1. Razor

"Fuckin' cages," I mutter as I unbuckle my seatbelt and shove it aside. I feel like I can breathe again without that torture contraption wrapped around my chest and torso. Now if only I could punch a hole in the roof for some extra air flow and replace the steering wheel with handlebars, this might not be so bad.

Once I joined Rebel Hearts MC at eighteen, my Harley has been my one and only. My most prized possession. When I'm out on my bike, leaning into a turn, my silhouette slicing through the wind as it whips around me, the world doesn't seem so bad. For those few moments, it's just me, the rumble of my bike, and the vast expanse of the Texas hills.

Being in this steel cage is not only making me claustrophobic but nauseated as well. Unfortunately, I don"t have a choice. As the Enforcer for Rebel Hearts, I often scope out leads and analyze the legitimacy and danger of the situation. It"s difficult to discreetly collect information on a bike, not only because of the noise but because the bike itself could draw the attention of our potential target and blow our cover.

So… a fuckin' cage it is.

Pulling out my phone, I snap a few pictures of my surroundings, zooming in on the partially rusted road sign across the street and the address of the abandoned-looking farm on the outskirts of town. It's a great location for a clandestine meeting, which is exactly what I'm hoping will happen tonight.

I found the perfect spot to park that keeps the car hidden by the shadow of an overhanging tree limb while still giving me a solid view of the dirt lot, the surrounding shanty farmhouse, and various decrepit structures around the property.

Sighing heavily, I settle in for a stakeout that I hope won"t last all night. The lead we got from a new prospect seems legit, but after years in the MC world, I know better than to take a prospect at their word. Some of these shitheads will do or say anything to patch in, including lying and wasting resources by sending the club on an unnecessary mission.

After about ten minutes or so, movement catches the corner of my eye. I turn my attention in that direction, watching as a door to the main farmhouse swings open and bangs against the side of the wall. My eyes narrow as I take in the familiar face of an old rival; Diego Alvarez.

I swallow past the growl stuck in my throat, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Diego is one of a handful of men at the head of this branch of the cartel. If he's here, that means these fuckers are trying once again to get a foothold in this small Texan town. Maplewood is in a unique location that would give the cartel access to huge suppliers and buyers in Dallas. This isn't the first time they've attempted to take over the drug trade and funnel their cocaine through our streets.

My brothers at Rebel Hearts MC won"t let that happen. We"ve faced off with these mother fuckers before, and we"ll do it again. There"s no vanquishing the cartel, of course. Not yet, anyway. Like a hydra, when you eliminate one branch of the cartel, two more seem to grow back and double down on their previous mission.

Well, not this time.

I continue snapping pictures on my phone, making sure to get clear shots of Diego and his accomplices. Some I recognize, others are fresh faces, ready to take the place of their elders when they are inevitably killed in the line of duty.

Just when I think everyone is outside, the door opens again, revealing something shocking. Okay, this is a solid lead.

A member of the Serpents steps outside, followed by another and another. Five in total. Even if I didn't recognize the VP of the Serpents, I would know it's them by the logo on the back of their cuts.

So this is the next step, I think to myself. The cartel has struck up some kind of deal with the Serpents to open the flow of drugs through our town. Not on my fuckin' watch.

I"m too far away to hear anything they are saying, but this is enough evidence right here to convince the club we need to make this our new number-one priority. Checking the clock on the dashboard, I"m pleased to see it"s only nine in the evening. Plenty of time to stop by the clubhouse, grab a beer or three, and update the Sergeant in Arms, Drak, about my discovery. Lord knows our President, Aldis, will be at home with his old lady by that point. Tritan and Chance are more than likely already at home with their women.

"Suckers," I scoff to myself. I respect the Pres, Secretary, and Treasurer, of course. They're my brothers and I'll defend them with my life. That doesn't mean I have to approve of every decision they make. It's not the women they chose - Winnie, Bess, and Jessa seem nice enough. It's the whole idea of a relationship.

I grimace, unable to even think the word without a visceral reaction. Trust, vulnerability, sharingfeelings… no, thank you. Then there's the romance part of it. I don't have the slightest clue how to be sweet and romantic, and honestly, I don't care to know.

But, to each their own, I suppose.

I'm about to put my phone away and get the hell out of Dodge when the farmhouse door opens again. I almost don't even bother sticking around, knowing I already have all the evidence I need now, but something pulls my attention back toward the building.

The first thing I notice is a bright streak of long blonde hair, glittering in the moonlight. Every muscle in my body tightens, and I'm frozen in place as if some spell has been cast over me.

When the magical creature turns around and faces my direction, I get a mouthwatering view of her curves silhouetted by the bright light of the moon. I know she can't see me, but I feel… exposed. It's sudden and I don't quite appreciate how this woman has undone me without even trying. Without even knowing I exist. Wasn't I just calling my friends suckers for falling for their women?

My brain and body aren"t communicating properly, and I watch myself open up the camera app once again, having no control over my motions. I zoom in on the beauty who is so close, yet impossible and forbidden to touch. I find myself taking picture after picture, trying to capture her essence. Those full, pouty lips, her slightly upturned nose, rounded cheeks, and her long, slender neck that leads down to her chest… which I shouldn"t be looking at. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Still, I focus once more on her face, taking in her long lashes and wide eyes. Are they brown? Green? Dark blue? I can't tell from here, and for some reason, that pisses me the hell off. Some insane, unreasonably possessive part of me needs to know. I need to know her story, not just the color of her eyes. I need to know what makes her happy, what scares her, what she wants out of life. What the hell? What are these thoughts?

I flip on video mode, hoping to catch the curvy goddess in motion, but then I get an incoming text from one of my MC brothers. I huff out a frustrated breath, hesitating for a moment on whether to read it or not. Eventually, my loyalty to the club wins out and I navigate to my text messages.

Drak, our Sergeant at Arms, wants to know if I have any updates. Boy, do I ever, I think to myself. I reply, telling him I'll be at the club soon with a full report.

Before pulling the car away from the curb and making my way to the Rebel Hearts clubhouse, I take one last look at the scene in front of me. What I see has my blood boiling.

The fucking VP of the Serpents, Viper, has his meaty paw wrapped around the blonde woman's arm and he's tugging her inside. He looks like he's reprimanding her, and my cold, dead heart sinks when her shoulders drop and she nods her head in defeat.

Every protective instinct inside me rises up, and I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from ripping the car door off its hinges and lunging at Viper for putting his hands on any woman out of anger, let alone this… this… angel.

Fuck me, I shouldn't be having these thoughts. These desires.

When everyone is back inside, I take my cue to leave. Still, I know I'll be thinking about the blonde beauty all night long.