Reading my tone like any brother would, Bonez doesn’t push for more and turns his attention to the kid. “Who ya got there? She’s a pretty bear.”

  The cutie dances the toy in her lap and shrugs bashfully.

  “You gonna name her?” he asks.

  Another shrug is all she offers.

  “I think she looks like a…” Bonez scratches his goatee in exaggerated thought. If he wasn’t tryin’ to put on a show for the girl, I’d smack him upside the head for the antics. Instead, I do what any good sibling would and play along.

  Pursing my lips together, I scrunch my face in constipated deliberation as I join Bonez on the important search for the perfect teddy name.

  “Theodore?” he suggests after a moment.

  The lil one shakes her head, wearing the prettiest of crooked smiles. There’s an adorable gap between her two front teeth.

  Turning my nose up at the perfectly acceptable name, I roll my eyes at Bonez. “Try again, old man.”

  “Hey. Who you callin’ old?” A shoulder collides with mine hard. Going with the flow, I topple over onto the floor like an overgrown oaf. Making it a bigger spectacle, I bitch up a PG-13 under-breath storm at the disrespect. Drawing all the attention in the room, girls and women alike chuckle at my expense. I eat it up, knowing this might be the first they’ve laughed in ages.

  Still not finished with me, Bonez throws both muscled arms in the air with flourish. It’s fuckin’ spectacular. “That is what ya get for callin’ me old.”

  Curling into a ball on my side, an arm propping my head up, I glare at him. “Oh yeah?”

  He meets my glare with one of his own. “Yeah.”

  “It’s not my fault you can’t pick proper bear names,” I taunt.

  “Theodore is adequate.” Faux offended, Bonez flicks the side of my calf.

  I pretend to kick his advance away with a girlish gasp. “Real mature, Bonez. Real. Mature. I think you’d better ask the bear’s owner what a suitable name is.”

  The girl in question touches her belly as she trembles in silent laughter, tears streaming down both cheeks. In the corner of the room, fellow brothers record our performance on their phones. Good thing this can’t wind up on YouTube. This kinda fun isn’t for worldly consumption, only those I trust and give a damn about.

  Doing as he’s told, Bonez waggles his eyebrows at the kid. “Fine. All right. Theodore doesn’t work. What’s the bear’s name, sweetheart?”

  Just like that… the room goes lax, the amusement fading to a simmer as we await her response. I get off the floor to rejoin my brother. The beautiful kid combs a nervous hand through her hair, knowing she’s been put on the spot. All eyes look at her. I urge her forward with a smile. She’s got this. I know it. The entire room knows it.

  Her lips part, close, then part again. She peeks at my cut, reading my name patch letter for letter.

  “Gunz,” she mutters. “Her name is Gunz.”

  Good God.

  My heart… I rub the damn thing as it explodes like a balloon full of glitter. The pink-and-purple kind, in case you were wondering.

  Fuck.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  KIT

  The pain of a thousand spurs piercing my back sets my teeth on edge. I groan low in my chest as a violent chill rips through every cell. Palms flat on the cold, solid ground, grit embeds beneath my nails as I flex my fingers. Sharp pebbles imprint flesh. I blink to figure out where the hell I am—in nothing more than a sea of darkness. Inhaling deeply, mildew mixed with body odor and piss hits my nostrils like fresh skunk spray. Choking on the aroma, I blink twice more, but I still can’t see the damn thing. Water trickles nearby. A fusion of whimpers and subdued cries fill the air. Nearby, someone shrieks in agony—a woman.

  “Do we know her?” a voice mutters from feet away.

  I lie still, now realizing I’m not alone.

  There’s shuffling.

  An onslaught of whispers.

  Alright… Focus. A man was at my apartment, right? He had dark eyes, I think. After that… I remember nothing.

  “Please! No!” the shrieking female pleads. “Oh! God! Please! Stop!”

  A different person cries quietly to herself. “Fu-ck. F-uck. Fuck,” she stammers in fragments.

  “Are you awake?” a third woman asks, far calmer than the rest.

  Not knowing what to do, I ignore the throbbing in my spine and pretend they don’t exist. I don’t know these people. I don’t know anything anymore.

