Page 3 of Dread’s Beloved

I find my brother in the back office making phone calls and drop his lunch on his desk.

“Thank you,” he mouths the words, and I nod. He holds up a finger, signaling for me to stick around.

I glance at the pictures hanging on the wall of our old man, Midnight, and Uncle Hillbilly. The one of our mother flipping off the camera is my favorite. Everyone says I have her smile.

“You and Sukie going out tonight?”

“We might go clubbing or just out for drinks.”

“Where?”

“Why do you care?”

“There’s been rumblings that the Raven Fork Reapers have been spotted in Ransom.”

“We’ll be fine.” The Raven Fork Reapers have been our sworn enemy since before I was a glimmer in the universe. They stay out of Kill Creek, and we stay out of Raven Fork.

You’d think that would be simple enough. Ransom is supposed to be neutral territory because it connects both our towns to a major highway, meaning both clubs need access.

It shouldn't surprise my brother that they are making a move. There’s no honor among thieves and killers.

Dark starts to argue but leaves it there. I don’t know if it’s my safety he’s worried about or Sukie meeting someone. I see the way he looks at my bestie when he thinks no one is watching. My brother could do worse. Sukie could do better, but I wouldn’t be mad about it if they got together. She’s got the sass and the ass to stand by a motorcycle man. Like me, Sukie was raised around the club. Her father is a member, but he is part of the West Virginia chapter. Patched over when shit went south with her mom and him. She got the house and the kids. He took his Harley and left town. Our moms were besties, and seeing that there is only a year between Sukie and me, this means we are also best friends.

“We’ll stick to Kill Creek if that will ease your mind.”

“Good.”

I roll my eyes. “Later.”

“Stay out of trouble.”

“You know me, big brother. I’m an angel.”

“Right.” he snorts. “With a broken halo.”

I have no doubt my brother will have eyes and ears reporting our every move. Nothing gets past him or his club.

Grave Prowlers MC.

The club got its start well before I was born. Our Uncle Hillbilly rode with the founding brothers before coming home to Kill Creek to start his own chapter with my father. They bought the old church next to my grandmother’s house, opened a funeral home as a business front, and the rest was history.

As I’m exiting my brother’s office, I run smack dab into Dread.

The intimidating but sexy man towers over me. All six feet and five inches of him.

“Kitty,” he says my name, all husky and deep. The sound curls around me like smoke and whiskey.

“He’s all yours.” I stare up at him, gazing into his dark orbs, wondering what he’s thinking about. Wondering why he hasn’t taken an ol’ lady yet. He’s got to be at least thirty-eight, if not older.

I wonder if he’s ever been married?

I’ve seen him with plenty of women, but never the same one more than twice.

My brother being single, I get. He’s got too much shit on his plate right now. But Dread is Road Captain and has been around the block. Maybe he’s jaded.

He pinches my chin between his rough fingers, and I melt under his heated gaze. “Next time, text me for my order, yeah?”

“I don’t have your number.”