Chapter One
Britt “Raven” Meadows checked her outfit in the mirror, then removed it, packing it in the go-bag. A year after leaving the Army, she still didn’t quite recognize herself in the mirror. In the Army, her hair had been confined in ponytails or a low bun. Now, she rarely confined her blonde hair, which had grown in the last year—reaching past her shoulder blades.
But then, they’d all changed. Britt had been blessed that she’d grown up in a small town with her best friends. Abby, Gracelyn, Izzy, Baylee, Rue, Britt, and Charity had dubbed themselves the Honey CreekGirls. They’d been inseparable until graduation, which wasn’t surprising with how small their class had been. Only sixty in their graduating class, but that was because kids were bused in from surrounding farms and even another county. But after graduation, they all kept in touch. And they’d never said goodbye. It was alwaysSee You Later. Britt had celebrated every joy with her best friends, either in person if she was able to make it home, like with Gracelyn and Lane’s wedding, or through a video call when she saw Lane Jr., Gracelyn’s son, minutes after his birth.
They’d always been there for each other—except for that one time. Britt had thought everything would be fine but woke up to… Nope, Britt could not go back to that dark time, or she wouldn’t be able to focus on their quest tonight. Rue, who invented video games, had come up with that one. Britt had to say calling it a quest fit, though—an adventurous expedition to find or obtain something went a little deeper. In their case, it was the quest to find those who had shortened the lives of their friend, Charity, and Gracelyn’s husband, Lane. And if, along the way, they stamped out some people involved in human trafficking and pedophilia, all the better. The world would be a better place.
Tonight’s quest needed to go off without a hitch. Raven had chosen Snipe and Buzzard because she’d worked with them in the Army. When Raven had decided to leave and join the Honey Creek Badgers MC to avenge her friends’ deaths, the guys had gotten out with her and joined the MC. She was also taking Hoax, aka Rue. Rue and Buzzard would be in the surveillance vehicle,and Snipe would be overwatch. Once she’d left the main area, he’d be picked up by Axel, one of Charity’s brothers, in the semitruck.
They’d planned every part of the quest, including alibis for all of them. She slid on her leathers, carrying her bag up the stairs from their underground area. All quest items were kept in their hidden bunker, which was under the cabins and part of the garden on the property. She tossed her go-bag in the surveillance RV before making her way through the tunnel and up the stairs to the farmhouse, which served as their above-ground clubhouse. She’d ride her bike over to the MC’s bar, party a little bit, then she’d play the drunk, though her drinks would be water or tea disguised as liquor. One of the guys would say he wasgoing to put her to bed, but instead, she’d be taken to the rendezvous spot for this quest.
Then from there, she’d play it by ear, within reason. As she headed toward her bike, Mace stopped her, holding his little daughter.
“You be careful. No extra chances,” Mace said.
Mace was one of Charity’s brothers and had been a Special Agent with the FBI before he decided to form the club. Britt had been right there saying yes when he detailed his plan to avenge his sister and Gracelyn’s husband. Britt had known when they all said yes that this wouldn’t be a one-time thing but a lifelong choice to work against the evil that had taken her friends. But sometimes, sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. She may have left the Army,but the concept ofThis We’ll Defendwas still a cornerstone of her personality.
They had contingency after contingency, especially with some of their group having children. Mace and Rue, his wife, never went on the same quest, just in case things went sideways. Because being a part of the quests didn’t guarantee anyone would come home. They were trying to trap dangerous people. But Raven considered the risk worth the reward.
“You got it,” she said, kissing Danielle’s forehead. Mace and Rue had named her Charity’s middle name. They’d considered Charity, but Mace couldn’t handle calling his daughter that every day.
Chapter Two
Maxwell “Twist” Graham saw the sign for the rest area five miles ahead and decided he’d stop there. He was a couple hours from home and had drunk entirely too much coffee trying to stay awake tonight. Thirty-six hours without sleep while he and some friends chased an unexpected flare-up of tornadoes had him dragging.
Although he was a Bluff Creek Brotherhood MC nomad, after his brother Booker had found his woman, Lexi, they’d all pretty much adopted her family’s Logan Falls ranch as their home base. He loved thefreedom of being a nomad but also enjoyed the home-cooked meals he could get at the ranch. The tranquil rolling hills and atmosphere always recharged him.
He was looking forward to some downtime while the vehicle he used for storm chasing, which he named Storm Sweeper, was being repaired in Kansas City. A couple panels had come loose and were being welded back on. He also had the man adding a drop-down bed with a real mattress and reupholstering the seats to stand up to being rained on. He’d made do with a sleeping bag sometimes, but he was getting too old for that. Storm Sweeper was a modified Ford van with all-terrain tires and four-wheel drive. His equipment took up the majority of the room in the vehicle, but he was adding a real bed.
