Chapter One

Cassie Quinn rested her head against the sticky table so her world would stop spinning. The table probably had germs but she didn't care. Cassie's head throbbed with pain. Lisa, her roommate, asked if she was all right.

Her words came out slurred. Dammit, Cassie, get ahold of yourself, she silently yelled in her mind. Cassie shouldn't have drunk so much, but it was Friday night and she was with her friends.

It was time to let loose after a hellish week at work. Her boss had been unbearable as always, and her senior always pushed her work pile at Cassie. It didn't matter. None of her personal problems did.

The moment those three bikers entered the club, Cassie knew they were bad news. She didn't recognize the patches on their cuts. The three men sauntered like they owned the place. They weren't weekend biker hobbyists, but the sort of hard-eyed men that would do anything for money.

Cassie's heart raced. Were they here looking for her? Was Cassie paranoid for thinking that?

Once upon a time, Cassie had memorized every biker patch by heart. Her father would probably be disappointed with her right about now. Then again, her father, Nolan Quinn, Breaker to his men, and the President of the Death Seekers MC, was thousands of miles from here.

Cassie left her hometown the moment she turned eighteen and never looked back. It hadn't been all roses and sunshine. Cassie clawed and struggled, refusing to cash in the checks her father sent her.

There had been dark times and good times, but by some miracle, the small-town girl everyone used to call the "biker princess" managed to make a brand-new life for herself. She was proud of it too, even if her achievements paled in comparison to some people. Tonight, Cassie had a feeling everything she had managed to build would finally come crashing down on her.

Her skin crawled. If she was completely honest with herself, Cassie felt like she was being watched by phantom eyes the moment she and her friends entered the club. She dismissed the sensation at first, but now it was clear she wasn't imagining things.

Cassie lifted her head. Her vision wobbled and she felt her gorge rise. She forced herself to swallow it back down. Cassie raked her gaze across the crowded room, despite how hard it was to focus.

The three bikers had split up and one was heading toward the tables where Cassie and the girls set. She used her curtain of dark hair to hide her face. The biker glanced at his phone, then looked past her, like Cassie was invisible. Once he moved along, Cassie let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm calling it a night," she told Lisa. She fumbled with her phone but her vision swum again as she tried calling for a ride-sharing service.

"I'll do it for you," Lisa said firmly.

"You're a good friend, Lisa," Cassie whispered, handing her phone over.

"You've been acting weird tonight, Cassie," Lisa said.

She managed to input their address on the app before handing Cassie's cellphone back to her. Her phone pinged. Relief filled Cassie as the app informed her they found a driver for her.

"See you later," Lisa said.

Cassie didn't have the heart to respond to that. If there was trouble back in Hanging Cove, Kansas, home sweet home, then Cassie ought to contact Breaker—even if the thought of calling her father lined her stomach with dread.

She hadn't spoken to him in seven years. Icy despair filled her stomach as she recalled Breaker's hurt expression when she got into her car and told him flatly not to contact her.

Cassie wanted a do-over, after all. She'd never asked to be born as Breaker's daughter, and Cassie had never wanted any part of the lifestyle her father and his men had chosen.

She stumbled on her stilettos as she nudged her way past the sweating throng of bodies. Maybe she should've worn easy-to-move-in flats. Then again, she didn't anticipate the arrival of those bikers.

Cassie passed by men and women whose faces were flushed and overhyped with whatever drug or poison of choice for the evening. Cassie envied them.

She had arrived at the club earlier that evening, in the same state as them. All Cassie wanted to do was let loose, forget her problems for a brief time. Maybe even hook up with a dashing and handsome man. That mystery stranger would look at Cassie like she was the best thing that ever happened to him, even if it was just for one night.

For some reason, her murky memory cleared, and she thought of a sweet and sensitive dark-eyed boy who looked at her with puppy eyes full of longing back in high school. Why was she thinking about that boy now of all times? Cassie shook her head. She finally pushed open the club doors, revealing the cool night air outside. Cassie took in lungfuls of fresh air.

Cassie looked at the vehicles zipping down the road. Then she glanced at her phone. Cassie squinted at the screen, then sighed, exasperated. The driver had apparently messaged her, asking her to meet one street over instead, because it was less crowded.

"Nothing's going my way tonight," Cassie grumbled to herself.

She started walking and soon enough heard footsteps echoing behind her. The hairs across her arms rose. Cassie experimented crossing the road and the same set of footsteps hadn't disappeared.

She was being followed and Cassie suddenly felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable. Cassie crossed her arms across her chest, as if that would protect her. A woman in a too-short red dress and stilettos, wandering the city streets close to midnight was a perfect target for predators.

Wait. She had her purse. Cassie fumbled inside her tiny sequined bag. With sinking trepidation, Cassie realized she left her pepper spray back at the apartment. Why had she done that? The answer soon came to her. Cassie knew she'd be with her friends all night. She'd assumed there would be safety in numbers. What a fool.

"Where are you going, pretty girl?" a man called out from behind her.