  A lone tear forms in the corner of my eye.

  I ignore the traitorous bastard.

  Nope. I’m not gonna cry. This is not the time for weakness. So what if I’ve been taken?

  Shit.

  Taken—like in that movie with Liam Neeson.

  Is that what this is?

  Wait.

  What?

  No.

  I’m nobody.

  I’m…

  A masculine grumble carries forth, his footsteps godlike as they stop far too close for comfort.

  “Please don’t come in. Please don’t come in,” a nearby female chants to herself.

  The door to our space opens with a rusty whine, and a hulking silhouette fills the frame, the light behind him forming a halo around his head.

  Lying deathly still to avoid detection, I hold my breath and shutter my eyelids just enough to watch the asshole shove a naked woman into the room. She stumbles on wobbly legs before collapsing in the middle of an area not much larger than a walk-in closet.

  A moment later, he’s gone. The thud of a lock engages in his wake.

  “Kit,” the newbie rasps as we descend back into darkness.

  It’s her. I’d recognize that voice anywhere… Gunz’s naked friend.

  Dammit.

  This isn’t good.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  GUNZ

  Leaning against a porch rail in desperate need of paint, I stare into the tranquil distance. There’s not a house as far as the eye can see. Not in the dark, anyhow. Cool, evening air fills my lungs as I continue to resist the urge to read Kit’s texts.

  Not knowin’ when to leave shit be, Bonez joins me as Blimp smokes a bowl on a rocker in the corner. He and White Boy shoot the shit as our resident fuckhead, Runner, gets his dick sucked on the tailgate of one of our pickups. Guess he couldn’t hold out like the rest of us. Had to call a random whore to get him off. Can’t say I’m surprised. The asshole didn’t learn a thing from the clusterfuck we handled today. It’s not like we don’t have a house full of sexually abused females. He ain’t worried about what they might think if they saw him. ’Cause that’d mean he’d have to use the peanut-sized brain in his goddamn skull.

  Whatever.

  Ain’t none of my business.

  He’s a piece of shit. Always has been. Always will be.

  Barely visible, Kade runs the parameter of the grounds. He’s on security detail tonight, so the rest of us can catch some Zzzz’s. As if that’ll happen.

  Bonez clears his throat.

  I know what he wants.

  When I don’t play into the subtlety, he tries a different tactic. “Spill it, brother.”

  I chuckle without humor. “Nothin’ to spill.”

  “You’ve got a kid now.”

  See. I knew he wouldn’t be able to let this go for long.

  Not in the mood to get into things, I shrug a single shoulder half-assed. “Yeah. So?”

  “And?”

  “And… what?” If he thinks I’m gonna offer up every personal detail about Kit and my son, he’s got another thing comin’.

  The rickety screen door opens, and a brother pops his head out. “Any you fuckers want a beer?”

  Knowin’ how the lot of us roll, I wave a dismissive hand. “We’re good. Thanks.” It’s an unspoken rule in the mother chapter—no drinking on runs when we’ve got civilians to protect. None of us know what Remy and his crew might pull. It’s best to remain sober. If Blimp wasn’t already high as a kite every waking moment, I’d give him hell too. Guess it’s a good thing he works best stoned.

  “Just holler if you need anythin’,” our brother offers before disappearing back inside.

  A loud, “Will do,” rasps outta Blimp between puffs.

  The nosy giant to my left kicks a stone. It flies into an overgrown bush that flanks the porch. “Alright, Gunz.” He sighs, annoying as fuck. “Don’t make me beat it outta ya.”

  Funny.

  I snort, unamused. “There’s nothin’ to say.” So, I’ve got a kid. He’s got a mom. What’s left to review? If I wanted to share. I’d share. Now’s not the time nor the place. We’re away from home, doin’ what needs done. This ain’t social hour.

  Meddlin’ like only he can, Bonez meets my stubbornness with a dose of his own. “Uh-huh. ‘Cept his name’s Adam, right? And his mama dropped her hot, purple-haired, tattooed ass on your doorstep not long ago.”

  Ugh.

