Vince sits at the head of the table, fingering a medallion. 

The gold circle looks like one of those cheap-ass 1970 holdovers from when dudes wore the open collar and had five chains to show their wealth or wow the chicks.

I know better. 

It's a solid-gold medallion from a war buddy who didn't make it. Vince earned a purple heart after that little showdown. He's a deliberate dude-and the closest I've come to a dad in my life. My old man split when I was a toddler. 

I just had my whore of a mom. 

She meant well, but using was more important than taking care of some kid with no man around. And if she didn't have money for her drugs, there was always her body. 

So the state took over. 

Foster care was a carousel of hell. I learned a lot about the absence of mercy. Being a Navy Seal taught me how to be a man, though. Real men are selfless. That's being brave. Not acting tough or feigning shit. 

Doing the right thing for others when there's no audience because you believe it―that's real. 

Vince keeps that system going in the club. We don't want men who pretend. We don't want citizens. They don't get it.

They don't get us. 

“Money in the bank?” Vince opens church.

“Yup,” I reply instantly.

“Problems?” His intense eyes shoot first at me then at Snare. New bank, new dog on a leash. Solid question.

“No. No problems,” Snare confirms.

A flash of the Chaos Rider slides through my head. 

I must make some sound, because Vince turns sharply in my direction, eyebrows rising.

I blow out an exhale. “Saw a Chaos Rider going in as we were coming out.” I shrug. I just want a record of it. That might mean something; it might mean jack.

Vince narrows his eyes. “Don't like it.”

My gut tightens. That was my feeling. I sure don't like hearing it from Vince. 

“Coincidence,” Snare offers, throwing out his palm. 

A few others murmur agreement.

Vince plants his elbows on the solid-wood table that stretches nearly the length of the room. “Coincidence is for assholes.”

Snare barks out a laugh. “True. But the dude wasn't hiding his presence. And he came in after us.” He folds his arm, lifting a palm off his tatted bicep.

My heart rate does a little speeding. 

Rose. 

Vince leans back with a nonchalance I know he's not feeling. “I don't like a Chaos sniffing around where our money's held.” 

“It's not near everything we have. Peanuts, Viper,” our Treasury officer says. 

Vince drums his fingers on the polished wood. “I still don't like him being there with a new bank. Hell, that pencil dick Ned―he'd suck his own dick if he thought it'd get him more money.”

Everyone laughs.

The image of Ned putting his hand on Rose rises in my mind.

The sound of a pen snapping in my hand wakes me up. Lariat, Snare, and Vince look at me expectantly.

“Holding out on us, Noose?” Vince asks quietly, taking in my tension. 

Fuck. Need to come clean. “I've got a hard-on for this girl.” Enough of a boner I know everything about her now.

Snare plunges his forehead into his palm.

Vince throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, that's rich. And?”

I shift my weight.

Vince's smile dies on his face, dark eyes glittering at me. “We're not talking pussies here, Noose. We're talking green and MC.”

I give a miserable nod. “Yeah, gotcha.”

A beat of silence drums between us.

He can't contain his surprise. “Spit it out, son.” 

I look at Vince, tearing the soft hair band out and raking my long hair back. Strands that are still damp from the shower stick to my fingers. I flick them off with an irritated jerk. “The chick that took the money…”

Vince's eyebrows knot. “Yeah? What, a teller?” He gives Snare a hard glance, eyebrows glued to his hairline.

God love Snare―he doesn't say a word. 

“Yeah.”

“What do I do with this?” Vince asks, meaty palms out at his side. “Am I pulling hen's teeth here?” He slaps his palms on the wood table, and the sound echoes.

“I looked into her.”

“Just fuck her, and get it out of your system, Noose.” His voice is even, the simplicity of his suggestion is the therapy I want.

If only I could. 

Smoking’s not allowed at church, but damn, do I want a drag for this confessional. “She's got a tie to Chaos,” I admit slowly.

Talking erupts.

“Fucking knew it!” Snare growls.

Lariat shakes his head, palming his chin, and the other members of the club start shooting questions like bullets. 

Vince hooks his fingers in his lips. A whistle splits the voices like a sword. 

Everyone shuts up.

“How?” Vince asks. 

Lariat opens his mouth to speak, and Vince gives him a sharp glance that clearly says, Shut the fuck up. He turns his laser-beam stare on me. “Do we need to take care of this broad?”

“No!” I erupt, half-standing.

The brothers give me startled glances.

I don't back down. I don't know what's happening, besides the slow unravelling of who I am, but nobody's gonna hurt Rose. 

That I know. 

My outburst gets Vince's full attention. 

“About four years ago, one of the Chaos Riders was brought up on murder charges. Killed a girl, Anna Christo,” I explain in a savage growl. I knew I recognized that guy.

“Did he?” Vince asks.

I look him dead in the eye. “Yeah.”

“Charges didn't stick?” Snare guesses.

I nod curtly. “They paid a dirty judge. Blamed some minor drug use on her part, some juvy experimentation.” I flip my hair back, cracking my knuckles. “Anyway, the chick's dead.”

“What's this got to do with our bank girl that you want to bone?”

