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“I warned him about breaking your heart,” he whispers, balling his fist up and I pat his shoulder again as I stick a knife in my boot.

“Let’s get this over with and then we can focus on spending some time together. How long are you here for?”

He shrugs. “That depends on what happens at our meeting, I suppose.”

I nod and wait as he puts a holster on before we head out to his car. As soon as we start driving toward the clubhouse, my nerves start to take over and my hands shake. Sucking in a breath, I steel my shoulders and focus on my anger, using it to shield me through this meeting. So what if I’m going to see him again? He doesn’t get to affect me anymore, not after all the mistakes he’s made.

“We’re here,” Theo says as he slows the car and pulls into the clubhouse parking lot. My knee bounces and he glances over at me. “You going to be okay?”

“Yep.”

He points to my knee. “You sure about that? You’re usually more steady than this.”

“Well, this is real not just a simulation so yeah, I’m a little jittery.”

It also might have something to do with the pot of coffee I drank.

We pull into a spot and my stomach flips as I open the door and step out, sucking in a breath. Just like in the kitchen yesterday, I shut down everything but the anger I need to face Lincoln again and slam the door closed. Blaze walks out of the clubhouse with Smith and Storm on his heels and Theo and I meet him halfway.

“Thank you for coming,” he says and I nod.

“Why are we here?”

He sighs. “We’ll go over all that inside. I just need Smith to check you for weapons.”

“I have weapons and I’m keeping them,” I assert, meeting his blue eyes.

“I’m afraid I can’t take that risk, Tate. I understand you’re angry and I can’t put my guys in danger.”

I bark out a laugh, turning to Theo, whose gaze is scanning the area. “You know I’m mad? Understatement of the fucking year and do you really think I need my weapons to defend myself?”

“No one here wants to hurt you, Tate,” Blaze assures me and I sneer at him.

“It’s a little late for that, I think.”

“Let her keep them,” a voice calls out from the door to the clubhouse and I stiffen as Lincoln hobbles out, pain etched into his face.

“Oh, how fucking gracious of you.”

“Baby, please,” he pleads, anguish in his whiskey eyes and my heart stutters as white-hot pain pierces my chest.

“You call her that again and I’ll shoot your other leg, motherfucker,” Theo snarls, taking a step forward with his hand on his gun.

“Enough!” Blaze shouts and everyone turns to look at him as silence descends on the parking lot. “Tate, you can bring one weapon in.”

Fuming, I turn back to the car and open the door before propping my leg up on the seat and pulling the pistol out of my ankle holster. I toss it down on the seat before grabbing the Taser out of my back pocket and setting it down next to the gun. As I slam the door and walk back over to Theo, I catch sight of Smith smiling at me but I look away. No matter how much I like these guys, I don’t know who I can trust here.

“Follow me,” Blaze says, turning and walking back toward the clubhouse door like he’s leading a death march and my hands shake with nerves as my mind runs wild with questions. I don’t even know where to begin with why we’re here because Theo and I know nothing of our mother’s past. We could be walking into anything right now.

Inside the clubhouse, the rest of the guys mill around, talking quietly to each other and sipping beer, and when we walk in a few of them offer me a smile. I spot Ali and Carly in the back corner, talking, and when Ali waves, I ignore her, turning back to stare straight ahead of me. Blaze leads us into a room with a long rectangular table and everyone else, except Ali and Carly, file in behind us. A vaguely familiar man sits on one side with his arm around a little brunette with a kind smile and Blaze points to the two chairs across from them.

“Please have a seat.”

Theo and I sit down as the guys line up along the back wall and the wall across from me. Lincoln posts up right in front of me so that when I look up, I have no choice to lock eyes with him. Not that his pleading expression is going to do him any good. I do not easily forget or forgive.

“What are we doing here, Dad?” the man across from me asks and I recall when Lincoln took me to get my tattoo. He said the owner was Blaze’s son, Nix, but I was sure I didn’t meet him that day. Why does he look so familiar then?

“I was just about to get to that, kid.”