“You’ll do what the fuck I tell ya. Or for the next three months, I’ll ride ya like a two dollar whore and vote nay on your ass,” Taz snarls.

Begrudgingly Rigor stands and begins helping Taz tear apart the couches.

“Who?” I ask Dozer.

“Boop.”

“What exactly is a Boop?”

“Not a what, a who.” Taz pauses in his searching to glare at me. When he’s done tearing apart the couches, he gets on the floor and looks under it.

I hold my hands up. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“She’s Taz’s brown, furry friend. He should have named her Houdini though. Escapes her cage all the fuckin’ time and he never has any idea how. What is this? The tenth time she’s gotten out?” Dozer asks Taz, who grumbles something under his breath.

Then to me, Dozer says, “She might be a supreme being of higher intelligence.”

“Fuck. Stop with the fuckin’ jokes, man, and help. Rigor, lock the doors so nobody lets her out of the house.”

“Maybe your snake ate her,” Griz suggests.

“I’m gonna let Betty take a bite outta you if you don’t get off your old ass in two seconds,” Taz threatens.

“Yeah, you do and you’re gonna have a dead fuckin’ snake on your hands. Creeps me the fuck out that you got that thing in here while I’m tryin’ to sleep down the hall.”

“I’ve told you. She’s not poisonous.”

Griz shakes his head. “Not the point, brotha.”

“I’ll help look. How big is she?” I ask.

Taz’s expression when he looks at me is a mixture of gratitude and surprise. “Small, she’ll fit in your hand.” The corner of his mouth tips up. “You see her, you better not let her get away.”

I eye him curiously. My guess is he thinks I can’t handle seeing a rodent. He’s probably looking forward to hearing my scream if I do happen to find her. What he doesn’t realize is one of the many jobs I had was running a pet store. I’m no stranger to small animals, even rodents and snakes.

Griz takes a sip of his beer and stands from his chair. “I’ll go look upstairs. Wanna make sure that thing’s not makin’ herself at home in my fuckin’ bed.

Dozer stands too. “Babe, you go check the kitchen. Maybe she got sick of the shit food Taz’s been feedin’ her and snuck in there. I’ll check the bathrooms.”

I jump off my chair and head to the kitchen. If Boop’s hungry, then that’s most likely where she’ll be, especially if she’s been out of her cage enough times and knows her way around the clubhouse. I just hope for Taz’s sake she didn’t sneak into his snake’s cage and become lunch.

After a good hour of everyone turning the clubhouse upside down, half of the guys give up and head out for a ride. Dozer invites me, and I so badly want to go. I’ve haven’t been outside except for taking the occasional break outback since I got here. I feel like I’m getting cabin fever. I find myself having to look at that bloody calendar each day because all my days here are running together.

But Taz is frantic and if I abandon the search, I’m sure he’ll hate me that much more. Where if I stick it out, I might win some points with him. And I desperately need those points, too. Taz has made it his personal mission to make my life here miserable every chance he gets. If I have a chance at changing that, I’ll take it.

Dozer and the other guys leave.

Taz and I spend two more hours scouring the clubhouse and to my surprise, even Mav helps when he returns. But we come up empty. Taz eventually throws a fit his namesake would be proud of, and then defeated he gives up. Mav gets his friend a bottle of tequila, says a few muffled words to him, and retreats into his office.

By the time the boys get back from their ride, Taz is a mess. Uncommunicative and withdrawn. He sits on the couch head back, eyes closed, and jaw tight, like he was the first day I came here, only there’s not a girl riding his lap this time.

Dozer takes up residence on the stool next to me. “No luck, huh?”

I shake my head. “No. We looked everywhere.” I lower my voice and gesture for him to come closer. He leans down. Next to his ear, I say, “I hate to say it but . . . maybe she got eaten by the snake, because I don’t know where else she’d be.”

“Don’t sweat it, babe. You did your best. And she always turns up sooner or later.”

The other brothers come up to the bar. Rigor goes around it and starts passing out beers.

“How was the ride?” I ask.

Dozer grins. “Fuckin’ perfect day, babe. Warm. Hardly any traffic. I wish you would’ve come with us. I like the idea of you ridin’ on the back of my bike. Warmin’ my back.”

I think riding on the back of a bike sounds exciting and freeing. I can just picture it. Out of nowhere, the hair on my arms stands up eerily. I feel him. Mav. And his disapproval.

Dozer’s face dips down and his eyebrows rise. “Babe?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He pinches my chin and lifts my face up so I’m looking up at him. “I asked if you’ve ever ridden on the back of a bike before?”

I shake my head. “Um, no. Never.”

Rigor hands Dozer a beer and places one in front of me.

“Thanks,” I say and avert my eyes from Dozer.

“Next time we go for a ride, you’re with me, babe. All right?”

“All right, but you better go slow.”

At that exact moment, Mav makes a sound. Dozer keeps talking as if he doesn’t hear a thing. I turn, look up, and find Mav in the mirror. He’s standing behind me speaking with Goose. His arms are crossed, and a look that could kill is covering his features.

His amber eyes burn into me.

They tell me I’ll be taking that ride with Dozer over his dead body.

Dozer’s voice is rougher than normal, as he says, “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll take good care of you. Take it as slow as you want me to.”

The next night as I’m leaving Dozer’s room, I hear a masculine, “Holy Fuck,” followed by a feminine scream as I step into the hallway. Mav’s door, which is three doors down from Dozer’s but on the opposite side of the hall, swings opens.

A female voice squeals, “Mav! Don’t just leave me like this.”

Mav pokes his head into the hallway. “Where the fuck’s Taz?” he barks.

I shrug. “At the strip club. I thought you went with them.” It’s where all the guys went including Dozer.

Mav’s only wearing jeans and my eyes instantly rake over his bare torso. He’s tan, lean, and extremely fit. His abs are both ropey and sinful. His jeans ride low and reveal his nice pelvic muscles and a smattering of fine dark hair leading south. He has a tattoo over his heart, a few sentences, which based on the script, look like a bible verse, and at the end of the chain around his neck is a metal tag with the club insignia.

Warmth cascades through my body as if I’ve just stepped in front of a fireplace.

“Mav! Who are you talkin’ to?”

Mav ducks back into the room. “Listen. Whatever you do, don’t move.”

“Why. What are you doing?”

Appearing again, Mav rubs both hands over his face, his biceps bulging. Then after dropping his hands, he stares at me for a second almost as if he’s deciding something. He peers down both sides of the hallways looking for someone else, anyone but me. Finally, his gaze comes back to me and he lets out an exhaustive breath. “You scare easily?”

I blink a couple of times. “Um . . . depends.”

In an exasperated tone, he asks quickly, “What scares you?” He impatiently waves me to spit it out.

“Ah . . . I don’t know—small spaces, miniature poodles, earwigs.” Being tied up. Locked up.

“Miniature . . . did you just say earwigs?” His mouth twitches.

I shudder. “They get in your ears and . . .” His eyebrow quirks up and . . . yeah . . . I stop talking.

“C’mere.”

I cautiously step toward him and try my best to ignore how undeniably sexy he looks right now.

When I get close, he opens his door and pushes me inside his room.