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  Ethan, the man next to Bash, and his friend pick up the two princesses, both sobbing. As soon as the door is closed behind them, the bar patrons turn back to whatever conversation they had been having before the catfight took place, acting like nothing happened.

  The hand around my waist squeezes and lingers for another moment before I’m released. I don’t even turn to face Bash, still too angry, still too raw. I cradle my aching fist in my left hand and walk calmly toward the Originals’ booth.

  Hawk had saved the beers and is now passing them out to the table. I stop beside my second oldest brother. “I’ve got this. Thanks.” He shrugs and takes his seat as I place a beer in front of Uncle George, putting the last one in front of Uncle Jack. “I’ll get a few more.” Noticing that Tanner and Matt still don’t have a beer, I shoot them a sweet smile. “You two have such great taste in women.”

  Matt shrugs, his dark hair falling into his face before he pushes it back. “They were fun for a few days. The blonde one … Fuck, Tan what was her name again? Anyway, her daddy is good friends with the assistant district attorney. Thought it would be amusing to see what kind of shit hit the fan when Daddy Dearest found out that his baby girl was fucking Matt Reid …”

  “Watch your mouth, Matt.” Bash tells his cousin in a cold voice as he takes his seat beside of Uncle Jack.

  Matt rolls his blue eyes at the older man. “What? She just cussed this place down. It’s not like it’s something she hasn’t heard before, coz.”

  Bash’s silver-blue eyes narrow on him. “I don’t care what she did. You don’t speak to her like that. Ever.”

  It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “I’ll get the beers.”

  “Raider can get the beers,” Bash says. “You sit down. You’ve been working your ass off.”

  I ignore him and turn away. As I pass a table with four other bikers, I pick up their empties and head for the trash can. Raider is right behind me getting the beers before I can even touch them. “Go sit down, Rave. We got this for a few minutes.”

  If he thinks I’m returning to the Originals’ booth he’s crazy, but I am tired and my stomach’s starting to protest. I haven’t eaten since dinner the night before and am running on empty. I go into the office and open the fridge since there’s always some kind of leftovers sitting around.

  Pulling out pasta salad that my friend Felicity had brought me last night on her way home from classes, I find a clean fork and dig in.

  Chapter 3

  Bash

  I lift my half-empty beer to my lips and chug the last of it. When it’s empty, except for the suds, I slam the bottle onto the table. I wonder what the fuck I’m doing here—and not for the first time—only to wonder what the fuck I’d been thinking to leave in the first place.

  The answer to the former is simple. I’m back because the Angel’s Halo Motorcycle Club need a new president. I know the reason—the who, what, where, and when of what had gone down leading up to this need for change. It’s not fair, there’s no justice in any of it, but then that’s life and I’m used to it fucking up my plans.

  I’d left the MC a year ago, knowing it wasn’t what I wanted, determined to go legit and make a real life for myself. Now, to the cackling amusement of fate, I’m back, and at twenty-eight, the youngest president of Angel’s Halo.

  Lucky fucking me!

  “Here, boy,” Uncle Jack hands me the open bottle of Jack Daniels, not even bothering to offer a glass. I don’t need nor want it.

  Taking a deep pull from the bottle, I swallow a mouthful before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My eyes go to Hawk then Raider. “Go make her come the fuck out here,” I command.

  Hawk raises a brow at me. “You ever known anyone that could make Rave do anything?”

  That only makes me glare at him. “Yeah. Me.”

  Raider snorts. “Then you go make her come the fuck out here.”

  If the guy hadn’t been like a brother to me, if I didn’t love and respect him as much as I do, I’d have cracked the bottle over his head. Instead I just sit there staring him down. That’s the thing about the Hannigan’s. They don’t back down, even under my deadly glare. If anything, Raider looks amused as he swallows a shot of Patron.

  It figures Raider and Hawk would be amused by my silent torment. They probably think I deserved it. Fuck, they’re probably right.

  There’s one absolute rule in Hannigan’s, just as there’s only one real rule in Angel’s Halo: Don’t touch Raven Hannigan. It’ll only make you a dead man. In our world that’s the holiest of rules. There had only been one man to dare to break that rule.

