Vice watched the entrance of the store for a few moments, and no one came out. There was toasted marshmallow ice cream at the clubhouse, and Vice didn’t want to take the time to park and go in. The lights in the front window of the store went out for a moment, and he realized it was almost closing time.

  Forbidden Lake didn’t have any twenty-four hour grocery stores, and if he didn’t get around to the back and get the cans, he’d have double the work tomorrow night. And tomorrow night was the end-of-summer celebration at the lake, and he wanted to go to that.

  He’d vowed to find someone new to date by that event, and he hadn’t done it. House brought it up every single day, and Vice was determined to attend the event and leave it with a date.

  “Have to do something to get over her,” he told himself, revving his bike and going around to the back door of the store. Employees parked back here, but there was a no-parking zone with stripes on the asphalt in front of one of the entrances to the back of the store, which was filled with product. The large bay doors to his left were where the semi-trucks pulled up to unload the boxes and barrels and pallets, but Jordan never entered and exited that way.

  He pulled up to the door and turned so the trailer was right by the entrance. He’d learned a lot of tricks over the years to make this job go faster, not that he minded the work. With the engine off, the silence in the air almost sounded deafening, and it definitely made his ears ring.

  Vice whistled to himself as he pulled open the door and went into the huge, industrial storage area at the back of the grocery store.

  “Hey,” someone said. More like a hiss, really.

  Vice froze and looked around, trying to find the person who’d spoken. But they were hidden. Something felt off about the store, and he didn’t dare take another step. His pulse pounded in the back of his throat as he said, “Hello?”

  “Jordan,” a woman said, and he recognized that voice. Not to mention that Felicia was the only one who ever called him by his real name. “Get down.”

  He looked to his left, and he caught sight of her terrified face. “Get down?”

  “Get over here,” a man growled, and Vice moved toward them. He found three people huddled on the floor behind an enormous freezer, fear the only emotion on their faces.

  He dropped into a crouch, confused. “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t believe he didn’t lock that door.”

  “I told you he didn’t.”

  “And I told him it didn’t lock.”

  The three of them looked at one another, and then they all looked at Vice.

  “What’s going on?” he asked again, slower this time.

  “We called the police.”

  “I can’t believe they’re not here yet.”

  “It’s only been three minutes.” Felicia looked at Vice. “There are a couple of guys here, robbing the store. They’re taking cash from the registers and trying to get the bank open.”

  “Right now?” Vice’s first instinct was to stand up and look. Find out for himself.

  “Right now,” the man said.

  Vice pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Mav.”

  “You will not,” Felicia hissed. “And stop talking out loud.”

  Vice looked at her. “Why don’t we just go out the back?”

  “He said if we weren’t here when he came back, he’d hunt us down and kill us.” The man—Vice thought his name was Dante Chappell—looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Wide eyes. Pure fear.

  Vice hadn’t been here when that threat had been issued, and he wasn’t sure he’d have believed it. He could just walk right out the door. Get back on his bike. Leave.

  One glance at Felicia, and he knew he wouldn’t do that. She was still as beautiful as ever, and his attraction to her crackled like bottled electricity. Could she feel it too? Did she even care?

  He couldn’t tell, because she looked like she was about to throw up. A fierce desire to protect her flowed through him, and he jerked his head up as the black plastic door that led into the main storefront banged against the wall.

  “Where are you?” a man called, and all three people in front of him whimpered.

  “You go,” he whispered to them. “I’ll figure something out.” He moved then, no hesitation as he stayed low to the ground and snuck away from the trio.

  He had no idea what to do. He didn’t know who he was dealing with, or how many of them there were. Details like that would’ve been nice to know, and he paused as he caught sight of movement through the gaps in the shelves.

  Only one guy, he told himself. At least he hadn’t spoken out loud that time. A glance toward the plastic door confirmed that no one else had come through it.

  Vice almost smiled. One guy? He’d been fighting since the age of twelve, and he’d taken on more than one guy so many times he’d lost count.

  He crept along the shelf, his footsteps silent. All of the boxes here were taped shut, and Vice couldn’t get his hands on something he could throw without making some noise.

  Voices and cries came from the end of the aisle, but Vice didn’t look that way. He ducked around the end of the shelving unit so he wouldn’t be seen.

  “Boyd,” a loud voice came over the loudspeaker. “Pigs are here. Time to roll.”

  Vice’s brain whirred. He needed to keep Boyd from getting back to his friends, though he supposed he could just as easily go out the back door.

  He didn’t though.

  Vice knew the large cardboard container that held the dents and dings usually sat in the middle of the aisle he’d been going down before getting hissed at. Plenty of cans—missiles—there. And they were already dinged up.

  His heartbeat hammered in his head, and he drew in a deep breath. When he moved around the end of the aisle, he was running, and he searched the area down by the freezer. A man stood there, his face a mask of anger.

  Vice yelled, drawing the man’s attention, a moment before he reached the cardboard container. He had two cans, one in each hand, before the man had even looked up. Vice launched the cans, one right after the other. He continued to yell as the loudspeaker sounded again. But his voice was too loud inside his own head for him to understand the words coming through the speakers.

