“Uh, wow,” Declan said, looking at the tattoo gun. He’d never even considered getting a tattoo. Idiot. Everyone got the Iron Back Warrior’s insignia tattoo, a winged skull wrapped in the American flag, when they were inducted.

  “Ready?” Malcolm asked.

  Declan nodded. As Malcolm tattooed him, Declan’s mind drifted as he looked around the club. There were members who were laughing and drinking as others watched. King stood, grinning, and talking to someone, though Declan wasn’t sure who.

  After the ink was finished, Declan sat on the sofa, drinking and laughing. He didn’t have a care in the world. Feeling a tug at his pants, he saw a club girl working to get to his dick. Adjusting his position, he gave her better access. It was then he noticed that she wasn’t alone. Laying his head back, he groaned when he felt a second set of lips on his balls. He hadn’t given a second thought to where they were doing this, since he no longer cared about much. Rolling his head forward, he placed his hands on their heads, encouraging them. He wanted more. Later he’d look back on what he’d done with a little bit of shock, but he truly enjoyed it. The exhibition didn’t bother him—the internal shame fueled him.

  Declan heard a female voice whisper, “He looks like a god. All tan and that dark curly hair. I want some of that.”

  Then he heard laughter. “I think he looks more like a priest, absolving them of their sins,” a male voice said.

  The next morning, Declan glared at the sunlight that streamed through the window. He had no idea where he was. Looking around, he realized he was still on the same couch from the night before, along with several others who were in the same situation. Several of the club girls were curled up on either side of him or at the end of the sofa.

  Groaning, he got up and stumbled his way over to sit beside King, who was eating breakfast.

  “Brother.” King grinned. As he was Declan’s older brother, he seemed to be taking an intense delight in Declan’s pain.

  “Fuck, Killian,” Declan mumbled. Hissing, he felt his chest and grimaced. Tat. Right.

  “Feeling right as rain, I imagine.”

  Declan put his head on his arms, which made him nauseous, yet sitting back up made the room spin. How did I ever function after drinking like that every day?

  “Breakfast?” his brother asked, as a plate was put in front of Declan by a club girl.

  Declan looked down. Greasy food and bread. Digging in, he hummed happily.

  “Here,” King grunted, pushing a cut over to him.

  Declan looked at it. “What’s that?”

  “Your cut.”

  “That says Priest. That isn’t mine.”

  King laughed loud and hard. Declan winced and shot him a death glare.

  “Da fuck, man?” Declan growled at King, frowning and then wincing.

  “How much of last night do you remember?” King sounded way too happy for Declan’s liking.

  “A little,” Declan mumbled. “Right now, I need a toothbrush. It tastes like a cat shat in my mouth,”

  Declan made his way to his room at the clubhouse, nodding here and there to those he passed.

  Once he was in his room and had brushed his teeth, praying the whole time not to puke his guts up, he sat down on his bed for some needed reflection.

  Declan loved the brotherhood of the club, had loved it since he was a kid. His life had stalled though. He knew it, but was clueless how to restart it or in what way. Declan never really wanted to be an architect. It was the “responsible” thing to do. He’d hated it every day. Was his life so much better now? Not at all. His responsibilities were limited to that of the club as a prospect.

  “I’m forty fucking years old,” he said to himself, staring at the blank wall. Blank like his future. “Fuck me.”

  He had always done the right thing. Followed his dad or brother’s footsteps. In his heart he wanted to be part of the club. There was no feeling of indebtedness. This was a tradition he could get behind, though he wondered if Killian would have wanted him there if he had not been military, if he had hiked Europe and painted and sculpted like the vagabond he had desired to be when he was younger.

  Closing his eyes tight, he attempted to center himself. He could actually have peace and quiet, now that he was no longer a prospect, an ultimate desire in his mind. Looking down at the gauze pad across his heart, he was intrigued. There had been too much going on last night for him to really watch the process. Standing up, he walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

  “I look like shit,” he snorted.

  Pulling off the gauze, he studied the piece on his chest. The lines, the intricacy, the color or lack of it. It was beautiful. Looking down at the sink, he saw a care kit. Opening it, he pulled out the care instructions, noticing there was also a business card. On the back, it simply said, Come on by. See what it’s all about.

  Eyebrows raised, Declan thought to himself, This isn’t so different from the note telling Alice drink me, is it? Grinning, he really wanted to. It felt right.

  Chapter 1

  The money given to Claire in the settlement had enabled her to move out of the state of Virginia and to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. She and Steve had always planned to live there when they retired. Though she enjoyed the chance for a new life after her husband’s sudden death, she was lonely. She began volunteering with the hope of meeting new people and providing needed services in the community—her community now.

  Claire especially enjoyed her time tutoring her young reading group two days a week. She marveled at how their minds worked. It was a joy to hear their voices reading aloud, and the small group improved each time they met, Nate especially. His desire to read better was heartwarming. He was like a dog with a bone when it came to figuring out a new word, sounding it out and not wanting any help. She only wished his mother shared his enthusiasm. The woman was always late and rarely cared to hear feedback about her son. His father was enlisted and stationed overseas. Claire wondered if he would view his son’s successful improvement as she did and ply the boy with the praise he so deserved and craved.

