Chapter One

Cameron

Iscrawled the total for Shaw's office expenses at the end of the column, a headache beginning to pulse at my temples. When I'd announced I was heading to InkLore this morning to work on Shaw's books, Ace had asked if he could come since he needed to work on some sketches anyway. I hadn't thought it would be an issue.

I was fucking wrong.

"I wish Shaw had some cookies or something in here," Ace grumbled from his sprawled position across the rug in front of Shaw's desk. He was lying on his stomach, his feet in the air swinging back and forth. His gaze was focused on his tablet, and his hand was sweeping across the screen, but it was damn clear his mind was elsewhere despite his hand furiously working on whatever custom design Shaw had asked him to draw.

"I wish you'd stop grumbling," I muttered as I focused back on the book in front of me, wishing I had some painkillers with me.

"We've been here for three hours, Cam," Ace griped. "I'm hungry. Wasting away. Feed me."

I rubbed at my forehead. "Ace, you have money," I reminded him, exasperated. Ace may be eighteen, but he acted like a child. "Walk to one of the fast food places and get food yourself."

He scoffed. "Why spend my money when I can spend yours?"

I dropped my pencil to the desk and glared at his prone form on the floor. The little shit didn't even bother looking at me, though I knew he knew I was getting pissed off. It never took much. My temper was quick more often than not, and today was just one of those days where everything made me flip the fuck out.

"I know being a little fucking brat is your default setting," I growled, "but can you just shut the fuck up?"

He turned his head to look up at me, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Who the fuck pissed in your cereal this morning, Cameron?"

I shoved back from Shaw's desk, his chair smacking into the wall behind me, which made one of the frames on his wall fall and crash to the floor, glass shattering. Ace jumped up, glaring at me, his temper now spiking, too. I snatched up the book and my pencil. "Never again," I snapped at Ace, pointing the pencil in his direction. "I'm never fucking bringing you with me when I need to work again. You get on my fucking nerves."

Ace threw something while my back was turned to him so I could shove my shit into my bag—a paperweight from Shaw's desk—and it narrowly missed my head. I swung around to face him, but before I could retaliate and teach the little shit a lesson, Shaw barged in and snagged my arm, keeping me from ramming my fist into Ace's face. "Both of you rein your shit the fuck in," he snapped. "You're both acting like fucking children."

I snatched my arm out of his grasp. "Get your little hellion under control, and there wouldn't be issues."

"I'm going to rip your balls off," Ace snapped at my back as I stormed out of the room, always the one to need the last word. I ignored him and shoved open the back door, letting it slam shut behind me. After shoving my notebook and my pencil into my backpack, I swung it onto my shoulders and straddled my bike. Ace shoved out of the back door, and just like the little asshole he was, he made sure to give me the middle finger until I disappeared from sight.

Jesus fucking Christ, that kid. I loved him to pieces but he knew how to push my buttons. And just like I imagined a little brother would do, he pushed them every single damn chance he got.

Ace was the sole reason I decided to come home. After the shit Konrad and Shaw pulled, trying to manipulate me into coming home, I'd waited until an officer showed up at my door to make me leave my apartment to even come back to this shit hole of a town, solely because I was stubborn as hell.

Shaw had apologized for the way they'd come at me and even asked me why I'd never just used the money they sent. When I'd told him I hadn't felt comfortable using it and had wanted to make my own way, we came up with a plan to put it into an account for Ace to use if he ever decided he wanted to go to college, which so far, Ace was showing no interest in, which was fine. The money would be available to him when we thought he was ready for it if he outright told us he had no plans of attending college.

Konrad and I had taken longer to settle our shit. Konrad was used to being in charge, and he could be just as hot headed as I was. It took Jax finally shoving us outside and telling us to beat the shit out of each other to get it out of our systems for us to finally chill the hell out.

And seeing Jax again… yeah, I'd punched him in the face. Surprisingly, he'd just stood there and taken the shot, blood running down his chin from where his teeth cut into his mouth. We'd talked our shit out; he'd told me he'd thought there was no chance of redemption for him, and I'd told him we were family—family he'd turned his back on. But unlike with Konrad and Shaw, Jax had taken responsibility for his actions from the get-go.

But then again, Jax had always been like that. Blunt. Straight to the point. He didn't like playing games.

I pulled into one of the parking stalls in front of the little coffee shop we all frequented, especially me. I was in here so much, they knew my coffee order by heart. Literally, all I had to do was walk through the door, and they'd start making it for me.

It was nice to not have to rattle off my same order every day anymore. It was one of the only perks of being back in this godforsaken town again.