  Teeth clenching, a low growl escapes my throat. I grip the banister and squeeze until the veins in my forearms throb. Someone has been running their mouth about my family without my permission. They’re mine. Not anyone else’s. Tattlin’ to my brother is a giant fuck no in my book.

  “See. I know shit,” he tosses out like the smug prick he is.

  Screw him.

  Sparing Bonez a glance over my shoulder, dyin’ to punch a hole through the nearest wall or his face, I grit a menacing, “Who told you?”

  His graying eyebrows hike skyward. “First or last person?”

  Red flashes behind my eyelids, my hold on the rail turning my knuckles white. “Christ. There’s more than one?”

  A nod. “Bink first. Then Big when he knew you were goin’ on the run.”

  Bink and Big. Figures.

  “It’s not their fuckin’ place,” I seethe, not caring they’re also family.

  My asshole brother expels an exasperated breath. “Maybe not Bink’s, but it is Big’s. We both know that. He doesn’t want your head in the clouds or you bottlin’ crap up when we’re doin’ what we gotta do here.”

  True. Big doesn’t butt in unless it could interfere with the safety of us all. I still don’t gotta like it.

  “Fine,” I concede as I watch a bat fly overhead. “But there ain’t shit else to explain.”

  “Except there is. You got a kid, brother… and his mom. You’ve never had a kid like this…”

  Never had a real kid to begin with. Sure, I helped raise Bink. That’s different. Janie and Dom haven’t been around long enough to be mine. I care for them. Love ‘em. That’s different, too.

  “Don’t worry. He’s grown now. Can’t fuck him up like us.” Can you imagine what that would’ve looked like? What kinda father I would’ve been?

  Bonez nudges the side of my boot with his own. “What the hell? I wasn’t thinkin’ that. You’re worried about that?”

  Terrified.

  Not wanting to scratch the surface of my deepest fears, I shrug and massage the base of my neck. “No… I mean… Fuck… His mom…”

  “You like her.” The asshole reads between the lines far too well.

  “Sure. We’ll go with that.” I’m addicted. A full-on addict. It doesn’t make sense to me. Not even a little. Doesn’t make it any less true, though. I can’t get the witch outta my head. Not for a single minute. She lingers there, under my skin, in my thoughts. Talkin’ about her makes it worse.

  “You never liked anyone like this woman.” A statement, not a question.

  Lost in thoughts of her, I bob my head like a moron. “Truth.”

  My brother’s tone grows soft. “Then what’s the issue?”

  “You know…” I trail off, ’cause Bonez gets it. He always does.

  “The childhood stuff? The kinks? What?”

  All the above.

  “We ain’t right, ya know? ’Cause of that shit.” You know what I’m talkin’ about too. Not the prettiest picture, huh? Didn’t think so.

  “Your point?”

  “I can’t like her.”

  “’Cause of the—”

  “Sex, childhood, all of it. I can’t like anyone like that. She deserves better.”

  “Better than what?” Bonez counters.

  Aggravated to the point of violence, I throw both hands in the air and face him. “This! Me! Better than me!” I slap the center of my chest. Doesn’t he fuckin’ get it? It’s not rocket science. One plus one equals two. I’m the problem in this equation. Kit deserves heaven, not hell. Love, not motherfuckin’ immorality.

  Not down with my outburst, Bonez drops both of his hands on the top of my shoulders and squeezes hard enough to leave bruises. His nostrils flare. “You listen here, and you listen good. If you wanna be with someone, you will. You’re loyal to a fault. You won’t need the whores anymore. You know yourself. I know you. Do you really think you’d harm someone you care about?”

  I’m not my mother or my father. I’m not like Runner or half the brothers who don’t give a shit about the women they claim to love. All they care about is sex. Don’t get me wrong, I do, too. It’s part of me. The desires and twisted parts won’t disappear. The itch to control and fuck always lingers. But…

  “No,” I reply and mean it, ’cause I’d never harm a single hair on that sexy woman’s head.

  Sighing, I twist from my brother’s grip and close my eyes. There she is—again. Grinning this time, lying in bed beside me, reading.

  Just like that… my dick turns to granite.

