Page 1 of Cole

prologue

COLE

Ten years ago

The whole deal was wrong from the start. I told my father as much, before we rode over to the warehouse where the exchange was supposed to happen, but he brushed it off.

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Cole, the deal is good. We need this.” My dad Frank had always put profits before safety, so his dismissal was no surprise, but still, the feeling of unease sat in my gut as we rode out of town. The reality was, even though my dad didn’t bother reminding me, we needed the money from the deal tonight to buy him some breathing room.

The truth was that Frank Bailey’s debt had never curbed his spending, and thanks to that, the whole MC had to put their necks on the line.

At least Marcus was young enough to be left out of this bullshit. Thank fuck. My brother was just a kid, so he had a few more years at home before Frank decided that he needed to join the Harbor Hounds. I’d been fourteen when he’d started taking me over to the bar and garage that he ran on the interstate. The Clutch. One hard night in that place had made sure that I was no longer a kid. I’d kept Marcus away from it so far, and if I had my way, that would never change. He was meant for better things than riding in the dark to shady deals that could land you in the hospital, jail, or dead.

No, the Harbor Hounds and my father’s legacy were my cross to bear, and I’d gladly carry the burden if it meant keeping Marcus safe.

We turned off the small narrow road onto a farm track and parked. My best friends, Gage and Maddox, flanked me as my father looked toward a single light shining outside the ramshackle building in the distance.

“We go the rest of the way on foot,” my dad said, and nodded to his seconds-in-command, Beatie and Errol.

We were ten men altogether. Enough for a run-of-the-mill deal, but way too few for shit going sideways.

We walked along the soft, marshy field toward the farm and the outbuilding lit by the solitary bulb burning in the dark. That damn gut instinct that something stank about this whole thing only grew stronger.

It should have been a simple transaction. We had the money, they had the drugs. An exchange would be made, and everyone would be happy… except the supplier’s accent had changed every single time on the phone, and I had no idea who we were really dealing with, only that it wasn’t the same person. That was the kind of shit that made me nervous.

But Frank Bailey didn’t do nervous, especially not in his eldest son, the one he’d decided would inherit his business one day.

So, I kept my mouth shut, and my hand on my weapon.

Inside the outbuilding, rusted old equipment sat under huge cloths, and the stink of decay and rot hung heavy in the air. The silence felt loaded somehow. Wrong.

My father and Errol moved into the middle of the room, while the rest of us hung back, and a few stood outside to watch for an ambush.

I didn’t see exactly what happened. I was too focused on the movement of a shadow from the upper floor, when the first shot sounded.

People dove to the floor and suddenly, we weren’t alone in the building. Bullets pinged off surfaces, ricocheting around wildly. My father dove down, and Errol covered him, shooting from the hip.

“Fuck! Stay down, Cole,” Beatie snarled at me.

I caught sight of Gage’s face. He looked… shocked.

He’d had the same look only a few days before, when I’d body checked him during a basketball game at the court beside the lake. What the fuck are we doing here? We were little more than kids, and tonight, we could die right here, in the dirt. Lives wasted.

I moved, but not fast enough. A weight barreled into me. It was Beatie. He knocked me off my feet and covered my body with his.

Silence fell, and then the sound of engines started up outside.

“Those fuckers took the money!” Frank yelled, getting up and giving chase. People were running, and I was sliding out from under Beatie to get up and follow behind them, when someone grabbed my ankle. I nearly fell but was still able to pull my gun and aim it at whoever had grabbed me. Recognition hit me just before I pulled the trigger.

Beatie lay in a pool of blood. I hadn’t even realized that he’d gotten hurt. He was Beatie, huge and hearty and always there. How could he be hurt?

I dropped to his side and searched for the hit.

“Listen to me, Cole,” he wheezed out.

“Don’t waste your energy, just hold on,” I babbled. I was only twenty-one, and I’d never seen a man die before.

“Too late for that,” he muttered and coughed. Blood ringed his lips. Well, shit.