Page 74 of Razor

"When did they take over?"

"About five years ago. The Mafia had their claws deep into Los Angeles. Crime was everywhere. Tourism took a hit. Then the Wild Angels showed up and cleaned house."

"They sound like superheroes."

I picture an army of bikers wearing skeleton masks swooping through the streets like some twisted version of Batman, and a laugh escapes me.

Razor's smile softens.

"They're good at what they do. That's why Ryder knows your father is safe while they're watching over him."

"So, I could go home?"

His arm tightens around my waist, and his voice turns deadly quiet.

"No."

One devastating word.

"Santiago wouldn't touch your father."

The hope inside me steadies.

"He'd use you to punish him instead."

Ice creeps through my veins.

"An accident. A disappearance." His jaw hardens. "Maybe your body never gets found."

I shiver.

Razor brushes another kiss against my neck.

"Vengeance cuts both ways, darlin'. Ryder's got a reason for leaving Santiago alive. We just don't know what it is yet."

We continue drifting across the lagoon, the silence settling comfortably around us.

But my thoughts have already left paradise.

They're back home—with my father, my brothers, and the monster called Santiago De Sauro.

CHAPTER 37

RAZOR

It’s dark when we return to The Rubicon. We stayed at the lagoon all day, relaxing, eating, fucking several times and swimming. It always relaxes me, and sharing it with Sunday was special. It made a treasured memory, and I intend to make many more with her.

Unfortunately, the next two weeks are busy ones. We ride out on several missions as well as intelligence gathering, and the only time I can snatch with my girl is in bed or first thing in the morning. It’s helluva frustrating, and my mood sours.

It doesn’t help that Blade is falling for Delilah and giving her everything Sunday wants from me. He isn’t making this easier, and the accusations that hang between us are frustrating as hell.

The day looms ever closer, and I’ve lost count of the number of whores who have attempted to change my mind. Calling me out on what an asshole I am, stringing me up by my balls and reminding me of what’s at stake.

The most surprising one of all is when I head out from Ryder’s office and bump into his pretty wife, Ashton.

Her warm smile is always welcome, and I’m surprised when she says in her soft southern drawl, “Can I have a word, Razor?”

“Of course.”