“It’s a hell of a way to go,” Link continued. “Nobody to mourn them. Nobody to share stories about the crazy shit they did or talk about the good ol’ days. It’s like these vets just cease to exist and nobody even gives a fuck. They need a club of brothers who have their back and will stand beside their graves, drinkin’ and shootin’ the shit about them. Hell, the worst way someone can die is forgotten and alone. You’re a part of something here with us, Tap. You make a difference. If, God forbid, you died today, we’d tell stories and drink at your funeral, we’d make sure your responsibilities were taken care of, and nobody would forget the shit you accomplished. We’d keep your memory alive.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said the only thing I could. “Thank you.”
“We’re family, and that’s what family does. I don’t need your thanks; I need your goddamn trust. It’s time for you to start acting like a relative, brother. Time for you to trust us to have your back. Reach out to Havoc and tell him where you are. He’s one useful motherfucker and he has my full confidence and authority.”
Havoc would know where I lived. There was no way the club’s sergeant at arms would meet me somewhere and let me blindfold him to get him in and out of my neighborhood. And if he knew where I lived, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the club figured it out. Even if Havoc didn’t tell anyone, Morse would put a tracker on Havoc’s bike or Wasp would tail him. The life I’d built here would change forever, or until I packed up my family and moved. “I’ll think about it.”
“Do more than think about it. I’ve been beyond patient with you, but it’s time for you to make a decision. The club chose you a year ago when we patched you in. Now it’s time for you to choose us. You’re either all in, or you’re all out. Your decision.”
I couldn’t believe he was giving me an ultimatum. “It’s like that, huh?” I asked.
“Has to be. A club is a pack, not a collection of scattered lone wolves. We stand together or we won’t survive. Call Havoc.” Link disconnected.
I understood Link’s position, but I liked shit the way it was—keeping the club at arm’s length while still participating—and I didn’t want anything to change. Frustrated and wondering what to do, I dropped my phone on the desk and collapsed in my chair.
***
Sasha
My dreams were a fitful mess of broken images and scattered emotions. Breaker. Betrayal. Chloe, winding up to kick me. Pain. An impossibly handsome stripper, his golden-brown skin glistening as his muscles flexed to pick me up. Peace. The backseat of a car. Confusion. A hospital. Fear.
The sound of something dropping startled me awake. One of my eyes was glued shut, but with the other, I scanned the area. There were no windows. Only the glow of four monitors mounted to a wall illuminated the area. The monitors showed doors and windows of a building I did not recognize, it looked like some sort of security feed.
A door with a ten-key pad was to the right of the monitors. A second door was located on the wall to the left. Half of the room had been set up as a small gym. Dumbbells were racked beside a weight bench, a yoga mat covered part of the floor, and a treadmill rested in the corner.
The other half of the space was an office. A mahogany desk stood in the center of the area with two monitors and a laptop perched on top of it. Two tall filing cabinets stood against the wall. The stripper from last night sat in a high-backed leather chair in front of the desk, his head thrown back to stare at the ceiling. He was still wearing the yellow suspenders, leaving his magnificent chest on full display. A pair of black sweats rode low on his hips, and his feet were bare.
His head dropped and he leveled a stare at me. “You’re awake.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes.” My voice sounded scratchy, and my throat felt raw. Swinging my legs around, I sat up. Pain hammered my head. I tried to cradle it in my hands, but they were trapped beneath a giant sweatshirt. The stripper had taken me from the party, dressed me, and brought me to his gym/office.
“Can I get you something for the pain? Ibuprofen? Vicodin?”
I had to think about that for a minute. There was so much shit running through my system, I had no idea how Vicodin would react to it. I was in a lot of pain, but after watching my mother struggle with addiction, I wasn’t willing to take the chance. “Ibuprofen. Please. And water.”
He stood and strode past me toward the inside door. I was wearing an oversized sweatshirt like a poncho. I had no idea where it had come from, and I was too warm in it, so I raised the arm that wasn’t hurting, and tugged it off. Looking down at the front of myself, I realized my dress was ruined and tried to stretch enough fabric forward to cover myself. A gaping “V” still left most of my right boob exposed, so I gave up and draped the sweatshirt over my chest. When my rescuer returned, he carried two small orange pills and a glass of water. He handed everything to me and leaned against the desk.
“Who are you and why did you want to get jumped into the Serpents?” he asked.
Apparently, we were getting right into the Q&A session, and without any manners. Reminding myself that this guy had been in Buzz’s house, too, I played my hand as close to the chest as I could. “My name is Sasha Petrov. Sorry, I don’t remember yours.”
“I didn’t give it.” I waited for him to rectify that oversight, but he stared straight ahead, waiting for me to continue.
“Are you with the Serpents?” I asked.
“If I was, do you think I would have taken you out of there?”
No. Maybe. This could all be another one of Breaker’s tests, but that didn’t make sense. It seemed like he would have tested mebeforehe had his girlfriend and her girl-powered-up thugs beat the shit out of me. I’d survived their beatdown, so I was basically property of the club. I was in. Or, at least, I should be. That sure made shit complicated.
“Why were you getting jumped into the Serpents?” he asked.
I couldn’t trust the guy. He pulled me out of Buzz’s office—against my will—screwing up my whole plan, and he wouldn’t even give me his name? Two could play that game. “I’ve been thinking about a career change for some time and they offered quite the package: medical, dental, 401(k), travel option, long motorcycle rides on the beach. How could I pass that up?”
The side of his mouth quirked up. “Great. A smartass.”
“I’d rather be a smartass than a nameless one.” I was being careless and disrespectful, but I was too irritated to care. Who did this guy think he was? He’d basically kidnapped me, and now he was demanding answers? Hell to the no.
He chuckled. “You can call me Rob.”
