Dagger’s Target (Devil’s Riot MC: Southeast #9)

Prologue

Katrina

This cannot be happening.

Oh my.

Nope. No way.

This is so unlike me.

I can’t believe I did this.

I’m blaming all of the tequila on the predicament that I find myself in right now.

It takes all my might not to actually freak out. Mostly because I don’t want to wake the sleeping beast next to me. When I say beast, I mean the man is big. Big and muscular.

Dark haired and completely gorgeous.

The reason I’d slept with him is . . .

I don’t even know. I’m so not a one-night stander. I’ve never done it before.

Guess now I can check that box off for life achievements. Not that I wanted it to be one of my many goals in this life.

UGH.

How do I get out of here without embarrassing myself?

Gently, so as not to wake the sleeping beast, I inch out of the bed, away from him. I don’t even remember his name, which is horrible. I mean, I know what he goes by, but I swear he’d given me his name last night when I asked him for it. Why can’t I remember?

Stupid tequila shots.

I accomplish the massive task of getting to the edge of the bed and out without waking him.

Now I have to manage to find my clothes.

I remember enough from last night that my panties were not going to be worth finding.

He ripped them from my body while my skirt was around my hips. I knew they wouldn’t be salvageable.

I make quick work of finding my bra, putting it on, and yanking my skirt on. There’s no finding my shirt, so I grab one of his, not caring that I’m stealing it. I give a quick look back at the man sleeping in the middle of the bed.

God, he’s gorgeous.

Perfect specimen of a man.

But totally not for me.

I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t let myself get involved with a man, least of all one like him.

There was nothing wrong with him. He was perfect in every way, but me, I’m a total disaster. I’d screw him up just the way my mother did those around her.

I knew this. It’s why I don’t do relationships. It’s why I don’t allow myself to be involved with anyone. Also, why I don’t do this . . . one-night stands mean someone’s going to get hurt. I witnessed it far too much growing up, and I swore I wouldn’t be that type of person.

I was fine being who I am. I didn’t need anyone in my corner when I had myself to handle everything that needed to be done.

Gathering the rest of my stuff, I head for the door. I quietly open it and step out into the hallway. Once the door clicks shut, I walk as fast as my bare feet allow me to go. I didn’t even bother finding my sandals before getting out of his room.

All that mattered was getting out before anyone saw me.

I’m thankful that no one does as I rush through the main room of the clubhouse and out into the open, fresh morning air.

The sun isn’t even up. It’s barely five in the morning, and we passed out maybe three hours ago.

I never sleep long. I haven’t in years. My body is trained to no more than two or three hours tops at a time.

I needed to be able to sleep in short spurts growing up to survive. Sleep meant I was vulnerable to attack, and I knew it wouldn’t be good if I didn’t get any. Making it to eighteen was a Godsend in the Ray household.

Rena Ray, my mother, was a horrible person.

The worst kind of mother you could ask for.

She was always about herself and no one else.

If Rena Ray wasn’t happy, no one else could be.

She’d driven my father to up and leave before I was even born.

The only thing I knew about him was that he was a biker from a club called the Devil’s Riot MC.

Rena never gave me his name and didn’t even put a name down on my birth certificate. Just left the father’s name blank.

Every day of my life, she had a revolving door of men enter it.

Some returned the next day for months at a time, then there were those I never saw again.

She’d scream and yell at me if one of them spoke to me when their attention was supposed to be on her.

She hated me. Would slap me and call me names all the time.

The first chance I got to get out of Dodge, I took it. I graduated from college and left Colorado without looking back. I don’t speak to Rena. I don’t answer her calls or messages. I knew what she wanted when she did those, and I refused to answer her.

But I can’t help shaking my head at my actions from last night. Why did I do it? I slept with the gorgeous man who snared my attention the moment I stepped into the bar last night to meet friends. Worse, he’s a member of a club that I knew of by name only.

I release a shuddered breath and shake my head. Time for me to get a grip on reality and move forward. Meaning I needed to get out of Dodge yet again. Mostly, I just needed to get my car, something I’m thankful we’d brought back, so I have a way out of here instead of on the back of his bike.

I dart across the lot, getting in behind the wheel, finding my keys still in the ignition. Good thing too, cause I didn’t think to look for them in his room. I could have looked for my spare, which I keep hidden in the bumper.

Not really smart, but it works for me as a precaution. You never know when you might need to have that on hand.

Starting my car, I pull out of the lot, the gate opening for me without me stopping at it. Turning left, I release another breath. Then another. All I have to do now is keep going and forget about the dark-haired man who goes by Dagger.

Dagger.

The name rolls around in my brain like a marble in a pinball machine, causing unwanted memories of last night to surface.

How his calloused hands felt against my skin.

The way he whispered things in my ear that made me shiver.

The tattoos that covered his muscular bodytold stories I didn’t get the chance to ask about.

Nope.

Stop it right there.

No need to think further about him.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white as I navigate the early morning streets. My mind switches to all things work.

Yes. That’s what I need to focus on.

Work.

Music doesn’t right itself.

I try to focus on the road, on anything else, the song I’m working on at my studio, but images of Dagger keep creeping into my consciousness. The way his eyes had darkened when he’d been inside me. How he lavished every inch of my body with his fingers, mouth, and . . .

“Damn it,” I mutter, hitting the steering wheel.

This is so not me. It’s time to get Dagger out of my head and not think about him ever again.