“What are you thinking about in that crazy brain of yours now, Dorothy?”

I looked up at Eva, shaking free of my thoughts, and shrugged. “Just . . . you know, how in the world I ended up here.”

Eva smiled, one of her wide, warm smiles that made you feel like she knew things that others didn’t. I both hated and loved that about her, the way she could light up a room with just a simple word or smile.

“You ended up here,” she said, “because here is where you belong. It may not always be pretty, in fact sometimes life can be downright ugly, but everything happens for a reason, Dorothy. Everything.”

Her words were nearly identical to Hawk’s, and something I’d once said to Tegen in order to ease her nerves. Although I’d never been a big believer in fate or destiny, I couldn’t help but think that maybe there was some truth to it. Even Hawk had admitted that he’d made mistakes.

Yet . . . maybe our mistakes were what led us to where we were supposed to be all along. Was it possible that without our mistakes, we wouldn’t have become the people we were meant to be? And if we hadn’t made the choices we made, what would have become of us all?

Would we still have somehow ended up in the same place?

Oh good God, my head was starting to hurt. This line of thinking reminded me very much of my childhood, when my parents had tried to instill religion in me and I fought tooth and nail against it. I might have been very much a romantic, but when it came to blind faith, I’d always needed hard proof, something they could never give me.

But maybe love was a lot like blind faith in the unknown. And maybe that was why it had been so hard for me to let go of what I’d known, instead of moving toward what I’d really wanted.

“Will you two lovesick twats get your mind off your men?” Christina suddenly snapped. “You’re both making me sick.”

“I think your excessive drinking is what’s making you sick,” Eva said dryly.

“Speaking of making me sick,” she continued, giving Eva a pointed look. “One of you bitches needs to call that little dog off Cox before Kami comes in and sees what the fuck her man has been up to.”

My brow furrowed. “What does Cox and Kami’s relationship have to do with you feeling sick?”

“Yeah,” Eva added. “And since when do you care about what the boys do?”

“Since this happened,” she said, flipping us both off. Eva and I both leaned forward for a better look. Seated on her middle finger was rather extravagant diamond.

“Congratulations!” Eva exclaimed with a jump and a clap. “When did that happen?”

“Last night,” she said blandly. “Damn thing don’t fit the right finger either.”

Well, that explained the walk of shame. They must have had a very celebratory night together. And knowing Bucket as well as I did, celebrations for him usually consisted of a harem of women with Christina barking out the orders.

“It’s easy to get it sized,” I suggested.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a pain in my ass. But back to my point. I don’t appreciate these little mutts sniffing out the club for our men. I told Bucket, no more girls now that we’re engaged.”

She seemed so happy—well, as happy as Christina could seem—that I just didn’t have the heart to tell her that nobody ever sought out Bucket. His haggard appearance and his lack of cleanliness meant all his girls were usually bought and paid for. Dirty, another club member, had been the same way before his girlfriend, Ellie, had inspired a makeover, and together he, Bucket, and Freebird were three of the most unappealing men I’d ever met. Unkempt, ungroomed, usually filthy, and always acting or saying something absolutely disgusting.

“That girl out there is spouting off to Cox about taking her out to dinner, and going home to meet her parents. Seriously, D, go look at this shit. She’s all up on him like a fucking fat little dog in heat, and I’m about to go slap her down. I’m a legit old lady now, and if I ever catch her sniffin’ round my man . . .” Trailing off, Christina pursed her lipstick-smeared lips and waved a razor-sharp red fingernail in the air. “No. Just no. She needs to know her place and fast.”

“Ugh,” Eva muttered. “I’m not in the mood to be schooling club rats with their eyes on the prize.”

“But isn’t that your job?” I jested. “God knows you don’t have better things to be doing like being a mother or a wife or . . .”

“Right?” she said. “Because in my free time I love teaching loose women the ways of the club world, the dos and don’ts when it comes to our men. Rule number one: Don’t flirt in front of the wife. Rule number two: Don’t try to go down on him in front of the wife. Rule number three: Definitely don’t cry in front of the wife when he tells you not to go down on him in front of his wife.”

There was a time in my life when the bitter truth of Eva’s remarks would have offended me, probably to the point of tears even. But I was anything but offended; after all, crudeness aside, it was the truth and I’d lived that truth.

“I’ll talk to her,” I said with a sigh. “What’s her name?”

“Lucy,” Christina offered. “Just like her vag. Which is why Cox is always fuckin’ her up the ass. And speaking of ass, I gotta take a shit.” Using the table for support, she pushed herself up from her chair and tottered for a moment on her heels before regaining her balance.

“Way too much information, Christina,” I muttered, walking quickly from the kitchen. “Way, way, way too much information.”

I found Cox sitting at the bar among a few of the other boys: Chips, Worm, and Danny D. And Lucy was right where Christina had said she’d be: hanging off Cox.

As I headed toward them, I noted the similarities between Lucy and me when I’d first started coming to the club. She was young, early twenties, and shorter than average, as were her looks. If she didn’t have so much makeup on, if her dark hair weren’t cut so dramatically, she would undoubtedly appear plain, cute at best. And she was clinging to a married man she had absolutely no chance at having a substantial relationship with outside of meaningless sex, gazing up at him like he was everything she’d ever wanted, ever dreamed of finding in a man, and could do no wrong.

Cox. Do no wrong. Good God, what was wrong with this girl?

It was all so painfully familiar. The closer I drew to the bar, an odd feeling washed over me, a sense of déjà vu, and then all at once I was struck with a memory . . .

