Chapter 1 Ghosts of the Past
The roar of the motorcycle engines echoed through the streets of San Francisco as Rowan Matthews wove her way through traffic, her heart pounding in time with the throb of the bike beneath her.
She'd been riding for hours, pushing herself to the limit, trying to outrun the demons that had been chasing her for as long as she could remember.
But there was no escaping the truth. Not anymore.
She'd spent years searching for her father, following the trail of breadcrumbs left by her mother before she died. And now, after a lifetime of dead ends and false leads, she'd finally found him.
Marcus King, the formidable sergeant at arms of the Blind Jacks MC.
The man who'd given her life...and then abandoned her.
Rowan's grip tightened on the handlebars as she took a sharp turn, the tires skidding across the asphalt. She'd been watching the Blind Jacks for weeks, learning their routines, their weaknesses. She knew everything there was to know about the club, about the men who rode under its colors.
But she still didn't know the one thing that mattered most.
Why her father had left her. Why he'd turned his back on her and her mother, leaving them to fend for themselves in a world that had shown them nothing but cruelty.
She needed answers. She needed closure. And she was going to get it, one way or another.
As she rounded the corner onto the street where the Blind Jacks' clubhouse was located, Rowan felt a sudden jolt of adrenaline surge through her veins. There were bikes lined up outside the building, their engines rumbling like a pack of hungry wolves.
And there, in the center of it all, was the man she'd been searching for her entire life.
Marcus King.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair showing the faintest hint of gray at the temples.
His eyes were a deep brown, cold and hard, maybe even a bit haunted, as they surveyed the club members gathered around him.
At his side stood another man she recognized—Darkness, the club president, a natural authority radiating from him as he spoke to the assembled members.
Rowan's heart skipped a beat as she watched King, her breath catching in her throat. This was it. The moment she'd been waiting for. The moment she'd been dreading.
She knew she couldn't just walk up to him, couldn't just announce herself as his long-lost daughter. She needed a plan, a way in. And thanks to her mother's careful instructions, she had one.
Prospect. The lowest rank in the club hierarchy, the one reserved for those who were willing to do anything to prove themselves worthy of wearing the Blind Jacks' colors.
The position was rarely filled by women, but she wasn't just any woman.
Her specialized training would give her an edge—skills her mother had drilled into her since childhood, abilities honed specifically for this reckoning.
It was a dangerous game, one that could get her killed if she made even the slightest mistake. But Rowan had been playing dangerous games her entire life. She knew how to stack the deck in her favor, how to play the odds until they bent to her will.
And she was willing to risk everything to get what she wanted.
She pulled her bike up to the line of motorcycles, cutting the engine as she swung her leg over the side. She could feel the eyes of the club members on her, could hear their low murmurs of conversation as they sized her up.
But she kept her head held high, her shoulders squared as she strode toward the clubhouse door. She knew she looked like an outsider, with her torn jeans and battered leather jacket. But she also knew that sometimes, the best way to blend in was to stand out.
As she reached for the door handle, a hand clamped down on her shoulder, spinning her around. Rowan reacted on instinct, her elbow slamming into her attacker's jaw with a sickening crack.
The man stumbled back, his dark eyes wide with shock and anger.
He was tall and powerfully built, with a neatly trimmed beard framing a strong jawline.
Intricate tattoos covered his arms and disappeared beneath his tight black shirt, with what looked like tribal designs wrapping around his neck.
Two silver chains hung against his chest, catching the light as he straightened.
"What the fuck?" he snarled, rubbing at his jaw. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
Rowan smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of her lips. "I'm the girl who's going to be your worst nightmare if you don't get your hands off me," she said, her voice low and steady.
His eyes narrowed, fists clenching at his sides. "Name's Reed Morrison, Road Captain of the Blind Jacks," he growled, taking a step toward her. "And you just made a serious mistake."
The intensity of his gaze sent an unexpected shiver down her spine—a reaction her mother's training hadn't prepared her for. Before she could respond, another voice cut through the tension.
"Enough."
