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  “Fuck, girl, what the hell happened to your face?” Dealer asked.

  Dirty grabbed her chin in a firm but gentle hold, tilted her head up and toward the light, and cursed. “Who did this to you, Claire?” He spoke in a menacing, hard voice, saying it more like a statement, like a “you better tell me what the fuck I want to know” tone.

  The fact she was here without her boyfriend probably alerted them to the fact it was probably the asshole that had done this to her.

  “It was that little fucker, wasn’t it?” Dealer asked through gritted teeth.

  Judging by all of their expressions it was clear the guys knew her then-boyfriend had done this, even if Dealer had asked.

  “It’s nothing,” she lied and moved her head to the side, breaking his hold on her.

  The three bikers stared down at her, all of them towering over her five-foot-five frame. When they didn’t make a move or say anything else, she sighed.

  “It’s nothing, really. Can I just see Mayhem?” She’d talk to her brother about the trouble she was in and see what he had to say. After that, Mayhem would talk to the guys, because there were no secrets in the club. That was a part of their code, of their rules. She’d come here for help, and even if she was coming to Mayhem, she knew all the guys would be involved. Mayhem would let the club in on the major fuck-up Claire found herself in.

  “You want to talk to Mayhem, okay, but don’t bullshit us on the fact you’re fine,” Dealer said, his voice hard, gravelly even.

  “Yeah, that bruise and cut on the side of your face ain’t nothin’, sweetheart,” Dirty said, a toothpick between his lips, the cigarette now gone.

  “Come on.”

  She turned and followed Shorty, who was making his way up the driveway, across the parking lot, and toward the front doors. The sound of music and laughter came through the clubhouse the closer she got, louder with every foot she put in front of the other. Her heart was pounding, her head felt light, and she knew she had to stay strong.

  Shorty opened the front door, and they all walked in. Cigarette and pot smoke slammed into her, and was so thick it was like she walked through a second door. The sound of rock music blasted around her, the raised voices and laughter filling the air. Sounds of glasses clanking together, of the men hollering, the sweet-butts moaning and giggling, and of crude and foul language being spouted off, reminded Claire of all the times she’d spent partying with the club. This was the norm, familiar, and as reckless and wild as it was, it was what Claire was used to.

  As she looked around the clubhouse, at the stripper poles put up in the corners, the couches around them, the pool table, tables, custom built bar, and all the other shit that allowed these guys to wind down after a hard night of work, had memories coming back full force. The sweet-butts were everywhere, half dressed, or not at all, tits and ass all up in everyone’s view, and as she glanced around, seeing some familiar faces, but a lot of unfamiliar ones, she knew nothing had changed.

  Ash was behind the bar serving up drinks, and although he was a Patch, and usually the prospects were the ones doing the “bitch” work, Ash always liked making the alcoholic drinks.

  As Claire continued to look around the packed room, trying to find her brother, Mayhem was nowhere to be found. There were just too many people partying, too much smoke in the room, so that it all seemed like a blur. And when as she looked over toward the hallway, everything in her stilled, her body freezing on its own as she stared at the one man she’d tried to forget for the last two years, tried to put behind her.

  Big.

  Motherfucking Big.

  He stood there, his stance arrogant, and his totally over the top caveman attitude pouring from him. He stood next to a few club girls, the bitches giving him the “fuck me now” eyes. Claire couldn’t blame them though. Big was quite a man. He was all man, actually.

  There was a small square mirror being passed around, the white powder on top cut into thin lines. It was no secret the club liked to party, and that meant drinking copious amounts of booze, smoking weed, and even partaking in a little nose candy.

  A couple of the other club members, Woods and Stone, came up to where Big and the sweet-butts were hanging, and as she watched the guys snort a line of coke, she told herself she’d left this place, left the man she’d loved, because things could have never worked out. She’d wanted one thing from Big, and that was all of him. She’d only wanted him. He was just too hardcore to settle down it seemed, and she’d had to accept that, or live her life pining after a man that might have loved her, but that had a lot of other shit on his plate.

  She watched as he leaned forward slightly, Stone holding the mirror. Big had rolled up bill he was using to snort up the white powder. Drugs weren’t her thing, never had been, but she didn’t care if anyone did it, especially not these men. These bikers didn’t abuse it, but instead used it to let loose, relax, and get rid of the demons they carried. Being in an MC wasn’t all partying and booze. No, they did things that had their souls darkened, their entire beings tainted. They partied and enjoyed themselves, but they also took care of business. Nothing stood in their way when it came to club dealings.

  Claire was still frozen, and when she watched Big stand to his impressive six-foot-five height, turn and face her, she swore the world tilted. He was still so damn handsome, but not in a classic sense, but in the “bad boy, he’ll beat a motherfucker up” way. And Big had no problem laying people out, had no problem cutting throats and breaking bones to make his point and to protect the ones he called family.

