“Exactly,” Skid said. “So are you willing to destroy his life just so you can explore it? Because if you care about him, it’s a shit thing to do. And don’t try to tell me you don’t care about him, either. I saw you last night. You’re as fucked in the head as he is.”

I stared at the wall, trying to process what he was saying. The hangover wasn’t helping.

“Can I ask you one thing?” I said finally.

“Sure.”

“Why are you so sure I can’t be trusted?”

He just looked at me for long seconds, judging me with his eyes.

“Because you lied to your own club.”

“I had no idea Hunter was a Devil’s Jack—” I started to protest, but he held up a hand, stopping me.

“Not that,” he said, his voice cold. “Later, at the house. You called and told him to get out, right in the middle of a meet with your dad. Don’t bother trying to bullshit me. You used my fucking phone to do it.”

My breath caught.

“I smashed your phone.”

He offered a dark, cynical smile.

“Let me guess, your dad pays for your cell?”

I didn’t reply. He did, but I’d be damned if I’d admit it now.

“I have an online record of calls,” Skid said slowly and carefully, like he was talking to an idiot. Apparently he was. “I saw the number and the time stamp, Em. I know what you did. I can prove it.”

Oh, fuck … He could destroy me. And he would, too. I saw it in his eyes. Double fuck.

“So you hate me because I saved his life and yours?” I asked, feeling like a cornered animal. “I protected the peace between our clubs, Skid. That wasn’t a betrayal. That saved all of us.”

“I don’t hate you at all,” he replied. “I’m thankful to you. I love Hunter—he’s my brother, and he’d be dead right now if you hadn’t done it. Why d’you think I’ve kept my mouth shut? But can you look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t do the same for your dad? Say you were Hunter’s old lady. Would you make a call to save your father’s life, if you knew we might kill him? Because this truce may not last long term. You ready to make that choice?”

The thought stabbed through me. Of course I would save my dad. It must’ve been written all over my face. Skid gave a sad smile.

“You’ll always have divided loyalties, Em,” he said almost compassionately. “Our sergeant at arms shouldn’t be with a woman who isn’t a hundred percent behind the Jacks. Not if he’s been stupid enough to fall in love with her.”

“You think he’s in love with me?” I asked, my heart hopeful and breaking all at once.

“I think he’s something,” he replied, shrugging. “I don’t know if ‘love’ is the right word. Not sure he’s capable of love the way you’d think of it. But he cares enough about you to compromise his judgment. I know he went to see you at your house, and I know he told you things you shouldn’t have heard. That’s enough to end it right there. If you care about Hunter—if you want him to have a future—you need to leave this house and never come back.”

I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t think of a damned thing to say.

Skid was right.

“Go on,” I told him, feeling sick to my stomach. “Distract Hunter or something. I’ll grab my clothes, then Kit and I will take off. I don’t want to see him, though. Not sure I can handle that.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said. “I’ll ask him to help me in the back yard. We need to move the keg and clean up anyway. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

Eight minutes later, I was practically racing down the street, Kit trailing after me like a sad, spoiled little puppy.

“Why did we have to leave?” she whined. “I like Kelsey. We were having fun. She’s a lot like me—I think we could be friends.”

“I’ll tell you when we get home,” I muttered, keeping my eyes forward. I couldn’t let myself think about Hunter, let alone explain it right now. I didn’t want to start crying.

Sometimes doing the right thing sucks.

HUNTER

I stared down at my empty bed, jaw clenching.

I’d known something was wrong the instant Skid and I walked into the kitchen. Kelsey stood at the stove by herself, flipping pancakes and muttering soft curses.

“You,” she said, turning to glare at us. She pointed her bright red spatula menacingly, waving it back and forth, apparently unable to decide on a target. “You scared them off.”

“Who?” I asked.

Skid sighed.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I told Em she should get out of here and leave you alone.”

“What?” I asked, stunned. I glanced over at Kelsey, who shrugged. “Fuck.”

I took the stairs two at a time, which was a complete waste of effort. Em wasn’t up there. I found a piece of paper on the bed, though.

Liam—I’m so sorry, but this whole thing was a big mistake. I want you to know there’s no hard feelings and I hope things go great for you and your club.

Take care, Em

I dropped the note and strode over to the window, pushing it open and looking outside.

Nothing.

Fuck. FUCK.

Then I clenched the windowsill until my knuckles turned white, trying to decide the best way to kill Skid. It came to me. I’d beat him to death. Immediately. I found him down in the kitchen, locked in a glaring match with Kelsey. Without a word, I spun him around and punched him in the face.

He staggered and I punched him again, sending him into the fridge with a crash. The top was lined with bottles of hard liquor, and they started falling like dominoes. Some bounced on the painted wooden floorboards and others shattered.

The raw stench of alcohol filled the kitchen.

“What the hell did you do?” I yelled at him. “Who I screw is my business! Not yours. Not the club’s. You stay the fuck out of my life, brother.”

He held up his hands, clearly not wanting a fight. Tough shit. I jerked him to his feet and hit him again. Blood spurted from his nose, and I saw—reflected in his eyes—the instant he decided to start fighting back.

I’m not sure how long it lasted.

What I do know is that we tumbled off the back porch, through the shrubs, and onto the lawn all without losing a beat. By the time it ended, Clutch, Grass, Kelsey, and several random women left over from the party were all standing on the back porch watching.

Pretty sure Clutch and Grass were taking bets.

I decided the winner owed me drinks, because I’d kicked Skid’s ass … But by the time I had him knocked out and helpless in the dirt, my brain had started working again. I glanced up at our audience and frowned, staggering slightly. He’d gotten in some pretty good hits. My head was spinning—I figured there was a decent chance I had a concussion.

“Go away,” I growled. “This is private.”

Grass herded them back in, although Kelsey tried to insist on staying outside. He ended the argument by picking her up and carrying her while she rewarded him with a flurry of head smacks from the spatula.

I collapsed to the ground, staring blankly up at the clouded sky.

“You okay?” I asked Skid. He rolled over, moaning.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I had to do it, bro.”

“You didn’t have to do shit.”

“She’s no good for you,” he said. “She’s not some little puppet you can control. She lied for you to her own club, which is fuckin’ romantic until you consider that same loyalty is attached to the Reapers, too. You’d never be able to trust her, brother. And if you did, we’d never be able to trust you.”

“Still not your decision to make,” I said slowly. “So you figured it out, I guess?”

“Phone records,” he said shortly. “Don’t worry. Won’t show ’em to anyone. Figure I owe her that much, given that she saved your sorry ass. But seriously—elections are coming, and unless you want to pull out, you can’t be with her.”

“That’s my problem,” I told him.

“No, it’s a club problem,” Skid said seriously. “Burke needs a right-hand man he can trust, and we all know it’s you. But I’m your right hand, bro. It’s my job to make sure your head’s in the game. Right now it isn’t.”