Don't look, keep walking. The next street and your waiting driver will be there, not far. Cassie didn't listen to her own advice.

She looked over her shoulder and lo and behold, the three bikers were behind her, sniggering and making rude gestures at her. The gleam in their eyes told Cassie they had awful plans for her.

Cassie started walking a little faster. She nearly tripped on an empty soda can but managed to hold onto a streetlamp for balance. Heart thudding, she kicked off her heels. She broke into a sprint but a dark shape caught up to her.

One of the bikers shoved her against a graffiti-sprayed wall that smelled of piss, garbage, and other things Cassie didn't want to think about.

"Cassie Quinn, you're coming with us," the biker with the cross inked on his left cheekbone said. He looked at her up and down, his gaze lingering on her barely covered breasts. Cassie shuddered in revulsion.

"First, we'll have some fun," the biker said.

"No fair, Mac. You've already had first dibs on the last bitch," the sandy-haired biker next to Mac argued.

"Let us go first once in a while," the third biker said.

This wasn't the first time they did this, Cassie thought with a sinking feeling. Mac wasn't listening to any of them, he was already taking off his pants. Mac eyed her, still frozen in place, her legs shaking in fear.

Her dad taught her to shoot when she was a kid but she left her gun back at her apartment. Useless.

"You're going to be a good girl, Princess?" Mac asked. "Make it easy or hard on yourself, it doesn't matter to us, as long as we have a good time."

Cassie gathered her nerves and spat on him—which was probably a bad move in the first place. Mac narrowed his eyes at her and raised one hand. He probably intended to strike her but a fourth voice interrupted them.

"Three fine fellas like yourselves picking on one defenseless woman? The Devil's Kings MC sure have fallen low," a voice drawled. A voice Cassie hadn't heard in a long time.

"Randall," Cassie whispered.

A mixture of relief and trepidation washed over her. The sweet boy she sometimes still dreamed of was gone, replaced by this hard, grey-eyed man covered in ink and muscle.

"It's Rage now, Cassie," Rage said shortly.

Two of the bikers came at him at once. Rage didn't seem panic or alarmed. He clocked the first right in the face. Bone cracked as Rage broke his nose. Another blow to the ribs sent the man staggering to the ground. Rage pulled out a revolver equipped with a silencer and shot the second man in the stomach. Cassie opened her mouth, unable to silence her scream, but Mac shoved a slimy hand over her mouth.

"Put the gun down or she dies. Can't let that happen to Breaker's little princess, can we?" Mac asked Rage with a sneer.

Rage curved his lip upward to an awful smile. Her gut clenched. Cassie had spent her childhood around awful men like her father. Men who didn't care for the law, who did whatever the hell they wanted. The rest of the world could burn and they'd only laugh it off. Rage had become just like them.

"I don't care what state I bring her in," Rage answered.

Cassie did scream then, as Rage shot Mac between the eyes. He didn't miss. Mac released his hand over her mouth and crumpled at her feet like a doll.

"What did you just do?" Cassie demanded, unable to keep the accusation out of her voice.

Rage stared at her, his expression hard to read. There was certainly no ounce of pity there. Cassie swallowed as old memories resurfaced. She had fantasized about him as boy, sure, but they weren't friends, had never been.

Back in high school, Randall Cobb had been the kid from the wrong side of the tracks Cassie and her spoiled group of friends used to make fun of. Looking back at those times, Cassie winced. She had uttered plenty of mean and unkind words to a boy she secretly had a thing for, but could never tell her friends how she felt.

When Cassie left Hanging Cove, Rage had joined her father's MC as a prospect. The Vice-President patch on his cut told Cassie he'd since clawed his way up the ranks. Judging by his performance today, Cassie hadn't a single doubt that Rage wouldn't hesitate to do what was needed for his club.

Cassie remained where she was, unsure of what to do or say next. Rage walked up to her and grabbed her left arm.

"We're going," he simply said.

He tugged at her, like Cassie was some errant poodle who would do whatever he said. Her fear ebbed, replaced by anger. Just who did Rage think he was?

Cassie shook his big hand off and he let her go, an indifferent look on his face. She had to leave this spot, that much was certain. Cassie wouldn't know how to explain the dead bodies to the police or what the bikers had wanted with her in the first place.

Damn it. She had a clean record here. Why had her past decided to catch up with her now of all times?

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Cassie said firmly. "Hell, where are you even planning on taking me, back to Hanging Cove?"

"Didn't Breaker tell you?" Rage asked. "I don't care about your feelings. I'm not asking, I'm just doing my job."

Without warning, Rage placed his big, callused hands on her waist. Cassie squeaked as he hefted her over his broad shoulder, like Cassie didn't weigh a thing.

Then he carried her away from that stinking alleyway filled with corpses, ignoring her weak protests the entire time. If Cassie had to be honest, she was relieved. She would've never stood a chance against those bikers. Cassie should feel safe, right? Then why was she so afraid of Rage and what he would do next?