Being around Booker, who had found Lexi after years apart, along with Lexi’s mom falling for their club brother Compass, had Twist wishing for a woman of his own. Their MC was more family-oriented than many others. The original chapter in Bluff Creek, Kansas, hadn’t had club girls on the premises since the nineteen seventies. But Twist was fine with that. The days of just wanting a warm body were gone for him.
Being in his forties, there were days he felt ancient. His time in the military had hardened him, not to mention the toll it had taken on his body. Now that he was thinking about it, one of the brothers needed to fall for a masseuse. Wouldn’t that be an added benefit if he could have someone get the knots and tight muscles in better shape? Of course, that was assuming one ofhis brothers would allow their woman to have her hands all over his body. Maybe he could suggest the tattoo shop look at adding a masseuse. He was sure the women of Bluff Creek Brotherhood could keep one pretty busy without anyone else.
He'd make the pit stop and then push his baby to her max to get home tonight.
He’d grabbed his 1997 Harley Davidson Softail Heritage Springer from the Saint’s Outlaws MC clubhouse to get home. He’d removed the small passenger pad about six months ago and replaced it with a larger case for clothing. He’d had it specially made to match the original fringe on his seat and leather saddlebags. It had cost him a pretty penny, but he lived frugally and had never been one of those soldiers who spent everything he earned. And he had his inheritance.His parents were older when they had him and had passed a couple years ago.
It was probably why he latched onto being a part of the MC. It had given him a brotherhood like the Army but had also given him family again. He was an only child who’d been born to only children. Twist considered himself a positive person most days, but when he imagined a family, it hurt knowing his parents would never know his children.
Even though his parents had been worried about him, they’d never curtailed his dreams of serving in the military or his fascination with storms. He’d turned that fascination into an obsession that not only provided endless hours of adrenaline for him but also became a stream of income. He loved storm chasing. Tornadoes were his favorite and his bread and butter on his onlinechannel. But he also did other storms when tornadoes weren’t quite as prevalent.
Twist grinned to himself, thinking about this storm-chasing trip. It had been late in the season, and Stinger, one of the Saint’s Outlaws MC members, had asked to go with Twist.
Twist and his buddies had laughed more this trip than ever before because Stinger hadn’t remotely prepared for how close they’d be to the tornado. A couple times, Twist had wanted to ask Stinger if he’d watched any movies with tornadoes or even remembered seeing an actual tornado since Stinger had grown up in Kansas.
Watching a two hundred and forty-pound, six-foot-five tall man scream like a baby had been entertaining. His screech ofI’m gonna diehad them laughing, but his threat ofI’m gonna kill you all ifyou share thishad been hysterical. Maybe because he’d been huddling on the floor of Storm Sweeper, trying to hide at the time. And yep, that video had been shared with all of the Bluff Creek Brotherhood MC and the Saint’s Outlaws MC and on Twist’s social media. Heck, that video alone had over one million views. Lexi had suggested making T-shirts to sell with Stinger’s face on them and the phraseI’m Gonna Die. Twist would have to think through all the ramifications besides getting Stinger’s approval to sell them. Twist wasn’t sure how scary anyone would think the Saint’s Outlaws MC Enforcer was after seeing him cowering on the floor of the van.
Twist signaled he was taking the exit and rolled into the parking lot, parking close to the restrooms, though the parking lot was pretty empty, so he had his choice of places.The emptiness was probably why the black van caught his eye. Let’s face it. A van sitting by itself in what appeared to be a deserted rest area had his senses tingling. After being in the military, Twist never discounted his instincts. They’d saved him multiple times.
A flash of white by the restrooms had him shutting down his motorcycle, then getting off and bending down. He wanted to appear harmless, and checking his bike for a problem would do that.
The flash of white caught his eye again. He turned enough to see but not to catch the attention of the group. It appeared to be two men pulling a woman in a wedding gown toward the van. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Pit, the Saint’s Outlaws President, and his men had been discussing with Twist how much human trafficking had increased over the last six months. Or maybe the traffickerswere just getting braver because law enforcement didn’t seem to be doing much about it.
The SOMC, along with Bluff Creek, was working to dismantle a network that had tentacles everywhere. A couple months ago, they’d taken down three huge players. But it didn’t guarantee there weren’t more to take their place.
Twist slid his gun out of his saddlebag and then sprinted toward the men.
