Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Riff

I always thought, when I was a kid running a strip of masking tape down the center of a shared bedroom to keep my brother's shit on his side that one day, I'd get a room of my own.

"I'm just saying, it would have been the brotherly thing to do," Raff said from the queen-sized bed situated just three feet away from the one I was perched on.

"I had no interest in walking around this Bumfuck, Nowhere town for three hours while you fucked some random woman on my bed as well as your own."

"Hey, her friend was willing to take a walk into the woods with you," Raff said. "A good, solid fuck against a tree is the kind of stress relief you could use before another job," he added.

"Her friend was sporting an engagement ring and Bride to Be sash," I reminded him.

"Mr. Moral over here," Raff said, never afraid to get into sticky situations with women. But being a part of someone cheating on the eve of their wedding was probably a little too immoral even for my brother.

"We have to get going early tomorrow," I reminded him. "It would be nice if I didn't have to wake you up when we got there," said.

"We better be getting a break when we get back to Shady Valley," Raff said, speaking aloud the sentiment I felt down to my bones.

We'd been working pretty much nonstop for about six months now. From Shady Valley to all the stops in the South, stocking up on untraceable guns we stuffed the car full with, then driving them down to Golden Glades in Florida to drop them off at our sister chapter.

Sure, we got three days of rest there, give or take, each time we dropped in. But then we were always on the road again, finding more guns, and driving them all the way back to California for our club to distribute to more local clients.

I never used to mind all the travel. Raff and I had never been the ‘putting down roots' type. Yet something about this last stint of sleeping in the passenger seat while the other one drove or staying in motel rooms in the Middle of Nowhere, USA was getting to both of us.

We were overdue for a break. A solid month or two of being able to just crash at the clubhouse.

Bonus points for it being the only place in the world where we were guaranteed to have our own damn bedrooms. Though I was never really around there long enough to actually do anything to mine to make it my own.

Someday, I kept telling myself.

But someday never came.

"You're in a mood," Raff said, putting down his phone on the nightstand.

I did the same before scrubbing my hands down my face. "I'm burnt out," I admitted aloud for the first time.

Raff, usually all ease and affability, let out a deep sigh as well. "Yeah, I know that feeling," he agreed.

For twins, we were only generally alike in appearance. Tall, fit, square jaws, black hair, dark eyes.

If you put us in a lineup, you'd probably only be able to tell us apart from my stubble compared to his clean-shaven face, and our differing tattoos. He was covered up both arms, his neck, his torso, even some of his legs at this point. Raff's were more random shit, including a distinct and absurd pizza slice tattoo on his ankle and a fucking Marvin the Martian one as well. I just had the one sleeve and it was in a cohesive design.

Personality-wise, though, we were almost polar opposites. Raff was extroverted, never having met a stranger in his life. Always at the center of a party, seeking out fun shit to do, new experiences to have, and shamelessly and endlessly flirting with just about any woman he ever crossed paths with.

I was the more introverted one, happy to just have a chill hang over a party, go explore local attractions, go take hikes or walks, things that took me away from the party scenes, especially as I got older.

And, yeah, I was quieter, more serious. And while I enjoyed women as much as the next man, it wasn't my singular goal every day to chat one up or hook up.

So it was really telling that two very opposite personalities were having almost the exact same feelings regarding our lifestyle at the same time.

It was definitely time for a break.

"At least tomorrow is just a quick job," Raff said, reaching to turn out the light.

"Yeah," I agreed.

Sure, it was a new contact for us. But our whole lives were meeting up with people at gun shows, or off random ads listed on the internet somewhere. So this was nothing to stress over.

At least, that was what our mindset was in the morning as we lazily went about getting shitty, doughy complimentary bagels that we stuffed with rubbery liquid eggs, grabbing coffees, and hitting the road.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" I asked, glancing over to where Raff had the map spread out across his lap.

The thing with being career criminals is you have to live a bit like a luddite. No social media. No suspicious search histories. No using map apps on your phone. Hell, no cell phones at all on a job. That shit had to be turned off.

So my brother and I had had a car full of fucking old school paper maps, and had gotten good at reading the damn things.

But nothing about this route seemed like it was actually going where we needed to go as the trees closed in on either side of the dirt road, the forest thick on both sides.

Fall was in full swing, turning the trees vibrant shades of copper and red, but the underbrush was still thick and green.

But there didn't seem to be any place in the distance where a house might be hiding.

"This is the way, man," Raff said, shrugging, his finger stabbed onto the map to hold our place as we kept driving.

