Chapter One
Vandal
Six Months Later
“Yo,” Falcon called out over the buzz of my tattoo gun. I heard him but I was in the zone. He smacked the wall and the lights went off, forcing me to stop.
“What the fuck, man?” I glared over my shoulder but my friend, my brother, smirked.
“You got a visitor.”
“A what?”
He snorted. “You don’t understand English no more?”
I rolled my eyes. “Who the fuck is here to visit me?”
“A woman,” he said, his mouth twitching like he was fighting a laugh. “A pretty one.”
“Then she must have the wrong man.” I didn’t ever give women the impression that I wanted more than a quick fuck and they don’t usually seek me out afterward. We had a good time for a few hours and then went our separate ways.
“What the fuck ever man, just don’t keep her waiting.”
“Who is it?” I asked, curiosity burning every layer of my skin.
Falcon shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Go see what the fuck she wants.” With those parting words he left, and I went back to work.
She could wait.
The buzzing of my tattoo gun was the only damn thing I wanted to hear.
I’d been working on this calf piece for the past four and a half hours and I was almost done.
The dude in my chair was a goddamn champ, he hadn’t so much as twitched the whole time and aside from a few piss breaks, we were focused on this shit together.
He was the perfect client, and I wouldn’t stop until the work was done.
Twenty-five minutes later the piece was clean and wrapped. I stretched and gave aftercare instructions while he paid, smiling as if hadn’t been jabbed thousands of times by a fucking needle for five hours straight. He left a big tip, already talking about his next piece as he left the shop.
Rock music blared overhead and I knew there was no more delaying this shit. I spotted the woman in my periphery, but she hadn’t moved to make herself known, she just sat on the leather bench seat and waited patiently so I finally gave her my attention.
She stood but my gaze focused on the important parts first, the narrow waist that flared out to perfectly fucking feminine hips and thick thighs that held a man tight.
She wore jeans and sneakers, a black tank top that showed off nice tits—I’m a good judge, so I’d say she was a D cup—and toned arms. Her hair was short, a jet black pixie that made her skin look creamy and pale.
I catalogued sharp cheekbones and full pink lips, a small button nose and eyes the color of—
Shit!
My heart thudded against my chest in slow, painful kicks.
The sting of loss hit my subconscious before my brain filled in the blanks. I knew those eyes. Violet eyes that were rare and un-fucking-mistakable. “Holy shit!” I was knocked a step back as recognition dawned. “Macy!”
Her shoulders dropped, relief flashing across her face. “So you do remember me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Fuck. I mean, yeah.” I took a slow step forward, unable to believe what I was seeing.
“It’s been a minute, but of course I remember you.
” I took another step forward. Too close.
She smelled like roses mixed with something citrusy.
It was the same girl I remembered, but all grown up.
More guarded than before but life had a way of doing that to a person. “Holy shit, Mace.”
I didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. I pulled her in, hooking one arm around her waist while the other held her head.
It was instinct, the way I’d always hugged her like she was everything to me.
Because she was. Macy was stiff at first, but she always was.
At first. A few seconds later she melted into the hug, sliding her arms around my waist. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I murmured into her hair.
She pulled back with a small smile that tried to hide the darkness behind her eyes, but it didn’t work on me.
Never had. I knew her too well. “I’ve missed you too,” she whispered.
“So fucking much.” She swiped away one lone, traitorous tear that couldn’t detract from the shadows if it wanted to.
“I came back two months after my eighteenth birthday,” she said as if we were in the middle of a conversation.
“I’d officially aged out and my foster family kicked me out, so I came looking for you and… you were gone.”
My stomach clenched. Hard. “Foster care?” I shook my head, shoving an angry hand through my thick red hair.
“I looked for you every-fucking-where when you left because nobody would tell me shit. I spiraled without you, Mace. Got in trouble, too much fucking trouble and I knew where I was headed so I enlisted.” That time was a fucking blur of booze, fucking and tagging.
