll of cash.

Eric turned and headed for the living room when a hard-core gangsta rap song began to play. “Phone?”
he asked one of the technicians.
The thirty-something woman gestured to a bagged cell phone on the kitchen table.
“Can I answer it?” Eric asked.
“Keep your gloves on.”

The ringtone cut off before Eric reached the phone. “Fuck.” He doubted he’d get any information from
the caller anyway, but at least he now had a record of the person’s phone number. With luck, the call
hadn’t originated from a burner or public phone. After shaking the phone from the bag, he noticed
Harold had five messages, which made sense since the guy’d been dead for a while. Unfortunately,
Harold’s piece of crap wasn’t a smart phone, which made sense given the fuckwad who’d owned it,
but it meant he had to put in a four-digit pin number before he could retrieve the messages. There
were tech guys at the station who could probably bypass the pin, but he wasn’t one of them. He settled
for scrolling down the list of recent calls and wrote down several numbers, noticing most of the
incoming calls had originated from three different numbers.

Using his own phone, he called the station. “Yeah, this is Detective Eric James.” He rattled off his
badge number. “I need names and addresses to go with three phone numbers ASAP.”
A beep sounded in his ear, and he pulled the phone away long enough to see Solo’s burner number
appear on the display. He gave the officer the numbers in a rush. “Call me back at this number when
you have somethingfor me.”
By the time he ended the call with the station, Solo had hung up without leaving a message. His day
just kept getting better and better. He retreated to the bedroom and called Solo.
“Hey,” Solo answered, his voice deep and sexy.
“Sorry. I was on the phone with the station. They’re checking out three numbers I found on Harold’s
cell.” Eric held back the information about the money and drugs for the moment.
“Rowdy and I are on our way to see Stevie Boy. Hopefully, we’ll get Easy’s address. If not, maybe
we’ll get lucky and one of the numbers you’re tracing will lead us to him.”
For some reason, Solo’s assumption that Eric would just hand over information bugged him. Eric
stared at the cash and drugs still sitting on top of the bedside table. “Depends on what I find. I can’t

allow you to fuck up a police investigation, or both our asses will be in a sling.”
Eric was met by complete silence for several heartbeats.
“Sorry to bother you. I was under the impression we were working together. My mistake.” Solo hung
up without giving Eric a chance to say anything.
Eric tried to call Solo back twice with no answer. On his third attempt, his call went straight to
voicemail. Before shoving his phone back into his pocket, he took a few photos of the drugs and
money. Satisfied, he returned to the living room. “When you finish up in here, there are a couple of
items on the bedside table I need you to bag and tag.”
The same woman he’d spoken to earlier rose from her position on the floor. “We’ll process that room
next.”

Eric nodded. “I’ll need to know as soon as possible what the white powder is.” He left the house and
headed to his car to write up his notes. The only time he wished he had a partner was when it came to
paperwork.

By the time his phone rang, he’d finished typing his statement. “James,” he answered.
“Where’d you get those phone numbers?” Captain Wallace asked.
“In my murder victim’s phone.” Eric set his laptop in the passenger seat. He could tell by his captain’s
tone of voice that something was seriously wrong. “Why?”
“One of the numbers is registered to Jim Sparks. I did some digging and discovered the phone itself is
Andy’s.” Wallace made a disgusted noise. “The chief wants us to bury the number. I know it goes
against everything we believe in, but unless we both want to land in the middle of an Internal Affairs
investigation, we’re going to have to do what we’re told.”
“That’s bullshit!” Eric screamed, slamming his fist against the steering wheel.
“I hear ya, but for now, concentrate on the other two, an Edward Sterling, the victim’s brother, I
assume, and a Steven Boyd.”
“Shit. I’ve heard of those guys. Can you text me their addresses?” Eric started his police-issued sedan.
Before Solo had hung up on him, he’d mentioned that he and Rowdy were going to visit Stevie Boy.
Eric would bet his badge that Stevie Boy and Steven Boyd were the same person.
“Yeah, coming to you now,” Wallace said. “Want backup?”
Eric couldn’t ask for backup if Rowdy and Solo were already at Stevie’s place. “Let me check it out
first. If it looks like he has company, I’ll call it in.”
Eric prayed his captain would agree with his plan because he had no doubt there’d be nothing but
trouble if anyone else found two outlaw bikers in the home of a drug dealer, especially one with ties to
a murder victim. Despite what he told his captain, Eric had no intention of calling for backup, at least
not from the police department.
“Check in,” Wallace ordered.

“I will.” Eric ended the call and immediately tried Solo. When he was told to leave a message without
the phone ringing, he knew Solo had the damn thing turned off. “It’s me,” he said when he was
prompted to leave a message. “I’m on my way to Stevie Boy’s on official business. If you’re there,
you need to leave before I get there.”

* * * *

Solo couldn’t help but grin at the makeshift repair to Stevie Boy’s front door. He knocked even though
it was perfectly obvious he could open the door on his own with only the slightest push.
“Come in,” a voice called from the ground floor apartment.
Solo exchanged glances with Rowdy. “You think his lazy ass’s still in bed?”
Rowdy shrugged. “You did work him over pretty good.”
Solo opened the door and stepped into the darkened interior. The smell was worse than the last time
they’d visited. “Jesus Christ! Open a fucking window or something,” he said, waving his hand in front
of his face.
Stevie sat in a recliner with his legs stretched out in front of him, covered in a blanket. “I don’t have
anything to say to you.”
“Well, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Solo began. He needed answers from Stevie, and the last time
he’d threatened the weasel, he’d been lied to. Instead of intimidation, Solo decided to play it cool. He
took a seat on the ratty couch. “I need to talk to you about Roach.”
“Roach?” Stevie wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “What about him?”
“Where’s he buying his stuff?” Solo asked, hoping to trick Stevie.
“Easy. Everyone’s been buying from Easy lately,” Stevie groused.
“I thought you said Roach was one of the big dealers. If that’s the case, why would he buy from Easy?
Why not cut out the middle man?” Solo glanced at Rowdy, who’d taken up position on the arm of the
sofa. “You have any ideas on why that would happen?” he asked his friend.
“Nope,” Rowdy replied.

Solo returned his attention to Stevie Boy. “Did you tell me a fib?” He rubbed his jaw. “Why would
you do that?”
“What the hell’re you doing here? If it’s about Harold, I don’t know shit.” Stevie said, shifting
nervously.
Solo stilled. “Now how would you know about Harold? Seeing as how his body was discovered less
than two hours ago, I don’t see how that’d be possible.”