We didn't often have reason to drive through Northwestern Arkansas. It wasn't exactly the most direct route from Florida to California. And, normally, we wouldn't even entertain a meeting so far off of our usual track, unless there was a big gun show on the way.

But this crew claimed to have quite a few of the specialty guns that were suddenly very in demand for our connections out in California. So since this wasn't more than a day or so out of the way, Slash had decided it was worth our time to take the trip.

Raff was excited about seeing some different sights on the way back, since this route was going to take us through Colorado and Utah instead of the usual Texas and New Mexico route we'd been doing for years.

At this point, I didn't give a fuck about the sights. I just wanted to get home for a while, unwind, figure out why I was so restless on the road when it had been my life for so many years without an issue.

"There," Raff said, lifting his other hand toward the windshield. "Looks like a chimney," he said.

In mid-November, the temperature in this area seemed to be struggling to stay in the upper fifties. Cool enough for a fire for sure.

"Thank fuck," I said, feeling oddly claustrophobic with the narrowness of the road and the trees boxing us in.

The sooner we could get this over with, the better.

"What's the move?" Raff asked as we kept moving toward the puffs of white smoke, the road getting more and more uneven as we went, rocking the car from side to side, making me grit my teeth. "Bring the money, leave it in the car?"

"Easier to protect it if we bring it," I said, suddenly wishing we'd chosen to meet at some random location instead of their house. I didn't realize it would be this secluded, this far away from the rest of the world. According to the map, this property backed up to acres and acres of preserved land occupied by nothing but a few hunting cabins and all the various wildlife.

"Yeah," Raff agreed, uncharacteristically quiet.

"You have your set of car keys, right?" I asked.

Raff reached for his belt hoop, pulling away a set of keys on a retractable keychain.

"I'm not planning on getting separated," I said. "But you know the deal if we do."

The deal was always to get to the car, to relative safety. Then wait for the other one.

Unless shit had really hit the fan.

In which case, the agreement was that the person in the car took off, but tried to circle back, or waited for the other on the closest cross street.

If the risk was too much even for that, the agreement was to get somewhere safe, turn on your phone, and wait for the other to call with a location.

We'd needed to separate once in all of our years doing this. And Raff had been able to run beside the car and jump in the window before we peeled off.

Still, I felt like it was my job as the older sibling—even if it was only by a couple of minutes—to always go over the plan, make sure we were prepared for unforeseen possibilities.

"All I know is when all this shit is done, I'm gonna be happy to have a meal cooked by Detroit, then go flirt with my girl," Raff said.

‘His girl' was actually Detroit's cousin, Lula, who worked for the local Irish mafia. And had absolutely no interest in him, regardless of how flattering she may have found his relentless flirting.

"Detroit still cooks, right?" Raff asked, looking suddenly concerned.

"Why wouldn't he?"

"He's with that girl now."

"Everleigh," I supplied. "Still, he's a member of the club. And he likes cooking. Besides, even if he doesn't, the options in Shady Valley might not be great, but we won't starve."

"True," he said, and we fell into a tense silence for the next few minutes until, finally, we saw the driveway. "Here we go," Raff said, sucking in a deep breath.

It was the only sign he was feeling as off as I was.

But neither of us said anything about it as we both checked for our phones, even though they were powered down, our guns, and, finally, keys, before we climbed out of the car, and went to the trunk to grab the bag with the cash.

This place wasn't much to write home about. But none of the places we bought weapons usually were. I figured maybe it was their unassuming nature that let them fly under the radar of local authorities.

Then again, most of these sellers were in states where gun regulations were low to nearly nonexistent. So no one was really keeping track.

It was a low ranch-style house with a massive detached garage almost twice the size of the actual house out a few yards from the house, and a smaller shed way off in the distance.

There was a quartet of men waiting near the house for us, all in matching uniforms of flannel over their varied body frames, all were in possession of baseball caps, scraggly beards, and sporting some patches on their clothes that spoke of some unsavory connections, and looking like the kind of men you might accidentally fall into conversation with where they would tell you all of their varied, and increasingly insane, conspiracy theories until you literally felt yourself losing brain cells.

"We were worried you weren't going to make it," the one in the center, somewhere in his mid-fifties with a bit of a hangover waistline and a nasty scar through his lip, said as we walked toward them.

"Kind of out in the middle of nowhere here," I said, gaze scanning over the men, trying to get a read on them.

"We like our privacy," another of the men said, tone unnecessarily clipped, considering we were just having a conversation.