A patrol car was parked two spaces down from me, and when I glanced through the large windows that covered the entire front of the coffee shop, I spotted two officers—a man and a woman—giving their coffee orders to the barista. I grimaced.

I fucking hated cops. Growing up in the foster system already made my relationship with law enforcement tenuous. Now that I was part of an outlaw biker club and also knew shady cops were on the payroll of whoever was running the local sex trafficking ring? Yeah—I detested them all.

I pulled my helmet off and swept my shoulder-length dark hair into a bun on the top of my head before swinging my leg over my bike. Not bothering to remove my backpack, thinking I might be able to get some work done while drinking my coffee, I headed inside, the bell above the door giving a soft jingle as I swept inside.

Both officers turned to look at me, and I couldn't help staring at the woman. Fucking hell, she was gorgeous. Cinnamon-colored hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and those brown eyes were like melted chocolate when our gazes clashed. Unashamed, I swept my gaze down her body, admiring the curves her uniform couldn't hide. And when she turned away from me, facing her partner again, my mouth practically salivated at the sight of her tight ass in those uniform pants.

Fucking hell.

Why did the hottest woman I'd ever seen have to be a fucking cop?

I moved toward the counter, and Emily, the barista on duty, beamed at me. "Hey, Cameron." I smiled at her—just a small tilt of the corner of my lips. "Your usual?" she asked.

I watched the two officers settle at a table nearby, quietly murmuring amongst themselves like they didn't want anyone to overhear. I barely resisted shaking my head. Fucking amateurs. Everyone knew discussing private business in public places was a no-no.

"Yeah," I told her. "Can you add a donut to that for me? Glazed." I had an idea… and yeah, it was definitely a dick move, but I liked toying with people. And I really wanted to toy with the hot cop.

"Sure." She put my order in, and after I paid, she began making my coffee. I headed to the other end of the counter, listening to the two pigs now that I was closer.

"How has no one gotten dirt on them yet?" the woman hissed. "Jax alone is enough to get something. He's running with a motorcycle club. Surely with his history alone, that's a red flag and would put them on our radar."

I ran my tongue over my teeth. The other officer shrugged. "I don't know, Abbie. But that's not our concern. We're on patrol duty. Leave all that to the higher-ups."

She snorted. "I'm not remaining stuck on patrol duty for my entire career, Trent. If the rest of the station won't do it, then I will. I'm going after them, and I'm starting with Jax Gresham."

Like hell they fucking would.

I smiled at Emily, murmuring, "Thanks," when she set my coffee and donut on the counter. "Hey," she turned back to face me, "you got a pen I can borrow real quick?" I asked, a plan forming in my mind. My brothers would probably kick my ass for this, but they were my family. And I would protect them with extreme prejudice, no matter what it cost me.

Emily handed me the pen from her apron, and I grabbed a napkin, scrawling my name and number on it. I didn't miss the brief look of disappointment in her eyes when I grabbed the napkin and turned away from her, my coffee and donut also in my hand. No doubt, she'd thought I'd been writing my number down for her.

Emily was a sweet girl, and she didn't need a man like me. I didn't do commitment. I hated attachments that weren't my family. She and I would never mesh.

I sauntered up to the table Abbie and Trent were sitting at and set the donut in front of Abbie along with my number. She glowered at me, but that didn't stop me. In fact, her clear hatred of me only sparked heat in my veins.

All I saw was a challenge, and fuck, I wanted her, even if she was bad as hell for me.

She was also a game, and damn if I didn't love playing games.

"Cameron Richards," I said, holding my hand out to her. She just grimaced at it before looking back up at me. I shrugged and shoved my hands into my pockets, undeterred. I wasn't wearing my cut, but I was sure this pretty little devil could put two and two together easily enough. This town loved to talk.

I gestured to the donut I'd set in front of her. "Cops like donuts, right, sweetheart?"

She sneered, pure disgust glimmering in her eyes. "How bold of you to assume I eat donuts just because I'm a cop," she snapped as she stood from her chair. Without breaking our eye contact, she grabbed the donut, walked to the trashcan, and dropped it inside.

My cock throbbed. God, she was hot.

But I noticed she left the napkin on the table—the napkin with my phone number. A career-driven woman wouldn't let an opportunity like this slip by her.

I smirked at her. "If you think I'm that easily deterred, you're mistaken." I winked at her, taking a step back from her table, shrugging my bag higher on my shoulder. "Give me a call or text sometime."

With that, I walked away. I'd planted the seed and thrown the ball in her court.

The game had officially begun.