Chapter 1
The thunder of engines had always been the one sensation Hunter trusted. Even with his hearing shot—deaf in both ears—the thrum of motorcycles vibrated his bones. The steady rumble of pistons firing was like a heartbeat, a language he understood better than most words.
But tonight, he chose quiet.
He sat astride his bike at the edge of the highway, the neon glow of a closed gas station flickering behind him.
The rest of the club had gone back to the compound hours ago after escorting the semi full of chopped car parts to the edge of the city limits of Vancouver, Washington, but Hunter stayed behind, liking the solitude.
He didn't need the constant frustration of trying to figure out what everyone was bullshitting about or the endless movements of trying to read the conversation that went on around him.
Every twitch, jaw rub, body shift, and darting eyes exhausted him.
He could remember a time when all he needed to do was listen, and he could hear the world around him. Life was easier. Simple.
He tugged his leather vest tighter against the chill and scanned the road. The night air carried a faint scent from the Camas paper mill to the east. His gaze tracked headlights in the distance as the car weaved down the two-lane stretch. Hunter's instincts sharpened. Something was wrong.
The headlights swerved. Hard.
In the beam, a figure darted into the road, arms pumping, hair flying loose in the wind. A woman.
Hunter's pulse kicked in.
The car tracked her instead of going out of its way to avoid her. This wasn't a near miss. The car was chasing her.
He didn't think. He started the motorcycle, gunned the throttle, and rode forward into danger.
Gravel spat from his tires as he let the side of the road and hit the asphalt.
The woman stumbled, nearly falling, but Hunter leaned low, one arm reaching out.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, lips parted in a scream.
He caught her wrist, swung her up behind him, and felt her body slam against his back.
The car swerved again, trying to cut them off. Hunter twisted the throttle harder, the Harley screaming as it ate up the road. Wind tore at his face, but he kept the bike steady, muscles locked, every nerve on fire.
The woman clung to him, her fingers digging into his stomach. He could feel her trembling, the frantic rhythm of her breath as her body moved against his back, unable to get her feet on the pegs.
Hunter didn't look in his side mirror. He knew the car was still chasing them.
He cut down a side road, then another, weaving through the dark until the headlights finally faded. Only then did he ease off the throttle, guiding the bike toward the clubhouse on the outskirts of town.
The compound loomed ahead, a fortress surrounded by a six-foot fence, the club's colors painted boldly on the gates as a warning to others. This was Royalla territory.
The woman would be protected here until he figured out what was happening and who was after her.
Rocco rolled the gate open. Hunter rode inside, going to the back of the compound, and parked. He killed the engine and felt the silence crash down on him when the vibrations stopped. The woman slid off the bike, legs unsteady, eyes darting like a cornered animal.
Hunter swung his leg over and stood, towering over her. He cocked his head, taking her all in.
She was five feet six inches, barely reaching his chest. Slim and hidden in an oversized sweatshirt.
Her dark hair was a tangled mess, half covering her face.
Dirt streaked her cheeks. Her wild, blue eyes looked terrified.
Her lips moved frantically, but he only caught fragments. "Please... help... can't..."
He raised a hand and patted the air, signaling for her to slow down. Her mouth snapped shut, chest heaving.
Hunter pointed to his ear, then shook his head. He watched her eyes widen as she understood.
" I-I'm sorry," she said, slower this time, shaping each word clearly. "You can't hear me?"
He gave a single nod and touched his lips. "I can read."
"My lips?" Her throat worked as she tried to catch her breath. "Can you help me?"
He looked around the compound. Rocco was still at the gate. He couldn't pull him away.
Vein stood in the open bay of the garage, watching them. Hunter lifted his hand, whistled, and motioned for his MC brother to come to him.
The woman stepped into his view and said, "My name is Annie. Please...I...sister."
She talked too fast. Hunter's gaze flicked over her again. Her jeans were torn, and her hands were bloody. Someone had hurt her. There was fear in every movement of her body.
Vein arrived. Hunter pointed at the woman. "Listen."
It would take too much time for her to repeat everything two or three times until he understood what she was saying.
It would be easier if she could tell Vein why she was running away from the person in the car.
He was used to the Royalla members' mannerisms and speech habits.
It would be faster for Vein to tell him what was going on.
The woman's mouth closed, and she stepped back. He shook his head, signaling her to stay.
Annie moved to the other side of him, far away from Vein. Not knowing what to do, he lifted his chin and motioned for his MC brother to leave. It was clear she wasn't comfortable around Vein, whose whole face was covered in tattoos, most of them done by Hunter, and numerous piercings all over him.
"You handling her?" asked Vein.
He nodded and waited until Vein left them alone. Maybe she'd talk to someone in the clubhouse who didn't scare her.
He pointed toward the clubhouse door. There were others nearby, so he could find someone she was comfortable talking to.
She hesitated, then followed him. Her steps quickened to keep up with his longer strides.
Inside, the air smelled of leather, smoke, and spilled whiskey.
The main room was empty, but Kodiak was probably in the office.
The president tended to stay around until close to midnight, then he retired to the room he shared with his ol' lady, Roma.
Annie grabbed the sleeve of his leather jacket. He stopped and motioned toward the couch. If she wanted to talk to him, he'd need her to stay close.
She sat, clutching her arms around her middle.
For a long moment, he stood beside the couch. He wanted to give her time to collect herself, but she kept shaking. Her chin trembled, and her teeth snapped together to hold herself together.
He sat beside her, recognizing trouble when he saw it. She was in danger, and as much as he wanted to stay out of her business, he wasn't going to send a young woman—and she was young— off into the night without seeing how he could help her.
Her lips moved again. "Thank you."
Hunter inclined his head, the closest he came to saying you're welcome.
She looked down at her hands, twisting them together, before meeting his gaze. "I must leave. I must go back."
He slowly, deliberately, shook his head.
"Oh, God." Her breath hitched. "You don't understand."
Hunter rubbed his whiskered jaw. His gaze lowered to the base of her neck, where bruises were visible. She raised her hand to cover her injuries. It looked as though someone had tried to choke her.
"You'll stay." He gritted his teeth. "Safe here."
He hated to talk because he couldn't hear his own voice.
The vibration in his throat when he attempted to speak was now foreign to him.
There were times when he wondered if he was only moaning, not saying the words he remembered from his childhood.
Though others had no problems understanding him when he spoke, he'd learned to talk softer, going by the expressions on other people's faces.
Her shoulders hunched, eyes darting around the empty room. Hunter leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn't letting her walk out that door until he knew what kind of trouble she was trying to outrun.
Annie's dark blue eyes flashed in frustration. "You...here."
He cocked his brow, having not caught every word, and cupped his hand, motioning with his fingers for her to give it to him again.
"You can't keep me here," she said.
She wasn't in the right frame of mind. It only took one look at him to prove he wouldn't let anyone tell him what he could and couldn't do.
She let out a shaky breath, pressing her palms to her face. For a moment, he thought she might break, spill whatever truth she was holding back. But when she lowered her hands, her expression was steel.
Hunter respected that. Even if it pissed him off.
He pushed to his feet, grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, and dropped it on her lap. Then he pointed down the hallway to the rooms.
Her lips parted. "You're not letting me go?"
He shook his head.
"You want me to stay?"
He nodded.
Relief flickered across her face before her eyebrows pinched in the middle. He waited, hoping she'd tell him what was going on that made her feel guilty for wanting to stay at the clubhouse. But she clamped her lips together.
Hunter turned away, but his mind was already racing. Whoever had been behind the wheel tonight wasn't done with her. And until he figured out who they were and why they were after her, Annie wasn't going anywhere.