The unmistakable sound of a gun safety being released filled the small space.
“You plannin’ to kill us?” Solo asked. Although he had a small knife tucked into the back of his jeans,
he doubted he could get to it and take Stevie out before the dickhead pulled the trigger.
“I’m sure as hell not gonna let you touch me again,” Stevie answered. He threw back the blanket,
uncovering a Glock 9mm handgun. “I assume you’re here to do Easy’s dirty work, and I just can’t let
that happen.”
“I haven’t even talked to Easy,” Solo said, hoping to distract Stevie enough for Rowdy to reach the
Smith & Wesson he wore in a shoulder harness under his vest. “I was hoping to get Easy’s address
fromyou.”
“He’s fucking crazy, man,” Stevie said. “Killed his own fucking brother and sent me pictures of it.”
“Why would he do that?” Solo asked as he slowly inched away from Rowdy.
Stevie broke eye contact, shifting his gaze to the window beside the front door.
Solo lunged off the sofa toward Stevie just as the front door exploded inward. There, silhouetted in the
doorway, was the outline of the only person Solo had ever loved. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
the gun in Stevie’s hand swing toward Blue.
“No!” Solo screamed, throwing himself at Stevie. Too late, he heard the sound of a gunshot ringing in
his ears as his body collided with Stevie. The recliner tipped onto its side at the impact, throwing both
Solo and Stevie to the floor.

The Glock pressed against Solo’s forehead hard enough to split the skin. Despite his ringing ears, he
stared into Stevie’s crazed eyes, knowing he was about to die. All he could think about was Blue, and
whether or not the shot had ripped through his perfect body.
Solo heard someone yell his name a split second before his face was splattered with blood and tissue
as Stevie’s head exploded. Solo reared back in an attempt to get away from the gruesome sight.
Blue dropped to the floor beside Stevie’s lifeless body. “You need to get out of here before the cops
are called,” he panted, holding his hand over a bloody patch on his shirt. “Wipe your fingerprints off
everything you’ve touched and go.”
Solo shook his head and reached for Blue. “I’m not leaving you. You’ve been shot.”
“Help will get here in time, but they can’t catch you here.” Blue looked over his shoulder at Rowdy.
“Get him out of here.”
“Come on,” Rowdy said, holding his hand out to Solo. “He’s right. The cops won’t believe we’re
innocent in all this.”

Solo stared at Blue. He knew what lying to the police would mean for Blue if it was ever discovered.
Knowing Blue was willing to sacrifice his career to keep him and Rowdy out of trouble meant
everything. “I love you,” he whispered as Rowdy pulled him to his feet.
Blue grimaced and started to unbutton his shirt. “Love you. Now clean your fingerprints and go.” He
tore his shirt off and balled it up to press against the gunshot wound on his side. “Forget the cleaning.
Just go,” he panted, moving to rest his back against the wall.

Solo started toward the door, hating himself. “Easy killed Harold. There should be a picture of it on
Stevie’s phone,” he told Blue before wiping the doorknob with the bottom of his T-shirt.
Blue nodded but didn’t say anything.
Sirens in the distancecaught Solo’s attention. “Shit.” With one final look at Blue, he raced out the
front door and across the parking lot to his Nova. He tossed the keys to Rowdy. “You drive.”
Rowdy pulled out of the parking lot. “Easy’s?”

“No. Blue’s earned that arrest. Take me to the clubhouse.” Solo leaned his head against the back of the
seat. He had no doubt someone had spotted them leaving Stevie’s apartment. Hopefully, the fear of
retaliation by the Grave Diggers would keep their mouths shut.

* * * *

By the time Rowdy parked the Nova in its normal spot outside the club, Solo was out of his mind with
worry. “We should just go to the hospital.”
Rowdy quickly pocketed the keys as he climbed out of the car. “Not gonna happen.”
Solo got out and slammed the passenger door. “We just left him.” He’d never forget the gut wrenching
fear that swallowed him whole when he heard Stevie’s gun go off. He began to pace the parking lot,
yanking handfuls of his hair. “Christ! Blue saved both our asses, and we just fucking left him!”
“Oh, shit,” Rowdy said.
Solo turned just in time to see Switch walk toward them from the open garage bay. Fuck. The last
thing he needed was to go up against his Prez. He moved to the opposite side of the Nova, trying his
best to keep his back to Switch.

“What the hell’s got you so fired up?” Switch asked. “I heard you over Zeppelin, and that’s saying
something.”
“We ran into some trouble at Stevie Boy’s,” Rowdy replied.
Solo curled his hand into a fist and pounded it against the hood of the Nova. “Rowdy!”
Rowdynarrowed his eyes and held his palm up. “We went to talk to Stevie like you asked, but he
pulled a gun on Solo. We weren’t prepared, and couldn’t draw our weapons without one of us dying.
Luckily, a cop busted the door in. Stevie shot the cop.”
“Oh fuck!” Switch growled.

Rowdy shook his head and continued. “I was reaching for my gun when Stevie pressed his against
Solo’s forehead.” He glanced at Solo. “The cop was shot in the side but still managed to blow Stevie’s
fucking head off before he could shoot Solo. He then told us to wipe down our fingerprints and get the
hell out before other cops came.”
“Why the hell would he do that?” Switch asked, moving around the car to stare at Solo. “Fuck, you’re
covered in blood.”
“That’s what happens when a man’s head explodes right in front of you,” Solo said, hoping Switch
would forget about Blue. He didn’t understand why Rowdy was spilling his guts to the Prez, knowing
the truth would get Solo killed.

“The cop’s a good guy. Hell, the only decent one I’ve ever met. He’s after the dealer who put that kid
in the hospital, too, and has fed us information along the way.” Rowdy looked at Solo. “My brother is
standing next to you right now because of that cop.”
Switch nodded. “Is this a situation we need to bring up in church?”

Solo knew what Switch was asking. He also knew it was Rowdy who had opened the door to the
possibility, and for that he’d always be grateful. “Yeah, maybe. I think he’s earned a place as a friend
of the club, but I’d like to talk to him about it first.” Fuck. He put his hands on his hips and stared up
at the afternoon sun. “If he makes it. We left him there at Stevie’s, bleeding.”
“He told us to go,” Rowdy reminded Solo.
“Yeah. Doesn’t make it right.” Solo walked around the car and held out his hand. “Keys.”
“You can’t go to the hospital,” Rowdy said.
“I’m pissed off, not stupid.” Solo eyed his best friend. “I’d like to go home and wash the fuckin’ blood
off me, okay?”
Rowdy looked to Switch.
“Give him the keys,” Switch said. “Get cleaned up then get your ass back here. We need to talk.”
Although Solo had no idea what he might be coming back to, he nodded. Running away from the club
wasn’t an option, but after the day’s events, neither was running away from Blue. “Give me two
hours.”
* * * *
Rowdy was waiting beside the door to the club when Solo climbed out of his car. “Feel better?”
Rowdy asked.
“Not a goddamn bit.” Solo dragged his hands through his wet hair. “Who’s here?”
“All patched members that are in town.” Rowdy bumped his fist against the top of Solo’s shoulder.
“You sure this is what you want?”
Solo thought of the ache that still clung to his chest after seeing Blue get shot. “I don’t have a choice. I
love him.”
“Okay then. Let’s do it. I’ve got your back.” Rowdy opened the door.

