Chloe
Her mom, Dallas, and her second dad, Bowie, were beyond stressed with Savage’s sudden passing.
He had heart issues in the past, but they all thought that was resolved.
None of them saw the heart attack coming, but it came, nonetheless.
And while all she wanted to do was avoid everything having to do with her father’s funeral, her parents didn’t have that luxury.
And then, there was the press. For some odd reason, the local news picked up on Savage’s passing and made a big deal of the fact that he was married to not only a woman, but also a man.
The guys in the club had accepted their relationship.
Bowie had even become the club’s VP until he retired from that position a few months back.
He hadn’t been back into the bar since Savage died, saying that he just couldn’t be there.
Maybe they all had their own ways of dealing with their grief, but the thought of Savage Hell ending with her father wasn’t acceptable to her.
She had grown up in the club, and the bikers were her uncles, for the most part.
But they were all getting older and had moved on from Huntsville, Alabama, after their kids had all grown up.
She couldn’t blame them for wanting a fresh start in a new place.
She had thought about doing just that many times, but leaving her family wasn’t an option—especially now that they had lost such a vital part.
“Why are you here?” a man asked from behind her. She hadn’t heard anyone come into the bar, but then, she was lost in her own world of grief.
“Um, we’re closed,” she breathed.
His smile was mean, and she worried that he wasn’t there for a beer. “Yeah, I heard about Savage’s death. I guess everyone's at the funeral.” He wasn’t really asking, which sent red flags dancing through her head.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” she asked.
He quickly crossed the bar and held out his hand to her.
Chloe looked it over, trying to decide if she wanted to shake it or not.
She had always been leery of men—especially bikers.
Her therapist insists that it had everything to do with being abducted by a rival club when she was a kid, but she was sure that it had more to do with her overprotective fathers.
They had very strict rules about who she was and wasn’t allowed to date.
And rule number one was: No dating any of the Savage Hell club members.
Since she spent the majority of her time at the club, helping out behind the bar and in the kitchen as she worked her way through community college, their rules really limited her dating life.
Sure, she could have found a guy at college to date, but they all seemed like little boys compared to the bikers she hung around with at Savage Hell.
She didn’t want to tell her fathers that she liked bikers, but she did.
They were gruff, didn’t make any apologies, and didn’t give a fuck about what other people thought about them.
She liked all those qualities in a man, which her therapist said is because she has daddy issues, times two.
She was right—but there was no way that she would tell her that.
Chloe liked to give her therapist a hard time to really get her money's worth.
The man looked her over and put his hands on his hips. Chloe let her eyes roam his body, and that was her first mistake. “Name’s Vengeance,” he drawled, seeming to like the attention that she was paying him. For some reason, she didn’t care that she was shamelessly staring him down.
“Why are you here, Vengeance?” she asked, trying to keep up with their conversation.
“I’m here to talk to you,” he said.
“Me,” she breathed, “up until a few minutes ago, you didn’t know that I was here.
In fact, you even seemed surprised by me standing here at the bar.
So, you want to try that again?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips to mimic him.
He smiled down at her, and her girl parts did a happy dance.
She walked around him and grabbed her phone.
“You have two seconds to get out of my father’s bar before I call the cops. ”
“Don’t be like that, Chloe,” he said.
She gasped when she realized that he knew her name. “How do you know my name?” she asked. “I never told you my name.” She waited him out until he took a step toward her, invading her personal space.
“I told you, Chloe, I’m here for you. We need to talk, and we can do that here, or I can take you someplace where you’ll have no choice but to pay attention.”
“The fuck you will,” she spat. “I’m not going anywhere with you.
” She stepped back from him and stopped only when her ass hit the bar top.
Chloe started calling the cops when he took the phone from her.
She protested, reaching for her phone, but at just five-three, she was no match for someone his height.
He had to be about six-five, and she wasn’t going to get back her phone without him giving it to her.
He held it in the air, over both of their heads, as she jumped around him. He chuckled at her efforts, but she felt a lot less amused by the whole scene.
“I can do this all day, but sooner or later, someone worse than me is going to show up here to talk to you, and they won’t be as nice as I’ve been. Or as handsome,” he teased, bobbing his eyebrows at her, but she didn’t laugh. She didn’t even crack a smile.
“Who’s going to show up here?” she asked him.
He shrugged and put her cell phone into his pocket. “You don’t want to know,” he insisted. “Let’s just say that I’m here as a friend, but the next guy who shows up won’t be as friendly.”
“Stealing my phone and demanding that I talk to you is your version of being friendly?” she asked.
“Can we just sit down, and you let me say what I came here to say, and then, I’ll leave,” he promised.
She noted that the clock on the wall read four, and that meant that the funeral was probably wrapping up.
Bowie and the rest of the club would be back at Savage Hell to drink.
Her mom, Dallas, would go home to take care of Chloe’s little brothers and sisters.
Her parents had twelve kids, and Savage used to joke that they were not cheaper by the dozen, but she knew that he wouldn’t have things any other way.
“All you want to do is talk and then, you’ll leave?
” she questioned. He nodded, and she held out her hand.
“Give me a show of good faith,” she insisted, “give me back my phone, and I’ll listen to what you have to say.
” He stood there for a few minutes, just staring her down, as though he was trying to decide what to do about her proposition.
“Fine, but you need to promise me that you won’t call the cops,” he said, pulling the phone from his pocket. “Swear on Bowie’s life that you won’t call the cops.”
She wiggled her fingers at him. “I’ll refrain from calling the police as long as you behave yourself.”
He slid the phone into her hand, and she quickly put it into her pocket. “I’d say thank you, but you were the one who took my phone from me, so I won’t.”
