2
T he bar hums with activity as Jace and I make our way inside, and I can't help but notice the heads turning in my direction. It's no surprise—I’m the talk of the town, and everyone’s eager to remind me. Each venture from my hotel room has been met with harsh remarks, stares, and whispers.
It seems people don’t forget as easily as I’d hoped.
“Everyone is staring at me,” I mumble to Jace, lowering my head as I take the hand he stretches behind me, capturing mine and making me feel a moment of safety.
“Ignore them. It’ll be okay. Come on.”
We settle into a booth, and I let out a breath, feeling a sense of relief. I'm not usually confrontational, but I’ll defend myself if needed. The first unwelcome comment may be all it takes to set me off. They act as if I was the one who murdered people and destroyed this town, as if it were me with blood on my hands.
They forget I was just a child.
“People suck,” I tell Jace, meeting his eyes. “It’s like they think I did it.”
“They’re just bored,” he reassures me, enclosing my hand with his, sending a shiver down my spine. “What drink would you like?”
“Vodka and soda, with lemon, please.”
He smiles warmly. “Coming right up.”
As he leaves, I keep my gaze low, avoiding eye contact. The door opens, diverting everyone’s attention, and I can’t help but see what's causing the stir. It must be good if they have taken their inquisitive gazes off me for a second. A group of bikers, sporting leather jackets with recognizable patches, enter the bar.
I’m familiar with them—the Fallen Sons MC . They’ve been around since my childhood. I didn’t know them, but I recall their presence, mysterious but not troublesome. At least, not that I remember. To be fair, I was a teenage girl too worried about boys and friends to notice a heap of bikers getting around.
Swallowing, I watch as they approach, led by a breathtaking man. There is something about him, something terrifying. He holds a deep, dangerous darkness and yet his face is the most incredible one I think I’ve ever laid eyes on.
The contrast is captivating.
His thick, dark hair appears as though he has done nothing more than flick it back with his hands, the ends curling as they sit messily atop his head. His deep olive skin and steel-blue eyes, almost metallic, are mesmerizing. Standing over six feet, he’s all muscle, and his presence is powerful, causing everyone in the room to just stare.
As he passes, my gaze locks with his, and I inhale sharply. It feels as though he knows me, or perhaps I should know him. A sense of familiarity runs through my body, even though I’m certain I’ve never met him before. His expression darkens, conveying something I can't decipher. I bite my lip, held by his stare until he moves on.
“If I had known they would be here, I wouldn’t have come,” Jace murmurs, sitting down with two drinks in his hands.
“It’s okay,” I say, staring at the spot the man just passed. “They aren’t bothering anyone.”
“Yet,” Jace mutters. “They’re not known to be the nicest people.”
“I remember them from when I was younger, but they never seemed to cause any problems back then. At least, I don’t recall anyone talking about it.”
They were all too concerned with the Shadow Butcher to care about what a group of motorcycle riders were doing.
“They had a different leader back then, and when he died, his son moved into ranks and now runs the club. He’s known to be quite lethal and isn’t the kind of person you want to cross paths with. That doesn’t stop every single girl in the town from wanting to jump his bones, though.”
I sip my drink, the fizz tingling on my tongue, watching the bikers sit. I can’t blame the town girls for staring at him—he’s devastatingly handsome. Many others with him are stunning, too. At least half of the crowd look like they have just come out of a movie, and the rest look like typical bikers.
What an odd mix.
Not what I imagined bikers to be.
I turn back to Jace, smiling. “Enough about them, tell me about your life.”
He smiles, and we talk for an hour about his rise to CEO, his house, car, and single status. His love life has been hit-or-miss, but he’s ready to settle down.
He’s accomplished, which doesn’t surprise me.
I’m shocked he hasn’t found the one.
“I must admit,” I say, feeling tipsy, “I thought you’d be married. The girls at school were always so obsessed with you, I figured one of them would have snapped you up by now.”
He grins. “I could be married by now, if I really wanted to be, but I haven’t met the one. Marriage is important to me, but I want it to be right and forever. I don’t need five divorces behind me because I haven’t taken the time to find the right person.”
Swoon.
My cheeks flush. “When you find her, she’ll be very lucky.”
His grin widens. “I have a feeling she’s not far away.”