  The man screamed too, but Vice didn’t stop. When the man clutched his face with both hands and fell to his knees, he did.

  “Come on,” he said, sprinting toward the guy, who wore a leather jacket and plenty of ink on his skin. He wasn’t a Sentinel. He wasn’t a former Hawk.

  The back of his jacket had a patch that struck fear right behind Vice’s heart—a skull with a snake coming out of the mouth, which then wisped into what looked like smoke.

  The Devil’s Breath.

  In Forbidden Lake. This was bad, and this guy shouldn’t be here. He was starting a war with the Sentinels. Were the Breath that hard-up for cash?

  It didn’t make sense.

  “Focus,” he muttered to himself. “Get up, guys. Go, go, go!” Vice went right past the outlaw biker on the ground, wanting to kick him or clock him over the head with a sizable can of green beans. He did neither as he continued by, reaching for and grabbing Felicia’s hand.

  “Time to go,” he said. “Now.” Thankfully, the other two guys were aware enough to jump to their feet and go in front of him. Vice shielded Felicia with his body as they followed the others out the door, and when the heavy metal door slammed closed, Vice slowed a little.

  But he didn’t stop. The four of them ran toward the back of the lot and ducked behind a pickup truck parked there. His breathing hitched in his chest, but he could still smell the flowery, rosy scent of Felicia’s perfume.

  Her hand in his stayed, and Vice squeezed it. Their eyes met, and even under the glow of the orange streetlight, Vice thought Felicia was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.

  Maybe… he thought. But he didn’t let the thought do much more than that.

  Sirens filled the sky, and red and blue police lights filled the darkness. Vice didn’t want to get involved, but he supposed he’d already made that choice when he’d rounded that shelving unit.

  “Come on,” Felicia said. “We have to go talk to them.”

  Vice stood up with her, glad when she put her hand back in his. He cut a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but she wouldn’t look at him. He led her toward the two police cars, freezing when the officers jumped from their vehicle and said, “Stop! Put your hands up!”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Vice said at the same time Dante said, “Don’t shoot! We were trapped inside.”

  “Hands where I can see them,” a cop barked, and Vice was forced to let go of Felicia’s hand. His heart sank down to his expensive motorcycle boots, because he knew that voice and there was no love lost between Vice and Brit Hill.

  “Names,” he barked next, and Felicia went first. Then Dante. Then Marc Scott.

  “Jordan Waterhouse,” he said, and Brit looked at him.

  “I should’ve known.”

  “I’m not involved in this,” Vice said. “I just pulled up to get the dents and dings.”

  “He’s right,” Felicia said, but Brit held up his hand.

  “Do you know the guys doing this?”

  “Why would I?”

  “They’re your kind.”

  Vice’s anger flared, and he clenched his teeth. “And what kind is that?”

  “Look, there were three of them,” Dante said. “I saw all of them, and we were in the back room for about five minutes before Jordan showed up. He has nothing to do with this.”

  Vice lifted his eyebrows and gestured toward Dante. “See?”

  “We only have two guys,” Brit said.

  “Did you get the one in the back?” Felicia asked.

  Brit stepped away and spoke into his radio. A moment later, the police officers who’d gone through the front doors confirmed that they were still making their way through the store, front to back.

  “He’s right through that door,” Dante said. “Jordan took him down with cans.”

  Brit glared at Vice as if he’d done something wrong, and Vice stared steadily back. “Don’t move,” the cop growled, and Vice held up his hands in surrender, though he would like to call Mav and let him know what was going on.

  The Breath, right here in Forbidden Lake. This was bad business.

  “It’ll be okay,” Felicia said, but she sounded nervous. “He’ll see when they go in.”

  “Thanks for having my back,” Vice said to the others.

  “Hey, you took that guy down with cans,” Marc said, a slow grin spreading across his face.

  “I just did what anyone would’ve done,” he said, but by the way the three of them were looking at him, he wasn’t so sure.

  Hey, he’d take Felicia’s eyes on him. Maybe him throwing a few cans would somehow get her back into his life.

  Shouts happened from the back of the store, and Vice spun and stepped in front of the others. The biker in the leather jacket sprinted toward them. The cops yelled for him to stop. Behind him, Felicia screamed.

  Vice couldn’t let him get away. The Sentinels would have a lot of questions for him. So he curled his fingers into fists and braced himself.

  This was going to hurt.

  Wow, I can’t wait to see what happens with Vice, this biker from the Breath on the wrong turf, and of course, Felicia!

  Preorder VICE now.

  Sneak Peek! HER BAD BOY BEST FRIEND Chapter One

  I entered the office with five to-go cups of coffee in my hands. “Morning,” I called, and my crew all looked up from the stainless steel counters where they worked. “Your salvation is here.”

  Grinning, I passed out the lattes, the vanilla, low-foam coffees, the Thai chi teas, before I went into the only other room in the space I rented in Secret Falls.

