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To hell with both of them.
Angrily, I wiped away my tears and did the only thing I could—I started packing. Called in sick the next morning and went to the U-Haul store to get boxes. Typed up my letter of resignation without having a clue where I’d live or work once I left.
Home seemed like the most reasonable option. I called my parents, only to find out they were staying in Colorado with Jo. The crap icing on the cake was them telling me they planned on selling their home in Los Angeles to stay in Colorado permanently. Jo, my little sister, was getting married and planning on starting a family with a biker she just met.
What. The. Fuck?
Talk about the worst timing. Here I did the same thing she did, falling for a man too fast, but her situation worked out, whereas mine went to pot.
Distraught, I fought with Jo, which didn’t help our already rocky relationship. When I got off the phone, I was torn about what to do. I could stay at my parents’ house but be alone, or I could go to Colorado and pray Jo took me in. All I knew was, I wanted to go home—I wanted my family, whether or not they pissed me off.
Trent gaped when I put in my two weeks, unable to grasp why I’d leave the firm when my career was important to me. Cynthia was less surprised, possibly hoping I’d leave but still stunned I was following through. I honestly don’t know why they assumed I’d stay where I’d see them daily, working one-on-one with them. I may love my job, but I love myself more. There was no way I was going to subject myself to them any longer than I needed to.
Whereas Cynthia was pleased to see me tucking tail, Trent tried to talk me into staying. I doubt he was doing it out of guilt or because he cared for me. Those who cheat and feel guilt don’t continue the relationship with the other person if they truly cared for their partner. No, Trent was trying to convince me to stay because he knew the company was going to be fucked carrying the workload, something I did seamlessly.
Jaded, I was tempted to burn all my bridges. Walk out with my middle fingers raised proudly over my head, shouting how my boss was boning the staff. But I saw what happened with Jo in her career as an architectural engineer. Her ex screwed her over by stealing her promotion, and she retaliated by quitting without notice, resulting in her being blacklisted by nearly all other architectural design firms. I didn’t want to fight for a job like she had. Jo came out of it unscathed after starting her own construction firm, but she struggled unnecessarily, and her outcome was not the norm.
For two weeks, I avoided the cheaters at work, keeping to myself. It wasn’t easy when I could feel their eyes on me, waiting to see if I’d report them to human resources. What would be the point? The damage was done, and I was done with dealing with their bullshit. I wanted to move on.
Late at night, Trent would blow up my phone, begging me to give him another chance.
“Are you staying with Cynthia?” I knew the answer, since his laptop was still at our condo—technically his condo, since my name wasn’t on the title, per his wishes. His location was linked to all his devices, and I knew the address was hers.
He lied, of course. I finally grew tired of it. Took a page out of Jo’s book and ignored his sorry ass. I wanted to block him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know why, other than I wanted to remain professional since we’re in the same field. If he messaged me with anything other than business, I disregarded him.
In my last two days of work, I decided it would be best to use my remaining sick bank. Packed up everything I could into my Mercedes-Benz SUV and started driving. I was still undecided on where to go, but when I headed east on I-80, the answer seemed predetermined—I was heading to Colorado to be with my family.
After an embarrassing catfight in the front yard with Jo—a long story—she graciously forgave me for how I’d treated her during her messy breakup. She took me in with open arms, giving me a suite at the MC headquarters and job doing the books for her construction design firm and Atlas’s security company.
Jo and I rebuilt our relationship, and I finally had my sister and best friend back. I made friends with the other biker women in the MC, as well as made up for lost time with my parents after months of not seeing them because of traveling for work. I got a clean bill of health after getting my STI test results, grateful Trent didn’t infect me with whatever cootie bugs he may have picked up from Cynthia or any other women.
My life’s good from outward appearances, but I’m a mess on the inside. I hid it well from everyone, even my family. No one saw how depressed I was, other than maybe Jo. No one else saw my pain, or so I assumed.
Chase—handsome Thor-lookalike with the brains of Stephen Hawking—saw me like I was an open book. His eyes followed me everywhere, tracking my movements and emotions. When his eyes weren’t on me, I felt them through the lens of his cameras, located all over the property.
Stalkerish? Kind of. But recent events made me understand how important the Mercy Ravens Security monitoring system is to the survival of the club members and people affiliated with it.
After being abducted by Lorenzo Bianchi—the Denver mob don, now deceased—to be used as bait to lure Jo out of headquarters, Chase tracked down our location through his techy skills. Lorenzo had already promised his second in command, Lucky Luca, he could have me as a reward for his loyalty. The pig had his cursive tattooed hands on me, with promises to do far more than grope my chest. Had Chase not found us, sending the backup we needed, Luca may have gotten his way.
Though Lorenzo got his just desserts, Luca was able to evade the police, slipping out the back of the steel warehouse where we were being held hostage and disappearing into the maze of metal buildings in the rail yard. Authorities speculate he hunkered down in the industrial park until the coast was clear for him to hop a train in the rail yard. The sadistic pervert is still out there, somewhere, which causes me anxiety. Even though I go to therapy to deal with what happened, knowing he can come back has me panicking.
From day one, Chase had been coming to my suite at night, offering to keep me company. He saw my internal turmoil, and he admitted it gutted him. You’d think he felt my emotions as if they were his own, empathic to my duress.
I’m not an idiot—I knew Chase wanted more than to crash on my couch while watching over me while I slept, but I couldn’t give it to him, not while I was still mourning Trent.
Stupid Trent.Still fucking with my heart, inhibiting me from moving on with a man who seems willing to move mountains for me.
I’ve tried to convince myself Chase and I wouldn’t work, that we come from different worlds. But those are lies. Lies I can’t even believe.
I never realized how sexy a man in leather could be. How tattoos and piercings made a man look like a piece of art. How long hair and trendy glasses would make me swoon. I was used to men who got manicures and dressed in suits. Now I’m drooling over rough, calloused hands that aren’t afraid to get dirty.
There’s something to admire about a man who takes loyalty seriously, and Chase is a fiercely committed brother of the MC. Growing up in the system made his devotion to the Mercy Ravens a familial commitment. His adoration for all members in the MC, men and women, is endearing.
Equally appealing to his inked-up, nerdy Viking appearance and big heart is his intelligence. Chase isn’t the only one who did his research. I gathered all the information I could on the man who was taking up more head space in my mind than anyone deserves.
Chase speaks multiple languages—English, Spanish, Russian, and Farsi. Graduated top of his class. He knows more about the Internet than the entire IT Enterprise Services Division in the FBI. He runs the Mercy Ravens Security Company’s intel department, diving deep into the dark web to search for predators and corruption. The man shoots bourbon back like it’s water and cusses more than any man should. But the next minute, he’s sipping wine and talking for hours about music, art, literature—and he’s a rugged biker in leather and chains.
Talk about a woman’s wish list for a dream man in flesh and bone form.
