“Okay you all get back in the truck and stay put. I am going to have the EMTs come look at you. I am going to get you some paper and a pencil and when you’re ready, I want you to jot down some of those numbers.”

  Laura hung her head in her hands and sobbed as the absolute worst possible truth sunk in. It was looking like her brother and those who tried to help him had met a bad fate. Will Shriner this upset was proof positive enough for her. He called a number, punched a code and told her to be very quiet. He rolled the windows down to listen. And within a few seconds, there was a piercing screech filling the air, and could be heard over the racket of the cops and the EMTs. Will rushed out of the truck towards the sound. Like a linebacker, he swiped past men standing about trying to figure out what had happened.

  There on the ground, lit up from his phone call was someone else’s cell phone. He stood up, the detective on the scene had followed him. Will turned away, obviously overcome with emotion. She could hear him say the phone belonged to Darren. Laura felt the blood drain from her face. That was all she could take. She gave up and gave in. She fainted.

  She felt herself being driven. Will was riding next to her but she was not driving. The Big John of Big John’s Tavern was driving the car. The cops were pulling out. The ambulance was going and from the corner of her eye, Laura could see the cops unwinding police tap around Will’s property.

  “Where we going?” she murmured.

  “To my place,” said Big John.

  The lights were out at the tavern but Big John pulled the truck around the back to the loading area and parked securely. He got out and opened Laura’s door. He lifted her without any preliminaries to the driveway. “Need help?” he asked Will. Will shook his head. He looked positively destroyed.

  “I am only staying for a moment. I am going to help the cops find my guys.”

  “They’ll find them shortly. Let’s go knock back a few in the meantime. Come sit by the fire.”

  Will let the tavern owner walk Laura ahead of him. She turned in time to see him fish out a case from a compartment in the back of his truck seat that he leaned forward. From a cutout in the seat, was a box from which Will drew a gun. Laura pitched forward and began to throw up. This was not happening. The moment she got sick, Will quickly packed away the gun and rushed to her aid. The three of them went into the tavern.

  Big John damped a clean bar cloth and washed Laura’s face. “I am getting us some Jack. It’s for your own good.”

  “I don’t want to lose you,” she said. “I can’t. I know you are suffering but – ” She had no forethought of the words that were coming out of her mouth. She let them spill.

  “Laura Mills,” he said. “Look at me. I don’t want lose you either. You’re mine. I am yours. I love you.”

  “I love you back,” she hugged him, tears streaming from her eyes.

  Big John held a bottle and glasses in his hands. He was so huge he was able to carry everything without a tray. He poured shots. “Drink. Medicinal purposes. Listen. You’re going to get a call any minute. A good call. Good news. Let’s take a deep breath and formulate a strategy.”

  The warmth of the bourbon calmed Laura. “He sounds like you,” she said.

  “We ought to,” said Big John. “We’re friends.”

  “We went to dinner two hours ago,” Will said overcome with emotion. “Where could they be?”

  As if on cue, Will’s cellphone rang and he answered. “Thank God!” he stood up. Laura and Big John craned, waiting for the report. Will listened and Laura watched his face change. “Okay. Check in with the Charleston Police Chief. I am going to text you his number.” He hung up. He took Laura’s hand in his. Laura didn’t like it already.

  “No,” she said trying to avoid what he was about to say.

  “My guys are in North Carolina. They got the bike ready to go and Lucas went outside to smoke a cigarette. My guys think he went back to the gang...either by choice or by force. But their bikes were destroyed. They saw what was going on and they left through the secret passageway out the back of the beach. They left all their stuff, except their wallets. Most of them don’t have their cellphones. Lucas had Darren’s phone. I guess that’s why it was in the yard.”

