The whitewashed warehouse was massive, the Hell’s Horsemen logo painted on the front, huge and intimidating. Nothing about the appearance was warm or inviting, something I’m sure Deuce did purposely.

I’d been here a thousand times before, even after my move to California, but something felt different this time.

I felt as though I were standing on a precipice composed of quickly unraveling thread, and once I passed through those gates, my quiet life, my now peaceful existence and everything I had rebuilt from the ground up, all of it was going to disintegrate and send me free-falling back into the never-ending abyss of the unknown.

That thought, the fear it caused within me, was nearly enough to make me turn the car around and go back to California.

But this wasn’t about me. This was about Hawk and the little boy I’d left behind.

Taking a deep breath, I swallowed my fears and pulled the vehicle forward. Rolling down my window, I reached out into the blistering cold and pressed the call button on the intercom.

The intercom buzzed to life and a gravelly voice crackled through the speaker. “Was wondering how long you were gonna sit out there.”

I instantly recognized the voice as Worm’s, a longtime brother of the club, and despite my nervousness felt a smile slip past my thinly pressed lips.

“Just mentally preparing myself for those roaming hands of yours,” I quipped.

“Welcome home, little D,” he said, chuckling.

After an entire day spent driving and worrying, his answering laughter, raspy due to many years of chain-smoking, was a welcome sound.

The latch clicked and as the gate began to slowly swing open, I could barely make out through the heavy veil of falling snow the front door of the clubhouse opening. Like a beacon in the midst of the surrounding gloom, a warm glow of light poured forth, spilling out into the darkness.

As I drove forward, a figure appeared in the doorway, imposing in size, taking up nearly the entire entrance. Despite the absence of the sun and the falling snow impeding my vision, I would know those shoulders anywhere. Those were shoulders that usually bore the weight of world upon them, yet somehow never fell.

After parking and with my luggage in tow, I began the trek through the snow-laden parking lot, battling both the biting cold and whipping wind until I reached the front door, a mass of quivering skin and chattering teeth.

Deuce took my suitcase from me. As if it weighed next to nothing, he easily hefted it up and over his shoulder and quickly ushered me inside. Once the door was closed behind us, he pulled me into an awkward one-armed hug. I stood there, momentarily frozen in shock by the uncommonly kind gesture. Deuce didn’t hug people, at least not if he could help it; hugs were reserved for his wife and children.

“Welcome home, Dorothy,” he said gruffly, giving me a hearty pat on the back that if it hadn’t been for his large body in the way, would have sent me flying across the room.

Through the snowflakes still clinging to my eyelashes, I looked up his leather-clad body, taking it all in—the tattooed dragons on his bare forearms, the president patch on his cut, the scent of cigarettes and liquor that always seemed to cling to him, before stopping at his icy blue eyes.

His smile wasn’t friendly; it never had been. Deuce had always snarled more than he’d smiled. But his eyes were soft and kind. Inviting, even. He’d aged a little more since I’d last seen him; he had to be around sixty now and it was starting to show. His long blond hair and beard had heavily grayed, the lines on his forehead and bracketing his eyes had grown longer, were etched in a little deeper.

Pulling off my knit ski hat, I shook out my damp hair and smiled. “I see my daughter has given you a few more gray hairs.”

His smile grew, causing several dimples to appear, and just like that, the changes in his appearance seemed to vanish. He stood before me the same fearfully handsome young man I remembered from my youth. Elusive and frightening, yet intriguing, he’d taken over his father’s motorcycle club and in turn changed the lives of so many.

“Your daughter and that mouth of hers is gonna give me another fuckin’ heart attack,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Her and my own fuckin’ daughters, my sons, my granddaughter, and . . . Jesus Christ, Cox, that motherfucker . . .” He trailed off, grimacing.

“Mm-hmm,” I murmured, glancing around the quiet club. Aside from Worm, who was standing behind the bar pouring himself a liquid snack, there was no one else in sight. As I brought my gaze back to Deuce, I found him watching me, all traces of humor gone, and my smile fell away.

“This shit with Hawk, it ain’t good, D,” he said. “And usually I wouldn’t be tellin’ any of my boys’ old ladies this kinda shit until I had more information, but I’m makin’ an exception here. One, ’cause it’s Hawk and there’s some shit you need to fuckin’ know, and two, ’cause it’s you and you’re family now.

“Let’s go to my office,” he continued, turning away, “and I’ll tell you what I know.”

For a moment I only stood there, watching as he walked off, still holding up my suitcase with those pillars of strength he called shoulders.

Family. He’d called me family. True, our children had married each other, would probably someday have children of their own, but still I’d never thought of myself as part of Deuce’s family.

Not only that, but he’d referred to me as an old lady.

Hawk’s old lady. It made sense, being that I was the mother of his child, and resided in the only other place aside from this clubhouse that he’d put down any sort of roots.

But still . . . I’d never realized . . .

A warm tear slipped out from the corner of my eye and slid down my cold cheek.

Home.

Chapter Six

Jase was glad he was drunk. If he wasn’t drunk and had to listen to Deuce explain that Hawk wasn’t actually Hawk, but instead Luca Fuckachev or some such shit, the son of the head of one of the most dangerous drug and weapons cartels in the history of cartels, he might have actually been pissed off that Deuce had kept this a secret for so goddamn long, like everyone else appeared to be.

Instead, he found the entire thing pretty fucking amusing. Especially the part about Hawk having been shot. But according to the Russians holding him hostage, he was still alive and would continue to stay alive, as long as Deuce and Preacher both agreed to their terms.

