CHAPTER ONE
DECLAN
I never imagined I’d find myself back in Blue Haven, my small hometown in Delaware. As a special operative, the thought of settling down in one place felt foreign—especially here. Since leaving at eighteen, I’d only returned for short visits, never with any intention of staying. That changed four years ago when my mother fell ill. I came back to spend time with her and somehow guilted into planting roots in the town I once couldn’t wait to leave.
I’ve seen the world and traveled all over the country. I lived a life far removed from Blue Haven. At nineteen, I took a job working for Jeffery Westbrook at his construction company in Portland, Oregon, when I wasn’t on missions with the Navy SEALs. It was later revealed he was really Dillon Magarelli, the alleged mafia boss of the New Jersey crime family.
Despite his reputation, I still talked to him whenever he came to town. Dillon valued loyalty and trust, and because of my time working for him, he knew I was reliable. He also knew I was from Delaware and offered me a job at one of his Newark, New Jersey construction sites so I could be closer to home. Even though at the time I hadn’t planned to move back to Blue Haven. The move allowed me to see my family a little more.
Dillon respected my SEALs background and hinted that he might need my skills someday. I also told him about my role with the Raven MC, where I served as vice president. Dillon wasn’t bothered by it.
Hassle Raven, the club’s president, and I had been best friends since childhood. He founded the original chapter in Portland and thrives on the West Coast.
Since I agreed to stay in Blue Haven, I started a chapter of the Ravens.
If any evil men try to set up shop in my town, they answer to me and my brothers of the Ravens MC. The only person making deals in this town is me.
If it’s not obvious by now, I like to stay busy. In my downtime, I entertain women when I’m at my condo in New Jersey. Dillon once asked if I’d ever considered settling down. I told him the truth: with all the blood on my hands, I’m not looking for a white-picket-fence kind of life.
I’m fine being on my own. Always have been. I’m a loner by nature. Sure, a few of my ex-girlfriends still live in town, and a couple of them might still carry a torch for me. But I’m not interested in rekindling old flames. A quick roll in the sack and walking away is how I prefer things. It keeps life simple.
My family, the Kings, founded this town from nothing and it has been passed down through generations. The shop owners lease their buildings from us, and we own the hotel, the corporate office building, the bar, and the restaurant. When I’m in town, I take charge of running the bar. It’s where all the shady characters seem to gravitate, trying to make deals. For me, it’s the perfect place to keep order and ensure this town stays clean.
Gliding a red towel across the polished mahogany surface of the bar, I glance toward the door just as it opens. A woman steps inside, her face partially shadowed by the brim of a black Georgia football cap. She pauses, her eyes scanning the room, then moves toward the bar with hesitant, measured steps.
For a Thursday evening around eight, the atmosphere is decent. Blue Haven is a tourist town, so there’s always a steady stream of newcomers mingling with the regulars. Tonight, most of the tall tables are occupied, while the low tops sit empty for now. To the left, double doors lead to the restaurant; to the right, three pool tables and a dartboard host small groups of players.
The woman slips into one of the empty barstools at the far end, just to my right. Her body language screams that she wants to be left alone. She sits hunched, arms drawn close, as if seeking some form of inner sanctuary. I recognize that look all too well; it brings back memories I’d rather forget. Memories of a failed mission. One where I lost several of my men. Pushing those thoughts aside, I make my way towards her.
“Hello, what can I get for you, darlin’?” I ask.
She lifts her head, and for a moment, I’m frozen. Long dark lashes frame caramel eyes that lock onto mine. My breath catches.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
Her brows furrow, and she glances over her shoulder nervously. “What? Is something wrong?”
Clearly, she’s running from someone.
“No,” I say quickly, struggling to keep my composure. What am I supposed to say?You’re fucking beautiful?
It’s not like I haven’t slept with beautiful women before. But I rarely date - I prefer to cut through any potential complications and just get right to it.
“What are you drinking?” I inquire, keeping my voice even.
“Water,” she says softly, a small smile lifting her pecan-colored cheeks.
I plant my hands on the bar and study her. “Normally, I’d tell you that you have to buy a drink, but tonight I’ll make an exception and start you off with water.”
She lowers her head again before meeting my gaze once more. “I don’t have much money - trying to hold on to everything I have.”
My chest tightens, an unfamiliar sensation spreading through me. What the fuck is going on? Clearing my throat, I nod.
Whatever is happening with me because of this woman has to stop.
“Water coming up.”
Steve, one of the regulars sitting a few stools down, arches a brow over his beer glass. I catch his smirk and point at him with the towel.
