Chapter 1
ONE
Hush
The sound of rain echoed off the roof of the porch and Gracie turned to me with a smile that reached her eyes. I loved her smile. It was like watching the sunrise and listening to the doves sing.
Her knees are pulled to her chest with her nightgown slung over her legs. The thin sheerness of it made the material dance at the slightest breeze.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked.
“Yes.” Though I wasn’t looking at the sunrise. “What are you thinking about?” I asked from next to her. My arm rested over the back of the swing as we swayed front to back.
She was always lost in thought on mornings like these.
“I’m thinking about how I never want to leave this place. It’s perfect here.” She was right about that. Our two-story farmhouse overlooked the mountains of Oregon.
We made it our morning ritual to always come out here and watch the sun rise through the mountains. She drank her coffee dowsed in caramel and I just listened. Whatever it was she talked about, I sat and listened. It was a peaceful way to start the day, and it became my favorite moment with her.
With my Gracie.
“We never have to leave.” I pulled her close, her body nestled into my side. The smell of her shampoo invaded me, and I inhaled every bit of it.
“All good things come to an end eventually. Even this will one day end.”
I stopped the sway of the swing, and her big, brown eyes peered up at me. I moved a strand of her fallen hair and then dropped my forehead to hers. “I promise we will always have each other. Here. In our home. Looking out at the mountains… with Lola.”
Gracie chuckled. “See. I knew you had a soft spot for her.”
I shrugged, giving off a faint smirk. “She’s growing on me.”
“You’re her favorite and don’t even act like you don’t love her, too.”
I hated cats but I liked Lola. Damn thing never left my side. She slept at my feet. Never thought I’d like a cat the way I liked Gracie’s Lola.
“Yeah, but I like you more,” I told her.
“And I love you, Liem.”
We stayed like that for a bit longer before going back to our responsibilities.
If it were up to me, she’d never work again.
We’d have five kids like she wanted. She could stay home and raise them, and we’d spend every morning on this damn swing, drinking coffee and listening to the birds. That’s all I wanted. All I needed.
Gracie put her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. “Give me five more minutes.”
I’d give her hours if it meant she’d be happy. She’s been so tired lately working too much. I laid my head down on hers and closed my eyes too. Her body warm against mine, seeming so fragile, yet strong.
My Gracie. My love. My everything.
“Liem.” The sound of her voice grew faint. “Liem. Wake up.”
I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to stay here. With her.
“Wake up, Liem.”
Thunder rumbled in the sky.
A storm was coming.
And then she was gone.
Again.
My eyes spring open to the sound of a loud bang at my door. Sweat trickles down my temples, down my back. I stare up at the ceiling wiping sweat off my brow.
The pain in my chest always worsens after one of those dreams. I wanted to stay with her. But every time, I just wake up.
“Yo, Hush! You alive in there?” Tank pounds another fist against the wood.
Barely. According to the voices.
I drag myself out from under the damp covers then whip open the door. “Yeah?” I run my hand through the hair that has fallen.
“Sorry, man, but Chain called church. Everyone meets in ten.”
I cast a glance behind him to the empty hallway. “I’ll be there.”
Tank nods as I shut the door and head for the bathroom. I stay here at the clubhouse most days. It’s just easier that way. I like being alone, but I hated being alone at my place more.
I spit the toothpaste out and then splash cold water on my face, taking a second to let it trickle down my skin, over my bare chest. With my head low, I let my shoulders hold the weight of my body while trying to clear my mind.
Fuck, those dreams sucked. Always feel too real, and they sucked because I end up waking up realizing they aren’t anything but a memory.
Damn it hurts.
I finish getting myself together and then stalk down the hall to the meeting room.
In church Chain talks about a trade meet up. But I can barely focus on anything he’s saying. I’m present physically but right now… my mind is elsewhere. Back on the fucking porch in Oregon.
My blood runs on fire every day. Probably what keeps me alive at this point. Vengeance fuels my only motivation. And I keep craving it like a warm dessert, hungry for more.
A noise jerks me back into focus.
Chain slammed the gavel down dismissing us.
“Hey. You stay.” His meaty finger points my way, and he waits for everyone to leave before handing me a piece of paper with an address written on it.
It’s one I recognize in the slums. “I need you and Throttle to pay this guy a visit for me. His name is Grizzly. Don’t let that fool you though, he’s a five-foot little weasel who owes the club money.
Just need you to go and scare him a bit. ”
Chain got him and Grizzly’s girl out of a tough situation. Needed help with food and rent. He was always a twitchy punk. According to our Prez.
I nod, tucking the paper into my jean pocket then glance back at my President who’s studying me with an apprehensive look. “Anything else, boss?”
A beat passes. “No. That’s it.”
That wasn’t it. He wants to say something, but I nod and make my exit, avoiding small talk like the plague. It’s uncomfortable and makes me itch.
I grab my ski mask, hat, gloves, and head straight for my Harley parked inside one of the shop’s garages. Then wait for Throttle.
The snow is thick enough to cover the drive and side path, and it’s fucking cold, but that’s not going to stop me. I beat my kickstand up before backing her up.
