Chapter 3

THREE

MILES

T he trek to the clubhouse should be the time I use to calm down because the woman my brother had stolen doesn't need to catch the brunt of the fiery rage simmering in my veins.

I can't believe he did this!

It's true. I really can't. Brax has been my brother for most of my life, but he hadn't always been so close to me. There was a time when we couldn't stand one another. I couldn't stand him because he wouldn't speak to me. I interpreted his silence as him thinking he was better than me. Now I know it was pain that kept his lips sealed. Now, I love him for the same reason. He's the only family I have left. Dad's in prison, and I'm ruling in his stead. Mom's still missing, and we n ever speak about Brax's origin. Out of respect for him. Fear of what he'll do if we do.

The clubhouse looks like a run-down garage—and for all intents, it is. I push inside using the door to the right of one of the central bays, where the electric garage doors are shut.

Two Cobras are playing cards near the fridge and kitchenette just inside, smoke billowing from cigarettes—one in the ashtray and one hanging out of Blaze's mouth as it gapes at my presence.

Oh, I'll be dealing with you later. Don't you worry.

My eyes convey the message, and he nods in my direction. "Pres," he says, making Sully turn and eye me. He's one of the meaner of our crew. Sully dons a scar that cuts across his face, mangling most of his left eyelid. He nods at me, turning back around before slamming a hand of cards down.

"Oh, come on, man. How do you keep fucking winning? That's it; I'm shuffling next time. You're fucking cheating!"

I shake my head at the two, turning to the right and heading down the short hallway. There are two offices, one lone bedroom, and a guest bathroom. Dad spent so much time here that the bedroom had been added for the nights that he couldn't be bothered to trek to the house where Brax and I stayed.

The house probably reminded him too much of her, so he stayed away.

Sniffling rings out as my hand touches the knob of the door. It's dingy, the way you'd think one would look inside a club filled with men who couldn't care less about the place's cleanliness.

When I open the door, she sits up and shuffles toward the metal headboard. Her left wrist is bound to the frame, and I mentally add that to the list of things I'm going to bash Blaze's skull in for.

"P—Please, don't hurt me," she begs.

Anger moves through me like a fucking snake. "I won't hurt you."

But I also don't know what I'll do with you.

I can't take her back; she could immediately have the police here. The last thing we need is another Cobra behind bars. The police may pay no heed—for the right price—but they won't be able to ignore something like this. It's headline material.

"Why have you taken me? Something to do with my father? I'm not him. I have nothing to do with him or his company," she spews.

I sit on the edge of the bed, running my eyes over her.

She's got dark, wavy hair that's a fucking tousled mess. Her lips are pouty, and I bet everything in my wallet they're soft. Her eyes are round and the prettiest shade of blue. She's as curvy as the back roads I love to speed down when the weather is perfect.

Fuck me if I can't see why he'd lost his shit over her. There's just something...

"Your father is on our radar, yes. But why you were taken, dearest, hasn't got a thing to do with him, unfortunately." I sigh.

Her eyes drift down, and she looks at my club ring. It's a massive piece we all wear. It took some getting used to in the first few weeks of being in. It's white-gold, gaudy, and has a skull on it with a cobra slithering through the mouth and eye sockets .

"Who are you people?" she asks softly before her gorgeous eyes flick back towards mine.

It's doubtful she doesn't know us.

"If you think playing stupid means I'll let you go, you've got another thing coming, pretty princess."

She scoffs, rolling her sinful eyes. "I'm no princess."

"Really?" I lean in, running my finger down her cheek softly. "Because you look as delicate as one to me. Alabaster, perfect skin that's never known a bite of fucking pain."

"What?" she breathes.

I lean away from her.

Now you're losing your fucking head?

When I stand and move towards the door, her breathing panics. "You won't let me go?"

Holding the door open, I look back at her over my shoulder. "One doesn't capture something so sweet only to throw it back. What kind of hunter do you take me for?"

Slamming the door shut, I rest my body on the other side of it as she cries again.

"Pres? What do you want me to do with her?" Blaze's voice breaks through the mania in my head, spinning me in circles.

I rush him, wrapping my hand around his throat before lifting him off his feet against the wall. "I don't know who you think your boss is, but it's surely not Braxton. If you listen to his command one more time before conferring with me, it'll be the last order you carry out. Do you understand me?"

