Chapter 1
Ace
I'd rather be anywhere but here.
This house was supposed to be the start of something great. It was supposed to be a hub of the best men and women we were able to find who are willing to make great sacrifices to fight the abductions that are fueling the sex trafficking industry. We were supposed to do good, to make a change, and I used to feel excited to come here and get updates. Now, all I feel is dread.
The one thing I didn't want to happen occurred in record time, and with Kincaid naming Hemlock as president of this chapter of the Cerberus MC, it sets a precedence for everyone else.
When folks joined this group, I didn't ask that they sever connections they had. We wanted people who didn't have those connections, people who weren't prone to get close to people. The attachments are dangerous. They're a weakness, and I know more than a lot of people that a weakness like that can get you killed.
I pull in a deep breath as I climb out of my car in front of the Gatlinburg home base cabin.
The thing is massive, bought by Cerberus. The turnkey property was exactly what we needed. It has a ton of bedrooms, each with its own en suite bathroom, and enough space for people to spread out. The common areas are massive, and if this endeavor grows, there are other properties close by that can be procured to expand, although the original plan was to start other chapters around the United States.
I blow out a breath as I walk toward the front door, my breath thick, the proof of the chill in the air trailing behind me as I climb the steps.
It's been a couple of weeks since I've been here, but updates with my guys tell me what I'll find.
Although I don't live here, I don't bother knocking. I use my personal code on the front door and enter. This is a place of business, and I refuse to treat it as anything other than that.
Movement in the kitchen draws me in that direction, and I find Zara, Hemlock's woman, there.
"Good morning," she says with a quick, easy smile.
"Morning," I return. "Your man around?"
"He'll be down in just a minute. Can I make you a cup of coffee?"
"That'd be great. Thanks."
I take a seat at the long breakfast bar, and I find myself watching her as she works. I honestly feel sorry for her.
There's more of a chance that this woman will end up being targeted and possibly hurt or even killed because of her connection to Hemlock. His job is dangerous, and the men and organizations we're trying to dismantle will stop at nothing in order to keep their businesses running, even if that means killing innocent women and children.
A glint of sunlight reflecting off the snow outside pulls my attention to the enormous window at the back of the house. The view from up here is phenomenal. I imagine I can see for miles and miles, and it makes me stand, the beauty of it all pulling me in that direction.
Cerberus didn't spare a penny with this house, and I can only imagine the price tag that came along with it. This property was used for short-term rentals, designed to house large groups of people for retreats or vacations. Just the sheer profitability of it would've driven the cost of purchasing it up.
Gatlinburg is the perfect place for an operation like this. Every neighbor for at least a mile is temporary, giving the men and women who will work here a sort of cover. The people vacationing at the next house will assume that the people here are also vacationing, and their vacation will end before they can even bother being suspicious.
This area of East Tennessee sees millions and millions of tourists each year, making it a mecca for crime. A lot of people travel here to visit the shops and national forest, and because they want to get a little closer to nature. But there are also people who come for more nefarious reasons.
The trees and winding roads give a lot of privacy, and there are those types that feed their deviances while on vacation, as if the crimes against humanity that they commit don't count.
And where there's a demand, there will always be a supplier, even if that supply comes at the cost of human suffering.
Gatlinburg isn't the only place that has seen an influx of sex trafficking. Any place with a large flow of people will pull in sex traffickers. Why travel all over, looking for customers, when you can set up shop in a place that brings them to you? It's why any large event draws these people in, and it's been suspected that even large tours with rock stars or even celebrities pull in sex trafficking rings. There's nothing like an abundance of money that makes people think they can do whatever they want. Don't even get me started on what the people in Hollywood think they're entitled to. The same goes for professional athletes and any other group of people who are overpaid in the entertainment industry.
I close my eyes, blowing out a long, slow breath. I don't need my head running crazy with all the things I can't change. I need to keep my focus where I can make a difference.
"It's been a while."
I turn around and face Hemlock as he walks closer.
"I have a lot going on," I tell him, and it's not really a lie. ICE keeps me pretty busy. "I just wanted to swing by and let you know that Lark—I mean Elliot Price—will be here later this week. He's going to swing in and get his room in order before he heads to Ashville for a job."
"Kincaid briefed me on him," Hemlock says, but not in a tone that implies he thinks I wasted my time by coming here. The man really isn't the type to hold grudges. He doesn't have the emotional capacity for that.