  Me.

  I’d faced the consequences of my actions, survived the beating Jet dished out, even relished every fucking broken bone he’d given me. And then, when Jet had said that Raven was mine, I walked away.

  Not just from her, but from Angel’s Halo. From my whole life. Everything I knew and thought I wanted. And I didn’t look back.

  The only thing I’ve ever regretted about leaving is that I didn’t take Raven with me.

  Muttering a curse, I tip the bottle of Jack Daniels up to my lips and suck down a few mouthfuls before slamming it on the table. “I’ll wait for her to come to me.”

  “Going to be waiting a while,” Hawk assures me. “Maybe you forgot what Raven is like, Bash.” He lifts a hand and starts counting off his baby sister’s qualities on his fingers. “She doesn’t play well with others. She doesn’t give in. She …” My glare has him chuckling but lowering his hand. “Just trying to refresh your mind, man.”

  There’s no need for a refresher. I haven’t forgotten one thing about Raven Hannigan.

  Not one damned thing.

  Just as I’m starting to give in, ready to go find her, Raven walks out of the back office with a cellphone to her ear. I turned my gaze on her, watching the way her jean clad hips move making my dick hard. The Hannigan’s T-shirt she’s wearing stretches tightly over her perfect C-cup breasts, the black bra underneath teasing me, arousing me as if she wore nothing at all.

  She stops mid-step, her eyes narrowing at what the person on the other end of the phone is saying before she laughs. I watch her lips for her reply, realize that she’s talking to her best friend, Felicity Bolton, and relax a little. Just the thought of another guy putting that kind of smile on my girl’s face makes me murderous.

  At the booth everyone else carries on with a conversation that I’m supposed to be listening to. I don’t care if I miss it or not. My heart throbs in my chest, my dick swelling with each passing second as I continue to watch Raven talk to Felicity while she grabbed up the stray empty bottles and glasses.

  “... okay. See you a little later. Be careful.” Raven pockets her iPhone as she nears the Originals’ booth. “Alright, you old fuckers, I’m heading out in a few. You need anything else before I go?”

  “You aren’t going to help us close?” Raider asks.

  Olive green eyes narrow on her brother. “No, I’m not. Now with Hawk here you don’t need me. I made plans when you said I could have the night off, and I intend to keep them. So get your lazy ass up there and help Colt. He could use a break.”

  Hawk grabs her arm before she can turn away. “What kind of plans?” he demands before I find my voice to ask myself.

  “There’s a party,” she tells him. “I’m going to go act my age and get shitfaced before I head home with a hangover. See you tomorrow night.”

  “Rave!” Hawk calls after her when she pulls free and heads for the door. “Rave, where is this party?”

  “I didn’t ask.” She walks faster. “Night.”

  “I don’t fucking like this.” Hawk gets up to chase after her. “Felicity has been in a piss-poor mood lately and it’s hard to tell what those two will get into to prove a point.”

  I pick up the bottle of Jack Daniels and take another mouthful before I follow Hawk out the door. The rain has slowed down and I get out the door just in time to see Raven burning rubber out of the parking l
ot. Hawk cusses viciously, his cellphone pressed to his ear.

  “Where the fuck are you taking my sister tonight?” he demands. “This isn’t a game, Flick! You are only punishing yourself with this shit and pulling my sister down with you.” I stand beside Hawk while he listens to whatever Felicity says before he starts cussing again. “Fucking hell, Flick! Blame Jet. This is his fault, not mine.”

  He hangs up, pulling his keys from his pocket before he even notices me. “Well, you coming or not, Bash?”

  “What’s with Flick?” I ask as I climbed into the passenger seat of Hawk’s red 1970 Plymouth GTX, only one of the many muscle cars the Hannigan’s collected.

  Hawk rakes a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “She isn’t taking the whole Jet thing very well. There are … complications.” His tires squeal as he pulls into traffic and follows after Raven’s Challenger. “Felicity isn’t in a good place right now.”

