Chapter One
Chasm
I angrily shoved my clothes into my bag. It was time to leave; I was done. I’d come here to do what I had to do. Protect the son of a bitch. I’d done that, and it almost cost me my life.
Again.
I’d been stuck at the clubhouse for a week after getting shot protecting King. Another week here at the clubhouse under his rule. Justin had insisted on my staying put until I was fully healed. The only reason I’d agreed was so I could keep an eye on King.
But I’d had enough of his arrogance. Enough of his fake fucking concern. Steele was dead. Stone was in the wind, and if it was the last thing I did, I would find that fucker and send him to his brother.
“Knock, knock.”
I closed my eyes and blew out a breath before I turned to face Aspen. With a fake smile on my face, I walked toward her.
“Hey, beautiful, you ready to leave his cranky ass and run off into the sunset with me?”
Aspen just smiled. “What are you running from, Chasm?”
“I’m not running, babe. I’ve got things to do. Scores to settle.”
I walked back to the dresser and pulled out the rest of my things before adding them to my bag.
“Did you settle things with King?”
My hands paused at the mention of his name. “As much as they will be.”
“He’s your best friend.”
“He was,” I corrected.
“Chasm.”
I turned and looked at Aspen. Sweet, beautiful Aspen. If I’d stepped up when Banshee didn’t, maybe all the shit I’d dealt with in my life over the last seven years wouldn’t have happened.
“A lot has happened, Aspen. Shit that can’t be changed.”
I sat on the end of the bed, and she sat next to me. The smell of her perfume hit my senses and took me somewhere I didn’t want to be. Aspen was a safe bet. I knew she loved Banshee. All you had to do was look at her to know she’d never fucking stray.
I bumped her shoulder. “Come on, take off with me.”
“I think your wife might have something to say about that.”
We both looked up to find King standing in the doorway. Aspen turned to me. “You’re married?”
“No,” I answered, glaring at King. I stood up from the bed and continued packing my shit.
“When did you get married?” Aspen asked.
“It was a long time ago. Like I said, a lot of shit has changed.”
“Aspen, can you give us the room?” King asked.
“Sure, King.”
She took my hand and pulled me to face her. Kissing my cheek, she whispered, “Thank you.” And like the rest of his minions, she walked off without question, doing his bidding.
“Must be nice to have everyone’s head up your ass waiting to do whatever the fuck you tell them.”
He didn’t answer. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, and watched me.
“You gonna tell her you’re alive?”
“Nope.”
“Why are you such a dick?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Why are you such an asshole?” I shot back, pausing to glare at him.
“Genetics—have you met my father?” he answered with a cocky grin.
“I guess that answers both our questions.” I moved into the bathroom to grab my toiletries, hoping he would take the hint and leave. When I came out, he was still there, waiting for me. Expecting me to open up like I used to.
“Angel called Zombie, told them all you were back, and they took a vote.”
I glanced in King’s direction. “A vote for what?”
“They want you to be their president.”
I snorted. I wasn’t a fucking president. That was King’s job. I was an enforcer. Sure, we’d talked about starting our own chapter, and me being VP. But he had Cash now.
“When I ripped the patch from Steele’s chest, I handed it to Angel because he was closest. But Angel isn’t a fucking president. He got some news and asked to hang around here, and the patch was given to Zombie.”
“B will make a good president.”
“He doesn’t want it. Said he’ll be your VP if you want him, but he doesn’t want to run the show.”
I glared at King. “You think I do?”
“No, because you’re too fucking chickenshit to take what you want.”
I stormed up to King. He might have been the national president now, but he was still my best friend, and we didn’t pull fucking punches. Titles didn’t mean shit between us.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“You heard me. What the fuck are you gonna do about it?”
We’d always been evenly matched in a fight. And we’d fought often, mostly for exercise. Occasionally because we disagreed. We both had hot tempers that got us into shit.
I backed away. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I take a shot at the president and end up in a cell next to Freeway.”
“Cut the bullshit. Little Rock wants you as its president. Take the fucking patch.”
“Why is Angel staying?” I asked, changing the subject.
“He asked to go nomad, and I said yes.” King rubbed his hands over his face, and I knew there was shit he had to tell me.
“What?”
“You remember Kay?”
“Steele’s wife? Yeah, she took off with the kids.”
He shook his head. “He sold her off to the Satan’s Angels. She and the girls.”
“That son of a bitch!” I hissed.
“That’s not the worst of it,” he began. We stood on opposite sides of the bed, facing each other as he told me everything they’d learned about Steele and Stone.
The proof Sypher had found that they’d had their parents killed and how his wife, Kay, was the sister Banshee had been looking for when he joined the club.
He explained about Angel being in love with Kay and their affair. And her being pregnant when Steele sold her. Now he was looking for the daughter he’d lost. My hands clenched at my sides as I thought about my own child.