  His mother was running very late, and the library was closing soon. Nate knew his mother’s cell number, but she wasn’t responding. Dani, the librarian, gave her the name and number of Nate’s emergency contact, his grandfather, Killian Murphy.

  Claire dialed the number. After two rings a man answered.

  “King,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number,” she responded. “I was looking for Killian Murphy.” She heard a deep chuckle.

  “That would be me,” he stated. “Most people call me King because of the accent.”

  “Oh. I see. I’m Nate’s tutor. We’ve been waiting for his mother to pick him up, but she hasn’t shown. The library is getting ready to close. I hope nothing has happened.”

  His response was sharp. “What did you say?” he barked. “How long has my grandson been sitting there? Never mind. I’m on the way. What library are you at?”

  As soon as Claire told him, he hung up. Ten minutes later a tall, lean man came in the entrance with a thunderous expression on his face. He was intimidating and looked lethal.

  Nate yelled, “Grampa!” and ran to him.

  Claire smiled. The man wore a motorcycle club vest with President displayed on the left side, above his heart. He picked him up and gave the boy a big hug. Living in a beach town that proudly hosted bike weeks, she’d seen the Iron Back Warriors club vests on other riders. She knew they were all either former military or current first responders. This man commanded the room, walking with ease and obviously comfortable in his own skin.

  Dani sighed. “He is so fine.”

  Claire looked back surprised and then laughed. She had to agree. His eyes were ice blue. His black hair and beard were streaked with gray. Only men can pull that off.

  Nate was standing by his side, grinning. The boy obviously loved his grandfather quite a bit. Killian stuck out his hand.

  “Killian Murphy. Thank you for staying with Nate and contacting me.” If she wasn’t mistaken, his British accent was also laced with some South Carolina, which she found charming.

  Claire smiled and shook his hand. “I hope nothing is wrong.”

  He frowned, looking angry. “Nothing that can’t be fixed,” he commented. He then smiled and wished Claire a good night.

  Waving to Dani, Claire walked out to her car. At the car door, she was startled by someone grabbing her arm. Sucking in her breath, Claire jerked away and turned to look at her attacker.

  “Mr. Anderson?” Claire asked, astounded. “What are you doing here so late? You picked up your son earlier. The library is closed now.”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

  Claire looked at him warily, a feeling of unease filling her. “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

  “Were you meeting here with him?”

  “Him? Who?” she asked, alarm bells going off.

  “King!” he spat.

  “Mr. Murphy?” she asked, not wanting to lead him into thinking there was any familiarity.

  “Yeah. Him. He’s no good for someone like you, Claire,” he said, leaning over her.

  Truly moving past alarmed to full-on fear, Claire stepped back from him.

  “Good night, Mr. Anderson. I’m going home now,” Claire said, looking around the small parking lot. The lights were still on in the library. If she had to, could she make a run for it?

  “You’re playing games with me. I don’t like that, Claire,” Anderson said, his face turning to fury.

  Claire had backed up around the side of the car next to hers. Looking back at the library, she noticed Dani was coming out.

  “Oh. Hey, Dani!” she called, waving to her. “I waited so you wouldn’t be coming out here alone.”

  Dani saw the situation for what it was and rushed over to her.

  “Thanks, Claire. We girls need to stick together. Don’t you agree, Mr. Anderson?” Dani asked pointedly.

  His venomous glare slowly faded to a benign smile. “Stay safe, ladies. Have a good night.”

  After he got in his car and left, Claire gasped out the breath she had been holding. Tears pricked her eyes.

  “What the hell was that?” Dani asked her.

  “I don’t know. I came out to leave and he was here. He was on me so fast. I never saw him coming. Thank God you came out!”

  “Be careful of him, Claire,” Dani cautioned.

  “No shit,” Claire responded.

  Chapter 2

  King drove to his house, seething over the fact that Jade had left Nate there without calling. Nate was the typical chatterbox he always was. He told King about school, how nasty the school lunch was—who likes tomato soup anyway?—and how he loved the days he got to go to the library. Nate especially liked Ms. Claire. She was always there, had fun activities, and they got to read however many books in the library they wanted.

  King looked at him. “You really enjoy going, don’t you?” Nate nodded. “Were you worried when your mom didn’t come?” Nate let out a big sigh.

  “No. She is always late. She was probably with Jack or Bobby.”

  King gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t question Nate any further than that. She has so little respect for her son? His son? He listened on as Nate spoke of the movie he wanted to see, his mind divided, only responding here and there. Nate let out a gaping yawn, his eyes blinking. King looked over, grinning, and ruffled his grandson’s hair.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can see you’re tired.”

  Nate responded, “I could eat.”

  “Tomato soup?”

  Nate made a face and put both thumbs down.

  King laughed. He loved his grandson more than anything. “Tacos?”

  “Yes!” Nate yelled triumphantly.

  King pulled into the driveway of his farmhouse-style home. Walking into the house, Nate hung up his backpack on the hook designated for his stuff.

  “You have homework?”