  Laura swallowed hard. She lost her mother and father and her brother. She held out her glass. “Little John, how about another round?” she said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Luckie’s Tavern was especially quiet. It was the one night of the week when they didn’t have something going on. Laura Mills sat at the end of the bar. The tavern had become her usual pit stop on the way home from work for the past few months...At least she thought it had been a few months. When she stopped to think about it, she got confused. Her detour to the bar had become usual enough that the bartender reserved her seat and it was waiting for her when she walked in. The whole setting was just the tonic Laura needed to take the edge off – to kill the pain, pain she had never dealt with because she had been so busy picking up the pieces.

  With this new habit of a couple of nightly cocktails at Luckie’s, Laura made other changes. She cut her hair in a heavy metal-esque sharp A-line bob. She had taken to wearing black dresses on the short side and black stockings. She hardly had the appearance of the graduate student/well-respected employee of many years/guardian to a kid brother who was lost to a brutal gang.

  Since the day her younger brother vanished off the face of the earth—and Laura simultaneously blew up the best, most perfect and steamy adult relationship she ever expected to have—Laura Mills was transformed. She was now deeply entrenched in one of Baltimore's most popular watering holes and now she looked like she totally belonged there. The problem was that no matter how fun and popular the bar was, it started to grow on her. She became a part of it in a way she hadn’t wanted to. She wanted her world to be her, the bartender, and the drinks that kept coming.

  But another regular, a troll, whom Laura recognized since the first day she entered Luckie’s, sat on the stool next to her. Company was not what she wanted. She rolled her eyes and looked the other way.

  “Wow,” he scoffed. “You already have an attitude with me that fast? You could do a lot worse.”

  Laura had done so much better.

  For Will Shriner, Sergeant at Arms of the Knights’ Disciples Motorcycle Club, had literally been her knight in leather and black denim. When the trouble began with her brother, Lucas, and the gangs, Will was there for them. He and the Disciples offered them total protection. He loved her in ways her sweetest dreams could not have matched. No, he taught her, and never let her forget, that she was a beautiful woman. He fought until the bitter end the night her brother disappeared. And she left Will in the dust, hadn’t seen him in forever. And when he probably needed her the most, Laura was sitting at Luckie’s, fending off a troll. The troll was almost right. She didn’t deserve any better. “Bite me,” Laura snarled.

  The trolled stroked her arm. “Ooh, I like that.”

  Laura smacked his hand away.

  The troll chuckled. “I like that even better.”

  They started to tussle. Laura hooked her foot on his bar stool and down he went. He was humiliated. Laura triumphantly took a sip of her drink. She heard the unmistakable click of a switchblade. For a moment, she believed she had gone too far. She gave him a shove with her foot and he bounced away. As the troll continued to come at her, Laura realized no one was jumping in to assist. She thought by now, at least, the bartender would protest. The troll took swipes of the air with his blade. Laura’s instinct was to duck.

  From the side, she could see a big pair of hands yank the troll by the scruff. Like a ghost suddenly appearing, the whir of a man’s fist faintly touched her hair as it sailed to connect with the troll’s jaw. Down he went. Laura looked at him, a mass on the floor, when her cool avenger casually leaned down and plucked the knife from the troll’s grip.

  The place went silent and the crowd scooted back in a perfect circle. There in the center stood the magnificent Will Shriner, Sergeant at Arms of the Knights’ Disciples, dressed in the vest bearing his club’s emblem. His timing was unreal.

  "Help him up, boys," he said to his fellow Disciples.

  Laura was speechless as she stared in the beautiful face of the man she had loved more than anything. His tall form—broad shoulders and a chiseled chest—blotted out the scene behind him. She could his cut torso through his tight cotton T-shirt.

  “Laura,” he tipped a phantom hat. He was joined by a handful of other Knights’ Disciples.

  “Hi,” she said replied, her voice raspy. She was emotional and embarrassed to have him see her this way. She sat there, mutely as his eyes took a walk all over her.

  He shook his head. “You just about done with this?” he asked in a collected tone. “You ready to come back and move on. Or is this your moving on?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered lamely.

