“Thanks, I’ll just pop in and have a chat,” Perez said while she took a step toward the door.

Justice’s buffed-up bicep slipped between her and the door, “I’ll have her step out so you girls can have privacy.”

Her balled fists jammed into narrow hips as she blasted a snort of hot air. “And how about taking that vulgar sign down before I have to make you.”

“Nope.” Justice walked over to run a finger across the big white sign with red lettering that read: Savage Souls Motorcycle Club – 1%’ers – Stay the Fuck Out – SFFS. “This is my property, and you’re about to be removed unless you can produce a search warrant from that fine, round ass of yours.” Fingers scraped across his square jaw as a sly grin appeared.

“Was that a sexual assault? I think I might have to arrest you for that assault, outlaw,” her voice raised but shook as she fumbled for her handcuffs.

Justice heard the door behind him, and jerked his head. Abigail smiled as she bounced onto the porch.

“Hi, looking for me?”

*     *     *

The grove of pine trees allowed both women shade and privacy—though neither doubted they were being monitored. Abigail struggled to keep it together as she felt her rail-thin body shiver amidst the Chief’s dispassionate glare.

Muddied blue eyes blinked as quick as her mind raced through scenarios. She’d delivered herself to the Savage Nation to get revenge on the bastards who murdered her son, but something gnawed at her.

“Honey, you got something you want to tell me?” Perez rubbed her hand up and down along Abigail’s upper arm.

She recoiled from the Chief’s touch. “No, I’m just here looking for work like Justice said.”

“I didn’t see you in town earlier, but you look nothing like the beautiful women people described days ago. What happen to you, drugs?”

Abigail folded her arms against her chest and bit on a jagged nail. “Ain’t never used that shit my whole life. Won’t do it now.

“Sorry, you just look like you been through hell and back.” Perez’s earlier attempt to act concerned faded as Abigail saw her true intentions surface. It was obvious she hated the Savage Souls—but so did she.

Abigail shuffled from one foot to the other. Her bare feet felt the prick of pine needles. She considered the Chief’s words, but fuck it—fuck her. An awkward jerk of emotion spilled, and Abigail pressed a fist against her lips. She’d buried her son over two months ago—no time to grieve, rage seethed instead.

Chapter 14

“I heard what you said, baby girl. I’m proud of you.” Justice brushed a ringed finger along her sharp jaw. Unwashed black hair fluttered over his calloused knuckles. He looked pleased by his latest acquisition. They’d walked into the kitchen toward the rear of the old B&B.

“Thank you, sir. I’m happy I pleased you,” Abigail’s words arrived robotic—void of humanity. Justice noticed the lack of passion. It was what drew him to her—fearlessness, or insanity.

“Baby girl, daddy’s going to take care of you tonight. Why don’t you go get into my tub and relax. I’ll get you some fresh clothes and good food.”

“Whose coming with me?” her voice sounded frantic, almost gun shy.

Justice lowered and leaned in close. “Alone. You get to be alone—you deserve it.” He ran his hand gingerly across the top of her head. Expressionless, he knew she’d been broken—now to mold her to please the Nation.

“Thank you.”

Justice called out to Mercy’s old lady who’d stopped by the clubhouse to tell him goodbye before his Las Vegas road trip. Liza Boudreaux had given birth to four of Justice’s nephews and nieces, but she rarely stopped by the den. He knew she didn’t approve of Mercy joining the club, but with four mouths to feed and one daughter’s medical treatments, Mercy couldn’t make the monthly bills to even save their modest home.

“Would you help our new sister, please?”

“Sure, Justice, but please treat her better than the last ones.” She laughed while patting his cheek.

“Deal, sis-in-law.”

“Let’s go, young lady,” Liza said.

Abigail’s head dropped as she fell in line as told. “Am I supposed to fuck you too?”

“Ewe, no. What’ve they done to you?” Liza’s glower slashed to Justice.

He ignored her.

“Why you limping?” Liza was the only one who’d seemed to notice her injured ankle. Her comment didn’t go unnoticed—Justice watched her gimp to his room.

*     *     *

The serious glint in Rage’s glare signaled news—probably bad news. He waved for Justice to follow him out back. Both brothers looked around and walked down the steps, away from the building. The crumpled papers in Rage’s trembling hand demanded Justice’s attention, but there’d be no conversation until they were alone.

Justice snatched him by the shoulder. Rage’s temples were marred with thick pulsing veins just below the red skin shrink wrapped tight against his skull. “Enough, dude, tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“Big trouble. I think we got a rat inside.” He shook the paper in Justice’s face.

“Explain.”

They both quieted until they realized the car’s engine belonged to Liza Boudreaux. She’d headed out.

“The e-mail from Ricky Geneti’s computer was sent to another address just seconds before we got there. It was the blonde bitch who jumped out of the back window. The IP address for that e-mail comes back to an address in Las Vegas. An apartment not far from where we intercepted Geneti.”

“Easy enough. Send Dragon Mike to the apartment to find out who lives there.”

“We did. The place had been burned to the ground. Not a trace and the residents claim they never knew anyone who lived there.”

“How can we not find a stupid blonde bitch?” Justice seized the papers from Rage. His eyes scanned them, “Fuck, she knows everything.”

“We’ve got other problems Lil’ Bro, I think the feds are onto our ass.” Rage waved his arms wildly.

“Chief Perez slipped up with the same intel earlier. I’ll pull the plug on finding those guns if I got to, but we can’t afford to let that quarter-mil walk.”

“Or maybe she didn’t slip up at all. I know she acts like big bitch, but she’s finding herself on a limb in this town. We’ve greased enough palms and sponsored kid recreation teams until they’re no longer sure if we’re Satan or St. Peter. Just like Desert Storm—hearts and minds.”

“Hearts and minds is right.” Justice checked his watch. He knew Abigail needed to have both of hers tended to. There was something about her that he was drawn to and yet, cautious of. Her limp also added to his caution.

Could she have been the one?

“Rage, tell me why you thinking the feds are here?” he asked, pulling back his flannel shirtsleeve to expose his watch again.

“Remember I told you about the digital cloud I set up over Vegas and the military base to intercept social media chatter about the money or weapons?”

“Yes, fucking brilliant, but yes.” Justice smattered the sweat from his forehead. He let out a whistle.

“Well, I also set a much smaller one over Mystic. Shit ass cops gossip as much as high school cheerleaders. Between texting their wives and girlfriends, I don’t know how they get shit done.”

Justice’s size fourteen leather boot smashed into a pile of chopped firewood. “What’re they saying?”

“Seems they’re crawling all over Custer County. They know we lost something but not what. They also know we killed Geneti and his three-year-old son, but got no witnesses. Seems the boys mother saw it, but she disappeared.” Rage’s eyes narrowed as he twisted his torso like a tank’s turret to look for wandering ears.

Justice walked away—his heart pounded at the reality of having his cherished freedom stolen by a corrupt government and its band of unlawful federal agents. His mind struggled to put distance between the last several weeks and the facts presented.