When the last ripples of her orgasm had faded away, he released her and rolled off, then pulled her to his chest, skin to skin as they heaved their breaths together.

“My beautiful Evie,” he murmured in her ear. “Mine before. Mine now. Mine always.”

“Say it again,” she whispered.

“Which part?”

“The part where I get to be yours.”

He kissed her softly. “Always, sweetheart. No matter what happens, you will always be mine.”

*   *   *

He waited until she fell asleep, her body soft and warm against him, her breathing deep and regular. Then he eased himself off the bed, pulled on his clothes, and shrugged his cut over his shoulders. From the dresser drawer he pulled out his holsters and strapped them over his body. From the closet he carefully lifted his duffel bag and drew out his weapons—knives, guns, throwing stars, and chains. When he was fully armed, he took one last look over his shoulder.

She was beautiful in sleep, long lashes resting on creamy cheeks, red hair spread across the pillow in a silken wave. His heart ached and for a moment he was tempted to wake her.

But had never been one for good-byes.

NINETEEN

Be prepared for everything to go wrong with your repair. Tools will break, parts will go missing, and wires will get crossed.

—SINNER’S TRIBE MOTORCYCLE REPAIR MANUAL

“So, this is our new digs.” Connie trailed a finger over the dusty workbench at the far end of Sparky’s garage. “Needs a bit of cleaning.”

“Connie … be nice. Sparky is very kindly letting us use his shop until we sort out a new building.” Evie cleared a space on one of the tables and set up her new rack of paints. Zane had left in the middle of the night after their intimate encounter two days ago and aside from a curt assurance from Jagger that he was fine, she knew nothing about where he’d gone or how long he would be away.

However, standing up to Viper, facing the truth about her father, and finally letting down her guard with Zane, had left her feeling strong and determined to take back her life. After some heavy negotiations with Sparky, she had arranged to rent out the back of Sparky’s shop until she sorted out what to do with what was now her business, albeit the only things left were the land, employees, and the goodwill Bill had built up in his name.

Sparky looked up from the bike he was working on, and mocked an affronted stare. “It’s a garage, love. And I dare you to find one cleaner than this. Plus you should be thanking me for my generosity. This is a fucking palace compared to what you had.”

Connie gave him an exaggerated curtsy, all the more amusing for the fact she’d dressed head to toe in black leather—pants, corset and boots—so she could “fit in” with the bikers they would be working with for the foreseeable future. “Thank you, my lord.”

Sparky’s eyes widened and he gave a low hum of approval. “Say it again.”

“Thank you.”

“No.” His voice deepened to a husky growl. “The other part.”

Connie’s voice dropped to a throaty whisper. “My lord.”

Evie cleared her throat, reminding them they weren’t alone. Ty and Hacker leaned over a tool bench, heads bent together over a new tablet Jagger had brought this morning, along with a new laptop for Evie. She’d thought his gifts touching, but odd, especially since he wouldn’t meet her gaze or stay and chat. It was almost like he was feeling guilty, although she had no idea what he could be feeling guilty about.

Her head jerked up when Connie giggled. She and Sparky had been flirting ever since she’d arrived with the supplies this morning. Although they had never met, the heat between them had risen steadily as Sparky helped Connie and Evie clear a space to work, and now Evie worried they might combust.

She would have been happy for Connie save for the fact she was worried about Tank. Hacker had not-so-casually mentioned, as he helped her carry her boxes of new supplies into the shop, that brothers didn’t mess with other brothers’ “chicks.” Not only was it a club rule, it was part of the creed, for the simple reason that Sinners were by nature fiercely protective and possessive of their women. Brothers had died in fights over women until Jagger laid down the law.

“Connie. Can you come give me a hand?” She waved her friend over, then lowered her voice.

“I don’t think you should be flirting with him. What about Tank? He’s really into you.”

“Tank scares me.” Connie sat on the worn couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. “He’s too hot, too goddamn cool and loyal to a fault. He’s got that quiet confidence going on, like if someone pisses him off he doesn’t get visibly angry but you know the minute he puts his hand under his cut the dude is going to be dead. And in bed…” She fanned herself with her hand. “I travelled the world with my folks, had a multi-cultural sex education, but no one comes close to what he can do in the sack, and that’s without a whole lot of talking.”

“That sounds good,” Evie said. “So what are you doing with Sparky?”

“Connie shrugged. “I don’t actually know. Maybe I wanna see that outlaw biker edge or find out if it’s all for show. I mean, Tank doesn’t have a single blood patch on his cut. Not like Sparky over there. Or Jagger. Or your Zane.”

“Blood patch?”

“I’m up on all the biker lingo.” Connie grinned. “They get a blood patch every time they kill someone. They wear them around the bottom of their cuts. I guess so it’s not staring you in the face. Tank says some of the guys don’t like wearing them, but they don’t have a choice. The patches are handed out by the mother ship and they gotta do what they’re told.”

Evie stared at Connie aghast. “And you think that’s okay?”

Connie’s smile faded. “C’mon. You watch TV. Don’t look so surprised. And it’s not like they go around killing innocent people, or looking for people to kill. It’s just … you know … the way it is. They live in a violent world. They deal with people who are always armed—drug dealers, criminals, underworld characters, and other bikers. Someone tries to kill them, they gotta defend themselves.”

“Oh, God.” Evie scrubbed her hands over her face. “After Zane told me what really happened in the trailer park, I was so happy to know he hadn’t pulled the trigger, that he wasn’t a killer. Now you’re telling me he is.”

“Honey.” Connie put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “It’s about bad guys killing bad guys who are doing bad things or hurting the people they care about. Tank says they don’t involve civilians unless it’s biker business. You know all this. You saw what happened to Bill.”

Evie gripped the table so hard her knuckles whitened. “TV isn’t real. The Black Jacks are bad. I just figured … the Sinners … God, I think part of me knew but I didn’t want to accept it. I can’t think of Zane and Jagger that way.”

“Tank says because of the war that’s going on between the clubs, most of the brothers have a coupla blood patches.”

Evie’s shoulders sagged. “Viper told me. He said he and Zane weren’t so different. He made me wonder if maybe Zane did kill my dad, but after Zane told me what happened, I figured everything else Viper said was a lie. He told me Zane shot one of his men in the back, killed three of his men in Whitefish and that he kidnapped Viper’s old lady and put her in the dungeon in the clubhouse.”

“No shit. There’s a woman imprisoned in the clubhouse?” Connie looked over her shoulder at Sparky and whispered. “Maybe we should call the police.”

“We don’t know if it’s true, Connie. But we need to find out.”

Not just to rescue the woman, if she did exist, but because she needed to know just what kind of man Zane had become. And whether she could accept him as he truly was.

*   *   *

They were waiting for him when he pulled up to the clubhouse three days after he’d disappeared.