Ruger burst out laughing.

“Jesus, Sophie,” he said. “What the hell do you think I do all day? Fuck, my life’s not even close to that interesting.”

I had no idea what to say.

“I’m a gunsmith and security expert,” he continued, shaking his head. “This should not be a surprise to you, seein’ as I’ve wired up your apartments over and over. I spend most of my time repairing firearms in a perfectly legal shop the club runs. I design and install custom security systems on the side, ’cause I get off on that shit. Lotta rich fuckers with summer homes on the lake. All of ’em need security and I’m more’n happy to take their money.”

“Wait—they let a motorcycle gang run a gun shop?” I asked, startled. “I didn’t know that part. I’ll bet the cops love that.”

“First, we’re a club, not a gang,” he said. “And the store is technically owned by one guy. Slide. Been a brother for fifteen years. But we all pitch in and it’s a group effort. Having him hold the deed makes the paperwork easier, given the type of business. I apprenticed with him.”

“So this gun shop is one hundred percent above the table?” I asked skeptically. “And people actually pay you to install their security. Aren’t they afraid you’ll be the one breaking in?”

“I’m damned good at what I do,” he replied, smiling. “Not exactly forcing ’em to hire me. You want to see the gun shop, come check it out. Check out any of the businesses.”

“You have more than one?”

“Got a strip club, a pawnshop, and a garage,” he said. “Lot of the guys work in those, but we got civilian employees, too.”

“And what do you see me doing, if I worked for the Reapers?” I asked, considering the strip club.

“I don’t know what we need,” he said, shrugging. “Not even sure there’s an opening. We’ll have to check and see. But it’d be good for you. Got health care plans and shit.”

“So you guys don’t do anything illegal? It’s all legitimate?”

“You think I’d tell you if we were doing something illegal?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Um, no?”

He laughed.

“Exactly. So it doesn’t really matter what I tell you anyway, because you wouldn’t believe it. Club business is for club members. Seeing as you’re not a member, it’s not your problem. All you need to know is I’m trying to help you here. If there’s a job you’re qualified for, it’ll be yours. If not, no big deal.”

“Ruger, don’t take this personally, but I don’t want to work for your club at all, even if there’s an opening,” I replied. “You know I’ve never wanted anything to do with the Reapers. You and Horse helped me and I appreciate it, but nothing’s changed. I don’t agree with your lifestyle. I don’t want Noah around your friends, either. I don’t think it’s a good environment for a child.”

“You’ve never even met them. Kinda judgmental, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” I said, looking away. “But I’m going to do the best I can for Noah, and hanging out with a bunch of criminals isn’t part of that. I don’t believe for a minute that there isn’t something shady going on with you guys.”

Ruger’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Great. Now I’d insulted him.

“Considering your folks haven’t talked to you in seven years, your son’s father needs a restraining order, and you can’t hold down a job or provide for your child, seems to me like you aren’t in a position to be calling us anything,” he told me, voice tight. Friendly Ruger was gone. “Lotta things happen at the clubhouse. Some of those things run deep, no question. Might scare you. But I’ll tell you one thing. When one of our own is in trouble, we don’t kick ’em out in the street. More than I can say about your daddy. He’s the model citizen and we’re the criminals, but shit goes down, I can count on my brothers. You got anyone you can say that about? Besides me? Because deep down in my heart, in my guts, in my fuckin’ DNA, I’m a Reaper, Sophie. Still sure we aren’t good enough for you?”

I caught my breath, hating how my eyes filled with moisture. Bringing up my folks was a cheap shot. I tried to ignore the tears, refusing to blink and let them fall. Then my nose started running and I sniffed.

“That was low, Ruger.”

“That was true, Sophie. You wanna be all high and mighty, you need to find another target. Your ass is gettin’ saved by me, and behind me stands the club. If you were with the Reapers, Noah’d be surrounded by adults who care about him. Lot of kids in the club, Soph. They go home when things get wild, but lemme tell you—somethin’ like this happened in Coeur d’Alene to one of our kids, I’d have to fight my brothers for the privilege of killin’ the guy. That’s family, Sophie. And Noah could use some of that family around him.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Then don’t talk,” he replied. “But listen up. I get that you don’t want to be part of club life. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna force the point, because if you’re gonna be a stuck-up bitch I wouldn’t want you around them anyway.”

“Stop it!”

“Shut the fuck up and listen,” he snapped. “This is important. Love the club, hate the club, you need to be aware of a few things, because they’re part of your reality now. The asshole that hurt Noah, you saw the ink on his back, right?”

“Yes,” I replied, wishing him straight to hell.

“Called a back patch,” he continued. “It’s his club colors, right on his skin. Club colors are what we wear on our cuts—our vests, call ’em rags, too—and they say a lot about a man. In this case, those colors said he was part of the Devil’s Jacks. Lotta MCs out there, good and bad, but the Jacks are one of the worst. Reapers and Jacks are enemies. Things worked out this time, but you run into a guy with colors like that again, you need to tell me. I’ll still go after him, but I’ll call in more backup first. This morning it all worked out. Next time it might not. You got me?”

I shrugged, looking away. Ruger growled in frustration.

“I don’t think you get me, Soph,” he said. “Let me tell you a little story. Got a brother named Deke, down in the Portland chapter. Deke’s got a niece named Gracie—his old lady’s sister’s kid. She had jack shit to do with the Reapers, by the way. So Gracie went off to college down in northern Cali three years ago and started dating a guy who turned out to be a hangaround with the Jacks.”

