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Prologue
Nikita
Fifteen years ago
“You can’t walk awayfrom your family. You’ll come back,mija,and you’ll stay by my side. You will always be an MC princess.”
Nikita Morales stared into the hollow, black eyes of her father. They weren’t filled with sorrow, despite the judge’s final words of condemnation. They were dark, gleaming orbs of prophecy.
Nita stepped closer to the man adorned in an Armani suit, his equally expensive attorney by his side. Both were purchased with blood money. It made her sick to her stomach.
“No,Papi. The MC destroyed my life. I won’t ever return to it.” She straightened her shoulders. “And I’ll never see your face again.” She inhaled once, the scent of his Spanish cologne one that’d never escape her memory. “But you’ll see mine every day you spend rotting in that prison cell.”
Nikita turned on her toes and released a shaky breath. The prison guards clicked the handcuffs in place, the jingling of the shackles resonating in her ears. He called out to her; his voice strained the further she walked. It was over. The trial of the decade was complete, and the boss of the Diablos MC wouldn’t see the light of day beyond prison fences for the remainder of his life.
Shivering, she recalled the long days in court filled with gruesome photos and chilling testimonies. Estevan Morales was the monster beneath the bed, and yet, she’d never seen the truth.Not until it was too late.
The courthouse hallway ended and her mother, Rose, stood huddled between two US Marshals. After years of being under his thumb, Nikita expected her mother to finally step into the light. Sadly, her mom did the exact opposite. She constantly looked over her shoulder, fearful of what Diablos may do to her now that their president was an incarcerated murderer.
“Mamá, you don’t have to be afraid. He can’t get you.” She grabbed Rose’s hands in hers. They were ice cold and clammy. Searching her mother’s light brown eyes, Nikita sighed. It’d never be the same for them. They couldn’t stay in New York any longer. They couldn’t live in the mansion the family purchased with dirty business ventures.
“He’ll come for us someday. We betrayed him.” The arctic words trickled from Rose’s lips in a whisper that sent goose bumps up Nikita’s arms. Rose believed it with every fiber of her being.
“No.” She shook her head and eyed the two marshals. “We change our names and start over. No more Diablos. We’ll live a simple life,Mamá.” She tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. Returning to finish her freshman year of college wasn’t possible. New York City would be the first place her father’s minions would look for them.
Her heart continued to break at the thought of never seeing her college boyfriend again.Tucker can’t know about any of this.She’d kept him in the dark about her father but didn’t regret it. She couldn’t say goodbye to him. There was nothing she could say that would help him understand why she had to leave. The boy who always got into trouble would be her past. Her future couldn’t involve the tattooed soldier.
The marshals escorted them from the courthouse and to the waiting SUVs in front. Her mother’s shaky legs tripped down the stairs, and Nikita swore silently.I’ll never let a man destroy me like my father did.She cemented the thought in her heart, mindful of dredging up this memory whenever she second-guessed herself.
“I’ll hunt down the MCs, Mamá,” she promised as the vehicle lurched to life. She stared at Rose’s black dress, a gift from her husband. “And I’ll make them pay.”
Chapter One
Kevlar
Present
Fog surroundedhim from the moment he stepped outside the Macha clubhouse. Tucker “Kevlar” Dorous grinned at the sight. Having the clouds so close he could physically touch them gave him a sense of awe. Living in Colorado had many perks, but this was one of his favorites.
After lighting a cigarette, he inhaled the smoke and let the exhaust swirl among the clouds at his feet. A hint of the sunrise beckoned over the easterly mountain range. Sweat dripped from his forehead and disappeared somewhere on the ground. Chest still heaving from his recent workout, Kevlar eyed his cigarette and chuckled.Damn thing probably isn’t the best idea after ten miles at this altitude.
He took another puff, then dropped the remainder of the cigarette to the ground, snuffing it with his black boot. It was a habit the Army enhanced over the years. The constant battlefields and aura of danger could only be silenced one cigarette at a time. He’d quit eventually. When, he wasn’t so sure.
“Damn, Kevlar, what’re you doing up this early?”
Kevlar glanced over his shoulder and noticed Hawk at the clubhouse door. The man, slightly shorter than him, sported a similar shirtless attire, torso covered in ornate Macha tattoos, the symbolic goddess spreading across his wide chest. She kept Kevlar safe, just like his Kevlar vest.
“I’ve been up for a while. Had to get my run in before the sun.” He offered the other man a cigarette.
The door slammed behind Hawk, and Kevlar couldn’t help but notice the other man’s unzipped jeans riding low on his hips. It wasn’t abnormal for the single club man, but with the sweet scent of perfume lingering on his skin, Kevlar guessed Hawk spent the night with a club nymph.
A recently added silver and black tattoo gleamed in the morning light as Hawk stepped away from the building. The old-style motorcycle was never one to go out of style on the tattoo artist. “Never got a chance to really catch up with you.” Hawk rested the cigarette between his fingers, the act natural after years of the habit.
Kevlar swept a hand over his military cut hair. After his last assignment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to rehash the details of his missions in the Arabian deserts.
“Still decompressing,” he replied, hoping the other man would let the subject drop.
Hawk nodded once and lifted his hand to his mouth, the bright orange from the cigarette the only color in the white world around them. “The nymphs are useful for things like that.”