It's what makes it so surprising that he fell in love with Zara. I look over the man's shoulder at the woman, giving her a quick smile when she walks toward us with a cup of coffee in each hand.
I thank her when she hands me mine and watch as Hemlock does something I've never seen him do. When he looks at her, the man fucking smiles as if he knows me, but I can't recall another moment when I've seen his face. I don't see smiling as a weakness. It can be a great tool while on the job and, of course, laughter isn't new to me, but for this man to grin at her, tells me just how far he's fallen.
The man is completely smitten and more than likely willing to kill to protect her. There was a moment, not long ago, when I thought he'd put a bullet right between my eyes if I tried to interfere with what he was doing in regard to her. The man was out of his mind with sleep deprivation. Add in the fact that he'd just been stabbed, and he wasn't in his right mind. However, I don't think the ending would've been any different from what it is right now.
I feel the need to warn her, to tell her just how dangerous he is for her. Not him personally, but the kind of life he'll be living and what that could mean for her. Even if no harm comes to her physically, this life has the ability to change people. She's a kind woman, and it'll be impossible to keep all the soft, sweet edges she came into the house with. She'll see things and hear stories of what other people are capable of doing to others, and it will taint her and cause irreparable damage. She'll harden once she sees just how life is behind the curtain. It has the ability to leave you feeling jaded and having a certain level of hatred for the world. Especially when every endeavor to make it better only causes fragmented sections of bad society to break off and continue to grow, like a cancer spreading. Sometimes I wonder if we're just making things worse.
"You okay?" Hemlock asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Damn, my head is a dark, scary fucking place.
"I'm good," I mutter. "Can we speak in private?"
"Of course," he says, pressing a kiss to Zara's cheek before directing me toward a room that was used as a secondary living room prior to Cerberus purchasing it.
I dip my head at Zara, handing her back the cup of coffee. "Thank you."
She gives me a soft smile, not seeming to be offended that we plan to have a conversation without her.
I follow Hemlock into the room, waiting to speak until he closes the huge double doors. The last time I was here, this room still held several cozy leather couches and a lot of black bear type of decor, the kitschy stuff common for nearly every cabin around here. Instead, the room has been transformed into a massive conference area with a table and at least a dozen office chairs surrounding it.
A huge television is mounted on the far wall of what would be considered the front of the room, and I see a lot of similarities between this room and the one I recently visited in New Mexico. Despite the different intentions of what started this new branch of Cerberus, it has taken less than three months for it to look eerily similar to the founding chapter.
Hemlock wanted to leave New Mexico because it wasn't a good fit for him, and I understood that reasoning more than anyone. While a member of Cerberus, I was closest with Micah, aka Snake, and Noah, aka Skid. We were like the three musketeers, getting into all sorts of shit until Snake fell in love. Our merry band of brothers was fractured when he left Cerberus to join Lucy in Texas. I don't think he faltered once about that decision. His path was her, and he never doubted that. I stuck around for a few months, but as the missions continued, I realized our problem was more local than what Cerberus focused on.
It's why I split from Cerberus and joined ICE. I wanted to make a difference on American soil where the real war raged rather than putting out smaller fires in South America.
Noah followed me not long after, and it was the best thing in the world. We were kicking ass and taking names, and then, like Micah, Noah fell in love and everything changed.
Since then, there hasn't been a single day that I haven't regretted getting on my bike and riding away from that clubhouse.
"I just wanted to make sure that we're good," I say once the doors are closed. "That there aren't any hard feelings."
"That depends," Hemlock begins, and I expected this.
He isn't the type of man to just let bygones be bygones.
"Are you going to try to go behind my back and start trouble in my house?"
My house.
I smile at his reminder that he's the president of this chapter.
"I'm only here to help," I tell him, and it's the truth.
I know I have separated myself from what's going on here. Before, I felt a little territorial because I wanted this to work so badly, but sticking my nose where it doesn't belong is my own character flaw. It's the cracks in the hard outer shell I've worked to form for decades. I can't care for these people past wanting them to work their cases and get out safely. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I let myself get emotional over the choices they were willing to make?
I stare down at his hand for the briefest of seconds before offering mine as well. The handshake feels like a truce, telling me that even though we may not see completely eye to eye, we're both in this for the right reasons.