"That we do," the leader agreed. "You ready to check out the merchandise?" he asked, holding out a hand, waving toward the detached garage.

"Yep," I agreed, not loving the way the men closed around us as we walked. One on each side of us, the leader ahead, and the snippy one taking our six.

My gaze cut toward Raff, trying to get his attention, so I could gauge if he was getting the same pit in his stomach that I was feeling or if I was just being paranoid. But his gaze was fixed forward, eyes moving across the building like he was trying to learn the schematics of it.

"Right through here, boys," the leader said, reaching to pull and hold the door open for us. With men behind us, we had no real choice but to move inside.

I couldn't account for the way my hairs were on end, or how my stomach was twisting into knots. There was nothing about this interaction so far that was much different than all of our other ones.

The inside of the garage was, to put it kindly, a fucking disaster area. Two old cars were sitting inside, half their guts torn out, though it looked like no one had worked on them in years. Boxes were piled up against three of the walls, and rows of random crap—outdoor gear, dusty exercise equipment, and sheets of wood and various other scrap—was scattered all around, practically creating actual aisles full of junk.

Raff's gaze cut to me then, a whole conversation passing between us, the same concerns wordlessly shared.

Something felt off.

But as soon as we both came to that understanding, I heard a click that had a shiver coursing down my spine.

That was a safety sliding off.

"You boys are just gonna leave that money right there," the leader said.

Raff's gaze slid to the bag, then back to my face, giving me an almost imperceptible nod.

"This money?" I asked, lifting it with both hands to get a better hold, and to draw their attention away from Raff and onto me. "Here, take it!" I said, throwing it at them, then ducking behind some sheets of plywood as Raff ducked behind the car, and started shooting.

I grabbed my own gun as I heard a howl from one of the men, then two.

I couldn't see Raff, but I knew his move. To get to the front door. Then out to the car.

The closest exit for me was the side door.

But if we got out in unison, we could both make it to the car at almost the same time.

More bullets rang out as my heart punched against my ribcage.

One.

Two.

Time to run.

I kept my gun up, trying to keep my gaze forward but running toward the side.

It was how I saw Raff make it to the door, one of the men pulling himself out from behind cover to follow.

I squeezed off one shot, enough to make the man pause and duck, so Raff could escape, then I flew out too.

But there were two other men between me and the driveway.

Raff was already reaching the side of the car.

Then there were two men coming out of the back of the house, likely alerted by the sounds of the gunshots.

I would never get past them with their semiautomatics with endless firepower.

"Fuck," I hissed to myself, ducking behind the building, hopefully before they even saw me, then flying into the woods, finding myself thankful for the cover even as the underbrush nipped at my legs.

With the woods masking me, I turned back, finding Raff still in the driveway, likely trying to wait for me.

But the men were descending on him, the ones from the house and the ones from the garage as well.

The engine revved as he suddenly backed out of the drive at a pace that had my stomach pitching.

But, to be fair, Raff was the far better driver. Especially defensively. If anyone could drive backward at a fast pace without crashing, it was him.

I held my breath, watching as the men chased him, bullets ringing out, but none of them hit. Or hit true enough to stop him.

Because within two minutes, our car was gone.

With it, any easy means of escape for me.

But I was just going to have to find my own way through these fucking woods.

I didn't want to go any closer to the house, so I walked deeper into the forest, wincing each time my feet cracked a twig.

Not that I needed to worry for much longer, anyway.

Once the men pulled their wounded out of the garage and into the house, the crew left unharmed suddenly peeled out of there in their own trucks.

If my math was right, it left two wounded men and one unharmed one in the house.

And no other vehicles for me to hotwire and steal to get away with.

It looked like I had a long-ass day of hiking ahead of me.

With a resigned sigh, trying not to worry too much about Raff, knowing he was capable of taking care of himself, I made an arc around the property as the cold started to seep into my bones, making me wish I'd worn a fucking jacket since it was only going to get worse as the night came on.

I couldn't tell you why I found myself closing in on it, all I knew was, all of a sudden, that extra shed was really fucking close, and I wondered if maybe it would have something inside of it that might help me for a night, or possibly longer, alone in the woods.

I didn't dare go around it to enter the front door, but there was a window at the side, hidden from the view of the house thanks to another giant stack of crap gathered about.

Decision made, I pulled open the door, then hefted myself inside.

It wasn't until I got to my feet inside that I realized I wasn't alone.

There was a woman toward the far end of the shed.

With a giant shackle around her ankle.