CHAPTER ONE

Bea

The rolling of my stomach jolts me awake while the harsh morning light seeping through the almost blackened curtains assaults my senses, pulling me further from a restless night's sleep. Groaning, I'm disorientated. My mouth is so dry I can barely swallow while nausea swirls around me like a vapid beast ready to ruin my day. Each movement I make sends a jolt of pain through my temples, so I squeeze my eyes shut, trying with everything I have to block out the heinous world.

The world that is breaking my usually bright spirit.

The events of last night seem like one hazy blur. A swirl of me drowning my sorrows, loud music, and too many shots of tequila race through my brain. With a loud groan, I slide the covers from me, forcing myself to sit up. The room spins violently, and I grip the edge of the bed to steady myself, focusing on my room, but my foggy eyes widen as I take in the sight.

My head begins to pound, matching the rhythm of my racing heart. My breathing increases, and at the same time, my nausea rolls to the point I dry heave, catching myself before I actually puke. Glancing down, I'm wearing my tank top and panties, but nothing else. I spin around to look at whoever's bed I am in, and with a small amount of relief, there's no one beside me. But it doesn't change the fact that I am definitely not at home in my own bed.

I am one hundred percent in a man's bedroom, one I have never been to before, and I have zero recollection of how I got here—or, more importantly, what I did last night.

"Jesus Christ, Bea. The one night you get blind drunk, and you do something this reckless?" I whisper to myself.

With my hands shaking slightly, I try to stand, wobbling with how god-awful I feel. I reach out to hold onto the nightstand and accidentally knock a glass of water. When I glance down, I see a note beneath the glass with my name in big, bold letters. Scrunching up my face in curiosity, I slide the piece of paper out from beneath the glass and begin to read.

BEA,

YOU'RE SAFE!

Don't freak out.

I snort out a laugh, rolling my shoulders. "Bit late for that… whoever you are."

Drink the water. It will help with your headache. I'm sure you have one.

There's Tylenol in the nightstand. Take some.

Furrowing my brows, I slide open the drawer, my eyes landing on the bottle of pills. Gratefully, I pop two from the pill bottle and wash them down with a gulp of water. Then, continue reading.

WHERE ARE YOU?

Again, don't freak out.

Instantly, the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention, and my nerves begin to wreak havoc as I peer around the room, wondering who the hell this guy is who's writing to me like he knows me.

You called last night shitfaced drunk. I had no choice but to come get you. By the time I arrived, you were practically blacked out. I brought you back to the clubhouse to let you sleep it off.

Bea, you're at LA Defiance MC.

My eyes widen as I let out a shocked gasp. My head spinning with the weight of the information in front of me.

I'm at the clubhouse.

Loki's clubhouse.

Alex's clubhouse .

The man I've spent years avoiding… in person .

The boy next door I grew up with.

The man who broke my fucking heart.

My brother's best friend!

"Oh God, please no," I whisper, my eyes flooding in tears as I glance around the room at the pictures on the wall. Pictures of Jason, Alex's little brother—I grew up with him too. Pictures of my older brother, Theo, and Alex—I shake my head—or Loki , as he likes to be called now. It's his road name.

My breathing races fast as I take a couple of steps backward, my ass falling onto the mattress, just needing a second to let this truly sink in.

Glancing down at the crinkled paper in my hand, I read the last part without trying to let the tears fall.

WHAT SHOULD YOU DO?

That's up to you, Bea. I'll be out in the clubroom if you want to come and say hi. If you want to talk to me, tell me what getting yourself wasted last night was all about. But if you want to sneak out and pretend like this never happened, I will understand. If you take the hall, there's a door that leads to the back of the clubhouse. You can simply slip out there and call an Uber.

Trust me.

I get it.

My bottom lip trembles as I read his words. I have to admit, the offer of slipping out is really fucking tempting. But it has been years since I've seen Alex— fuck, Loki.

I need to remember to call him that.

We still talk, but only via email. I haven't spoken to him or heard his voice in such a long time.

How I can be so close, so fucking close, and just slip out.