**•

“Wat up, little D?” Ripper had greeted me with a grin, holding his arm out in welcome.

Although I had still been feeling the sting of rejection from earlier, the same feeling I was always left with when Jase went home to his wife, I had slipped into Ripper’s embrace and felt my anxiety begin to ebb. The club, the boys, they had that effect on me, giving me a sense of comfort and safety when the rest of my world was nothing but turmoil.

“Nothing’s up,” I had said, returning his hug. How could I not? He was so incredibly good looking. He was young, with long blond hair that had a touch of waviness, flawless golden skin molded tightly over an incredible bone structure, and an equally stunning body.

“Where’s my hug, bitch?” Cox called out. Ripper’s partner in both crime and humor gestured for me to come to him. Currently shirtless, his heavily tattooed and pierced body on display, the handsome Latino waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“No way,” I said, shaking my head. “Last time I hugged you, you grabbed my ass.”

Cox’s grin grew. “It ain’t really fair that only Jase gets a piece. Gotta sample somehow, yeah?”

I rolled my eyes. “No.”

Realizing I wasn’t in the mood to be groped, Cox dropped his arm, and a scowl replaced his smile.

“Dude,” he grumbled, pounding his fist on the bar. “That’s twice now I’ve been rejected. Pass the fuckin’ Jack.”

“We’re back to this shit again?” Blue asked. Sitting at his usual corner of the bar, Blue grabbed the bottle of liquor off the counter and tucked it inside his leather cut. Behind his long white beard, Blue’s wrinkled lips curled into a smile, his milky-white eyes sparkling with youthful humor.

Nobody knew Blue’s true age, but not even the oldest of the brothers had ever known Blue without a full head of long white hair and an equally white beard. But despite his age, he could hold his own and liked to prove as much by drinking far more than anyone, young or old, ever should.

“Fuckin’ greedy old man,” Cox muttered. “Can’t you see I’m fuckin’ grievin’ over here’?”

Blue lifted a bushy white eyebrow. “Shut up, you idiot. You ain’t grievin’, you’re fuckin’ poutin’ like a goddamn baby.”

Confused, I glanced between the three men. “What happened?” I asked.

“Nothin’!” Ripper said, laughing. “Fuckface here is still pissed Kami walked out on us in the middle of the night.”

Cox snapped into an upright position. “Fuck her!” he yelled. “FUCK HER!”

I rolled my eyes again. It had been several weeks since Eva Fox, the twenty-two-year-old daughter of the Silver Demons MC president, had shown up out of nowhere, her friend Kami in tow. Eva, who had a history with Deuce, had headed straight for him, and Kami had ended up spending three days in bed with Cox and Ripper. Then both women had just up and split in the middle of the night. Cox, who’d never been walked out on before in his life since he always did the leaving, wasn’t handling it very well. And judging by the rage fest currently going on inside Deuce’s office with loud cursing and crashes, accompanied by loud female moaning, Deuce wasn’t handling it at all.

Actually, no one had liked what had happened. In the short time she’d been here, I’d enjoyed Eva’s company immensely. Not once had she treated me like anything less than her equal. Most of the boys’ families, their wives and children, paid very little attention to me, if any at all. In order to keep my relationship with Jase a secret, only known among the boys and the club groupies, I too was labeled a groupie, and was therefore considered persona non grata, not worthy of them. I wasn’t an old lady, therefore, to them I was nothing. Nothing but a whore.

It had been so nice to be able to talk with another woman at the club, one who wasn’t here for the sole purpose of spreading her legs. Eva was respected for being Preacher’s daughter, and even holding that position she had still treated me with dignity. I could only imagine the differences between the Demons MC and the Horsemen. The club whores in Eva’s care were probably treated better than the old ladies.

But the biggest difference her arrival had brought about had been in Deuce. During those three days, he’d been a different man. His permanent scowl had lifted, he’d been the bearer of jokes and smiles, he’d been happy. And when Deuce was happy, the club was happy.

Now that Eva was gone, Deuce was miserable, and so was everyone else.

Except Ripper. As usual, he wasn’t bothered by any of it, didn’t have a care in the world, and was laughing manically at Cox’s sour expression.

“She’s a stuck-up, spoiled fuckin’ bitch,” Cox continued. “It’s ’cause I’m Puerto Rican. She’s a fuckin Rican hater. Don’t got no appreciation for dark meat.”

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” Ripper said. “You sound like a little bitch.”

“Wait,” Blue said. “You mean to tell me, you’re not Mexican?” The old man shook his head. “And all this time I was over here thinkin’ ya were.”

Cox’s eyes went wide but just as his mouth opened, one of Deuce’s double office doors swung open, crashing loudly against the wall and cutting off whatever nonsense was going to come out of Cox’s mouth.

The four of us turned, watching as Deuce came storming out into the room, his cut in his hand and his leathers unbuttoned, hanging open in the front. Miranda, Deuce’s usual girl, came sauntering out next. Taking a seat at the bar, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from inside her low-cut top, placed one between her plump pink lips, and lit it up.

Miranda might be considered beautiful to some, all long legs and a luxurious mane of blonde hair, but I found the woman more trashy than anything else. Even so, I kept my feelings to myself. I was in no position to express my dislike for Deuce’s taste in extracurricular activities. Not when most people viewed me as an extracurricular activity as well.

“You assholes plan on doin’ fuckin’ anything today?” Deuce yelled as he stalked past us. “Or you just gonna sit on your fuckin’ asses, drinkin’ my motherfuckin’ booze?”