Solo stared at his best friend. “Don’t know why you put up with me, but thanks.”
When Rowdy said nothing in reply, Solo walked into the clubhouse. The room was empty except the
prospect tending the bar. “Church?” he asked Rowdy.
“Yeah. We’ll have to vote.”
Knowing a roomful of his brothers would vote on whether or not he could live and hold onto his colors
hurt, but he wouldn’t back out.
Rowdy leaned over and whispered in Solo’s ear. “If it helps, I overheard a few of the guys say they’d
always suspected you were gay or at least bi.”
“It doesn’t,” Solo replied. He hated the fact that his brothers had been questioning his sexuality behind
his back instead of just asking him. He wiped his suddenly sweaty palms against his leg before
opening the door to the meeting room. Most of his brothers were seated around the table and against
the walls.
“Have a seat,” Switch ordered.
Solo strode to the table and stood in front of the chair he usually sat in. Sitting was the last thing he
wanted to do if he was going to be jumped. Better to be on his feet. “With permission, I’d like to say
something first.”
Switch scratched his jaw but eventually nodded.
Solo braced his hands on the long, scarred wooden table and addressed his brothers. “Some of you
know why you’re here, but I can tell by the friendly faces that greeted me when I came into the room,
that not all of you know what I’ve done.” He watched as the expressions on some of his brothers
turned questioning. “A while back, I decided I liked dick over pussy.”
He waited for the statementto sink in before continuing. “I know that’s enough right there to lose your
trust, and if it’ll make things better, I’ll be out in the parking lot following the meeting. Bring your
pissed off attitudes and your fists and we’ll settle it one way or another.”
Grumbles between men filled the air as each brother turned to the man beside him to discuss the
announcement.
Solo waited, and sure enough, Switch banged his gavel against the table, calling for quiet.
“Have a seat,” Switch ordered again.
With no other choice, Solo sank into his chair and waited for the Prez to direct the meeting.
“I don’t give a shit what you like to fuck as long as you stay away from my dog and my wife,” Switch
said. “However, in your case, things might’ve been easier if you’d tried to hump my dog.”
Several brothers chuckled, but Switch quieted them with a stare.
Switch turned his attention back to Solo. “You’ve been seeing a cop,” he stated for the room to hear.
“Yes.” Solo refused to apologize for falling in love with Blue. “A cop who worked with me to find the
sonofabitch who was selling drugs to kids.”
“A cop who was shot today saving my ass and Solo’s,” Rowdy added. “The same cop who told us to
leave the scene before other cops surrounded the place. A cop who has put his own job on the line to
protect us.”
“A fucking cop!”
“You’re a fucking traitor!”
Solo ignored the shouts from some of his brothers and glanced at his friend. It was one thing for
Rowdy to stick up for him to Switch, but to do it in front of the entire club was huge.
“Since we’ve been working together, I’ve discovered there’s more to the cop than the badge. I’m not
saying I’ve changed my attitude towards the police, but this one’s different. This one sees us for who
we are and not just the colors we wear on our backs.” By the time Rowdy finished speaking his hands
were fisted on the top of the table.
“He’s still a cop!” Roach argued.

“Yeah, he is,” Solo acknowledged. “He’s also the one who helped us prove that you didn’t have
anything to do with poisoning that kid after fuckin’ Stevie Boy tried to point us in your direction.” He
studied the room, making eye contact with each of his brothers. “I’ve risked my life for a lot of you in
this room, and I will continue to have your backs, but I will not give up this man. Kill me, throw me
out or accept that I would die for each and every one of you no matter who I love.” * * * *
Eric opened his eyes to find Mr. Lee sitting beside his hospital bed. “Hey, Mr. Lee.”
Mr. Lee set his newspaper aside. “How many times have I told you to call me Martin?”
“Can’t do it,” Eric confessed. “And I believe I’ve told you that on several occasions.” The one lesson
Eric learned from Mr. Lee was respect, and no matter what the older man said, Eric would always
show him the respect he deserved.
“The doctor was in a while ago. Said you’d be getting out tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Eric placed his palm on the bandage. “It was a pretty clean shot. Nicked my liver, and I lost
some blood, but nothing life threatening.”
“You were lucky,” Mr. Lee said.
Eric didn’t feel lucky. When he’d opened his eyes after getting out of surgery, Captain Wallace had
been at his bedside, waiting to take his statement. He knew he couldn’t get away with a complete lie,
after all, he had to have had a reason to kick Stevie’s door down, but he couldn’t tell the truth either.
The whole thing had been a cluster fuck of epic proportions.
“Something you want to tell me?” Martin asked.
Eric stared at the only father figure in his life. Mr. Lee was a retired police officer, which severely
limited the amount of information Eric could share. “Better not,” he mumbled.
Martin glanced down at his loud paisley print shirt. “I don’t see a badge, do you?”
Eric grinned. “I told Captain Wallace that I didn’t know the men Stevie held at gunpoint, but I did.”
Martin’s dark eyebrows drew together. “How do you know ‘em?”
“They didn’t do anything wrong,” Eric felt the need to explain. “They were at Stevie’s house for the
same reason I was. All they want is to keep drugs away from the schools, but I know they won’t be
treated fairly by the cops because of who they are.”
“So who are they?”
“Grave Diggers,” Eric confessed. He sighed heavily, wincing when the action pulled at his stitches.
“I’m in love with one of them.”
Martin whistled. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Eric agreed. “The thing that gets me is knowing they’ll be treated unfairly while another
player in the game is being overlooked on purpose because of who his dad is. I can’t come to terms
with that.”
“What if the cops find out who was with you in that apartment?” Martin asked.
Eric shrugged. “I don’t know. I won’t tell them no matter what they do to me.” He’d given it a lot of
thought and had come to the conclusion that perhaps he was in the wrong profession. “I’ve been
thinking about resigning anyway. I know Internal Affairs is looking into it, but I think it’s pretty
obvious who shot first.”
“You’re quitting because you got shot? I thought you were made of tougher stuff than that.”
“It’s not the shooting. I thought about it before the shooting. The truth is, I’m in love, and I want that
more than I want to be a cop.” Eric wasn’t sure how he and Solo could make it work, but from what he
understood, it was his job that made life dangerous for them to be together. Eliminating the job
seemed like a nobrainer. “Who knows, maybe I’ll take up photography as a career instead of just a
hobby.”
Mr. Lee stared at Eric for several moments before digging into his pocket. He handed Eric a cell
phone. “I got a call this morning from a man who seemed very concerned about you. Said his name

was Sam. He asked me how you were doing, and when I thought you’d be out of the hospital. Don’t
ask me why, probably something honest in the guy’s voice, but I told him the truth. I didn’t know
when you’d be out, but I told him you’d be fine.”
Eric bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. The thought of Solo tracking Mr. Lee
down and actually calling him, filled Eric’s heart to near bursting. “Thank you for trusting him.”
Mr. Lee nodded before handing Eric the phone. “I’m gonna go downstairs and grab something for
lunch. Why don’t you give Sam a call and let him know you’re okay?”
Eric clutched the phone to his chest. “Thanks,” he said again.
Martin got to his feet and headed for the door. “By the way,” he said without turning around, “you’re
one hell of a photographer. I’m sure you could make a go of it.”
Eric smiled, knowing it was Mr. Lee’s way of telling him he agreed with his decision.