  The Felicity Bolton I remember had been a pretty good girl. She was going to college. She wasn’t into the whole MC scene, despite her mother having been a part of it. Her mother had been a mama, letting the club pass her around from one member to the next. Felicity had been the product of it, and to this day no one knows who her father really was. The only one that could have been eliminated was Max Hannigan, who had always been faithful to his wife.

  So why is she so messed up over the whole issue with Jet?

  “I’m telling you this because you’re the president. You rule us, man … Shit, I don’t even think Flick told Raven, and you know those two tell each other everything …” He doesn’t even touch the brakes at the stop sign, just shoots through.

  Even though Felicity is a few years older than Raven, they’re best friends and had been from the moment Raven could talk. If she’s not sharing something with Raven, then something’s definitely up.

  “Flick and Jet … Shit, I guess it was a thing. I don’t know what the fuck it was, man. Jet didn’t want her to have to deal with the club bullshit so he kept pushing her away. Then Flick told him she was pregnant.” Hawk grunts when I start muttering curses. “Yeah. So he decided to do the right thing. Make her his. The Originals were all for it. They love Flick. Fuck, man, I’m pretty sure that one of them might even be her old man.”

  I don’t know if I believe that, but there’s always the possibility. The Originals had been hardcore in their days. Some of them still are.

  “Jet dragged his heels though. Too fucking stubborn to follow through right away … Then Westcliffe followed Flick home from school one night.”

  My gut clenches and I can only guess what came next. Westcliffe had been one of Jet’s closest seconds, but I always felt a little off about him. Then he had gone rogue. Turned his back on the MC, our rules, and our values. I close my eyes as Hawk continues. “He didn’t rape her, but he beat her pretty bad. She lost the baby, maybe even the chance to have another one from what the doctor told me when I got to the hospital that night.”

  My eyes opened at that. “You? Not Jet?”

  “Jet went a little crazy. Called me to deal with what he couldn’t handle. That’s the only reason I know.” Another stop sign we blow through, headed out of town. “Westcliffe disappeared for a while. Took off for a warmer climate. Jet stayed drunk for about two weeks.”

  “So Flick and Jet …?”

  “Flick told him to go fuck himself … and Jet … Well, you know about Jet.”

  Yeah, I know about Jet. Six months ago Jet had beaten Westcliffe to death in front of five witnesses. Two weeks ago Jet was sentenced one to five years for manslaughter. The jury had been sympathetic asking the judge to include time served for the six months he’d already served. If all goes well Jet will be a free man in a matter of months, but he can’t remain president of Angel’s Halo while locked up.

  That’s why he called me from prison.

  Chapter 4

  Raven

  I’ve never been to a frat party, but as I walk through a house I had never been in before with my best friend in the world, I see the similarities to Angel’s Halo parties.

  Sex on the lawn where anyone can—and does—watch? Check. Passing around drugs? Check. Rock music blaring from every room making the windows and floors vibrate? Check.

  My brothers and their friends would fit right in here …

  Yeah, okay. That’s a big load of shit. My brothers would chew these prissy-looking frat boys up and spit them out.

  I’m bored out of my mind here. Felicity doesn’t look any more excited to be here than I am. So we grab a bottle of tequila and two clean shot glasses and are now in search of a private place to get drunk off our asses.

  We end up in the living room on the second floor of the frat house. Three couches fill the room and two of them are occupied with couples in varying stages of sex. The third has a couple on one end making out. Figuring this is our best option, I drop down beside of the guy who has his tongue down the throat of the busty redhead who’s sitting on his lap dry humping his brains out.

  Felicity flops down on the couch, already unscrewing the top of the cheap bottle of tequila. We hadn’t been able to find salt, or even limes, so we shoot it straight. It doesn’t bother me any. I might only be nineteen, but I’ve been drinking hardcore for longer than anyone in my family probably realizes.

  The first shot burns all the way down, sitting like a fire pit in the bottom of my stomach. I don’t grimace as I wipe a drop of the clear liquid from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. “Another,” I urge Felicity as soon as she has caught her breath from her own first shot.