  “Finished it while I was waiting,” Nate responded.

  King pulled out ground beef, lettuce, tomatoes (for him only), and cheese. It was late, so he kept it simple. King began browning the ground beef, thinking to himself that Nate would be there for a while. He didn’t mind but worry clouded his mind. Where is Jade? He’d texted her with no response. She was irresponsible at times, but to completely ignore calls and texts about Nate was pushing it.

  “Why don’t you hop in the shower and get cleaned up before dinner? It will be bedtime after that.”

  Nate nodded and headed upstairs to the bedroom King had set up for him. He had extra clothes and stuff for the bath.

  By the time the tacos were ready, Nate was back with his hair wet from the shower, pajamas on, and a grin on his face. He quickly put together his tacos and began stuffing his face. They ate in comfortable silence.

  “I am so full!” Nate groaned, sitting back, then got up, cleared his plate, rinsed it, and put it in the dishwasher. King looked on wondering how much his young grandson had been doing on his own.

  The boy came over to the table and gave King a hug. “Go brush your teeth, Nate. I’ll be up shortly.”

  After cleaning up the kitchen, King climbed the stairs to tuck Nate in. He walked into Nate’s room to see him already snuggled under the camo comforter he loved.

  King looked at him and said softly, “Proud of you. You are something else.”

  Nate yawned and smiled sleepily. “I love you, Grampa.”

  “I love you more.”

  “Not possible.” Nate giggled.

  He picks up on phrases quicker than most.

  King stopped at the door. “Lights off or on?”

  “Off, Grampa. I don’t need them. I’m always safe here,” Nate said sleepily.

  King turned and pulled the door partially closed. He stood in the hallway with his fists balled, head leaned back against the wall. Where did he not feel safe? He grimaced and shut his eyes. Where is that girl?

  King headed downstairs and walked into his office, then dialed a number. “You found her yet?” he said on a growl.

  When the response was negative he sighed and sat down. What was he going to tell his boy, who was overseas, helpless to do anything about his wayward wife? He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, thinking.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning King was in the kitchen making breakfast, sipping on coffee as he turned the bacon in the pan.

  “Pancakes or waffles?” he asked when he heard feet thumping down the stairs.

  “Waffles,” Nate replied.

  “Good thing too,” King said, pulling the plate off the warmer.

  “Can I have juice?” Nate asked.

  “Sure. You know where it is.”

  Nate got a glass, pouring juice into it, then sat down. King set a plate in front of Nate and one for himself, each of them spreading butter and pouring syrup over their waffles before digging in. They ate in comfortable silence again. King was grateful that Nate was always so at ease with him, feeling like he was at home here at the house.

  “You need me to pack you a lunch?” Nate looked down and quickly shook his head no. What is that about? “You have money on your account?” he questioned. When he still received no response, he said, “Hey, what’s going on? You can tell me.”

  Nate sighed, refusing to meet his eye. “I don’t have any money on my account and the school won’t let me borrow any more until Mom pays it back,” Nate mumbled. The situation obviously embarrassed him.

  King kept his temper in check. Inside he was boiling with rage, the only indicator to someone who knew him would be the ticking of his jaw. He put his hand on Nate’s shoulder.

  “How much do we need to pay back the school?”

  Nate sniffed and looked down again. “Ten dollars.”

  King took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Have you been going without lunch?”

  Nate nodded.

  Priest walked into the house, looking at Nate and then King, a question in his eyes. King shook his head.

  “Your mom knew this?”

  Nate nodded again.

  Deep breath. “How long?”

  “Only a couple of weeks.”

  King bowed his head, shaking it.

  “Ms. Claire started bringing me sandwiches after she said something to Mom about me coming to the library hungry. Mom called her the B word and told Ms. Claire to mind her own business or she wouldn’t let me come anymore.” Nate looked like the weight of the world was on his small shoulders.

  “Who the fuck is Ms. Claire?” Priest asked, loading his plate up with waffles.

  “Never mind,” King responded to Priest. “Ms. Claire seems pretty nice,” King commented to Nate.

  “She’s great. I love her PB&J sandwiches. Did you know how many different jams and jellies there are? She brings sandwiches for all of us with some fruit, so no one is left out. I don’t tell Mom about that. I don’t want her to call Ms. Claire that word again.”

  “I like peanut butter and jelly,” Priest mumbled around his waffles, causing Nate to laugh.

  King looked at his grandson. Pride shone for his good, sweet boy. “Tell you what. I have enough cash so you can pay back the school and have more than enough for lunches and snacks for the remainder of the school year. It’s only a few more weeks. When I get you this afternoon, we’ll go to the grocery store and stock up. You can always pack too. I don’t mind doing that.”

  Nate looked excited. “Okay!” He smiled and ran up the steps to get dressed for school.

  King picked up his phone and called his club brother, Big Easy. “Anything?”

  He hung up after hearing no. If Big Easy wasn’t able to find details on where Jade had gone, he wasn’t sure how they were going to find her. She was in the wind. After clearing the breakfast dishes, he pulled fifty dollars out of his wallet and slid the money into the front pocket of Nate’s backpack.