* * * *

Solo sat in his regular booth alone, cleaning the blood from his knuckles. There had only been three
brothers who’d met him in the parking lot after Church, and all three beefs had been settled by the
time the fights were over. Switch had decided it would be best for Rowdy and Solo to stick close to the
club until they knew for sure whether or not the police were looking for them.

“More coffee?” Crane asked. He set a plastic bag filled with crushed ice on the table and gestured to
Solo’s face.
Solo realized he’d been staring at his phone. “Yeah. Thanks, man.” He put the ice to his split lip.
“No problem. Any word?”

Solo shook his head. “Still waiting.” He’d remembered the name of Blue’s mentor and had looked him
up in the phone book. It hadn’t been an easy conversation, but a necessary one. He laid everything out
for the older man, his name, his affiliation with the Grave Diggers and his love for Blue. After he’d
finished, he asked Mr. Lee if he’d do him the favor of checking on Blue and asking Blue to call him.
All he wanted was to hear Blue’s voice, to assure himself that Blue was okay.
When the phone finally rang, Solo couldn’t pick it up fast enough. “Blue?”
“Hey.”
Blue’s voice sounded hoarse, but it was still music to Solo’s ears. “Are you okay?” “I will be. They’re
letting me out tomorrow,” Blue said.
“Yeah?” Solo’s heart soared. “Do you need a nurse? Because I know one who works for free.” God, if
Blue let Solo in, he’d be the happiest man in the world.
“I’d like that. There’s some stuff I need to talk to you about, but I don’t want to do it over the phone.”
Blue cleared his throat. “There’s a spare key taped to the back of the shutter to the right of the front
door. Would you mind picking up enough groceries to last us a few days?”
“I don’t mind at all.” Solo couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He caught Crane staring at him and
quickly schooled his expression. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Were you worried about me?” Blue asked.
Solo swallowed around the lump of emotion in his throat. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Chapter Seven

Solo stood back and scanned the bedroom. He’d arrived at Blue’s a few hours earlier, and had spent
the time washing the sheets, remaking the bed, vacuuming, and putting away the groceries.
With a grunt of disgust, Solo shook his head and picked up the vase of flowers. He’d bought the small
bouquet of daisies and carnations at the grocery store, but had had trouble finding a vase in Blue’s
kitchen. After almost twenty minutes of looking, he’d finally decided to use a drinking glass. The
choice came with its own set of problems. The flowers were too long which meant he’d had to spend
another ten minutes finding scissors to cut them down. Once they were the right length, he’d done his
best to arrange the individual stems. Of course, that ended in the certain knowledge that he’d never
have a career in floral design.
Solo did his best to rearrange the flowers, wondering if he shouldn’t just throw them out before Blue
got home and realized how bad he was at the whole romantic thing. His heart jumped when he heard
the front door close. “Fuck.”
“Solo?” Blue called.
“Yeah. Coming.” With no time to get rid of the flowers, Solo set them back onto the table. He wiped
his hands on his jeans as he made his way to the living room. A handsome older man had a hand on
Blue’s arm as he helped him to the couch. Solo fought back a surge of jealousy. He had an idea of who
the man was and knew there was nothing but respect and familial love between the pair, but he wanted
to be the one to help Blue.
“What happened to your face?” Blue asked, easing down.
“Just working shit out with my brothers.” Solo shoved his hands in his back pockets, feeling useless.
“Can I get you something?”
“In a minute.” Blue gestured to the handsome man. “Mr. Lee, this is Solo, but I think you know him as
Sam.”
Solo shook the hand Mr. Lee offered. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
Mr. Lee grinned. “Please, for the love of God, call me Martin.” He cast a narrow-eyed glance at Blue.
“I’ve been trying to get Eric to call me Martin for years. Hopefully, you’ll be more amiable.”
“He respects you,” Solo said, releasing Martin’s hand.
“Yes, well…” Martin stopped to clear his throat. “My late wife and I were unable to have children.”
He looked down at Blue with tears in his eyes. “Eric’s been like a son.”
“And that’s why he can’t bring himself to call you Martin,” Solo explained. A small part of him felt
jealous of the relationship the two men had formed. Switch cared what happened to Solo, but he knew
the Prez didn’t think of him as a son. No one did.
“Fair enough.” Martin held up a paper sack. “I’ll let the two of you talk while I get a glass of water so
he can take his pills.”
“Thanks,” Blue said as Martin left the room.
Solo retrieved a blanket from the hall closet before moving to sit on the coffee table. He spread the
blanket over Blue and tucked it around the handsome man. “Okay?”
Biting his lip, Blue nodded. “I thought I was going to lose you the other day. When I looked through
the window and saw that gun pointed at you…,” his voice trailed off. “God, I couldn’t think of
anything but getting in there.”
Blue reached for Solo’s hand. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you how much you
mean to me. How much I love you.”
Solo’s throat felt too thick. He swallowed several times as he lifted Blue’s hand to his lips for a kiss.
“I love you, too, and when you busted down that door and I saw the gun swing toward you, I stopped

breathing.”
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Martin said, coming back into the room.
Blue chuckled. “Stop it.” He pulled his hand out of Solo’s and rested it on his side.
The action reminded Solo of Blue’s condition. “How bad is it?” he asked, nodding toward Blue’s
injury.
“Not bad. I’ll be a hundred percent before you know it.” Blue adjusted the blanket, and Solo wondered
if he was being completely honest.
Shit. Once the excitement of seeing Blue again started to wane, Solo realized how pale Blue’s
normally bronzed skin was. He reached out and ran the pad of his thumb over the dark patches under
Blue’s eyes. “I changed the sheets and made the bed, so it’s ready if you’d like to sleep.”
“I’m fine for now.” Blue took the water from Martin. “Just give me the antibiotic. I’ll give it a while
before I take another pain pill.”
“You sure?” Martin asked. “You haven’t had one in over four hours.”
“I need to talk to Solo with a clear head,” Blue replied.
Martin grinned. “Is that your nice way of kicking me out?”
Blue returned the grin. “Something like that. Do you mind?”
“Naw, I’m tired of looking at you anyway.” Martin set two pill bottles on the table beside Solo and
crumpled the paper pharmacy bag. “Give me a call tomorrow to let me know you survived the night.”
“Will do,” Blue said. He stared up at the older man. “Thanks.”
Martin gave a simple nod before extending his hand to Solo. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. Take
care of him. He might need it in theweeks to come.”
Solo shook Martin’s hand while wondering what the hell was going to happen in the next few weeks.
“I will. Thank you.”
Solo walked Martin to the door, hoping he could get a clearer picture of what was going on. He
stepped out onto the porch and gestured over his shoulder. “Something else I should know?”
“Yeah, but he needs to be the one to tell you. I reckon that’s why he’s not taking the pain meds
because I know for a fact he’s hurtin’. Said so on the way here.”
“Okay.” Solo clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Do you think he’s making a mistake by being with
me?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Martin stared at the front of the cottage for several moments. “No. He has the house, but it won’t be a
home until he has a family of his own inside.”
It wasmore than Solo had expected from the man who had been like a father to Blue. “Just so you
know, I spoke with the club, and because of what Blue did for me and Rowdy, they won’t go after
him.”
Martin scratched the back of his neck. “To be honest, I hadn’t even thought of that, but it’s nice to
know he’ll be safe.”
“He’ll be safe,” Solo assured Martin. “Between me and my best friend Rowdy, Blue has two men
that’ll die to keep him that way.”
After one last handshake, Martin stepped off the porch. Solo watched the older man walk to his car,
feeling like he’d just asked for Blue’s hand in marriage. He guessed in a way, he had. Walking back
into the house, he immediately spotted the grimace on Blue’s face. “Let’s get you to bed. You can say
your peace and then take your pill.”