“No thanks needed,” he said. “Can we sit up at the bar?” he asked.
“Sure,” she grumbled. She waved him through, allowing him to go in front of her.
He walked around her and the bar, sitting on one of the stools.
Chloe did the same, sitting two stools down from him.
Vengeance leaned his forearms on the bar top like he owned the damn place, and Chloe instantly hated him for how comfortable he looked sitting in her father’s chair.
Nobody sat there unless Savage invited them to.
“You always this suspicious?” he asked casually.
“Yes,” she breathed. It was something that she learned as a kid—never to trust anyone.
“At least you’re honest,” he said.
“My fathers raised me around bikers,” she muttered. “Trust issues come free with the lifestyle.” That earned her a low chuckle. The sound scraped across her nerves in a way she didn’t appreciate nearly as much as her body apparently did. She hated that too.
Silence stretched between them for a few long seconds before he glanced around the empty bar.
His gaze lingered on the old pool table, the dart boards, the walls covered in faded pictures of club runs and parties.
Savage’s kutte still hung behind the bar where Bowie had left it after they got the call from the hospital.
For the first time since he walked in, some of the arrogance slipped from his face. “Hell of a legacy your old man left behind,” he said quietly.
Her throat tightened instantly. “He wasn’t just my old man,” she whispered. “He was everybody’s. He took care of all of us.”
Vengeance nodded like he understood more than she wanted him to. “That’s why people are circling already.”
Chloe stiffened. “What does that mean?”
He looked at her then, fully serious now. “It means your father's death left a power vacuum.”
The words made her stomach twist. “This chapter still has members,” she snapped. “The Royal Bastards aren’t just going to disappear.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But weak clubs get swallowed whole every day. Especially legacy clubs with money, property, and territory attached to them.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Savage Hell isn’t weak.”
“No,” he agreed again. “But grief makes people vulnerable.”
The way he said it sent a chill down her spine. “What club are you with?” she finally asked.
His eyes narrowed slightly, like he’d expected the question.
“I’m with the Dragons.” She’d heard the name before.
Hell, she couldn’t get them out of her head.
She still had nightmares about Dante, their former Prez, taking her against her will when she was just a kid.
He was sending a message to her father, and Savage got it loud and clear.
If it wasn’t for RoadKill and a few of the other men who she now thought of as her uncles, she would have been sold off to the highest bidder at auction.
The sick fuckers were okay with raping a child—that’s who the Dragons were.
Her pulse kicked harder. “You’re not welcome here,” she said immediately.
“Never said I was,” Vengeance drawled.
“Then why are you still sitting here?” she asked.
Something unreadable crossed his face before he leaned back slightly on the stool. “Because I owe Savage, and I want to repay my debt.”
That surprised her enough to shut her up. “My dad knew you?”
“Knew of me,” he corrected. “Years ago, when I was younger and dumber, Savage stopped something bad from happening to me. He didn’t ask for anything in return.
” He shrugged one shoulder. “Men like him are rare.” Chloe swallowed hard around the lump growing in her throat.
That sounded exactly like Savage. Her father had spent his whole life rescuing people who didn’t deserve it.
“You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” she said.
Vengeance drummed his fingers against the bar before speaking. “There’s another club moving toward Huntsville.”
Her stomach dropped. “The Dead Rabbits?” she asked. They had been circling both the Bastards and Harlots for years now.
“No,” he breathed.
“Who, then?” she asked.
“The Black Veil Syndicate,” he said.
She frowned immediately. “Never heard of them.”
“That’s because they’re not bikers.” His jaw tightened. “They move weapons, women, and enough drugs to keep half the southeast high for a year.”
Ice slid through her veins. “And they want Savage Hell?”
“They want what your father built.” His eyes met hers directly. “And they think his death makes this place vulnerable.”
Chloe laughed bitterly despite the panic trying to crawl up her throat. “Well, they’re about to be disappointed because Bowie will burn this whole city down before he lets anyone touch Savage’s club.”
“I know who Bowie is,” Vengeance said calmly. “That’s exactly why they’ll come after him first. He’s your father, too, Chloe. He’s grieving Savage’s loss the hardest, and they’ll come for him and your mom.”
Her breath caught. “No, you can’t be right.” His silence was answer enough—she was right.
“They’ll come for you too, Chloe,” he said.
“Me?” she whispered.
“You’re Savage’s daughter. Everybody in Alabama knows it.
” He leaned toward her. “And from what I hear, your fathers would destroy themselves trying to save you. They have in the past, haven’t they?
” She gasped when she realized that Vengeance knew about the Dragons taking her.
Her fathers both moved heaven and earth to get her back safely.
Fear wrapped icy fingers around her spine because she hated that he was right.
Savage and Bowie had nearly started a war over her.
Half the reason they were so overprotective of her now was because they’d never forgiven themselves for letting it happen.
“They won’t touch me,” she said, though the words sounded weak even to her own ears.
“Maybe not today,” Vengeance replied. “But they’ll wait for their chance, and I’m betting that they won’t have to wait long.”
The front door suddenly opened, and both of them turned instantly. Bowie walked into the bar first, still dressed in the black suit he’d worn to the funeral. His eyes landed on Vengeance, and every ounce of grief on his face vanished beneath pure fury.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Bowie growled.
Chloe shot off the stool. “Dad—” he was already walking toward her with about half a dozen Royal Bastards behind him.
They flooded into Savage Hell, all of them armed, grieving, and looking for someone to bleed on the worst day of their lives.
Unfortunately for Vengeance, he was standing in the middle of their bar and apparently had a target on his back.