  I swallow two more before Felicity can even bring herself to down her second. My life is going up shit creek without a paddle lately, and this is the first time I’ve let myself sit down and really take a breather. I desperately need to unwind.

  Another shot down, and I’m starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Leaning my head back against the couch, I turn my eyes on Felicity, who’s peeling the label off the tequila bottle. “I miss my brother.”

  Jet had been the one to always take care of me. He had been the one that made everything seem right with the world. Even before our father died, Jet had been looking out for me. He always made sure I had everything I needed, giving me everything I wanted. But it’s not just because he spoils me rotten that I miss him. Jet and I are close. I feel him down in my soul.

  I haven’t seen him in six months. Even when his trial was happening he refused to let me go. He doesn’t want me to see him like that, and part of me understands. The other part just wants to hug my brother.

  Felicity sighs. “Me too,” she confesses with a pained look on her pretty face.

  I see that look and my heart squeezes for her. I’m not blind. I knew, even if everyone had tried to keep it from me, that something had been going on between Felicity and Jet last year. When Westcliffe attacked Felicity, I wanted to kill the bastard myself. Jet shouldn’t be sitting in a prison cell right now because he’s done humanity a favor and beat that degenerate to death.

  Since then, Felicity has changed a little. Not in a bad way, at least not to me. My once shy, reserved friend is now more daring. She’s been telling the world to go fuck itself for months now, and I kind of like it. But knowing that Felicity is doing it because she’s been so damaged by Westcliffe—and I suspected by my brother as well—makes me ache for her.

  I take the bottle from her and pour us another shot. Felicity doesn’t even grimace this time as it slides down her throat. “Bash looked good tonight,” I tell her, trying to turn her attention from her own problems to mine. I don’t normally talk about Bash to anyone, not even Felicity, but I know Felicity will focus all her attention on my issues and not have to think about her own pain. If I could give her a little peace from her own inner demons, even for a moment, I’d gladly put my feelings about Sebastian “Bash” Reid out there.

  Felicity snorts. “When did Bash ever not look good, Rave?”

  “Shut up, Flick.” I toss the top
of the tequila bottle at her. “You know what I mean. He looked like he hasn’t been spending the last year dying without me.” While I’ve slowly been wasting away inside knowing that he left me and hadn’t bothered to look back.

  “Guys fucking suck,” Felicity mutters. “They don’t know a good thing even when it stands right in front of them and slaps them in the face.”

  A female squeal has us both turning our heads to find the redhead is now shirtless and her bra already half off. I roll my eyes and try to ignore the couple. I’m used to this kind of shit. My brothers had stopped caring if I saw the sex at their parties when I turned sixteen. Sex is a natural thing, after all. As long as their men don’t touch me, there’s no problem.

  Apparently the dickwad with the redhead on his lap never got the memo about Raven Hannigan being hands-off. I can’t really blame the guy. He’s high as a kite and probably doesn’t even know who Raven Hannigan was. So when he grabs my hair and starts pulling my head back thinking that just because I sat beside of him I’m up for a threesome, I try to untangle myself without much fuss.

  When he pulls harder, becoming demanding, I grab his hand and yank his pinky finger back until I hear it snap. He pushes the redhead off his lap, an outraged scream coming out of her mouth. He’s so high he doesn’t even feel the broken pinky. Assuming that I’m only playing hard to get, he grabs my arm with his free hand and jerks me against his chest.

  “Stop,” I yell in the guy’s face, finally getting a good look at him. He’s not so bad to look at. Short hair styled in a faux hawk, strong jaw, nice straight nose, and thin lips. His hazel eyes are glazed and bloodshot from whatever he’d been smoking tonight, and his shoulders are wide and leanly muscled. He’s not wearing a shirt, and the tattoo on his left pectoral tells me he’s in the fraternity.

  Instead of listening to me, he lowers his head trying to kiss me. I grab a handful of his hair and pull his head back. “Back the fuck off, asshole!”

  “Rave?” Felicity’s hesitant voice reaches me as I struggle to keep the guy’s lips away from me. His hands are doing all kinds of roaming. It’s a challenge and he’s freakishly strong in his stoned state.