* * * *

Eric was exhausted by the time he’d used the bathroom and had made his way to the bedroom. The
first thing he spotted upon entering his room were the flowers sitting beside his alarm clock. No one in

his life had given him flowers until the big mean biker had come into his world. He sat on the edge of
the bed. “They’re beautiful.”
Solo shrugged and knelt on the floor to help Blue remove his shoes and socks. “Saw ‘em at the store.”
Eric smiled down at Solo. He knew there was more to the gift than just picking the flowers up for no
other reason than they were there. He had a few vases under the kitchen sink, but he didn’t tell Solo.
There was something so incredibly sweet and touching about the glass Solo had used. He began to
unbutton his shirt, unable to keep his eyes off the daisies and carnations. Even the flower choice was
perfect. Roses would have been too cliché. The mixture of simple but beautiful blossoms spoke of
someone who wanted to impress, but didn’t want it to come off as trying too hard. “You’ll have to
bring me my camera later. I’d like to take a couple of pictures.”
Solo’s brow furrowed. “They’re not arranged nice enough for pictures,” he argued.
“They’re perfect.” Eric stood and let Solo help him out of his jeans and shirt. “To be honest, they’re
probably the nicest gift anyone’s ever given me.”
Solo pulled back the bedding. “That’s a damn shame. Guess I’m gonna have to remedy that.”
Eric eased into bed. He stared up at Solo. There was so much he wanted to say, but decided to get the
biggest decision out into the open before Solo got naked and totally ruined his train of thought. “After
I’m cleared by IA, I’m quitting the force.”
Solo paused in the process of taking off his Tshirt. “What?”
Eric nodded. “You’re more important to me than a job, and I’m hoping it’ll make it safer for us to be
together.”
Solo dropped his shirt to the floor before going to work on his jeans. “We had a church meeting a
couple nights ago. You don’t have to worry. The club won’t come after either of us, so you don’t have
to resign.”
“Yeah, I do. I can’t fully do my job if I’m riding the fence with you and the club. I’d never be able to
do anything that would get you or your brothers in trouble, so it’s best to just take my job out of the
equation.”
“Is this about the shooting? Did Rowdy and I fuck up something in the investigation?” Solo asked.
“No. The bag I found in Harold’s bedroom was the same substance that made Andy sick. Harold and
Stevie Boy were working together to put Easy out of business. You’re the one who told me about the
phone, so now we have photographic evidence that ties Easy to his brother’s killing.” Eric stared at
Blue. “I didn’t tell the police anything about Roach. From what I could tell, he wasn’t involved in the
killing or the dusted weed, so there was no need.”
“Thank you,” Solo said. “What about the kid that got sick? What’s his involvement?”
“No idea, and since I’ve been ordered to stay away from him, I doubt anything will come of it. Just
one more dangerous asshole loosein the world.”
“Dangerous assholes usually end up dead eventually, especially the ones who think they can get away
with anything.” Solo closed the curtains. “I hate the thought of you quitting your job.”
“It’s okay because I have enough savings to last me until I can find something else. I know I want to
concentrate on my photography, but I’m not sure how far I’ll go with that either. And, if I could
somehow persuade you to move in with me, I’ll be able to cut down on my living expenses.” Eric held
his breath, waiting for Solo’s reaction. It was early in their relationship to make such a bold move, but
he didn’t need time to pass to know what he wanted.
Solo didn’t say anything until he’d crawled under the covers with Eric. He laid his head on a pillow
and stared up at the ceiling. “You serious about that?”
“Absolutely.” Eric was unable to roll onto his side, so he watched Solo out of his peripheral vision.
“I’d rather not use the spare bedroom for a motorcycle shop though, so we’ll have to figure something
else out. Maybe build a shed or something in the backyard for you to use as a workshop. The spare

bedroom I plan to convert to a darkroom.”
Solo sighed before moving to lie on his side. He leaned over and gave Eric a deep kiss. “I don’t have
to work on the bikes here. I can do that at the club for now, and we can figure the shed situation out
later.” He ran his fingertips lightly over the bandage on Eric’s side. “Speaking of the club, if you’re
not a cop anymore, you can go through the process of pledging if you’re interested?”
“No, that’s not really my thing. I wouldn’t mind meeting some of your brothers, but unless it’s a
requirement for us being together, I’d rather not.” Eric thought about Solo spending long hours at the
club working on motorcycles and found the idea didn’t sit well. “I’d rather just call someone on
Monday and get an estimate for the shed. I’d rather have you home with me in the evenings. That way,
if I’m in need of your cock, I don’t have as far to go.”
Solo smiled and reached under thecovers to wrap his hand around Eric’s erection. “Are you asking me
to move in so you can have easy access to my dick?”
Eric wished he wasn’t in pain because he’d love to beg Solo to make love to him. “That may be one of
the reasons, but I’ve decided you look damn good in my robe, and my robe belongs at my house, so I
know it’s the only way I’m going to get you both at the same time all the time.”
“Well, in that case, I accept.” Solo kissed Eric again, deeper than he had previously.
Eric tried to wrap his arm around Solo and jerked at the pain the movement caused.
“Shit.” Solo broke the kiss and released Eric’s deflated cock. “You need pain meds and sleep. There’ll
be plenty of time for everything else.”
“Promise?” Eric asked.
“Swear on my Nova.”
* * * *
Eric turned off the engine and stared down at the folder in the passenger seat. Before turning in his
badge, he’d used his resources to dig up what he could on Solo’s father. Unfortunately, the
information might raise even more questions. He leaned his head against the back of the seat and
stared up at the headliner. A knock on his window made him jump.
Solo, shirtless and sexy as fuck, gave him a questioning look.
Eric pulled his keys out of the ignition and grabbed the folder before opening the door. “Hey.”
“How was your last day?” Solo pulled a shop rag out of his back pocket and began to clean his hands.
“Fine. They didn’t have a party or anything, but the captain told me I’d be missed, so I guess that’s the
next best thing.” Eric unlocked the trunk. “My entire career has been reduced to one file box.”
“Ah hell.” Solo wrapped his arms around Eric from behind. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m different. Working the last few weeks while IA wrapped up their investigation was
torture.” Eric wasn’t sure how to explain, but he owed it to Solo to try. He turned to face the man that
had become his entire world. “I used to see the world as good and bad. There were no good guys who
did bad stuff or bad guys who did good stuff.” He licked his lips, praying he wasn’t about to insult his
biker. “Getting to know you changed all that. You’re a biker for Christ’s sake. You’re supposed to be
the bad guy, but you’re not. Shit. I’m not saying this right.”
“You said it perfectly, and, yeah, I agree. Cops…” Solo shook his head. “I hated fucking cops before
you.”
Shit. Eric closed his eyes. It was the perfect opportunity to tell Solo what he knew about his father, but
they were standing in the fucking driveway. However, if he put it off, he may never show Solo the
folder. “I found out a few things about your dad,” he began.
Solo took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. “And?”
“I found this.” Eric handed over the folder. “I think that’s the reason you hate cops.”
It took a few moments, but Solo eventually opened the file and flipped through several pages, his
attention finally landing on a series of copied photos.

