Onyx (Sons of Rage MC #3)

Chapter 1

Emily

I wake up to my cat, Frisky, making biscuits on my chest like there’s no tomorrow. My eyes flutter open and I look down into his cute little black and white face.

“Not letting me sleep late?”

I sit up and give him a cuddle. He loves it when I scratch his belly. I’ve had Frisky since I graduated from high school seven years ago, and he’s been my constant companion since my grandfather died two years ago.

Like every morning since my grandfather passed, the cabin has been quiet. I can hear the wind blowing outside. Unfortunately, I have to get up and stoke the fire before it goes out completely. So I reluctantly climb out of bed.

As I’m feeding the fire, I hear Frisky reminding me it’s breakfast time. He sounds so pitiful, like he hasn’t eaten for a million years. Since I’m the almighty giver of food in his world, I hustle to the kitchen and quickly dump some kibble into his bowl.

I start a hot shower and my gaze drifts to the bathroom window as I undress.

The sun is just coming up, and the branches on the big pine trees are swaying gently in the breeze.

This has been my morning routine for the past couple of years.

I love living in the middle of nowhere and working from home.

I don’t have to worry about going out in the cold, traffic, or whether or not my gas tank is full.

I also feel safe because just beyond those pine trees is the Sons of Rage clubhouse. It’s not visible from here, but I know exactly where it sits. The couple that runs that club has four sons, and we used to play together because my grandfather was friends with their dad.

I climb into the shower, thinking about how it used to be. The Jackson boys were all a few years older than me, but Onyx and I kind of clicked back then. We drifted apart as we grew up, but I still see him around on the regular. He’s a familiar presence cutting across my life occasionally.

I’m just making a start on my work when I hear it.

A subtle noise from outside. It sounds like someone walking through the underbrush.

I glance at the front door before logic catches up.

The chances of it being a human are remote.

It’s probably a deer rubbing its antlers against a tree or a fox nosing around for breakfast.

I turn back to my laptop. The cursor blinks, and I start typing. Within minutes, I’m lost in my work. I’ve barely gotten started when I hear another, more pronounced noise. It’s a clattering sound, like someone knocked something over. Frisky’s head even snaps up.

I’m startled by a loud knock on the door. Frisky darts underneath the sofa with only his tail visible. The second knock comes before I can get to my feet. It’s louder, frantic, and heavier.

I rarely get visitors out here so I’m instantly on my guard. I consider ignoring it, but they’ll have seen the smoke coming from my chimney and know that someone’s home.

“Hold on,” I call as I close the distance between my desk and the door.

I have the strongest gut feeling that I shouldn’t answer the door. My cabin is on private property and butts up to the Jackson land. No one should be out here, unless it’s one of the club members.

Maybe it is? They could be in trouble.

That’s when a man’s frantic voice calls out. “Please, I need help.”

My hand is already on the doorknob and thoughts of car wrecks, medical issues, and other possible emergencies are running through my mind. If I can help, I should.

I twist the deadbolt with one hand and crack the door open enough to look out. “Hello? Is everything okay?”

A well-dressed man stands on my porch. He’s sweating profusely and wild-eyed, frantically scanning the woods behind him instead of looking at me.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please, you have to let me in!”

I blink, trying to catch up. “What happened?”

“There’s a bear.” Something about his tone seems genuine. “It was huge and it chased me. I swear it was right behind me.”

Bears pass through these woods all the time.

I’ve seen them trying to get into my trash can.

There’s been stories the last few years of an old grizzly bear on the loose.

Since they’re supposed to be extinct in California, I thought it was just local gossip.

Now, hearing and seeing this man, I’m not sure. His panic looks real.

He darts another look over his shoulder. Although I don’t see anything, I’m inclined to let him in just to be on the safe side.

“Please, just for a second,” he says, voice breaking. “I dropped my phone back in the woods when I ran off. I won’t stay long. Just let me use your phone to make a quick call and I’ll be out of your hair. I’m begging you.”

I open it two inches more. But before I get the chance to open the door any wider, he bolts forward and shoulder slams into the door, knocking me back.

“Hey!”

The moment he’s over the threshold, he kicks the door closed behind him.