I looked over at him, unnerved. He stared straight ahead, face grim.

“So little Gracie went to a party with him and a bunch of guys raped her, one right after the next,” he said. “You ever heard of a train?”

I stared at him and swallowed.

“Believe it or not, some women are down with that,” he continued. “Gracie isn’t one of them, and they were not gentle. They tore her up so bad she’ll never have kids. Then they carved a ‘DJ’ into her forehead and dumped her in a ditch. Deke found out when they sent him pictures they took of her with her own fuckin’ phone. Tried to kill herself. She’s doin’ better now, engaged to one of the brothers in the Portland chapter. Did I mention they aren’t nice guys?”

He fell silent. I thought about the two men I’d met earlier, Hunter and Skid.

“What happened to the men who did it?” I asked hesitantly. “Were they … were those guys you were talking to …?”

“It was four hangarounds and two Jacks,” he told me. “Good news is, they won’t be hurtin’ any more girls. Hunter and Skid weren’t part of that particular mess, which still doesn’t qualify them as decent human beings. So let me ask you again—you got me, Soph?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, feeling sick.

Silence fell. Noah started laughing at his video in the backseat. Ruger drove, jaw muscle tight, staring straight ahead. Gracie’s story played over and over in my head, along with what he’d said earlier.

“I’m not a stuck-up bitch.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“I have a right to keep my son away from your club.”

“That why you left Coeur d’Alene?”

“You know damned well why I left Coeur d’Alene,” I said, hating him. “And that’s the second time you’ve called me a bitch. Don’t do it again.”

“Or what?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, frustrated. I crossed my arms. The motion pushed my breasts up high. His eyes caught on them in the rearview mirror and I dropped my arms, tugging up my tank.

What a stupid game I’d been playing that morning.

Ruger wasn’t a boy I could tease by dressing like a slut. I didn’t want his attention, or to get more involved in his world.

I’d never be more than a toy to him, and the men in his family had a history of breaking their toys.

They just did it in different ways.

Ruger didn’t actually live in Coeur d’Alene. He lived west of town in Post Falls, back in the hills near the Washington border at the end of a private gravel road. We pulled up to his place around five that evening, Horse behind us. The driveway widened into a large parking area behind an L-shaped, two-story cedar house overlooking a small valley. The setting was fantastic. Evergreens surrounded us, and I heard the trickle of a stream somewhere not too far away. A strip of grass ran down the hillside around to the front. It looked like it needed water, and given the yard’s condition, I got the impression Ruger liked his landscaping natural.

Noah bounded out of the car, running around the house in excitement. I stretched up high as I stood, pulling the tank up with me, exposing my stomach. I felt Ruger’s eyes touch me, cool and speculative, and I quickly pulled it back down.

Really, really stupid idea, that tank.

What the hell had I been thinking? You don’t pull a tiger’s tail. I’d spent years wishing Ruger would notice me, just once. Now I needed him to unnotice me and start treating me like furniture again. Life as furniture might not be exciting, but it was definitely safe.

“Your car needs a tune-up,” Horse said, walking over to us. He tossed me the keys and I caught them, chest jiggling precariously. Horse eyed me, then smirked at Ruger, who watched us with something like disgust. “I’ll help haul your shit in, then I’ll head home to Marie. She’s startin’ school day after tomorrow. Want to enjoy some time with her before she gets all stressed out and bitchy.”

Ruger walked to the door, which sat kitty-corner from the three-car garage forming one side of the “L.” A narrow band of deck followed the line of the house around to the front. He punched in a code, opened the door, and we went inside. There he put in another code, because apparently one wasn’t enough for Mr. Security-Is-Critically-Important.

I walked in and my mouth dropped open.

I fell in love with the house instantly.

Before me was a great room with a giant, prow-shaped bank of windows looking out across the valley. The place wasn’t huge, but it was definitely big enough to impress me. To the right was a door that had to lead into the garage. To the left was an open-plan kitchen with a breakfast bar. A separate dining area held a table. Dishes littered the counter, and a smattering of empty beer bottles stood on the bar, which separated the kitchen from the main room. A stone fireplace lined one wall in the living room, and a sweeping staircase snaked upward along the other.

Forgetting all about the men, I walked slowly forward to take in the view. Directly in front of the house was a broad meadow, ringed by evergreens lower on the slope. The valley lay beyond that, stunning and sweeping. Here and there I saw other houses, a mix of high-end, new construction and original farms. I looked up to see that the ceiling vaulted all the way to the second story. Behind me was a loft. A pile of dirty laundry had been shoved against the open railing, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Ruger had never been much of a housekeeper.

The living room needed attention, too. The leather couches seemed to be relatively new, as did the rest of the furniture, but for all the care he took to keep things clean it could’ve been a frat house. There was even an empty pizza box on the coffee table.

I heard a beer top pop and turned to find the men standing in the kitchen.

“Your house is almost as disgusting as the Armory,” Horse said to Ruger.

“Like yours used to be?” Ruger asked.

“I don’t remember that,” Horse replied, his expression innocent.

“Just be glad you have Marie around. Otherwise you’d be livin’ this way, too.”

“I was never gross like this.”

“It’s not that bad,” I said, smiling at Ruger, my earlier frustration forgotten. I honestly couldn’t believe how gorgeous his place was. I had no idea what the basement looked like, but it could be a spider hole and I’d still be thrilled, just for the location. Not to mention the yard for Noah. “But how did you get a house like this? I mean, it had to cost a fortune. How much land do you have?”