“He was a patrol officer.” Eric rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable laying out Solo’s family’s
dirty laundry. “Evidently, he was having an affair with your mom. Your dad must have found out and
confronted him.” He gestured to the picture. “He was discovered dead in an alley behind the apartment
building where you lived at the time.”
Solo shook his head. “Yeah, I know who the guy is. My mom used to send me to the drugstore to buy
candy on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons in the summer. I may’ve been young, but I wasn’t stupid.”
He closed the file. “My father didn’t do this.”
Eric wanted to argue, wanted to tell his partner that the evidence said otherwise.
“My dad grew up in the life. If he killed this cop, he wouldn’t have left him out for someone to find.”
Solo handed the file back to Eric. “If he’d done it, no one would’ve seen that cop again.”
Eric turned and stuffed the file in the box of shit from his desk. “Okay.”
“No, it’s not okay.” Solo pressed against Eric’s back, once again. “I need you to believe me.”
“I do,” Eric replied. “I’m just embarrassed I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right. Your dad would’ve
done it differently. Unfortunately, I don’t think I can do anything about it now.”
“What about one of your friends still on the force?” Solo asked.
Eric’s heart broke at the hopeful tone of the biker’s voice. Even if he could have one of his ex-
colleagues look into the death, they would probably come up with the same answer, not because it was
the right one, but because it was the expected one. However, there was one person who might be
interested in the mystery. “I could talk to Mr. Lee if you want. He’s retired, but he doesn’t have
anything else to do.”
“We could help,” Solo corrected Eric. “We’re a team now, right?”
“Yeah.” Eric leaned his head back against Solo’s chest. “If it helps any, the cops never found your dad,
so he’s probably out there somewhere living under a different name or something.”
Solo kissed Eric’s neck. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or not. He just took off and left me
with my drunk mother. What kind of dad does that?”
“The kind who’s running for his life, and doesn’t want to drag his son through the hell he’s probably
living.” Eric turned and gave Solo a real kiss, despite what the neighbors might think. “One day we’ll
find him and you can ask him yourself.”

Epilogue

Eight Months Later

“You sure I’m dressed okay?” Blue asked, looking down at his faded jeans and crisp white T - shirt.

“Don’t worry, you’ll fit right in.” Solo climbed onto his Harley, putting his back to Blue to hide his
grin. When Blue had first come out of the bedroom dressed for the big pig roast at the club, he’d worn
a pair of cut-off jeans shorts and flip-flops. Although Blue looked good enough to lick, Solo had to
send him back into the bedroom to put on jeans and the boots Solo had given him for Christmas.

Solo waited while Blue carefully put his camera equipment into the bike’s saddlebag. It was the first
club picnic of the summer, and he’d jumped through hoops to get Blue an invitation. He wasn’t
worried about the gay thing even though he knew it would take some time for his brothers to get used
to it. It was bringing Blue around them for the first time that had his nerves on edge. He felt Blue
climb on behind him, and his muscles eased a bit.

Since moving in with Blue almost eight months earlier, Solo had become accustomed to the soothing
effect Blue had on him. It didn’t seem to matter how shitty a day he’d had, he always felt better just
walking through the front door.

“Go slow,” Blue said in Solo’s ear. “I had to bring the smaller camera case, and I don’t want anything
broken.”
Solo turned his head to the side to look at Blue. “You can’t ride a Harley slow. That’s just fuckin’
wrong.”
Blue stared at Solo. “Did you or did you not tell everyone I’d be taking family pictures today?”

“I did.” Solo started the bike, hoping to drown out some of Blue’s bitching. He loved the man more
than his own life, but he also liked it when Blue got pissed. The fire in Blue’s eyes when he was angry
made Solo’s cock hard in an instant. A few arguments a week tended to keep their sex life exciting.
As Solo roared out of the driveway, a barely audible buzzing in his ear made him smile. Oh, yeah,
Blue would be well fucked before the day was over.

* * * *

After handing Blue a beer, Solo left him to his work. He spotted Rowdy leaning against the side of the
clubhouse in the shade and joined him. “Hey. You getting your picture taken?”

“With who? Nothing more depressing than a family picture of one,” Rowdy growled, drinking Jack
straight from the bottle.
Solo mimicked Rowdy’s position against the wall. It was the first indication he’d ever received from
Rowdy that his single status bothered him. Solo wondered if his apparent happiness with Blue had
anything to do with his friend’s current mood. “I wouldn’t mind having a picture of the two of us
together.”

Rowdy scowled. “I’m fine where I am.”

Solo noticed the direction of Rowdy’s scornful gaze. A tall leggy blonde with big tits stood next to
Joker, the club’s Sergeant-atArms with Joker’s big hand resting comfortably on her gorgeous ass.
“You know her?”

“Who?” Rowdy looked away from the blonde.
“Don’t give me that shit. Who’s tits over there?” Solo asked. He knew for a fact Joker and Rowdy had
shared plenty of women in the past, so his best friend had to know the blonde’s name.
“Ruby. King’s daughter.”

Solo whistled. King Jensen was the Prez of the Salt Lake chapter of the Grave Diggers. “And he lets
her hang out with Joker?”
Rowdy chuckled. “You gotta know Ruby. She has her old man wrapped around her little finger. Joker
met her when he went to Salt Lake last month. Evidently, he assured King his intentions were
honorable, and although King didn’t buy it at first, Ruby must’ve talked him into it because she
showed up three days ago.”

“Have you fucked her?” Solo asked a moment before a fist slammed into his jaw. “Motherfucker!” he
gave Rowdy a push. “All you had to fuckin’ say was no.”
Rowdy shook his head and walked off, leaving Solo to wonder what the hell had just happened. He and
Rowdy talked about the women he shared all the time, and it had never been an issue. Solo rubbed his
jaw and returned his attention to Ruby and Joker. Maybe Joker wasn’t willing to share such a fine
piece of ass. That would make any man angry, especially a man like Rowdy.

“Hey,” Blue said, coming up beside Solo. “What was that all about?”
“To be honest, I’m not really sure.” Solo rested his hand on the small of Blue’s back. “You finished?”
“For now.” Blue bumped his side against Solo. “I overheard one of the women saying they didn’t have
enough paper plates, so I volunteered us to get them.”
“You what? Let one of the old ladies get ‘em.” Solo couldn’t believe Blue had volunteered for the
duty. The men of the club were in charge of cooking the meat, nothing more.
“Come on. I feel bad enough because we didn’t bring any of the food. The least we can do is take a
ride and pick up some damn paper plates.”