  He hadn’t seen her yet, so she watched him unobstructed. He ran his hand under his nose, wiping away any coke residue, and then ran another finger over the mirror before rubbing the coke-coated digit over his gums. He then scanned the club. Stone was saying something to him, and Big smirked, but otherwise kept looking around the club. He still sported the messed up short hair, the color as dark as his soul was at times. And when his gaze landed on her, his stare penetrating, as if he were touching her right now, moving his hand all over her body, she couldn’t help but fall back into the past of that black, inky darkness.

  “Looks like Big has his eye on you already, girl,” Dirty said, and clapped her lightly on the shoulder. “You want a drink?”

  She shook her head, although a good, hard shot might do her some good. There were no secrets in the club, and everyone knew she’d been fucking around with Big back in the day. And when she was with Big, she had been with him, only him. No one else had come around, not those fucking twats that hung around the club and spread their legs because they thought that would get them the coveted old lady title. She hadn’t wanted anyone else, and no other guy had the balls large enough to come after her because she’d been exclusive with Big.

  “On second thought I think now is probably a good time to have a drink.”

  Dirty grunted and nodded, and she saw him out of the corner of her eyes go to the bar. But Claire was focused on Big, at the fact he still hadn’t moved from his spot in the corner of the club, and how he kept watching her, like some kind of lion waiting to devour her.

  Yeah, he clearly still had an effect on her, but she reminded herself she wasn’t here to rehash or revisit the past. She was here because she was in deep shit.

  Chapter Two

  She was here. Claire was fucking here, looking at him like she had all those damn years ago, and making him want to just say screw the past, fuck the fact she left, and just take her in his arms and claim her. Big didn’t lie about the fact he thought about her, jerked off to the remembrance of her tight pussy, of the fact her sweet, pink cunt would get so damn wet for him. Shit, she used to get so sloppy for him, so soaked that he’d lap up her pussy cream like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever had.

  It was the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. She was the best fucking lay you’ve ever had, and you know why.

  Yeah, he knew why, and it was because she was his girl, the only one he’d wanted.

  E
ven thinking about her, about her tight, hot pussy, got his cock hard, had his balls drawing up tight, and had him wanting to just walk up there and throw her over his shoulder before carrying off to his room.

  Man, he’d fuck her so good and hard she wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably the next day. He'd make her pussy sore, but it would be the good kind of sore, the kind that had her remembering he had his big cock in her tight little pussy the night before, pounding it in and out of her until she creamed all over him. Hell, he’d fill her up with so much cum it would be slipping out of her pussy and making her panties soaked all over again. She’d know who she belonged to, that was for damn sure.

  But despite wanting to say fuck everything that had happened, and the fact he’d tried to move on and forget about “the one that got away”, he wasn’t about to do shit with her because she’d moved on, and so had he.

  You lying motherfucker.

  Whatever she was here for didn’t have anything to do with him. She was probably in trouble, and that had everything in him tightening and coming alive and alert. When Dirty came back with a shot for her, and she tossed it back like she knew how to fucking party, he knew she was here because something had gone down. She might not be his anymore, but that didn’t mean Big stopped caring for her.

  That knowledge, that fact he could read her as well as any of the other Patches in this place, had him standing up straighter and his focus trained solely on her.

  She handed the now empty shot glass to Dirty, and he watched as they headed toward the back of the club, where the meeting room was, and where he knew Mayhem, the club’s VP, was currently getting it on with one of the sweet-butts. If Dirty was stupid enough to drag Claire back there, most likely to walk in on her twin getting down and dirty, then that was on his ass.

  “Man, some shit’s going down with Claire,” Stone said and took a hit off of a joint that was handed to him by Woods.

  Big looked over at him. “Why do you say that?” Although Big knew shit was going down with Claire, as otherwise she wouldn’t be here, he wanted to know what Woods thought. When the patched member didn’t say anything Big looked at him.

  Huge in size, and cruel in personality and action when it came to people fucking with him or the club, Woods was a mean motherfucker that didn’t take shit from anyone. He said what was on his mind, reacted first, and hardly ever thought about the repercussions, if any, because of what he did. Woods was now busy staring at a club girl’s chest, and it was clear the fucker had since moved on to a different subject, that being tits and ass.

  “Hey,” Big said and smacked the guy in the arm. Woods glowered at Big, brought the joint to his mouth, and took a big hit off of it before exhaling the smoke.

  “What the fuck? You see I’m trying to get my dick wet here?”

  “Why the hell you think Claire’s here?”

  Woods shrugged. “Probably something going down with that asshole she was dating. Or maybe she needs money, although I doubt she’d come here with a suitcase in hand if she needed green.” Woods took another hit. “I’d say she’s here because of that prick she’s been seeing,” Woods said with a lungful of smoke, his voice deep and tight.

  Big felt his annoyance rise. He hadn’t known she’d been seeing a motherfucker. When she left the club—and him—she’d been single, her pussy still sore from him owning the hell out of it.

  “I hadn’t heard she’d been laying with another guy.” Big tried to sound like he didn’t give a shit, but of course he did. He clenched his jaw, snagged the joint from Woods, and took a big hit off of it, needing to calm down after hearing that news.

  And that bruise she sported… He shook his head and clenched his hands into fists, his anger rising at the fact she wore that black and blue color on her face like it was a fashion statement.