“I’ll get the next round.” I smile, taking our empty glasses to the bar to order.
Pressing my hip against the bar, I order our drinks and wait. Within a few minutes, I feel a strong presence beside me. Turning slightly, I see the mysterious biker approaching, those intense eyes locked on me. My heart skips as he stops at the bar, waving at the bartender without looking away from me. He has a dominance about him and manages to get a drink without saying a single word.
My knees weaken.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
His voice, a thick rumble, sends shivers across my skin, and it catches me off guard, but his words are what shock me the most.
“Sorry, do I know you?” I ask, my voice slightly confident, but mostly shaky.
“No, but I know you . You shouldn’t have come back.”
Great, another negative person. Another one who wants me to leave the town because they seem to think I am a direct replica of my father. Meanwhile, I’m nothing like him, and it’s starting to agitate me the amount of judgement I am receiving.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, or I'm just tired of people assuming to know me, but I straighten, frowning. “Why is that?”
“You know why,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to my lips.
I shudder, and my body tenses with a mix of anticipation and allure. There is something about him, something so incredibly dangerous and tempting. I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be in his bed beneath him, his hard body moving over mine.
I shake my head. “Let me guess, you think I don’t belong here because I’m a killer’s daughter, though I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You don’t belong because people want blood, and with your father gone, who do you think they’ll turn to? The solution is pretty fuckin’ simple. Leave.”
His words cut deep. I glare, my lips pressed tight. “No offense, but I don’t know you, and you know nothing about me. I don’t care who you are or if everyone fears you—I’m not scared. Back off.”
I take my drinks when the bartender slides them over, offering a quick thanks before I disappear into the crowd. I don’t look back, even though I can feel his eyes burning into my back. He might be powerful and scary to the people of this town, but I am the daughter of a damned serial killer. Not much scares me.
Besides, he has no business telling me what to do.
My father’s enemies have nothing to do with me.
Right?
“Are you okay?” Jace asks as I sit. “I saw Rook talking to you.”
“Rook?”
“Wolfe Cross. His club name is Rook; that’s what everyone calls him.”
Wolfe.
A fitting name for him.
“Well, Rook, Wolfe, whoever, can mind his business.”
“What did he want?”
I shake my head. “Same as everyone else—for me to leave town and never look back.”
Jace smiles carefully. “Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t want you to leave.”
“That makes one of you,” I tease, and he laughs.
He grins and winks. “One is better than none.”
Laughing, I nod. “You’re right.”
Thank goodness for Jace; without him, this town would have driven me out by now.
But my determination is stronger.
I’m not leaving.
Not yet.
I need answers first.
WALKING INTO THE POLICE station, I reach behind me and pull my hair into a tight ponytail. The long locks are getting hot, causing my neck to sweat. It’s more nerves than it is weather, but, either way, I need to keep my composure when I start my search for answers. I want to ask about my mother and her death. My dad always told me it was a car accident, and I always believed him, because why wouldn’t I?
Back then, I didn’t think he had any reason to lie to me.
Now I know that everything he told me was a damned lie.
“Can I help you?”
The older woman sitting behind the reception desk gives me a sharp once over, and her eyes narrow. Another one who knows who I am. I exhale, bracing myself for her rude comments, growing used to them by now.
“Yes, I am wanting to speak to Sergeant Davidson, if he is available?”
“What is the matter concerning?”
“My mother.”
She narrows her eyes. Everyone in town knows my mother died, and I have no doubt as her fingers rush over the keys that she’s confirming that information.
“Can you be more specific?”
Her tone is clipped, and I am tired of being treated like I’m a monster.
“I am looking to talk to someone about my dead mother because I am here to find out the truth. Now, can you help me, or do I have to accept that you’re going to treat me like I’m some kind of killer, even though I was just a damned child when my father raised hell in this town.”
Her mouth drops open, but before she can answer, a voice behind me has me spinning around.
“Mera Sloane? Is that you?”
As I turn, I'm met by a familiar face—Sergeant Davidson. He was a pillar of kindness after my mother passed and even more so when my father was taken to prison. I trust him in a way I don’t trust many. He was the only one who ensured I was safe and taken care of when everything went down, unlike others who were quick to condemn me.