Solo had no idea where Blue was coming from. “You just spent the last three fucking hours taking
pictures. Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”
“I want them to like me,” Blue mumbled.

Solo took a deep breath. It meant everything to him that Blue felt that way, but if he did what his
partner asked, he’d be setting a precedent. He looked down at Blue to tell him no and was met by those
big fucking blue eyes. Hell.He couldn’t say no when Blue gave him that look. Compromise, he
reminded himself as he dug a set of keys out of his pocket. “How about you take the Nova and pick up
the plates?”
Blue snatched the keys out of Solo’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Be careful,” Solo hollered as Blue took off at a jog. It would be the first time he’d let anyone besides
Rowdy drive his baby. It had sucked that Blue’s driveway wasn’t deep enough to store the Nova and
leave room for Solo to work on his bike, so he’d left it parked in its usual spot at the club. Someday,
he’d promised himself he’d extend the driveway and maybe add a garage, but that was down the road

another six months to a year.

Solo lifted his hand as Blue pulled out. The other brothers all turned to stare at Solo, obviously
wondering if he’d lost his damn mind. Yeah, he reckoned he had. With a groan, he went in search of
another beer. He needed to find Rowdy and work shit out.

* * * *

“You’re full of shit.” Solo couldn’t stop laughing at Crane’s story. Unable to find Rowdy, Solo had
taken a spot at one of the long picnic tables.
“I swear to God.” Crane held up a hand. “There I was, trying to do a good thing by helping the old
bitch across the street and she fucking slams me in the head with her purse,” he continued. He pointed
to a small scar next to his right eye. “Fuckin’ buckle messed me up.”
A loud crash cut through the laughter, making everyone stop and look toward the street.

“Fuck!” Solo yelled as he took off toward the end of the drive. Struck from behind, the Nova had
barreled into one of the brick pillars. From the look of it, the car that had rear-ended Blue had to have
been going well over the forty-five mile per hour speed limit.

“Blue!” Solo reached the Nova minutes before his brothers surrounded the other car. He yanked on the
door handle, trying like hell to get to his man, who was slumped forward with his head against the
steering wheel. As much as he loved the older cars for their solid construction, he hated that they
didn’t come with airbags. Unable to get the driver’s door open, he ran around to the passenger side.

“Hang on, Blue.” Solo climbed headfirst into the car. Blood oozed from Blue’s nose and forehead
where it rested on the steering wheel. Fuck.Solo’s hands shook as he carefully put his fingers against
the side of Blue’s neck, searching for a pulse. When he felt the beats against the pads of his fingers,
tears began to fall from his eyes.
“Get an ambulance!” Solo screamed out the passenger door.

“Shhh.”
Solo spun around and saw a big blue eye looking straight at him. “Blue. Don’t move.”
“I’m so sorry,” Blue mumbled. “I was trying to be so careful with your car.”
“Fuck the car.” Solo pulled a bandana out of the glove box and wiped the blood from Blue’s forehead
before it could drip into his eye. “I need you to stay still until an ambulance gets here.”
“I’m fine. Just a little woozy.”

“You’re not fine. You hit your head.” Solo held the bandana against the cut on Blue’s forehead.
“Where’s that fucking ambulance?”
“On its way,” Rowdy said, moving to lean against the open door. “How’s he doing?”
Solo shook his head. “I don’t know.” He nodded toward the other car. “Tell the brothers to go back to
the clubhouse if they have weapons on them. There’s no need for anyone of them to get involved in
this shit because you know the cops’ll show up before the ambulance.”
Rowdy chuckled. “You should know better than that, but I’ll send the old ladies back with any
hardware.”

Solo gestured to the other car. “Anyone seriously hurt?”

Rowdy shook his head. “He’s drunk. You know drunks never get hurt.” He nodded at Blue. “Your
man’s looking better.”
Solo turned back to Blue. “I told you to stay still.”
“I’m fine. Just knocked my head.” Blue lifted the bottom of his T-shirt and wiped the blood from his
nose. “Fucker broke my nose.” He tilted his head back against the seat. “Oh, God, I think I’m gonna
throw up.” He pushed against Solo’s chest. “Move!”

Solo scrambled out of the car as he eased Blue to the passenger seat. “It doesn’t matter. Just fuckin’
puke if you need to. I told you, fuck the car.”

“No.” With his chest on the seat, Blue stuck his head out of the car and emptied the contents of his
stomach.
Solo did what he could until the medics pushed him out of the way. He stumbled back, feeling
helpless. Loud voices drew his attention to his brothers. Two patrol cars had pulled up with the
ambulance and the officers were doing their best to get the Grave Diggers away from the driver who’d
struck the Nova. It seemed the man had locked himself inside, and was refusing to open the door for
the cops.

Shit.Solo knew if he didn’t step in, all his brothers would be going to jail instead of eating homemade
pie and icecream. “It’s okay,” he said to Switch. “It looks like Blue’s going to be okay.” He stared at
one of the cops. “I’d suggest you get that piece of shit out of here.”

The young policeman nodded as he glanced at the crowd of tattooed bikers. “Yeah.”
“Why don’t you step back so they can take that fucker to jail?” Solo asked his brothers. He
appreciated the way his brothers had automatically shifted into protective mode for Blue’s sake. It
made him feel good to know he was slowly earning back some of the ground he’d lost when he’d come
out to the club about his relationship with Blue.

Rowdy slapped Solo on the shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you keep an eye on your man?”
“Thanks.” Solo scanned his brothers for his Prez. He nodded his appreciation to Switch. His brothers
may not be pillars of the community, but Solo loved every one of them. Just knowing he had a family
who would always have his back meant everything.

* * * *

Eric opened his eyes to find Solo staring down at him. “Can’t sleep?”
Solo shook his head. “You’ve had two close calls.” He leaned in and gave Eric a soft kiss. “Every time
I dream, I lose you.”

Eric did his best not to wince. His whole fucking face was swollen, including his mouth, but it was
worth a little pain for one of Solo’s kisses. The concussion he’d suffered had been bad enough that
he’d had to spend the night in the hospital, and he knew Solo hadn’t slept. “I’m not going anywhere,
so you’re losing sleep for nothing.”

“Naw. Looking at you is always time well spent.” Solo ran his hand over Eric’s chest. “I’ve never
needed anyone the way I need you.”
Eric felt the same way, but he refused to let Solo slip back into the protective mode they’d had to

battle through after the shooting. For two months after Eric had suffered a gunshot wound to the side,
Solo had barely let him out of his sight. It had been sweet at first, but had become increasingly
annoying as the days went on. Getting Solo to give him some space hadn’t been an easy task, and Eric
wasn’t about to go through that shit again.