  I sighed in a happy way as I sank into my desk chair and pulled up the calendar for that morning. Yes, I had founded and owned and operated Delivery2Door, which now employed four people full-time.

  Four people.

  I couldn’t believe it. I’d started the business out of my apartment and the garage space I had to pay extra for in the parking lot of the complex.

  Now, five years later, I could pay my salary and four more. And I’d put myself on the Ink & Ivy route today.

  Every time they needed something delivered, actually, and I glanced up to look out the doorway, hoping to catch Melissa’s eye.

  She scheduled who delivered along what routes, and I’d asked her to make sure every time something came in for Ink & Ivy, that I got the route.

  She was my best girlfriend, but Colton Rock was my very best friend in the whole wide world.

  I sighed again, this time with a wistful quality in it. No matter how many times I tried not to think about Colton—sweet, tall, dark, inked, rebellious, brooding Colton—I only thought about him more.

  Those deep, dark eyes. Yes, please look my way.

  That leather jacket. Yum.

  The beautiful works of art on his biceps and chest. Yes, I’d love to go hiking up to the secret falls and swim in the pool there. You won’t be wearing a shirt, will you?

  “Ruthie?”

  Startled out of my fantasies, I glanced up to find Glen standing there. “I need you to sign for something.”

  “Really?” I got up and rounded my desk, wondering if I should try to make the workplace more professional. But after all the sorting of packages, everyone went out to deliver for the day. It made no sense to wear heels or skirts, and Glen shouldn’t have to wear loafers and a tie to drive around town and deliver package.

  “Why do I have to sign for a package? It’s not mine.”

  Another courier stood there, and he had an enormous package sitting on one of my tables. “It says it’s an engine,” the man said. “And that you’d need to sign for it, as well as the recipient.”

  “Who’s the recipient?” Maybe I should call them. Find out what was going on. I wasn’t even sure I could lift an engine—not that it looked like one. An engine block, maybe. I knew better than most that what was on the label wasn’t always what was in the package.

  “Ivy and Ink.” The man looked up, and my heart started pounding.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “I’m already going there today.” I scrawled my name on the appointed line, and the guy left the engine in my care.

  “I can take that route,” Glen said. “If you want. That thing looks like a beast.”

  “I’ve got it,” I said, hopefully not too quickly. I’d been hiding my feelings for bad boy, emotionally unavailable, keeps-everyone-away Colton Rock for years.

  From everyone.

  From him.

  Sometimes even from myself.

  “All right,” Glen said. “I hate doing all the tiny jewelry packages.” He wore a disgruntled look on his face, but I couldn’t help laughing.

  “So it’s more manly to deliver a larger package?”

  “Yes,” he said simply, a smile crossing his face too.

  “Next time,” I said. “I need to talk to the owner at Ivy and Ink today anyway.”

  Melissa caught the end of that sentence, and she met my eye. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything as I passed her on my way to get the delivery list and get my van loaded up.

  In my back pocket, my phone buzzed, and I knew it would be her. She’d been the first person I’d hired on full-time, and sometimes when we went out, people mistook us for sisters. We were both blonde, both a bit on the short side, even for women, and both subjected to long years of braces in our teens.

  I liked my straight teeth now, but I’d thought my mother was trying to torture me as a fifteen-year-old.

  Is today the day?

  I knew what Melissa meant, but no, today was not the day. After printing my delivery list, organized by stops in order along the route, I went out to the sorting room.

  “Everyone ready?” I asked.

  “Almost,” Glen said.

  “I’m headed out,” Gideon said.

  “Me too,” Breann said.

  “I’m almost done with your sort,” Melissa said. “And then we can go too.” She flashed a smile at me that I understood. She wanted to talk without anyone else there.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s do awesome today. There will be coffee and muffins here at three. Stop by and get something before you’re done today.”

  Activity continued as my friends and employees filled their bins and started loading things out the back door. I worked hard to make Delivery2Door a great place to work, and I provided good pay, health benefits, and lunch a couple of times a week, plus an afternoon sugar rush as often as I needed one. Which was almost every day, to be honest.

  I tried to heft the engine into my arms and groaned under the weight of it. I maybe got it two inches off the table.

  “Let me,” Glen said, taking it.

  “Thanks,” I said, collecting a bin Melissa had filled for me for my route and following him out to my van. The company only owned two vehicles, and everyone else used their personal car for the deliveries. But I was working to save up enough to buy another van.

  My father had advised me to do as much business with the money I had, and not to go into debt to expand. I’d done the best I could, and the truth was, I didn’t need another van and its accompanying payment right now.

  “Have a good one,” Glen said. “And remember I’m off tomorrow? My sister is flying into town.”

  “Right,” I said, shivering as the wind whipped up. Winter would be here soon, and a low wail started in my gut. Yes, I’d grown up in Secret Falls, and for the most part, I didn’t want to leave. The Oregon coast was less than an hour away, if I wanted a beach day. The bigger cities were another hour east, and in between lay the perfect Pacific Northwest town—Secret Falls.

  It was growing, with a lot more businesses and people coming to the town nestled in the green, hilly part of Oregon that had always made me smile.