Over the years, he hasn't changed much, except for his hair thinning on top and his once chubby cheeks becoming gaunt. Age is catching up with him, but he still has those warm brown eyes and that unmistakable dimple on his right cheek when he smiles. He is the kind of police officer you want on your side when things go wrong.
“I bet you never thought you’d see me again,” I say, stepping forward and letting him pull me in for a hug.
He holds me tight. A feeling I hadn’t realized I had missed so much until this very moment.
“I certainly didn’t think I would see you yelling at my receptionist, but I should have known that spirit would come out when you finally arrived home.”
I pull back, giving him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, but people in this town have been less than friendly with me returning home. Do you have time to talk?”
He nods. “Always.”
Shooting a quick glance at the receptionist, who simply scowls at me, I hurry down the hall after Sergeant Davidson. Arriving in his office, he waits for me to take a seat before he closes the door. Once he is across the desk in front of me, he offers me a smile. “What can I help you with?”
“A few things, but mostly ... I wanted to know more about my mother’s case.”
His eyes soften, and sympathy washes across his features. “Of course, I’m happy to talk about anything. Within the limits, of course.”
“Well, I guess I never asked much about it after she died. I was too young, and I just believed everything Da ... he said. I have a feeling what I know is so far from the truth. I know she died in a car accident caused by drink driving, but why do I have a sick feeling it wasn’t that simple?”
Something flashes across Sergeant Davidson’s face, something that has me straightening in my seat. “A car accident?”
His words send a shiver up my spine. “Why are you looking at me with confusion, Sergeant?”
“You know my name is Harry, please call me that, and I’m looking at you like that because I am concerned about the story you have been told.”
Swallowing, I take a deep breath. “It wasn’t a car accident, was it?”
He shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t. It was recorded as a suicide, but I always had unanswered questions, but back then, people simply thought I was crazy and wouldn’t let me look into the case further. It was ruled a suicide, and that was that.”
Suicide?
It feels as though someone has slammed a fist into my chest. My mother took her own life? She chose to leave me? All these years I thought she recklessly got herself killed drunk driving, but that wasn’t true. I was made to see her as a monster, as someone who chose herself over me, and all that time I was wrong. All the pain and anger I have carried over the years is for nothing.
An unfamiliar sensation has my throat feeling like someone has their hands around it. My eyes burn and my nose stings, but no tears come out. It’s as though I’m stuck in a moment I can’t escape from. A horrifying, broken moment that is ripping the life from my chest.
“Mera?” Harry says gently, his face concerned.
“How?” I croak. “How did she do it?”
“She was found just out of town on a dirt road in her car, one gunshot wound to the head. I’m sorry, Mera. For what it’s worth, I never did believe it, and I feel like it was covered up, especially knowing what I know now.”
I look at him, my eyes burning. “Can we reopen the case, is there something I can do?”
“Because of the circumstances surrounding it, and that fact that your father turned out to be a killer, there is a chance they will allow us to reopen her case. Is that something you are wanting to do? It might bring answers you aren’t prepared for.”
I straighten my back. “My father lied to me, quite possibly for my entire life, I deserve the truth, no matter how hard it might be.”
Harry nods. “I will do what I can.”
I finish up with Harry, and by the time I step back onto the busy sidewalk, my heart is racing. I find it hard to calm down, hard to slow my racing thoughts. I walk, not paying a single ounce of attention to anyone passing by. I end up at the same bar I went to with Jace, and I’m ordering without even thinking. My brain feels numb, and my body aches, but my heart ... it is broken to a degree I’m scared it will never heal.
The bartender passes me a vodka and soda without a word then continues to do so as I sit there, staring down at the pale wooden counter, not saying a word. By the time my fourth drink rolls around, I’m feeling a little less numb and begin paying attention to my surroundings. The bar isn’t as full as it was the last time I was here, but I do notice an all too familiar crowd – the same bikers are here, sitting at the back, drinking and partying.
My eyes scan over them, and I turn quickly, not wanting to make eye contact. I’m not in the mood today to be told yet again that I don’t belong here. I go back to sipping my drink when a familiar voice comes from behind me, causing my back to straighten and my eyes to roll. Fucking Esmerelda. She can’t take a damn hint, and she is going to make sure I know it.
