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PROLOGUE
The blonde woman sat in her car at the traffic light. Her eyes, hidden by her sunglasses, were constantly checking her rearview mirror. She’d tried to slip away from the man pursuing her, dogging her steps, her every move. Somehow he knew, he always knew. How? How did he know where she went? Who she talked to? What she bought? Where she ate?
She’d tried to outrun the car following her, as if that were possible. She could never shake it. The man behind the wheel was just too good. No matter how fast she went, or how she darted in and out of traffic, changing lanes, making sudden turns, it always stayed on her tail.
And now she found herself stuck at a red light. She could see in her side mirror the SUV two cars back, trying to look inconspicuous. The sun reflected off the driver’s mirrored shades. Did he think she didn’t know he was there, that he was always there?
She bit her lip, glancing up at the red light again and then at the traffic. She saw her opportunity. A break in traffic was coming up. She could run the light, and he would be stuck, waiting behind the car in front of him. She jammed on the gas pedal, darting out and making a left turn. Horns blared. Cars swerved. As she roared down the street, her eyes darted between the road in front of her and her rearview mirror, watching to see if the driver of the SUV would swerve into the oncoming lanes and try to pursue her, attempting to run the light himself. She didn’t see him, so she quickly ducked down a side street to the left, doubling back.
Taking a deep breath, and trying to calm her shaking hands, she tried to think where she could go. None of her friends would help her anymore, they were too afraid, and she couldn’t blame them. Going to the police would be next to useless. Making a sudden turn, she headed her Mercedes in the direction of the only place left that might help her.
Her last hope.
Ten minutes later, she pulled her car into a parking lot, praying to God this worked, because if the Evil Dead MC refused to help her, she didn’t know where else she could turn.
CHAPTER ONE
Crash shut the acetylene blow torch off and flipped the front of his welding helmet up. Stepping back, he admired his work. It was finally starting to take shape. The twisted metal sculpture had begun to reveal a woman’s form, her face tilted to the sky above, her arms and hair flowing back, and her chest thrust out.
He’d cleared a large space to use for sculpting in the two-story industrial brick warehouse he’d converted into a loft apartment. Pulling off the welding helmet and gloves, he tossed them to the side and picked up a large canvas tarp. He threw it over his sculpture, not ready for his MC brothers to see just what he’d been spending all his free time doing.
Walking across the polished concrete floor, he glanced at the clock as he pulled his leather cut off the back of the barstool that faced the large granite island in the enormous open-plan area. It was time to meet the guys. He grabbed his keys and walked over to the metal freight elevator. Stepping inside, he slammed the iron-gate closed and threw the lever to descend to the first level where he kept his bike.
Twenty minutes later, Crash met up with Cole, Red Dog, Wolf, and Cajun at a gas station. He rolled to a stop next to them as they all sat on their bikes, Cole casually smoking a cigarette.
“Thought Angel made you give up those cancer sticks,” Crash teased.
“What she don’t know, won’t hurt her. Will it?” Cole replied, his blue eyes squinting through the smoke as he took a drag. His blonde hair hung just past the collar of his leather cut.
“I ain’t telling her, brother,” Crash laughed with a shake of his head.
“Damn straight, you’re not.”
Crash glanced around. “Where’s Green? I thought he was joining in on the fun today. He’s always bitching about wanting to stomp some ass.”
“He’s not answering his phone,” Cole stated.