“We were meant to be together,” Eric said, reaching for Solo’s cock. Despite his fucked up face, he
needed to prove to Solo that he was okay. He ran his palm up and down the hardening length of Solo’s
cock. The big bad biker’s responsiveness to his touch had always thrilled Eric. “Make love to me,” he
whispered.
“You need to rest,” Solo argued.

Eric wrapped his hand around Solo’s cock. “I’d sleep better if I was well fucked, so would you.” He
grinned when the perfect words came to him. “Unless you don’t want to look at me because I’m too
ugly now.”
With a growl, Solo moved to lay on top of Eric. “Don’t say shit like that.”

Eric reached for the lube they kept beside the bed and held it up. “I need you, and I can’t do a lot of
kissing or suck your cock, so, please just let me feel you inside me.”
“The doctor said for you to take it easy.” Solo stared down at Eric. “Please don’t make me do
something that’ll hurt you.”
“Making love with you will never hurt, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll lie still and let you do all
the work.” Eric doubted he could keep his word, but he would genuinely try. He spread his legs and
Solo slipped between them.

With a resigned sigh, Solo held out his hand, and Eric squirted a generous amount of lube onto Solo’s
fingers. “You have to promise you’ll tell me at the slightest pain.”
“I will.” Eric bent his knees and planted his feet on the mattress.
Solo circled Eric’s hole with one lubed finger before pushing inside. He groaned as his eyes drifted
shut. “You’re still loose from yesterday.”
Eric smiled. They’d fucked twice before the car accident, so he didn’t doubt it. “So forget the fingers
and give me what I really want.”
Solo used the lube from his hand to grease his cock before fitting the head to Eric’s hole. “Wrap your
legs around me, babe.”
Eric complied and moaned as Solo pushed his thick cockhead into him. “You always make me feel
better.”

Solo rocked his hips until he was buried to the hilt. “Damn,” he growled in Eric’s ear. “I’ll never get
enough.”
“Good.” Eric ran his hands down Solo’s sides as he licked the new tattoo on Solo’s neck. There, on the
right side, in script lettering, Blue was etched forever. Eric had offered to get a tattoo of Solo’s name,
but they hadn’t agreed on the placement. Solo hadn’t said so, but Eric had a feeling Solo didn’t really
want ink on Eric’s skin. Which was really too bad because Eric had already made an appointment with
one of the MC members who tattooed for a living.

Solo started a slow rhythm in and out, taking care not to jostle Eric more than he had to. It was nice,
different from their usual down and dirty. Solo never ceased to amaze him. The slow grind, soft grunts
and kisses to his neck, made Eric feel loved beyond what words were capable of. Solo was a man of

action, and forthat, Eric would be eternally grateful. Pretty words couldn’t keep him warm at night.
Nope, he’d take a tattooed biker over words any day.

###

BROUGHT BY Kiti FOR SUPERIORZ.ORG

About the Author

An avid reader for years, one day Carol Lynne decided to write her own brand of erotic romance.

While writing her first novel, Branded by Gold, Carol fell in love with the M/M genre. Carol juggles

between being a full-time mother and a full-time writer. With over one hundred releases, one thing is

certain, Carol loves to keep busy. Although series books are her passion, Carol enjoys the occasional

stand-alone title.

As an organizer of the annual GayRomLit Retreat, Carol has little free time, but enjoys trips to the

lake with her family when she has the rare weekend off.

Carol loves to hear from her readers. You can email her at

carol@carol-lynne.net

. She also has two

websites

Carol Lynne

and

Cattle Valley

Email: Carol@Carol-Lynne.net

Also Available from Stiff Rain Press

The Biker’s Milkmaid by Landry Michaels

Kat is a happy new mother, but a very unhappy wife. Resigned to her life with a cruel husband, Kat
sets out to make the most of the weekend she must spend with the Red Devils, a violent motorcycle
gang that her husband joined just a few months earlier.

While Kat expects to submit to the rules of the club, which includes being shared among the many
men who ride in it, she never expects to garner the sole attention of the gang’s sexy leader: a
mysterious man with a taste for mothers’ milk.

Secure under Ben’s thirst a nd protection, Kat experiences kindness, affection, and sexual fulfillment
like she’s never known. She soon discovers that she is not the repulsive whore her jealous husband
would have her believe, but a decent woman worthy of love and respect.

However, even Ben’s powerful position can’t stop the vicious betrayal that is coming their way — a
desperate and dangerous act that might ultimately tear Ben and Kat apart.

Stepping Stones by Carol Lynne

Donovan has made a new life for himself, far away from his twin Declan and all of the feelings that
he’s kept bottled up inside for many years. His friend and sometimes lover Marc has helped a lot, and
things are going well until Declan calls, asking for help.

Unable to deny his twin, Donovan pushes aside his feelings and mounts a rescue, taking Declan away
from an abusive situation. Between Donovan and Marc, they set Declan on the road to healing,
exploring their relationship to the fullest. When Declan’s past comes back to haunt them, they’ll have
to pull together to keep each other safe.

Can they make a new life together and survive the hardships they face?

PAPERBOY by Geoffrey Knight

Welcome to Perfection, California. The year is 1961. The picket fences are white, the lawns are green,
and the sprinklers are shiny and new. But they’re not the only things spurting high into the summer
air.

Because behind every closed door in Perfection, there’s a perfect ass, including that of Clark,
Perfection’s 18-year-old paperboy, who on his last day in town before leaving on a Greyhound bus for
Harvard, delivers more than just the news—

—thanks to the help of the town’s dashing, silver-haired dentist and his retractors—

—followed by the town’s handsome Chief of Police, his Deputy and a pair of handcuffs— —followed
by the burly, bear-hugging owner of the local hardware store who, with the help of Clark and a few
other close buddies, gets to test out that new swinging contraption in his workshop.

Yes, this paperboy is destined to leave Perfection… with a smile on his perfect face.

Brothers With Benefits by William Cooper

Josh is secretly in love with Erick. How could he not be? Erick is sweet, funny, smart, and as
wonderful as he is handsome. He's simply everything Josh could ever want in a man. Plus, there's no
one in the world that knows or understands him better. After all, Josh and Erick have been friends and
companions for as long as either can remember.

But Josh is sure that he'll never find the right opportunity to share his feelings with Erick.

However, everything changes when Josh creates a profile on the popular online social network, Visive
Encounters, a video chat website that randomly arranges face-to-face meetings with strangers via
webcam. One night, in a collision of fate and software algorithms, Josh is more than surprised when
his monitor reflects a mirror image...his random connection is none other than the object of his desire,
his twin brother Erick.

With only a screen of pixels separating them, will Josh finally be able to confess his more-
thanbrotherly feelings to his twin? Will a lifetime of memories be enough to hold the brothers
together?

Alone Together by DC Juris

Ever have one of those days where you open your mouth and trip over everything that comes out?

Garrett Morris is having a bad day. On a scale of one to ten, it’s a twenty. Mind you, it should be
going much better, considering he’s seeing Aaron, the secret love of his life, for the first time in a
little over two years. But his wife’s homophobic family and his own big mouth keep getting him into
trouble. If he’s not careful, he’ll lose everything—wife, job... and Aaron.

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