  “Don’t you?” he asked, his eyes scolding her. “Barkeep?” he called out and pointed to his guys and then to the bar. “Line them up. Maker’s Mark, please.”

  Will and the other Disciples took the seats beside her. The troll stirred and decided to not press his luck. He sulked away.

  “I figure if someone is going to drink and hit on you, it might as well be me,” he said. There was some heat to his voice but mostly he was scolding her. He boldly ran his large hand on her thigh. “Nice,” he said, remarking about her stockings and short dress.

  The bartender set shot glasses in front of the bikers and poured.

  “What? Did I become invisible?” Laura razzed the bartender.

  “No,” Will answered for him, “You’ve been cut off. You are officially on the wagon.” He smirked and tossed back his drink.

  “I am a big girl,” Laura retorted.

  “About 5’2”, last time I checked. And unless you’ve totally forgotten, I checked.” Will rolled up his sleeves. “Wait, I gotta get the look.” He was clearly referring to her new, edgy attire. He mussed his hair, which was already a little disheveled to begin with. The Disciples caught on and did likewise.

  “Okay whatever,” Laura almost smiled.

  Will stood up and pulled out his wallet. “How much do we owe you? Hers included,” he asked the bartender.

  “I am paid up,” Laura replied.

  The bartender put a receipt on the bar and Will pulled out his credit card and a business card. “So,” said Will, “if you see this woman in here again, you call me. I’m done tailing her.”

  “You’ve been tailing me?” Laura’s eyes widened.

  Will leaned in and got nose to nose with her. “You must think I am magic or something. You think I just magically appeared when that guy was about to cut you? You have had enough.”

  Laura rolled her eyes. “You can’t –”

  Will now was up behind her, hovering over her, draping her with this body. He whispered in her ear, “Can and will. This has gone on long enough and you are coming with me.” He fished in her purse.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “You’ve had plenty to drink. You aren’t driving; I am.”

  “You just did a shot of liquor right in front of me,” she protested.

  “It’s also the only booze I’ve had in quite a while whereas you have been pickling yourself in at least a six pack a day. You really want to get into this here and now? Let’s go,” he ordered.

  “You're finished here. In fact, your bar hopping days are done,” he announced.

  “Who do you-?"

  Laura's question was cut off, for the tall, handsome, and rather bossy Disciples’ club leader swept into her with a possessive kiss. In front of the entire clientele at Luckie's, he branded her.

  "It seems this is the only language that you understand. I am prepared to speak it.” His voice was low and smooth. “Let's go."

  Laura looked at the bartender. “Don’t listen to him. I can do what I want.” As she got up from her stool, her legs buckled. She had had more to drink than she realized.

  Will swept her up and over his shoulder. He left the bar in long strides. He stepped out into the biting January air. He cautiously lowered her, giving her time to adjust to each position, coaching her to breathe. Once she was stable, he took her by the hand and led her to her car. He even went so far as to buckle her seat belt for her.

  Laura’s face was deadpan. “Really?” She eyeballed him. “You don’t think I could have done that for myself?”

  He glared at her. “You’re kind of a mean drunk, aren’t you?”

  “Drunk?” she demanded, completely insulted.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Will and Laura thought better of speaking to each other on the short drive to her house. She did have a few drinks at the bar; he was right, but she had the presence of mind to keep her mouth shut and to not start anything. Besides, she was finding something completely hot about the fact that he was driving her car. In their silence, she spied on him. He was a big guy and his upper body took up so much more of the backrest than hers did. He had to adjust the seat just to get his legs in. And even though she had ridden in a car with him – Will had a smokin’ vintage Porsche – she was so accustomed to seeing him on his Harley that his driving a car was novelty.

  The way he turned the steering wheel and used the turn signal, the way he engaged with traffic and maneuvered. Will Shriner was just so cool. Laura found herself smiling at him, but then she remembered that she basically left him high and dry after her brother went missing, so she could run off and deal with her feelings – or not deal with them. She was overcome with a sense of guilt and basically stared out the window.