“I thought maybe they’d killed you. After I joined up, I went to the cops. ”
Her eyes widened. “You didn’t.”
I nodded. “I did and they said they’d look into it. All this time, I thought… fuck.”
Her smile didn’t reach those violet eyes. “Not dead yet.”
That shit wasn’t funny, but I wasn’t about to argue over that. Yet.
“I hope this is okay?” she asked quietly and suddenly she was that same quiet girl with long black hair she used to cover the bruises on her arms and chest.
“You showing up here?” I shook my head, still stunned I had my Macy back. “Hell yeah, it’s okay. How did you even find me?”
“A couple of years ago, I saw a photo of you online. From some biker thing in the desert.” Her lips quirked. “I knew that auburn hair anywhere. But I was too chickenshit to reach out. And now…” She wrapped her arms around herself. A tell. Fear. Shame. “I kind of needed to.”
I swallowed the sudden tension that rose in my throat. “What’s going on?”
Her gaze flicked around the shop landing on everything and every person that moved. Including Falcon and Dagger, who watched too fucking closely. They watched and they smirked. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?”
“Go on,” Dagger called out, a smile in his voice. “We got things here. You don’t have any appointments left and I can handle walk-ins.”
I grabbed my vest and my wallet and headed for the door. “Come on. I know a place.”
We took my bike to a coffee shack right off the highway. It was kitschy as fuck, one of those converted shipping containers with mismatched patio furniture. It was quiet other than the passing cars and most of all, it was private.
She sat across from me, her fingers wrapped around a cup with steam rising up between us like a barrier. “So you’re a biker,” she said after a long silence.
“Yep.” I tapped the patch on my chest. “About five years now. Found the Steel Demons about fifteen months after I left the Army.”
“Not for you?” she asked.
“Nah,” I shook my head. “I mean I’m glad I did it, learned a lot that ended up being useful. But this?” I tapped my leather vest again. “This is home and these guys are my brothers. My family.”
She smiled again, this one soft and fleeting. “I’m happy for you, Drew. Truly.”
I smiled at her use of my real name. It was just one more thing that was so fucking familiar that the old ache in my chest returned. “What’s going on Mace?” My voice was rough, thick with worry. “You never were one to beat around the bush.”
Her gaze lifted to mine, haunted and pleading. “I need help.”
I instantly felt lightheaded at her words. She was in trouble.
“I know this is super shitty of me,” she rushed on.
“Showing up here like this after all these years, only popping up because I need your help. It’s just…
” She stopped and shook her head, breathing out slowly.
“I convinced myself that you’d moved on from our friendship.
That our old life didn’t matter anymore and I didn’t want to ruin or darken the life you built for yourself. ”
“No offense, Mace, but that’s bullshit. You have always been a bright spot in my life.”
“Drew,” she whispered.
“I’m serious. I hate you’re going through whatever brought you to me, but I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”
Small dots of pink spread across her cheeks as she nodded like she was trying to psych herself up to get the words out.
“I was working as an accountant,” she began.
“Turns out that among the restaurants, boutiques, and fitness centers as clients, there was also a cartel.” The words tumbled out after that.
Sombra Negra. Diego Ruiz. The kidnapping. Her dead boss.
I said nothing, just waited with as much patience as I could muster for her to finish.
“I left Alabama and have been bouncing around the country working under the table when I could, which was ideal. But when I had to be put on payroll, a dirty cop on Diego’s payroll would track me down.” She finished on a shaky breath, trying for a smile that never came.
By the time she finished, my jaw ached from clenching. My hands were fists on the plastic table between us. I had no words. None that wouldn’t come out wrong. I wanted to tell her I’d find the fucker and rip his limbs off and let her beat him with them, but I didn’t think that would go over well.
She saw the silence and misread it instantly. Her face fell. Her shoulders slumped.
She thought I was rejecting her. Of course she did, it was the story of her whole damn life.