He nods, grasping at my hand for oxygen .

I drop him to his feet. He bends in the middle, coughing and sputtering.

"I want you to allow her to use the restroom and feed her. She's to always stay under lock and key until I say otherwise. Do you understand me?"

Blaze nods.

Sully is in the hall, staring at the two of us with a brow quirked. Working his hands, using ASL, he signs, " And what do you want us to do with Brax?"

I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Nothing. You do nothing with Brax. I'll handle him. But I don't want him anywhere near her. She's gotten into his fucking head somehow, and I don't trust him around her," I sign back.

Sully nods, moving to slap Blaze on the back as he finally stands straighter.

I walk past them, grab the bourbon bottle from the card table, and head toward the house.

"Hurry and get her handled. We're going out tonight!" I call back before slamming the clubhouse door behind me.

I know they'll be excited, and I know it'll be a shit show, but I need to get fucking laid.

Zeke's Roadhouse is on the other side of town, tucked away in the deep pines of the forest. It's a place that's always packed, but the same faces line the booths and tables. Few tourists turn up inside it, nor do the nicer townsfolk of Twin Pines. It's just the place we can get into a bit of trouble and not get arrested.

"You boys aren't going to break anything tonight, right?" Zeke asks, sliding beers across the wooden counter towards us.

He's in his mid-fifties and bald as the day is long. Somehow, he still has a massive beard that you can catch him stroking in deep thought when he's doing the liquor order or trying to figure out the answer to a problem.

"It was the one time," Blaze says, scoffing as he grabs his beer and scopes the place out, no doubt looking for Shaley, the groupie he's been fucking up against the wall of the bathroom for weeks.

She'll move on soon, and then we'll have to deal with his constant whining about the lack of strange in town until another blows through.

Women flock to the clubhouse like flies on shit, and then they realize this life is a little more dangerous than they'd bargained for and move on.

When the rest of the men who'd come with me move through the roadhouse, settling into the corner in the booth we always occupy, I sit in front of Zeke and nurse my beer.

"Something's wrong. What is it?" he asks, lifting a glass and pretending to shine it.

Zeke, while not a Cobra, is like a father to me. I grew up in this bar, watching my father broker deals and beat the shit out of men for disrespecting him. I also watched him kill for Zeke's protection when a Jackal piece of shit rode in from Portland and thought he could stake his claim in our territory .

I left that night on the back of Dad's bike with blood sprayed across my face with a new understanding of the dark side of this world.

Zeke is privy to Cobra business, and he'd never tell a fucking soul. But this?

I sigh, closing my eyes. Lifting the beer to my forehead, I let the icy chill seep through my skin to tickle my brain, which is currently on fire. I don't know what to do.

"That bad?" Zeke chuckles.

"Braxton stole Carter Williams's fiancé from her home earlier tonight."

The glass Zeke had been holding thuds down onto the bar top. "Excuse me? Were you... Are you ready to make that kind of move?"

"Fuck no! He said there'd been something about her. When I entered the clubhouse, where he was holding her, Zeke... Fuck, there is something about her. That's fucked. But she's a chip that's landed in my lap. I can't just let her go."

Zeke shakes his head. "You can't let her go for so many reasons, kid. But it would be best if you were careful. You know how Brax is. Him taking an interest in something isn't a small thing..."

I nod, waving my hand with my beer before setting it down. "He's going to fixate."

Zeke nods. "He is, indeed."

"Fuck, I love him to death, but sometimes..."

Zeke puts the glass back on the shelf, turning back toward me with a smirk. "Ehh, he keeps you on your toes, is all. "

An absurd laugh leaves me. "Yeah, if that's what you want to call it."

Zeke's face gets serious, and I steel myself for whatever he says next. "Make sure you monitor her at all times. Don't let her escape. This town would turn upside down, kid."

Don't I fucking know it?

But when I look over to the table to where Sully and Blaze are giving Billy shit about something, I realize we'd left her in the clubhouse alone. Sure, I told Lutz to keep an eye out. But by now, he's dick-deep in Call of Duty online with his shithead friends on the clubhouse couch and likely has his headset on.

I chug my beer down, sliding enough money for all our drinks over to Zeke before lifting my hand toward the boys and signaling them to wrap it up.

We have a princess to watch and a plan to plot.

Playtime is over.