“He’ll never find that baby, if she even survived.”
“Maybe, but he has to try. He’s got Banshee and the Brotherhood to back him up.
“The Brotherhood? What the fuck do they have to do with it, and why would they help?”
“Firestride claimed a woman.”
My mouth dropped open. The Brotherhood of Bastards didn’t claim women. In all the years the club had been around, a woman had never been claimed. Plenty of kids came out of that shithole club. Nav was one of them. But never a woman.
“His woman is Kyllian. Kay’s daughter.”
“Fucking Christ. What about Kay? And Kinsley?”
King breathed out a slow breath. “Kay died. Kinsley is unknown.”
I zipped my bag and threw it over my shoulder. “This life isn’t for the weak.” Before I got around the side of the bed, King’s next words hit me like a gut punch.
“She lost the baby.”
My jaw tightened and fists clenched. “I know. Justin told me when I left the hospital.”
“How long were you there?”
I reached up to scratch the scars on my chest. They didn’t itch anymore, but the first two years were torture as the skin puckered and healed.
“Six months.”
“Christ. He should have called me.”
“I told him not to,” I said, setting the bag on the bed and moving around the room, tidying up.
I didn’t care if the room was clean; he had people to do that.
But I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to have this conversation.
Justin knew not to bring her up, but King liked to push.
He liked to stick his nose where it didn’t fucking belong.
“Would you fucking look at me!” he shouted.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened them, I looked at him and asked, “What do you want me to say?”
“Why did he wait so long to tell you?”
I turned my back to him and sat on the bed. “Because he wanted me to have something to live for.”
“And she wasn’t worth living for?”
I didn’t have an answer to that. Morgan Delany was like no other woman I had ever known.
She was in her senior year of college when I met her.
We burned hot and fast, and when we found out she was pregnant, I’d asked her to marry me out of a misplaced obligation.
I didn’t want my kid growing up the way Justin and I had.
“I was with her when she lost him.”
“Him?” I asked, my eyes filling with unshed tears.
“Yeah, it was a boy. She’d just gotten the results from some blood test and all she did was cry because you weren’t fucking there to tell.”
For a few short months, I had a son.
“What happened?” My voice caught at the end of my question. Emotion welled up inside me for the woman and child I’d tried to push from my memory.
“I went to check on her and found her bleeding on the floor, unconscious. I got her help, and I held her in my arms when the doctor told her your son was gone.”
I felt tears burn the back of my eyes. I’d never asked Justin for any of the details after he told me. By then I’d been declared dead, and she was a widow. She was young; she could move on with her life.
“She wasn’t meant for this life. She’s moved on.”
“No, she hasn’t,” a voice said from the door.
I turned to find Romeo standing there.
“What the hell would you know about it?”
“I saw her last Christmas,” he offered lazily, leaning against the door.
He was the only man I knew who could go from sloth to psycho in less than three seconds.
He gave off an easy Southern charm. People often mistook him for a lazy swamp rat.
What they didn’t know was that swamp kids grew up fighting alligators and came out deadlier.
I stood up slowly, not wanting to spook him, but my anger that he’d spent any time with Morgan was beginning to heat up.
“What the fuck were you doing in Rosewood?”
“My cousin got married.”
“Sugar? Wasn’t she already married?” I’d met Rome’s family. His cousin, Gator, was the president of the Bourbon Kings. People wondered why they didn’t run the club together, seeing as they were as close as brothers. But Rome said Gator was too fucking crazy for him.
That was a scary thought.
“Nah, she killed that abusive bastard. Another cousin. But I saw Morgan while I was there.”
“Did you talk to her?” Romeo shook his head. King had been quiet since Rome walked in. “Then how the fuck do you know anything?”
“I talked to her mama.” He smiled. “She’s the only one in Rosewood that knows anything about you.”
My eyes narrowed. He had to be fucking lying. I knew Morgan told her mom. But I figured she’d tell her friends, too.
“Devlyn doesn’t know?”
Devlyn Never was Morgan’s best friend. I swore I knew more about the woman than I did my own sister. Devlyn was now married to Romeo’s cousin, Gator, and living in Louisiana.
Which meant Morgan was alone.
“Well, I’m not surprised. Morgan wasn’t meant for this life. I’m sure her business keeps her busy.”
“What do you know about her business?” King asked, taking a step forward. “I thought you hadn’t seen her?”
“I haven’t.”
I shoved my way past them both, headed downstairs and out the front door. I called over my shoulder, “Tell Zombie I’m on my way.”
“Romeo, Shotgun, Ace, Big Ben, and Archie, go with him,” King bellowed as he followed me outside.
“I don’t need fucking babysitters. I’ve done just fine on my own.”
“You weren’t president then. And as your president, suck it up, buttercup.” King smirked, then turned and walked back into the clubhouse.