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“So, you gonna take me there?” Gia’s voice was low and seductive and made Valentina want to vomit. This little foray into no-man’s land was going to set her cousin back weeks in therapy.
“Oh yeah, baby. I’m gonna take you places that you’ve never gone before.” Riker reached in and traced the rough pad of his thumb along Gia’s bottom lip. Then he gave her a wicked grin before he tugged the road scarf back up over his face, fired up his bike, and pulled out in front of them. He looked back and hollered. “Let’s get this party started!”
Valentina sighed as Gia put the car in gear and followed Riker down the god-forsaken road.
Once they made the turn that would take them to the clubhouse, Valentina was surprised to find that the condition of the road they were on in stark contrast to the one they had just left. The direct road leading to the clubhouse was smooth and newly paved. There were security cameras in obvious display every several yards and motion detection lights set high on poles that lit up as the car approached. The whole area was lined on either side with a twelve-foot electric fence. The fence itself was finished off with a topping of curled razor barbed-wire.
“Did Riker say the Saints hada little bit of trouble? Looks like they’re prepped for a goddamn zombie apocalypse,” Gia said as she passed the neon-yellow triangular sign that read:High Voltage—Danger of Death.
Valentina stayed quiet as her thoughts turned to that dark night months ago when Dolly, Pinky, Claire, and Raine had paced the floor of the Abruzzi mansion waiting for word about their men. And although the exact details of the posing threat had not been made clear, Valentina had been able to tell by the way her father had instructed his security team that the menace to both organizations, La Familia and the MC, was imminent, wide-spread, and deadly.
“Someone has attacked the compound!” Glory Thomas had shouted out the terrifying announcement.
Valentina had stood at the top of the stairwell of her father’s house and watched Glory’s frenzied arrival. She remembered how hysterical and panicked Glory had been —her voice near shouting as she described the horror of the attack that she had left behind.
But mostly what Valentina remembered about that night was the way the women had circled their wagons. How they had given each other such comfort and support while awaiting news of their men.
Despite the horror of the circumstance, Valentina remembered how much she had envied the close bond the women shared with one another and how much she had wanted to be a part of that. Gia hadn’t come back yet from her disastrous stint on the West Coast, and Valentina had been left to deal with the aftermath of the earthquake on her own. She had never felt more alone in her life.
The spirit of sisterhood that had blanketed the Saints women in solidarity was something that Valentina had wanted and needed. But when she had tried to navigate her way through to their inner circle— when she walked into the room where they had all gathered—she had found them gossiping about her.
Twice.
The second time she decided to meet the unanswered questions and speculation head on.
It was the first and last conversation Valentina had had with the former Marine Captain Hallelujah Thomas. That is if the awkward and stilted words she had managed to stammer out while he looked at her, silent and brooding, could be called a conversation. Still, Valentina could not escape the feeling of destiny that swept over her the first time she had seen Hal standing in the kitchen of her father’s house. He had appeared to her to be a scarred and noble knight watching over the womenfolk and keeping them safe from harm.
Valentina had thought Hal beautiful. She thought that he was beautiful in the way that a harsh, wintry landscape or a deadly glittering ice storm could be beautiful. He was a huge Nordic-looking man, uncompromising in every angle. The square of his strong jaw and the boldness of his features were a perfect setting for eyes so icy-blue and hair so pale-blond that he almost seemed unworldly—like Valentina imagined the Archangel Michael to look. And just like Michael, Hal was a warrior.
The deep, ugly scars that riddled his face, and the angry, thick burn tissue that marked his body lay testimony to his fortitude and courage. Valentina cringed to remember their one and only full-length conversation—the one where she described, in detail, just how damaged she was.
Good going, Valentina. Way to reel him in. Because isn’t that what every man wants— a frightened, paranoid woman whose claim to fame was being buried alive under third world earthquake rubble?
Valentina knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth that she shouldn’t have said them. But she couldn’t stand the thought of being gossiped about in her own home either. Might as well set the story straight from the beginning, and then they could think whatever they wanted to about her—Hal could think whatever he wanted about her.
Valentina tried not to care but she could not get Hal out of her mind. When the invitation to the wedding of Glory and Jules came, Valentina saw it as her chance. Not only had she paid an outrageous sum for the pale-yellow designer dress she wore, but Valentina had practiced several opening lines over and over again in front of the mirror like a pubescent teenager, hoping that she would get a chance to talk to Hal.
However, much to Valentina’s exceeding disappointment she had not been able to catch up with him during the reception. She had caught Hal looking at her once though. Just before she and her father were seated for the ceremony, Valentina had felt a spark of heat run up her spine. She turned to catch Hal looking at her ass, and instead of giving him one of Gia’s come-hither looks, Valentina had become as flustered as an old hen. Much to her chagrin and to Hal’s amusement, she had become completely undone under his scrutiny.
Valentina had caught glances of him now and then at the reception but by the time the music began to play, Hal was gone and her opportunity to speak to him was lost.
Still, the pull Valentina felt towards Hal from that very first encounter stayed with her. It was the main and only reason Valentina let her cousin talk her into going along to the party at the Saints clubhouse tonight. Valentina really hoped that she would run into Hal.
In retrospect, she should have known better than to let herself be swept along by another one of her cousin’s outrageous ideas. In Valentina’s experience, she knew that one unwise decision usually led to another, especially where Gia was concerned; if Valentina had taken even a moment to have a logical thought, she would not have been stupid enough to choose a wild biker party to test the waters of her still fragile mind.
Hindsight.
The bitch of it is—that it always comes too late.
“God, that man is gorgeous! This is going to be F-U-N.” Gia wet her lips and whispered to Valentina as she watched Riker start towards them. With what could only be described as a bad ass swagger, he crossed the graveled parking lot that was filled with what appeared to be hundreds of chromed-out Harleys, a fleet of black utility vans bearing the Saints MC logo, and a few dozen dented pick-up trucks.
“Hey, beautiful ladies.” Riker wrapped his arm around Gia and kissed her soundly on the mouth. When he turned to wrap his other arm around Valentina, she adroitly stepped out of his way. At the expression on her face, he laughed amiably. “Chill out, babe. Just a friendly hello. If you change your mind, there’s enough of me to go around.”
“So I’ve heard,” Valentina muttered underneath her breath.
After trying her best to ignore the warning bells ringing in her head, Valentina followed Gia and Riker towards the loud sounds of hootin’, hollering, and raucous celebration that was happening all around them. An undercurrent of down and dirty rumbled through the air and seeped through the sound system. The blare of heavy metal music split the night and blended with the thick smell of smoke. There was a bonfire several yards away, and the earthy smell of Hickory wood mingled with the heady fragrance of weed, tobacco, and something else— a distinct and strong smell of danger that was hard to miss.
The compound was larger than she expected but otherwise not a far cry from what Valentina had envisioned the Saints property to look like.
