Page 5 of Vengeance

Bowie barked a harsh laugh. “What, you don’t think that hiding my daughter in the clubhouse will help to keep her safe?”

“No,” Vengeance answered honestly. “But it’ll keep her breathing for the time being.”

That nearly started a fight. One biker surged forward instantly. “Watch your fucking mouth?—”

“Enough,” Bowie snapped. The room fell silent again. Vengeance respected him for that alone. Most clubs lost their damn minds when emotions got high, but Bowie still had control of Savage Hell.

“What do they want?” Bowie finally asked.

“Territory, access, and money. Savage kept Huntsville locked down for years. Now they think there’s weakness here. They want everything the Bastards own,” Vengeance said.

“There isn’t weakness here,” Bowie growled.

“I know that,” Vengeance said, “but they don’t.”

Chloe suddenly spoke up beside him. “Why do I feel like you’re leaving something out?” His eyes slid to hers. She was a smart girl—too smart, because there was something he hadn’t told them yet. It was something that was going to make this entire situation infinitely worse. The Syndicate didn’t just want Savage Hell; they wanted Chloe specifically, and judging by the contract Vengeance had seen with her picture attached to it, they wanted her alive for a reason.

Chloe

Chloe couldn't stop staring at him. The question had slipped out before she could stop it, but now she couldn't take it back. Why do I feel like you're leaving something out? Vengeance didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked toward the front windows of Savage Hell as if expecting someone to burst through them at any second. That alone made her skin crawl.

"You gonna answer her?" Bowie growled. Vengeance rubbed a hand across his jaw before meeting Chloe's eyes again. There was something there now she hadn't noticed before, and if she was correct, it was regret.

"I will," he finally said, "just not yet."

Bowie barked out a humorless laugh. "Oh, hell no. You don't get to walk into my clubhouse, tell me my family's being hunted, then decide what information I get."

"I know,” Vengeance grumbled.

"You know?" Bowie snapped. "Then start talking."

Vengeance's shoulders tensed. "If I tell you everything right now, you'll stop listening to what I have to tell you."

"We already stopped listening," one of the older Bastards muttered. A couple of the men chuckled, but Chloe didn't. Shecouldn't shake the feeling that whatever Vengeance was hiding wasn't about the Syndicate—it was about him.

"You know something about me," she said quietly. His gaze snapped back to hers. "I can see it all over your face."

"I know enough,” he said.

"Like what?" she asked.

His lips pressed together. "You were kidnapped when you were eight." The room fell completely silent, and every Bastard in the clubhouse stiffened. Bowie's expression became murderous.

"How the fuck do you know that?" Bowie growled. Chloe's stomach twisted violently because almost no one outside their family knew the details. The club never talked about it. Her parents never talked about it. Hell, she barely talked about it in therapy. She still woke up sweating from nightmares she couldn't fully remember.

"I have my sources," Vengeance answered.

"That's not a good enough answer," Bowie said.

"No," he admitted. "I guess it’s not.”

Bowie took another step closer. "You got five seconds before I start breaking bones."

Vengeance didn't move. Chloe didn’t know many men who wouldn’t back down from her father when he looked this angry. "If that's what you need to do, then do it." The words surprised everyone—even Bowie hesitated. "I deserve worse than a few broken bones."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Chloe asked.

His eyes drifted toward Savage's kutte hanging behind the bar. "Let's just say—" he said quietly, "That my family's responsible for a lot of pain." A strange feeling settled in Chloe's chest. It wasn’t recognition, exactly. But it was something—she was sure of it. Like hearing the first notes of a song she couldn't quite place.