  Ignoring the beast, I eject a rush of air and yank a Dum Dum from my pocket. The moment sweet bliss hits my tongue, it’s relief in the purest form. Tension bleeds from my shoulders. My erection starts to subside.

  Stepping up beside me, Bonez bumps his giant bicep against mine in brotherly affection as we watch a club whore right her skirt in the lot. Runner must be done.

  “I’ve never been—” I begin.

  “In love,” he cuts in. “I get it’s not the same for us. It won’t be, ’cause of Mom. But you worrying ain’t gonna solve jack shit. You’ll love how you’re supposed to love when you’re supposed to love. There’s no rule book on how that’s gotta look or be.” Bonez delivers another arm thump. “I can’t believe we’re havin’ this conversation. Didn’t see that one comin’.”

  I smirk, half-cocked. “Me neither.” Not in this lifetime.

  “Got me a nephew.” The bastard puffs his chest with pride. “He look like us?”

  Rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of this conversation, I give my brother what he seeks—honesty. “Yeah, Bonez. He looks like us.”

  He chuckles in full-bodied childish delight. I share in the sentiment with a smile. It’s small and lacks enthusiasm, but it’s there.

  The long-bearded asshole in the corner whistles loudly, drawing our attention.

  “You ladies done yet?” Blimp’s rocker creeks as it struggles to bear his weight.

  We both snicker and join him on the far end of the porch. Blimp offers Bonez a hit. My brother declines with a respectful head shake.

  “Suit yourself.” Blimp tokes and holds it before liberating an impressive cloud of smoke into the night. Wearing a dazed grin, he rocks back in the chair and strokes his beard. “Maybe you can help us with somethin’ important.”

  “Uh-huh… what’s that?” I ask.

  He looks to White Boy and jerks his chin. “You explain.”

  “I got a text from Hunter, Jade’s boy. He was askin’ if I’d seen his mom.”

  “Okay… And?” I gesture for him to keep on.

  “He hasn’t seen her since yesterday morning, and she hasn’t responded to any of my texts or calls since then. I told him to check out my mom’s place. He said she’s not home either. Blimp hasn’t heard from her since last night.”

  That’s not exactly something to worry about with those two. “They’re best friends. You sure they’re not out havin’ a girls’ night or somethin’?” Probably holed up in some hotel, drinkin’ cheap margaritas. They do that. Party hard. Let loose. Especially Loretta, White Boy’s mom. She’s the wild card.

  White Boy sits up straighter and grips his knees. “We were thinkin’ that, too. But Blimp called over to Mom’s work, and they said she didn’t show for shift tonight.”

  “And she never misses work,” Blimp adds before I get a chance to ask.

  The phone in my back pocket vibrates with an incoming call. I pluck it free and check the number. It’s Prez.

  “’Ello?” I answer, hopin’ he’s callin’ for a status update and not what Blimp and White Boy are going on about.

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  Fuck.

  I sigh. “How big we talkin’?”

  “Where you at?”

  I glance at my brothers. They’ve stopped talking and are focused on me, concern etched in their faces. “On the porch of the safe house with Bonez, Blimp, and White Boy.”

  “Alright, we’re gonna need privacy,” Prez explains.

  Fuuuck.

  “That bad?”

  “Yep.”

  Great.

  Just great.

  Leaving my brothers to fend for themselves, I don’t bother explaining shit as I jog down the porch steps and find a quiet spot along the side of the house between two overgrown bushes. Kade’s shadow passes in the distance. Once he’s made it down the way, I lean against the worn wood siding. “Okay… we’re good.”

  Big clears his throat in his I’m-pissed-off-ready-to-commit-murder way. I know it well. “Remy sent a crew to kidnap our women who don’t live on the compound. We don’t know where they are, but we know he has ‘em. A text was sent from a burner phone about an hour ago with pictures.” A slew of grumbled curse words follow his announcement.

  For the sake of the club, I remain calm. That’s how I roll when I’m not fucked up on fucking emotions. This is business. We ain’t got time for sentiments clouding our judgment. “What kinda pictures?” I discard the empty sucker stick and replace it with a fresh blueberry one.