It's not right.

ONE MORE THING…

I don't have any right to tell you what to do. I don't think anyone could ever tell you what to do. But please, Bea, don't EVER put yourself in that kind of position again. If you didn't call me, anything could have happened to you. Think about the damage it does to a family when someone leaves suddenly.

His last sentence hits harder than I was expecting. My stomach clenches, my heart pounds, and I burst into a river of tears. I scrunch up the note, throwing it into the trash, not wanting to be near the damn thing.

It hurts too damn much.

My eyes shift up to the pictures—Alex, Theo, and Jason. My heart squeezes seeing all of them, and I have to admit, it stings a little that I'm not up there on his wall. I was very much a part of that awesome foursome, but I guess considering everything that happened between Alex and me, it makes sense that I'd be absent from his memories.

Letting out a long puff of air, I grab the glass of water, take a long gulp, and then wipe my face free of my tears. I feel like death, but I only have myself to blame. I let everything get on top of me last night, and now I need to shake it off and figure this out.

Because I'm Bea.

Everyone expects me to be a little ray of sunshine .

So that is exactly what I'm going to do.

Rolling my shoulders, I stand with a newfound pep in my step.

"You can do this, Bea. So you haven't seen Alex in years. It's going to be fine! How much can he have possibly changed? You're a strong, successful, independent woman. Pull your shit together and get out there. It's only a biker club," I pep talk myself.

I glance around Loki's bedroom, eventually find my clothing, and pull it on. Then, moving to the bathroom, I find a toothbrush. It's probably Loki's, but let's be honest, it's not like we haven't shared saliva before. I shrug, load it up with toothpaste, and brush my teeth to get rid of the foul taste lingering in my mouth. After I wash my face and brush my mangled hair to try and look semi-presentable, I head for the bedroom door.

I reach for the handle while letting out a heavy exhale. "You got this, Bea!"

Then I open the door and head down the stairs and the hall, making my way out into the main clubroom. All my apprehension is soon diminished as I step out into the expanse to see what the space looks like. It's huge and nothing like I expected.

There's a big area with a television on the wall, surrounded by couches and a pool table. Across from that seems to be the seating area where everyone is currently congregated for breakfast. To my right, there are bigger rooms for the kitchen and laundry, and another room seems to be locked off by some kind of security door. Off from the kitchen is a long bar, where women are working, and others are bringing out food from the kitchen to the people sitting at the tables and chairs while they laugh and joke with each other. From what I can tell, the vibe here seems quite friendly.

But the thing that really surprises me is that in the great expanse. There are stairs that head up to a room, but underneath that room, it's all open, and beneath is machinery—some look like farming equipment, which seems odd for Los Angeles.

I stand stock-still, taking it all in, completely in awe. I have no idea where to find Loki or who any of these people are. The fact none of them are even looking at me—I am a complete stranger in their clubhouse—is making me feel all kinds of weird right now.

Taking in a deep breath, I step out a little farther into the room when a deep, gravelly voice calls my name, sending an immediate shiver down my spine. "Beatrice."

Oh shit! He only uses my full name when he's pissed off.

I turn toward the room that looks like a security area. The door is now open, and Alex is leaning against the doorframe. But it's not the Alex I knew—his long blond hair is tied back in a man bun, his chiseled jaw is covered in a beard which I haven't seen on him before—but damn, does it look good on him now. His muscles are broad, and sporadic tattoos cover his arms, which he has crossed over his leather-cut-wearing chest. That scowl I'd gotten used to in our final days together is still there, but now he's definitely more of a man than the nerdy boy next door I fell in love with all those years ago.

This brooding, alpha male is Loki—the biker I haven't been brave enough to talk to for what feels like an eternity.

My breath catches, and my heart races frantically as I struggle to stop my body from spinning with the amount of adrenaline coursing through me. I swallow heavily while his eyes catch mine, so much being said between us, but not a single word spoken.

I inhale a deep breath, plaster on a fake smile, and start walking toward him with a purposeful stride.

You can do this, Bea.