This ballsy stranger is standing inside my house. His hand moves with casual grace, flipping the deadbolt back into the locked position.

He stands there looking at me, all of his panic and anxiety seemingly gone.

I step away, my back bumping into the tall table behind me. It stings, but nothing can get me to take my eyes off the man who just forced entry into my home.

He stands with his back to the door for a second before taking a smooth step forward.

His gaze sweeps around the room. He’s not acting like prey anymore.

Now, he’s keen on seeing what I’ve got. Maybe this is a break-in and I’m just too stupid to see it?

If so, the joke’s on him. I’ve got nothing of value for him to steal.

At the most, my aging laptop might get fifty bucks.

I try to pick back up with the bear conversation to normalize the situation. “Which direction did the bear come from? Do you remember?”

He jerks his head around to look at me. “Up the ridge.”

The ridge sits behind the cabin, but it’s dense with spruce and uneven rock. Bears pass through from the creek side more often. “Did you happen to see cubs?”

“Yeah,” he says too fast. “Two. Maybe three of them.”

His response makes me doubt him even more. Mama bears are defensive. They’re more interested in scaring you away from their cubs, not chasing over long distances. Also, cubs aren’t born this time of year. Still, I play along. “What color was it?”

“Brown,” he says, then quickly changes his mind, “Black. Kind of in between.”

Nothing about this man’s words makes any sense to me. The color of the bear chasing me is not something that I’d likely forget. Bears don’t typically sprint in full daylight towards the one house hidden behind a wall of pines unless something provoked them.

“You weren’t hunting bears, were you?”

“Hell no. Of course not!”

He doesn’t have a rifle, but he might have lost it in his mad scramble to get away.

My best guess is he never had a weapon. I see his cell phone sticking up out of his shirt pocket.

I remember him saying he dropped it and needed to borrow mine.

Another lie. Everything about this man is shady as hell.

“You need to leave,” I tell him. Anxiety twists in my stomach, but I push through it.

“It’s winter here, bears are hibernating.

I’m almost sure there was no bear. They don’t give birth until around January or February, so I doubt there were cubs.

In any event, I’ll alert the ranger station. They’ll check the area to be sure.”

He tilts his head, and his polite expression shifts into something else.

He steps away from the door. Just one step in my direction is enough to feel intimidating. “You seem to know an awful lot about bears,” he says casually, like he’s just having a polite conversation.

“I live here, I know what’s in the woods,” I answer. Then add, “I can drive you into town.” Working any angle that might move him back out of my house. “Or you could just call whoever you need to on the cell phone in your pocket there.”

“Or I could stay and talk for a while,” he counters.

“No,” I practically shout. “If you don’t go right now, I’ll call the police.”

His cold smile falters for a second when I reach over to pick up my phone from the charger.

I manage to get my hand wrapped around it and I’m about to make the call when his hand shoots out, and the brazen bastard rips my phone right out of my hand.

He lifts the phone to his face, looks at it for a second, and then does the last thing I expect.

He drops it on the floor then grinds the heel of his shoe into it, shattering the casing.

My heart is hammering as I realize what danger I’m in—I need to run, to get away from him. But for some reason, I can’t move.

My laptop sits open on the table, still glowing with unfinished work. When he reaches for it, I find my voice pretty damn quick.

“Stop!” I say, louder this time. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he grabs the laptop, pulls it off the table, and slams it onto the floor. Before I can make sense of what’s happening, he stomps on it, shattering it to pieces like my phone.

I make a sharp sound of exasperation. I feel like my entire world just got turned upside down.

“Why would you do something like that?” I ask, hearing the shock and anger in my own voice.

He looks at me as if he expected this reaction, like maybe he’s done shit like this a lot in life.

“No one’s calling the ranger station or any damn place else,” he states flatly.

This man smashed my phone and computer so I couldn’t call for help. This realization has me running for the door, but I’m stopped in my tracks as he grabs me by the hair and jerks me back, slamming me onto the sofa.

That’s when it hits me that I’m trapped in my own home with this vicious stranger.

This cabin that I’ve called home for the better part of my life, my refuge from the outside world.

I always saw it as my peaceful place in the woods.

My mind runs wild with all the truly awful things he could do to me, and no one would be the wiser.

I’m going to die here, and no one will know.