“Yup. Enjoyed it, too.”

“Maybe you don’t realize this, but usually people try pretty hard not to piss me off. Bad things happen when I get pissed off.”

“Bad things happen when I get pissed off, too. You might want to remember that.”

I snorted, a reluctant smile crossing my face. We sat in silence for a while longer, the evening air just cool enough that I wished I had a blanket. Or Em’s warm body up against mine. After a while I scooted down, lying back in the grass and looking up at the stars. For once I wasn’t totally preoccupied with sex around her, which was kind of nice.

“It’s really pretty out here,” I said finally. “You’re lucky you grew up in a place like this.”

I heard her moving, and then she was lying in the grass next to me. Not too close—we weren’t touching. But close enough I could smell that unique, flowery scent that seemed to follow her everywhere.

“Where did you grow up?” she asked.

“Hell,” I said shortly.

Silence fell again.

“I miss you, Em.”

She didn’t answer. I yawned as something dark flew over us, followed by a second shadow.

“What are those?” I asked.

“Bats.”

“No shit?”

She laughed.

“Yeah, I’m lying to you about the bats, Liam.”

Christ, I loved hearing my name from her lips. Without thinking, I reached out and caught her, pulling her over and into me. She stiffened.

“Relax,” I whispered. “You’re safe.”

She pulled away for an instant, then sighed and nestled her head against my shoulder, slowly relaxing. Just holding her in the darkness kicked ass.

“You know, you were wrong about something,” she said after a while.

“What’s that?”

“I’d make a shitty old lady.”

“How do you figure?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, among other things, I have a habit of warning my club’s enemies so they can get away before they’re killed,” she said slowly. “You won’t tell anyone about that, will you? Dad would never forgive me.”

“Of course not,” I said, my voice firm. “You saved my fuckin’ life. I wouldn’t do that to you. Hell, I don’t want to do anything to hurt you. Should’ve stayed away tonight, but I wanted you to know it was all over.”

Bullshit. I wanted to see her. Touch her. Smell her hair.

“It’s hard to know what you’d do,” Em said. “You taught me an important lesson—you can’t trust guys you meet online, remember?”

I winced.

“Yeah, about that … I’m sorry. It was a dick move.”

“But you were cool with romancing me and using me to manipulate my father in the first place?”

“Well, to be fair I did it to get laid, too. Wasn’t all business.”

She gave a little snort. Not an angry snort, more of a snuffly, surprised laugh that caught her off guard.

“Are you going to erase those pictures?” she asked, finally, her voice sobering. “I don’t want them out there. You owe me—I saved your ass, I saved Skid, and I saved this precious truce of yours.”

She made a good point. But there was no way I’d erase those pictures. Fuckin’ crown jewels in my spank bank.

“I’ll get rid of them,” I lied. Shit, if that was the worst one I told today, it’d be a damned record.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? For all I know, you’ve emailed them to your whole club already.”

“Naw, if I’d done that, it would’ve made the rounds of your club, too,” I told her. “No way my brothers would be able to resist sending them to your dad. I’ll take care of it. You never have to worry about seeing them again, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice drifting. She was falling asleep, I realized. I held perfectly still. After a few minutes I heard a very soft, very feminine little snore.

Note to self: Pot knocks Em on her ass.

I smirked, and then it faded because not like I’d have a chance to use that information. Pretty sure I wouldn’t be seeing her again after tonight. Hell, best-case scenario, the peace would hold and I’d see her across a campfire in a few years at some kind of gathering between the clubs. She’d have an old man by then … I’d just have to deal.

Unless it was that cocksucker Painter. I didn’t like that guy.

My last thought before I fell asleep was that if I ever saw him with Em, I’d have to kill him.

Just no escaping it.

EM

The birds woke me up. I was freezing cold on my right side, which seemed to be resting on … the ground? My back was warm, though, and a man’s arm lay heavy over my body.

What the fuck?

Then it came to me.

Liam. Hunter. Whatever the hell his name was. He’d met me outside last night. I’d kicked him in the balls, and the memory warmed me immediately. Then we’d talked and smoked and it hadn’t been bad at all. Shit. That’d probably been stupid. But even with the ground all cold and damp beneath me, I felt fantastic cradled in his arms. His bicep made a hell of a nice pillow.

Ewww. I’d drooled on him.

I felt carefully in my pocket and pulled out my phone. Five thirty in the morning. I needed to get back inside, I realized. Not that Painter was my boss or anything, but he was a damned good spy for my father. I slid out from under Hunter’s arm carefully, then stood over him, taking him in one last time. Like so many people, sleep made him look young and innocent. Sure, he was still a big man made up of strong muscles and sharp angles, but his face had softened. Dark stubble covered his chin, and his near-black hair flopped forward over his eyes.

He wore his Devil’s Jack cut, too—the first time I’d seen it.

It looked good on him, I decided. Of course, everything looked good on him. He was such a beautiful son of a bitch, I thought wistfully, and now I’d probably never see him again. I couldn’t help but wonder what could’ve been.

Pulling out my phone, I took a couple quick pictures, figuring he’d done far worse to me. Then I walked carefully around the side of the bunkhouse and back to the house. I felt like a teenager sneaking inside after a date, a more accurate analogy than I’d realized because Dad’s bike was parked in the driveway. Sometime in the night he’d come home, although how I’d missed the sound of his big black Harley I couldn’t imagine.

Oh yeah. I’d been stoned off my ass. Oops.

I opened the door carefully. Then I snuck past Painter and climbed the stairs. I pulled out the phone and the gun, setting them on my bedside table before crawling under the covers. On Monday I’d give the folks at the aesthetician’s program a call, I decided. Follow up, see what they’d think of me coming to Portland for classes when the next quarter started.

It was a city, after all. Not like I’d ever see Liam at all.

SIX WEEKS LATER

COEUR D’ALENE, IDAHO

EM

I considered the playlist I’d put together on my phone, and smiled.

Then I hit play on the stereo system’s control app.

Bass filled the front of the house, rattling the windows. Dad’s room was in the addition off the back, so it wouldn’t be too loud in there. Just loud enough to make a hangover much, much worse, if you were unfortunate enough to have one.

Odds were whoever came home with him last night—giggling hysterically, because the endless sex noises weren’t quite annoying enough—had a hangover and a half. It’d been the club’s Halloween party. I’d gone for a classic, the Playboy Bunny (in honor of Bridget Jones), which had been rather satisfying. Painter was all over me, something I would’ve killed for six months ago. Now? Fuck him.

Fuck all of ’em.

Men, I mean. I was done with people who had penises, especially bikers. Liam (he’d disappeared off the face of the earth after his late-night visit, so far as I could tell). Painter (who only wanted me when he couldn’t have me). My dad (ugghh).