  Big took a step toward the hallway she’d gone down, his instincts taking over, but Woods grabbed his arm, stopping him.

  “Whatcha doing, Big?”

  Big glared at Woods. “Get your fuckin’ hands off me, man.”

  Woods did, and raised them in surrender, the joint balanced between his lips. “She ain’t yours, Big. You going over to her acting like that is just going to push her away. I think she’s been through some deep shit, and going caveman on her will seriously fuck things up.”

  Big was fuming inside, but Woods was right.

  “Give her a minute to talk to Mayhem. He’ll tell us what’s going on if she doesn’t,” Woods said and took a hit off the joint.

  Woods was right, but that didn’t mean Big liked the fact, or wanted to stand back and wait. He’d give her the time she needed to talk to Mayhem, because once the VP knew what was going on he’d let everyone in on it if it meant the club needed to act. As it was she was clearly here for club protection, and as much as he tried to stay away from her, or say he’d stay away from her, it was damn hard.

  ****

  Claire pushed the door open in the backroom and stared at Mayhem. There was a woman on his lap bouncing on him like she was on a trampoline. Well, tramp was a good word to describe her, because Claire remembered this particular sweet-butt. She was one that had been after Big when Claire had been with him.

  She should have turned around, and even though she couldn’t see anything because the club bitch had her skirt still on and the material covered up … that, seeing her brother in this position was nasty. Although she’d caught Mayhem and just about all the club members in compromising positions over the years, she would never get used to this, never find this less than nauseating.

  “Mayhem, I need to talk with you,” she said without letting it be known she found this sight repulsive. Claire waited until Mayhem looked over the sweet-butt’s shoulder and at her.

  “Claire?” he said in a breathless, confused voice, his brows knitted.

  She closed the door, giving him privacy to get cleaned up, because she knew now that he saw she was here he wouldn’t make her wait to speak with him. She’d seen Mayhem a few times during these last couple of years, but it hadn’t been on club property, and she hadn’t told him she was showing up tonight. Claire leaned against the wall and waited.

  “You want me to stay?” Dirty asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine, but thanks.”

  Dirty nodded and left.

  She knew Mayhem would tell the club about this, because she was here, seeking club protection, and anything that dealt with the MC meant the whole crew would be involved. But right now Claire just wanted to talk to her twin, wanted to let him know why she was here, and then she could go from there.

  The door opened a few moments later and the sweet-butt stepped out, adjusting her shirt and skirt and eyeing Claire up and down.

  Claire stood there, not caring about some slut, and turned to head in the room. She kept her head lowered to the ground. “Are you decent?”

  “Of course,” Mayhem said with annoyance. “But if you would have knocked the first time you walking in on me would have been avoided.”

  “Agreed. I wasn’t thinking.” She lifted her head and saw her twin standing by the window, his cut on and the patch in the center of his back, on the black leather, right in front of her like a deadly promise. Bleeding Mayhem MC was known not only in town, but also in the whole state as being brutal in everything they did. No one messed with them. No one even thought of going against them … not if they were smart. The poor, stupid fools that did try to overpower the MC got dealt with quickly and efficiently, their demise a lesson to anyone that wanted to go up against the club.

  She didn’t say anything, because she knew the bruise on her face was noticeable, and although she had looked into her brother’s eyes for only a moment, she knew Mayhem had seen the mark. Claire wouldn’t have come here if shit hadn’t gone down the way it had, and Mayhem knew that. At twenty-eight they were both so much alike, despite Mayhem’s club reputation, and the fact he lived a much different life than she had in the last two years. Claire might have grown up in th
is town, too, been around the MC when she was younger, but she never got engrained in it, not like Mayhem.

  The club was her family, and the men within it people she cared about, loved, but what the Patches did in the club wasn’t something she’d ever been included in, and she was glad for that.

  Being with Big hadn’t brought her any closer to being an old lady, or being “part” of the club in that way. No matter who she was related to, and what their position in this MC was, Claire was just Claire.

  “Did that motherfucker do that to you?” Mayhem asked in a deep voice, obviously jumping to conclusions. He turned around and faced her before she could answer. “Although I know the answer already.”

  She’d only been with Steven for a few months. It hadn’t been love, hadn’t been anything more than Claire trying to start her life, forget about the man she really wanted. Hell, they hadn’t even had sex yet.

  “I’m going to fucking kill him, Claire.”

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Can I tell you what happened before things go down that path?”

  “You can, but it doesn’t make anything change. And when Big finds out about this…” Mayhem shook his head again. “He’ll want to go after him with murder on his mind, and no way in hell I’m stopping that.”

  She breathed out, knowing Big would find out, and knowing things would get even worse before they got better. There was silence for a moment, and before she could speak Mayhem was talking again.

  “You better fucking tell me this was the first time he’s laid his hands on you, Claire, because if you were stupid enough to let him do it more than once—”

  “It was only this once. You know me better than that. No man puts his hands on me.”

  Mayhem grunted and nodded. “Then tell me you got in a good shot.”