“He’s not that ugly,” Gunner mused. “Actually with those fine cheekbones and that long hair, he’s kinda pretty. And ever since he met Evie, his eyes have that special glow.” He batted his eyelashes and Sparky spluttered out his beer.

“You’re the one who’s glowing. How many times did you get your knob polished last night?”

“You’re just jealous.” Gunner smirked. “When’s the last time you had a woman in your bed that you didn’t have to pay?”

Sparky folded his arms and glared. “Look who’s fucking talking. You couldn’t even buy into the pool right now ’cause you blew all your cash at Peelers.”

“At least I got a blow, brother. You got dick all.”

Usually Zane enjoyed their banter, but right now he had no patience for jokes or laughter. He needed Evie like he needed air to breathe. She calmed him, soothed him, helped fight the darkness that threatened his control.

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost her again.

Probably die.

*   *   *

After leaving Ty to play basketball at the side of the clubhouse with Shooter and a jaw-droppingly handsome young biker named Hacker, Evie followed Tank back inside for a tour of the clubhouse.

As she trailed behind him, Evie was reminded of the frat parties she’d snuck into as a teen. A huge crystal chandelier dominated the massive front hall, leading to a grand, slightly curved staircase, with an ornate carved balustrade. The oak floors were bare, and scuffed, although the walls clearly had been refinished and painted judging from their cleanliness relative to the rest of the clubhouse. Here and there she caught glimpses of antique furniture, covered in beer cans and riding gloves, pizza boxes and papers. Framed pictures of motorcycles and women on bikes adorned the walls, and the pungent, yeasty odor of stale beer permeated every room.

Tank led her into the kitchen just as Zane was walking out. Jagger, Cade, Sparky and Gunner were drinking beer and laughing, but Zane’s face had smoothed to an expressionless mask as it always did when he fought against strong emotion.

“Wait.” She placed a hand on Zane’s chest and he froze mid-step. “There’s something I need to tell you and you might want to share it with Jagger.” She glanced over at her now-rapt audience and lowered her voice. “Maybe we should talk outside. Viper was there. He said something to me about Stanton.”

Pain flickered across Zane’s face so fast she wasn’t sure if she’d seen it. “It’s okay. They know about Stanton. Everyone on the executive board and Arianne. You can say anything in front of them. I trust my brothers.”

Evie wound one hand around his arm, and gave the group a nervous smile. “Viper was outside the café today. He must have been part of the shooting. He held Ty and me at gunpoint and—”

“Son of a bitch.” Zane ripped her hand away. “Jag. Now.”

“Let her finish.” Jagger held up his hand and nodded for Evie to continue.

“He knows about the warrant for Zane’s arrest. He threatened to give the information to the police unless I … er … went with him. I didn’t.” She shrugged. “Obviously.”

Silence.

When they continued to stare at her, she swallowed and looked away. “I thought there was a better chance that you could protect Zane than taking the risk of going with Viper only to have him make the call anyway. I’m not sure how he got that information.”

“T-Rex.” Jagger’s voice shook with rage. “He’s getting intel from T-Rex.”

A wave of dizziness hit her and she gripped Zane’s arm. There was only one way to get information from an unwilling prisoner and she couldn’t bear to think of T-Rex in pain.

“Do you believe me now?” Jagger met the gaze of every man in the room save Zane. “I told you she would never betray us. Evie’s no Black Jack spy. She just didn’t understand who Viper was. Now she does and she’s on our side.”

Shock took her breath away. She had never even considered that they would think she was a spy. And yet, Zane had never asked the question. He trusted her implicitly. He had faith in her.

So how could she ask him the questions Viper had raised? How could she ask if they had a dungeon, and if they did if they had imprisoned Viper’s old lady? How could she ask about the man called Wheels or the Black Jacks Zane had supposedly shot in Whitefish? How could she make him think she didn’t trust him? And, if her loyalty was in doubt, asking those questions might raise suspicions all over again. But more than that, did she really want to know? Because if Viper was right about those things, maybe he was right about her father’s death, and then, what would she do?

“Let’s go.” Zane tugged her arm, drawing her away from the kitchen.

“They thought I was a spy,” she said as they walked down the hall. “I didn’t ask to be associated with the club. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“We had a Black Jack rat in the house a while back.” He looked straight ahead as he spoke, his body rigid, barely touching hers. “He joined the club as a prospect, and he had us fooled. His background and his papers all checked out. He hid his skills so well, he had us wondering if he was good enough to patch in, which is what they wanted. In and out. Minimize the chances of being caught. By the time we figured it out, it was almost too late. I almost lost Jagger that day. Second worst fucking day of my life.”

“What was the first?”

“The day I lost you.”

EIGHTEEN

The quality of your repair will depend on your desire to do a good job and your willingness to spend the time to make it right.

—SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL

She should never have come here.

Evie followed Zane up the huge staircase and down a spacious hallway lined with doors and dotted with pictures of motorcycles. She traced her finger along the frame of a vintage print as Zane unlocked his door. This club, this war, these bikers, their way of life … everything was so far removed from what she knew.

Biker wars, guns, threats, kidnapping, drugs, politics, and death. She didn’t understand the rules of this world, nor did she want to be part of it. So how would Zane fit into her life? And how could she protect Ty from being sucked into a world that was a mother’s worst nightmare?

Evie followed him in to a large room containing a low-rise bed covered in rumpled sheets, a dresser and a night table. And nothing else.

“Is this your room?”

“Yeah.”

“You live here?” Evie stared at the blank walls and empty surfaces. Where were the books, magazines, fast food containers, or pictures that made a room personal? Why were there no clothes on the floor, trophies of biker outings, or any of the detritus that she had expected to see in the room of an outlaw biker? What about music? Even a dock for his phone? Or a laptop? “It looks like you just moved out.”

He closed the door behind him with a firm click. “I just sleep here, and not that often.”

Maybe that was it. He had a girlfriend and he stayed with her, which was why everyone had been so surprised when he’d brought her to the clubhouse. But then why did he sleep with her?

Why not? Outlaws didn’t follow civilian law. Maybe they didn’t follow civilian codes either. Monogamy probably wasn’t part of the outlaw equation, and he probably had women falling at his feet. He’d been good-looking as a teenager, but now, all filled out, his muscles hard with use, face slightly weathered, chest tatted, he was devastatingly handsome. Breathtaking, really.

“Sure. I get it.” So why did she feel so … angry? She kept pushing him away, and yet the thought of him with another woman made her stomach knot the way it had when he’d shown up at the high school dance with Melissa.

“What do you get?”

“Just … why you’ve got nothing personal in here. I understand.” Evie twisted her hair around her finger.