Terms that Jase wasn’t entirely aware of since he wasn’t paying much attention to Deuce. Something about guns and the East Coast, something about Preacher and his club, the Silver Demons, something about Hawk being killed if Deuce didn’t get Preacher on board, and something else about going to war with the cartel, blah, blah, fucking blah.

It wasn’t that he wanted Hawk to die, not really. Once upon a time, when the shit had first hit the fan and he’d found out the baby he’d thought was his was actually Hawk’s, and that Hawk and Dorothy had been having an ongoing affair right under his goddamn nose, yeah, he might have wished death upon the guy once or twice.

But that was then and this was now. Now he was freshly divorced, without his kids, having spent another Christmas drunker than shit at the clubhouse, watching Bucket and his girlfriend fuck like rabbits on the couch beside him. Good times.

So, no, he really didn’t give a fuck if Hawk lived or died. In his opinion, if it came down to the club or Hawk, Hawk could go straight to hell. Personal feelings aside, the asshole wasn’t even one of them; instead, he’d been using the clubhouse to hide from the law.

“Preacher’s on his way here,” Mick announced. “He’s on board with the plan and bringing his VP and three of his boys with ’im as a show of good faith to the Russians.”

Deuce nodded his thanks in Mick’s direction, and in turn, Mick averted his eyes.

“What?” Deuce demanded. “What the fuck is your fuckin’ problem?”

Mick shrugged. “I’m your VP, have been since day fuckin’ one, and even though we’ve butted heads a few time, I’ve always stood by your side. Fuck, Prez, I did time in lockup for you and you couldn’t trust me with this?” Mick shook his head. “I don’t know what to think now.”

“I never asked you to take that rap for me!” Deuce shouted. “You need to reel your fuckin’ bullshit in, right the fuck now!”

Mick jumped up out of his seat and slammed his clenched fists down upon the tabletop. “But I fuckin’ did! Because your old man had just kicked the bucket and this fuckin’ club needed some stability for fuckin’ once, not another prez who was locked up!”

“That was almost forty fuckin’ years ago,” Deuce said, purposely punctuating each word. Gripping the edge of the meeting table, he leaned forward, bringing him nearly nose to nose with Mick. “Why are you bringin’ this shit up now? You want me to suck your dick or somethin’?”

Normally, a comment like that would have sent the rest of the boys into a fit of laughter, followed by more lewd comments or gestures, but not today. Tension was high, and even the most lighthearted of the brothers were sitting stone faced in their seats.

“He never fuckin’ told me,” Ripper suddenly muttered. “What the fuck . . .”

Out of everyone crammed inside Deuce’s office, Ripper looked the most put out, even more so than Mick. Probably because he’d been the closest to Hawk, more than anyone else associated with the club.

Except for Dorothy, Jase thought bitterly. Obviously she’d been a hell of a lot closer to Hawk than Ripper had.

Deuce tore his angry stare away from Mick and pinned it on Ripper. “He was under my fuckin’ orders not to tell a damn one of you! Do you do shit I tell you not to fuckin’ do . . .”

Deuce trailed off and closed his eyes. “Never mind,” he said, sighing. “Of course you fuckin’ do.”

Seated beside Ripper, Cox elbowed him in the ribs. “He’s talkin’ ’bout you fuckin’ his daughter,” he whispered loudly. “We weren’t supposed to do that, dude, and you didn’t listen.”

Ripper shoved Cox and in turn Cox shoved Ripper, and as the two of them proceeded to shove and slap at each other like the two little girls they often acted like, the rest of the room burst into a fit of laughter. The thick tension that had been holding the entire room hostage for well over an hour seemed to evaporate. Even Deuce and Mick, who—other than Jase—were the only two club members not laughing, looked more at ease than they had only moments ago.

And just like that Jase was no longer amused, but instead, straight-up pissed the fuck off. Slamming his palms down on the table, he shoved his chair back and shot to his feet. Of course, since he was shitfaced, he had to continue holding on to the table for a few more seconds to ensure he wouldn’t go toppling backward along with his chair.

Heads shot up all around the room as his brothers peered curiously at him with raised eyebrows. He paid them no attention as he stumbled his way to the office door, more than ready to be done with this bullshit meeting.

“Jase!” Deuce bellowed and he paused, his hand on the doorknob. “I didn’t say you could leave. This is a meeting and a vote. I made that pretty fuckin’ clear.”

Jase glanced over his shoulder at his president and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what you do with Hawk,” he spat venomously. “Or Luca, or whoever the fuck he is. My vote goes to the club.”

Yanking one of the office’s double doors open, Jase forced his body into action, managing to stay upright just long enough to breach the doorway and slam the door closed behind him with enough force that the connecting walls shook in response.

With every intention of heading straight for the bar and the copious amount of booze beckoning him from its shelves, he spun away from the still-rattling door and started forward.

“Jase?”

Recognizing the voice, he froze in lumbering midstride and nearly fell over because of it. He’d known Dorothy was here, or at least he’d known she was in town, but had already figured he wouldn’t be seeing her, since she usually went to great lengths to ensure she was never in the same place at the same time he was. Never in a million years would he have guessed she would have come to the club.

Slowly, he turned to face her, squinting across the considerable distance between them, and found her standing just outside the hallway that led to the kitchen. He looked her up and down, just drinking her in for the first time in what felt like far too long.