Throttle walks over with a little more pep in his step and stops at my side, hands inside his hoodie pocket and his breath visible in the air. “Hey, man. Ride with me in the truck.”
Throttle’s mood has been one tick off from Santa Claus.
He and his girl finally hooked up after three long years of ignoring their true feelings.
We all knew it would happen; just didn’t think it would take so damn long.
Tequila’s a sweet chick. All the ol’ ladies are.
Charger’s ol’ lady, Jules and of course Maggie, our President’s.
They’re badass and the guys have every right to be proud.
Even Angel earned my respect as the only female patched member.
“I’m solid but thanks. I’ll meet you there.” I zip up my leather and get ready to take off, but he steps in front of my ride.
“You know… my ol’ lady is kind of fond of you. So if you go and get yourself killed on black ice or some shit, that’ll make her depressed as fuck.”
For a second, something warm coats my chest at the thought of Tequila or anyone for that matter, spending an ounce of energy caring for me. Is riding my Harley in the dead ass of winter stupid? Yes. I’m fully aware of the potential risks. I just don’t give a damn.
Do it.
“I’m good,” I reassure him.
Seconds tick by before he nods in surrender and side steps, allowing me to pass.
The wind violently rips through me, and I pull my mask up higher. The blur of the trees is left behind as downtown comes into view. It’s not the shittiest but also not the greatest. I’ve ridden in worse.
Right now, there’s only a staggering of people, some unhoused huddled in corners of the alleyways. At least they have blankets. If not, I’d come back later with some.
I look for the correct apartment then park my Harley on the street, making sure to lock it.
There’re passing glances from people entering the building as I stand by my bike waiting for Throttle.
We haven’t earned that kind of reputation here, but they’re not dumb enough to find out what we’re capable of.
They see an MC and immediately want no part.
Even if we’re not that kind of club. Not without purpose anyway.
Throttle pulls up beside me with a nod. “Ready to do this?”
“Always.” I’ve been on these kinds of jobs with him before. We work well together. But our last one wasn’t exactly ordered by our President. Going rogue was impulsive, but we did it to protect Throttle’s girl, and I’d do it again. For any of my brothers. And their ol’ ladies.
The old, rickety stairs creak as I follow Throttle up two floors, stopping in front of the apartment door. My bat hangs at my side, and I can smell the foul odor seeping through from the other side. Cigarettes. Spoiled food. Bad hygiene. Whatever, you name it.
The tapping of my bat connecting with the door echoes off the walls, and I only give it a passing beat before pounding again but this time with my fist. Me and Throttle wait in bated breaths side by side.
There’s finally signs of life with muffled sounds and footsteps. “Who the fuck?”
Taking advantage of our kindness isn’t something we can ignore. Word spreads we’ve gone soft, and that leaves us open and vulnerable. We have too many enemies for that.
The door flies open, Grizzly’s eyes widening in shock and fear. “Shit.” He quickly tries to shut it, but I kick it back open with the steel of my boot, sending him scurrying back.
Throttle’s laugh bounces off the walls of nothing. “Come on, man. That’s no way to greet your guests.”
My boot meets the door again, slamming it closed.
“Hey. Hey. Sorry, guys. How, uh, are you? Want a drink?” Grizzly stutters, about pissing himself.
I scan the apartment while Throttle prowls on him, kindly reminding him of the cash he has yet to pay back. There’s trash everywhere. Old food containers, cups, and the smell is horrid, but I dull it from my senses. The stench is going to take forever to get out.
At the far end, a woman is passed out on the only furniture in the place.
It’s a fucked-up couch with cigarette burns lining the stained material.
Not to mention the needles carelessly lying around on the floor.
There’s a tourniquet wrapped tightly around her arm that’s turning blue because that damn thing is cutting off circulation. How long has that been there?
A thud sounds from across the small apartment and Throttle has our guy against the wall. I’m usually the one who does the enforcing but looks like he’s got the situation handled.
I remove the band off the unconscious woman, checking her for a pulse. It’s faint but there. A wave of emotion attacks me, but I press it back down.
Not now! I shout from inside my head.
I give her arm a shake. “You gotta wake up for me.” My voice comes out in a soft demand not even sure she can hear me.
After another shoulder shake, she grunts and lolls her head to the side. At least she’s coherent.
I wait patiently for Throttle to be done scaring Grizzly into the next century and when Throttle gives a final blow to our guy’s gut, he goes down.
Now we’re finished.
“No more loans, Grizzly. Get your shit together.” Throttle points to the semi battered body on the floor.
Grizzly holds his right side, groaning. He’ll be fine. Throttle barely touched him and from what I can tell, it’s more drama than anything.
Honestly, it’s not about the money. We can’t look weak attracting targets on our backs.
My turn.
I meet him down on his level. “When you hear us leave, you call an ambulance for your woman,” I order him sternly, but my voice isn’t as loud or echoing as Throttle’s.
These jobs take everything out of me mentally and it has nothing to do with the interrogation side of it.
When outside and bundled back up, Throttle gets in his truck first letting me know he’ll see me back at the clubhouse, but I hang back waiting for the first sound of help.
At the sound of the distant sirens, I start up my Harley and head back to the clubhouse. The sirens will play in my mind for days after this, haunting me like the same nightmares.