It was King, his voice hard and commanding as he stepped forward. He looked at Rowan, his gaze assessing, calculating. "Who are you?" he asked, his tone brooking no argument.
Rowan met his gaze head-on, her chin lifting in defiance. "Rowan Matthews," she said confidently, searching his face for any sign of recognition. "I'm here to prospect."
King's eyebrows shot up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he schooled his features back into an impassive mask. "Is that so?" he said, his voice deceptively mild. "And what makes you think you have what it takes to ride with the Blind Jacks?"
She heard the unspoken question: What makes you think we would even accept you?
From behind him, Darkness stepped forward, his dark eyes taking her measure. "King's my sergeant at arms," he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "You got a problem with one of my men, you got a problem with me. So I suggest you start explaining yourself, darlin'."
Reed moved to stand beside King, watching her with a mixture of suspicion and something else—a grudging respect, perhaps, or maybe curiosity. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew her attention even when she needed to stay focused on King.
Rowan's smile widened, a challenge gleaming in her eyes. "Guess you'll have to wait and see," she said, her tone full of bravado she didn't quite feel.
King studied her for a long moment, his gaze boring into hers as if he could see straight through to her soul. Then he nodded, a single, sharp jerk of his chin.
"Prospects don't get to make demands," he said, his voice hard. "They do what they're told, when they're told. And they prove themselves worthy of the cut. If you can't handle that, then there's the door."
He jerked his head toward the clubhouse entrance, his meaning clear. Rowan felt a flicker of uncertainty, a moment of doubt. But she pushed it down, locked it away in the dark corners of her mind.
She'd come too far to back down now.
"I can handle anything you throw at me," she said, her voice ringing with conviction. "And I'll prove myself worthy. I swear it."
King's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile flashing across his face before it was gone. There was something in his eyes—a flash of recognition?—that made Rowan's heart race. Did he see her mother in her face? Did he suspect who she was?
"We'll see about that," he said, his tone full of dark promise. "Welcome to the Blind Jacks, prospect. Now let's see what you're made of."
Reed stepped forward, arms crossing over his chest. "I'll be keeping an eye on you," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "Road Captain means I decide where you ride, when you ride, and if you ride. One wrong move, and you're out."
There was a challenge in his eyes that stirred something in her blood. This wasn't part of the plan. Attraction wasn't in her training.
Darkness nodded his approval, a small smirk playing at his lips. "King's in charge of the prospects. You answer to him, and he answers to me. Reed runs the road, so when we ride, you follow his lead. That's the chain of command. Break it, and you're out."
With that, King turned and strode back toward the clubhouse, leaving Rowan to follow in his wake. She could feel the eyes of the other club members on her, could hear their whispers and snickers as she passed.
She was acutely aware of Reed's gaze burning into her back as she walked, the intensity of his scrutiny making her spine tingle. Something told her the Road Captain would be a complication she hadn't anticipated.
But she ignored them all, her focus narrowing down to the man in front of her. The man who held the key to her past, to her future.
Her father.
As they stepped into the clubhouse, Rowan felt a shiver run down her spine. The place was dark and smoky, the air thick with the scent of leather and sweat and something else, something primal and dangerous.
It was like stepping into another world, one where the rules of society didn't apply. Where the strong survived and the weak were left behind.
And Rowan was determined to be one of the strong.
She followed King deeper into the clubhouse, past the bar and the pool tables and the groups of men in leather cuts.
She caught a glimpse of a beautiful woman with dark hair, sitting close to a rugged man with intense eyes.
The woman—Maya, she'd learned from her research, though she went by Eden now—was watching her with undisguised curiosity.
Reed had taken up position by the bar, his dark eyes never leaving her, tracking her every movement with a predator's focus. There was something about him that set her enhanced senses on edge—not danger, exactly, but potential. Possibility. Complication.
Rowan kept her head held high, her steps confident and sure. She'd spent her entire life preparing for this moment, training her body and her mind to be a weapon. To be unbreakable.
And now, as she faced the man who'd given her life and then abandoned her, she knew that all of that training was about to be put to the test.