Prologue II

Havoc

F ive years ago

I wipe my oil-stained hands on a rag that’s almost as dirty as my skin and take a moment to stare at my bike with pride.

My father left it to me. Unfortunately, he was riding it when he died.

On the plus side, at least he went out doing something he loved.

The downside was that it took me forever to restore it. I’m no mechanic, and working full-time didn’t give me much time to work on it, especially with my other club responsibilities. But I did it—and with my own two hands.

“Havoc!”

I turn to see Lola standing with my phone in her hand, her hip cocked, wearing a tiny pair of denim cut-offs that show off her long, tanned legs. Her tits—the ones I bought—are perky and completely bra-free under her white tank, her rosy nipples visible when her cut slips a little.

“It’s Khan.”

“Shit, thanks, babe.”

I jog over and plant a kiss on her lips before taking my cell phone from her and holding it to my ear. I can’t help but smile as I watch Lola’s ass as she walks away—the cut on her back proudly declaring she’s mine.

“Havoc, you there?”

“Yeah, sorry, Prez. What can I do for ya?”

“I need you to come to the clubhouse. Got a situation.”

I frown. “What’s going on?”

“Just get here. I’ll explain when you do.”

He hangs up before I can ask anything else.

I sigh and push the bike back into the shed. The test drive will have to wait.

I head inside, grab my bike keys, and look for Lola. I find her in the kitchen making coffee.

“I’ve gotta head to the clubhouse. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so don’t cook. I’ll pick something up on the way home or send a prospect over with something for you if I’m running late.”

I slide my hands around her hips and pull her back against me, burying my face in her hair and inhaling her perfume.

“That’s fine. I’ll probably just curl up and watch some TV.”

We’ve been together since high school, and over the last few years, she’s transformed from cheerleader to biker babe, trading her soft, youthful glow for an edgy sexiness that has my dick weeping with joy.

She turns and looks up at me.

“Havoc?” Her voice trembles.

“What’s wrong?”

She opens her mouth to answer when my phone chimes, probably Khan telling me to hurry up.

She smiles and shakes her head.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” I tell her, kissing her forehead. I grab my cut off the back of the chair and slide it on. “I’ll text you and let you know what’s happening.”

“Okay, bye,” she says softly as I leave.

I pause for a second, something in her voice sounding off. But when my phone chimes again, I decide to talk to my old lady later, after dealing with whatever’s going on at the clubhouse.

I climb on my bike and head toward the club. When I pull up, I’m surprised to find the parking area almost empty.

I see my brother’s bike and Acid’s, Knuckles’, and Khan’s, but that’s it.

I figured whatever the issue was, Khan would bring it to church for all of us to hear. But now, seeing my brother’s bike, I wonder if it’s personal.

I climb off my bike and head inside, nodding to Knuckles and Acid sitting at the bar. They nod back but continue talking as I head to Khan’s office.

As I get closer, I hear raised voices, but I can’t make out what’s being said. When I reach the door, I knock, and they go silent.

“Come in!” Khan yells, and I open the door.

Khan’s sitting behind his desk, running his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair, making it stick up all over the place. Driller’s leaning against the window. His eye’s swollen and turning black, and his lip’s split and twice its size.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Sit down, Havoc,” Khan orders, sounding tired.

I grit my teeth and take a seat.

“Driller ran into some trouble at the tables.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I groan, rubbing my hand over my face. He might be my little brother, but I’m sick of bailing his ass out of trouble. “Don’t you ever learn?”

“Fuck you, Havoc. Not everyone can be as perfect as you.”

“Enough!” Khan shouts, shutting him up.

“It wasn’t the gambling that was the issue,” Khan tells me. I barely hold back my snort. I don’t know when Khan started burying his head in the sand when it comes to my brother, but it’s getting old.

“So he wasn’t caught counting cards?” My brother’s good with numbers but instead of doing something useful with it he prefers to try his luck at the card tables. He’s banned from most casinos, and the ones that let him back in do it because they have no problem breaking his kneecaps if he fucks them over.

“I wasn’t counting cards, no matter what that motherfucker said,” Driller yells.

Khan stares at me, ignoring Driller’s outburst. “The guy who accused him is currently on life support. Docs aren’t sure if he’ll ever wake up.”

“You stupid fuck. You’re already on your second strike. If the cops get a hold of you, that’s it, game over.”

“That’s why I need you to take the fall for him,” Khan drops quietly. So quietly, it takes me a second to realize what he just said.

“What the fuck, Khan? No way. I’m not going down for this. And what if the guy dies? I’m not risking a murder charge?—”

“The family assured me that no matter what happens, the original plea bargain will hold.”

“Plea bargain?” I look at Driller, who’s silent for a change, and realize his busted-up face has nothing to do with this, not if there’s already a plea bargain on the table.

“How long’s this been going on?”

“Five months.”

“Five fucking months! And this is the first I’m hearing of this!”

“We hoped to get it thrown out, but the guy in a coma was a candidate for senator, and his father is out for blood.”

“So make Driller man up. Sorry, bro, but you’re the one who fucked up.”

“Oh, and like you’re such a fucking saint?” he snaps back.

“Driller, I swear to fucking God, if you don’t keep your mouth shut, I’ll cut your fucking tongue out,” Khan roars before turning back to me. “The plea’s for a five-year sentence with the possibility of parole after two years.”

“Khan—”

“Death Serpents will only deal with Driller. You know they don’t trust anyone after their princess was taken. It took Driller four years to earn their trust, and they aren’t interested in anyone else coming in. I asked. Havoc, we need access to that pipeline.”

I stare at the man I thought of as a second father, one of my father’s best friends, and feel the respect I had for him wither and die.

“So you want me to take the fall for Driller, spend half a decade behind bars, and another however many years out of work—because who the fuck’s gonna hire me with a record? And then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what the fuck do I get out of this? I’m losing years of my life. Me and Lola are trying for a fucking baby.”

“We’ll take care of Lola while you’re gone. And the club’ll pay you a cut to cover any lost income until you can get a job again.”

I shake my head and open my mouth to tell him no when his face hardens.

“It’s not a request, Havoc. It’s an order. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s what’s best for the club.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you can kiss the brotherhood goodbye. You’ll be kicked out in bad standing, and every club in the country will know not to touch you. You’ll be excommunicated.”

I stand up, wanting to rip the world apart. This betrayal feels like a knife sticking out of my chest. “If I do this, you never ask me for anything again and future with Raven Souls will never be in jeopardy, no matter how things stand between us after this.”

“Havoc—” Khan starts, but I turn to look at Driller. “You’re dead to me. You don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, and if you see me, you walk right fucking past me like I’m invisible.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Havoc. Five years is?—”

I glare at Khan. “Not mine to serve. I don’t see you or any of the others stepping up to serve it.”

“None of us look enough like Driller to pull it off.”

“Well, aren’t I the lucky one?” I snap sarcastically.

“I’m still your president,” Khan says, sharply.

“And from now on, that’s all you’ll ever be, because a friend––a mentor––would never ask this of me. I’ll do it, but I need to talk to Lola first.”

“Cops are already on their way to pick you up,” he tells me, leaning back, daring me to argue. The news hits me like a punch to the gut. “Once you’re settled, I’ll bring Lola up for a visit. I’ll explain everything to her. I won’t leave her hanging.”

“No, you’ll just leave that for me.”