Chapter 1

“Are you ready for tonight?”I turn to Jester and grimace.

“Not fucking remotely. How about you and Hooper?” He smiles at me, leaning up against my open doorway in the most ridiculous LED suit I have ever seen.

“We were raised by a raver. EDM is in our blood. Will get the job done.” I nod, looking over my attire one more time.

Black Armani Suit, black silk shirt, unbuttoned, and a pair of Gucci loafers. The entire outfit cost more than my fucking Harley. The one I’m not allowed to ride until this whole fucking thing is over.

I sigh, thinking about the way the wind feels on my skin when I’m gliding up the PCH. Hooper comes storming in wearing an outfit that doesn’t make any sense.

“Dude, that’s sick!” The brothers clasp hands, and I frown.

“It looks like something Deacon would have made in preschool.” Hooper rolls his eyes.

“It’s glow-in-the-dark mesh, making it wicked light and cool. You would appreciate it if you had any idea how hot and sweaty it’s gonna get for us tonight.” He points between his brother and himself.

Jester nods his agreement, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get it.

“Check out the logo.” He pulls out a baggie with a few blue pills in it, but the sticker on the bag is what captures my attention.

It’s a broken crown with the words “King Pin” under it.

“Fuck,” I shake my head.

How did I even get here? Dad would have never played a game like this with the club’s reputation, which is why we’re going to great lengths to keep who we really are a secret.

Which is no bikes or cuts.

“This just feels wrong,” I say for the millionth time.

“Fuck King. How do you think we feel? We’re the ones getting ready to push this shit on a bunch of kids at a rave. All you gotta do is sit in VIP and look sexy.” Hooper pulls my lapels straight and then smacks my ass.

“Watch it,” I growl as Jester grins at me as I push his brother off me.

“Let’s get this night over with.” I grab my money clip.

Yes, because apparently, I’m playing the part of a pompous rich asshole. I’ve even been practicing my Atlantan accent with Bruno in preparation.

“Ready to move?” I look up at Gavin, and my vision blurs into a memory I try so desperately not to think of.

“Lucas,” Gavin’s hand squeezing my shoulder breaks the spiral I was about to go on.

“I’m okay,” I lie through my teeth, but he just nods without questioning me.

I glance at the photo of Gianna and me.

It’s my focal point. She’s my rock, and I’m doing all this for us. If this stunt doesn’t bring her back home to kill me herself, nothing will.

Then I’ll be able to wring her neck for taking off pregnant with my child and not leaving any information for me to follow her with.

“How long has it been now?” Hooper asks knowing I’ve been keeping a mental count down of when she left.

“One hundred and eighty-six days.” Jester whistles.

“She must be ready to pop.” Hooper’s words don’t help matters.

“Let’s go,” I push my way out of the room and stop dead in my tracks.

“What the fuck happened in here?” The room is a fucking disaster.

There is fabric, glue guns, sequential, and glitter everywhere. I glance around, looking for Chaos. This shit has him written all over it.

“These are all custom Prez!” Hooper turns and fucking Vogues.

“Stop. My brain already hurts. I need a fucking drink.” I grab my cell phone and notice a few missed calls from Bruno.

I don’t bother listening to his messages and just call him back.

“Boss, there was a sighting.” My mouth forgets how to work.

She surfaced? Why now? Where? Why am I not speaking?

“Boss?” His heavy Italian accent gets stronger when he’s agitated.

“Where?” I crook out finally, then take several deep breaths because I’d stopped breathing altogether when he dropped the bomb on me.

“Teterboro. Her private jet is in the air, heading home now. Check the pictures I sent you.” He curses in Italian and hangs up on me.

“King?” Jester moves closer to me, and I watch a tear fall from my lashes and hit the screen of my phone.

It’s graining, but it’s her.

“She’s on her way home,” I whisper as I rub my thumb over the picture of Gianna holding her belly up to climb the stairs into her Gulf Stream.

“That’s fantastic news! Wow, when will she be here?” I look at the clock and do the math.

New Jersey to Los Angeles.

“Six hours.” Almost seven months apart, and suddenly, I had a few hours before I got to see her again.