“So, your settling in seems to be going well?”
I grit my teeth and don’t look at her when I respond, “Fuck off, Esmerelda. I’m in no mood for you.”
“Come now, Mera. I’m only being friendly.”
I glare at her now, spinning in my stool until I face her, my eyes narrowed. “Nothing about you is fucking friendly. Now, if you don’t mind ...”
She leans a hip against the bar. “I’m just getting a round of drinks for my friends and me.”
She nods in the direction of the bikers. Why does it not surprise me to find she is with them? She has always been the pick me type of girl and would do just about anything to get noticed. Pushing to my feet, in no mood to speak any further to her, I shoot back my drink and turn, walking out of the bar.
I use the back entrance that leads to the parking lot, hoping I can walk the back alleys to get to my hotel so nobody sees me. The moment I step outside, I see him . He’s leaning with his back against the wall, one boot against the red brick, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes move to mine, and I pause, cursing myself for choosing this particular exit.
“Fuck me,” I mutter to myself, putting my head down as I go to walk past him.
“Got somethin’ that might help your bad day.”
I pause, confused that he is speaking to me and even more confused at his words. Turning, I stare at him. “What?”
“I said, I got somethin’ that might help with your bad day.”
“I’m not into drugs, thanks.”
A slow grin spreads across his face, and he brings the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deep and slowly breathing it out. The smoke trickles across the air, blowing past my face. I can almost taste it, and everything inside me wants to try more. I can smell the distinct scent of marijuana amongst the tobacco, and I know he has mixed this himself.
Pulling it from his lips, he extends his hand out. I shouldn’t take it, I should turn and keep walking, but after the day I’ve had, one little puff won’t hurt, right? It’s not like he’s offering me a hard drug, it’s just a weak joint, if I’m being honest with myself. Hesitating, I stare at him, my body willing me to reach out and take it.
Pushing off the wall, he takes a step closer to me, leaning in and pushing the cigarette to my lips. I part them, mesmerized, and breathe the smoke in as he holds it to my lips, my eyes never leaving his. Fuck he’s gorgeous, and even though I have already decided I probably don’t like him, that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate just how spectacular he is. Women would fight just to take him home. Hell, wars could be started over a man like him.
He pulls the smoke away from my lips and hold it in my lungs for a moment before exhaling. He’s right, it did make me feel better. An instant warmth rushes over me, and my shoulders slump, so when he offers it to me again, I take it once more until I’m warm and fuzzy inside, no longer concerned who I am standing out here with. Right now, I just want to relish in this feeling washing over me.
“Tell me something, Kitten, what makes you so fuckin’ determined to stay in this town?”
I stare at him, shaking my head. “Kitten, seriously?”
“Your hair reminds me of a ginger Kitten.”
“Charming,” I mutter. “And I’m here because I want answers.”
“Answers don’t always bring closure.”
“Thank you, professor,” I grumble.
His eyes are hooded as they look over me, then he stretches his hand out and crooks his finger, indicating I come closer. A dizzying rush runs through my body, and I can’t stop myself from taking a step closer to him, desperate to know what it is he’s going to say or do. My heart skips a beat when he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small white pill and bringing it to his lips, then, he puts it on his tongue before reaching out for me, curling his fingers around the back of my neck and bringing me close.
I gasp in shock as our bodies collide, and he leans down, his warm breath tickling my lips. “What are you doing?” I whisper, holding his gaze.
“Makin’ you feel better, in more ways than one.”
Then his mouth closes over mine. I’m stunned, unable to move, my entire body thrumming with a desire I can’t quite understand. His tongue slides against mine, and the little white pill lands in my mouth. He kisses me until the breath is knocked out of my lungs, and, somehow, I swallow that pill, not even realizing it has gone down. I’m too caught up in the blissful feeling of his lips against mine.
A moan escapes my lips, and I don’t dare try and stop it.
I never want this feeling to end, even though he is the last person I should have my mouth on.
After today, I’m about ready to do anything to make myself feel better.
He kisses me until my mind is spinning, quite literally.
Pulling back, I shake my head, confused.
The spinning won’t stop.
“What did you give me?” I murmur, swaying slightly.
“Can’t have you in this town, Kitten. Time for you to go.”
After that, my world goes black.