  They came to a stop. Will leaned over her to reach for something in the glove compartment, not careful of the contact he made with her. His forearm lay across her thighs, which, but for the stockings, were bare. Her dress rode up as she sat in the seat. Her neckline was loosely banded and it drooped somewhat off her flesh so her cleavage was exposed. His elbow grazed her breast. He was so casual, so familiar, like he had a right to touch her.

  He didn't react, but she did. Laura had missed his masculinity and Will Shriner was all man. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was his brushing up against her, but she was focused on his forearms. How did someone get such powerful forearms?

  Will must have felt her thinking about him. He dropped his hand, easily, and rested it on her thigh just above her knee and wrapped his fingers around. He glanced over at her and there was a connection of affection there. He was annoyed and disappointed. He was being his stern self, trying to make a point to her, but he let her know at that moment that he cared for her.

  Will pulled up to Laura's house. He walked ahead of her, letting them in.

  Like a robot, Laura had lived, barely ate, went to work, and not felt her best because of the drinking. She never dirtied the kitchen – she didn't eat at home. She came home and passed out. For a person who had been neglectful of her life, Laura's house was remarkably tidy.

  But it was cold and empty. Will went straight for the fridge.

  "Are you hungry?" Laura laughed. She could see from his expression that he was not pleased. There wasn't anything the refrigerator and she knew he didn't like that. Will regarded her sternly over the appliance door.

  Laura meandered to her bed and climbed on top of the mattress. She let her shoes fall off. That was how she usually tucked herself in, but Will had other ideas. She heard him turn the faucet knobs of the bath. Part of her was eager. She was going to get amazing attention from him. Part of her was bothered. She wanted to cave into the sleep that was calling her and to be alone.

  Without any warning, Will reached up and under the hem of her little T-shirt dress and, in a single move, gripped the waist of her tights and her panties, and drew down her tights. And in a similar fashion, only moving in the other direction, he took her dress off. Laura was naked. Will scooped her up and placed her in the full tub of water.

  The water was the perfect temperature. It rose up around her neglected muscles, lapping her with comfort. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to his treatment of her. She heard him lather up soap in his palms. It was warm and soft as he coated her with it with his large and knowing hands. Laura drifted to the memory of the first time they had ever had sex. The atmosphere was thick with drama; they had just been attacked by a rival gang. She and Will collided in the hallway, both connecting with the same passionate mind set. They had only a passing acquaintance with each other and yet they craved each other furiously.

  The blend of sensations of reliving the torrid sex they enjoyed in the hallway as he masterfully drove into her that first time combined with the titillation of his hands soaping her skin as he bathed her now, delving into sensitive undersides and crevices, was unavoidably arousing. The sound of Laura’s rising breaths filled her ears.

  She peeked at him. He had that look on his face. The one he got when he was pleased with himself, pleasing her. He loved the power he had over her. Their chemistry was timelessly but so rarely electric. Laura had been a fool to walk away from him.

  Will’s hands glided up the faint indentation of her taut abdomen. He toyed with her breasts. As he trailed upward, Laura’s nipples went rigid with pleasure. He captured them in his fingers and lightly agitated them with the faintly rough skin of his fingertip. Her insides clutched, seized, and she was at once aching with need.

  Instinctively, her hand went to the apex of her legs, his eyes wantonly following. He drew her hips down to the rushing water. Laura lay flat against the back to the tub, her body deliciously enveloped in the warm soothing bath. Will directed the turgid flow strategically to the point of her need. His large and powerful hand cupped her, his fingers gliding through the petals of her body, his thumb applying pressure and releasing strategically.

  Will leaned down and Laura craned up. They came together for a tantalizing kiss. Their tongues danced and feasted with lazy sensuality. He pulsed his tongue back and forth imitating the ultimate carnal act. A sound rose and caught in her throat – something in between a gasp and a moan. Will entered her with his fingers. But it wasn't enough.