Heat rolls over me, warming my guts. “His name's Drake Corbin. Road name, Diablo.”

“Fucking Diablo? That girl is tied up with him? How?” Snare asks.

I nod. Things couldn't be fucking worse. 

Chaos runs girls and does worse than what we'll dabble in. No line is uncrossable; no shred of morality remains for them. It's all about power, and if people get crushed in the way, then so be it. Though we miss thugdom by just a slim margin, we're old school―real old school.

“Anna Christo was her sister.”

“Fuck me.” Snare dumps his head in his hand again.

“Want my opinion?” Vince asks. 

“No.”

He gives a short laugh. “Well, you're getting it.” His eyes hold mine like a trap. “You bang every piece of tail that trots through our doors―”

“Or not,” Snare mutters.

I glare at him. 

Vince nods at the remark and continues, “And when you finally find old lady material, you choose some girl that's mixed up with our number one rival.”

I wipe my damp palms on my jeans. “I don't want an old lady.”

“Uh-huh.” Vince raps his knuckles once on the table.

“I don't think it's fair that this girl's gotta deal with this scumbag. Ya know how Diablo can make people disappear. Probably the only reason she's not gone yet is it would point a finger at him.”

“What can the brothers do for you?” Snare asks. He was there at the bank; he saw me unwind for this girl. And I haven't laid a finger on her. 

I'm so fucked. I press my fingertips on the table. “I want to offer her Road Kill protection.”

Voices explode again.

Vince hits the gavel on the placard. “Hey!”

They all stop talking. “Do you? You've met this girl once? You've never even done her?” Vince's eyes are wide, his body tense.

“Yeah.” I know I sound like a pussy. Maybe it's nothing between us. Maybe she'll hate my fucking guts. 

Maybe Rose won't.

Vince grunts. “Fine. But on the QT. That's all we need is to start a war with Chaos for a chick you haven't even banged.”

I shut my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “There's another thing.”

“Fucking glorious. Drop the bomb, Noose.”

“Diablo made a kid with this girl he killed.”

“Oh shee-it,” Lariat says in a vague voice. “Let me guess―this teller girl's got the kid.”

“Bingo.” I set my eyes on each brother, finally coming back to Vince. “Her name is Rose.”

“Rose.” He seems to taste her name on his tongue. 

The silence is deafening. “Diablo's gonna consider this kid his property,” Viper says as a statement.

Lots of assenting voices agree. Not a single kid from the brothers isn't considered a precious commodity. Old ladies too. 

We protect our families. 

Chaos is no different in that respect. They're club. They're fucking merciless, but they're still club. 

Just not our club. 

“He lost his rights to the kid for four years, and the time's up.” My eyes sweep the assembled brothers. “There's a hearing coming up. He's gonna want his rights.”

“Why would he kill the mother of his kid?” Vince asks, shaking his head.

“Diablo?” I ask. “Fucker is serial brutal with women. He can't have normal sex or relationships unless he's causing someone pain.”

“You fuck him?” Lariat asks with a laugh.

I'm out of my seat and fisting his shirt from across the table, hauling him an inch away from my nose. “No, but there's been plenty of sweet butts who have, and they quack like fucking ducks about strange rangers.”

“Noose,” Vince says. 

I release Lariat. He gives me a sullen look, smoothing out his cut, which got all twisted up with my hold. 

“He's right. Our sweet butts wouldn't go near that club.”

“They won't go near the club because we don't want their sloppy seconds,” Snare says. 

We all nod. The club whores don't get passed around to other clubs. 

“It's just their word,” Wring says. 

I nod. “Yeah, but why would a sweet butt lie? Most of them just want to be somebody's property eventually.”

My comment is met by silence. It's the truth. That tends to shut people up. 

“I don't normally give a shit how other clubs get off,” Vince says, and good natured laughing crawls around the room. “And if Chaos has some riders who like shit rough and the bitches are willing―have at it. But”―his eyes catch the anger I level on him―“if there was a girl that was unwilling, say, caught up,”―he does air quotes then lets his fingers drop―“and Diablo fucked up and killed her, and now he's after an innocent.” Vince shrugs. “It's really not our problem. Unless you want to throw down for her, Noose.”

My heart is beating a hole out of my chest. Hell no. I don't want to throw down for anyone but my brothers. 

I'm all club. 

I don't love, feel, or want.

Rose's face is etched like an acid burn in my brain.

Vince steeples his fingers. “Figure this out, Noose. Feel this Rose out. You've gotta be unable to breathe unless she's in the room for what you're asking. She's a dangerous woman to protect.”

“Jesus, for a pussy?” Lariat asks, snorting. 

“Shut the fuck up, Lariat. Count the goddamned pennies. It's what you're good at,” Snare grates to our treasurer.

I say nothing. There's no defense for what I’m asking. I don't even know myself. I need to get my shit ironed out. 

Vince indicates my seat. 

I finally sit after the first tirade of my time with Road Kill MC.

He bangs the gavel. “We meet tomorrow. Noose is going to let us know how it goes with Rose the bank teller. Aunt of a kid that is our number one rival's sergeant-at-arms.”

No pressure.

I go.