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Prologue
Bitsy
“Daddy, it isn’t fair. I’m tired of you treating me like I’m still a five-year-old little girl when I’m twenty-six. Mom, help me out here.”
“Leave your mother out of this, Tiffany Renee.”
Crap. He’s pulling out my government name.
“I just want to ride out for the three-day biker convention,” I say.
“I can’t spare any men to go with you, and it’s too dangerous up there,” he tells me. “You can go next year.”
Next year.That thought alone causes my stomach to drop.
“I don’t need anyone coming with me,” I try to reason. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You and all of my crazy uncles made sure of that.”
“It’s not happening, Bitsy,” he says, not even bothering to look up from his computer. “Not after what we’ve learned about that area. I need to finish this email. This conversation is over.”
Dismissed. I’ve been dismissed.
With a frustrated sigh, I toss my hands up and turn to leave the room. A glance at mom tells me that she doesn’t agree with my father but they have to have a united front and all that.
He doesn’t understand. How could he? I feel trapped behind the extremely fortified walls that are the Phantoms motorcycle club. Also known as Cap’s Security. My dad and his army buddies, my uncles, started this company years before I was born. I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by men whose main focus is the protection of those in need.
Well, the only thing I’min need ofis to break free. Even if only for a few days. I just need a little break to work things out in my head. I feel as if I’m going crazy and I just need the feel of the wind in my hair as I soar down the open road on my bike.
Unfortunately, my whole dang family is the giant roadblock blocking my way.
With nothing left to do, I leave and head to my home. Dad and my uncles built my house for me a few years back when I first expressed the need to be on my own. To try and figure out how to live life without having a big bad scary dude glaring at my every choice.
“You can’t go home.”
Using every bit of strength I possess I somehow manage not to turn around and punch my cousin in the face.
“And why is that?” I ask calmly.
“Because my dad is fixing your electricity,” Mikey says. “That last storm we had did some pretty severe damage to the property lines. That’s why you’ve been having issues. It won’t be ready until tomorrow.”
“Of course, it won’t,” I mutter.
Mikey is my Uncle Shadow and Aunt Grace’s son. He just turned thirty-six and is living a full and healthy life with his wife, Ester. When he was younger the doctors found a growth near his spine. He was told that if he had it removed then the likelihood of him being paralyzed from the neck down was extremely high.
Despite the recommendation, Mikey chose to forego the surgery for numerous years. Then his stepmom, Aunt Grace, entered the picture. With heartfelt determination, she begged Mikey to reconsider, stressing that the tumor had grown to a critical size, poised to result in complete paralysis. Furthermore, left unchecked, its progression could have led to his premature death.
I’m so glad he gave in. He was one of the lucky few who made it through the surgery without anything going wrong. He’s been up and out of his chair for ten years now.
“You know, with your brains, you could help me go to that convention without anyone knowing,” I tell him as I turn back to my parents’ house.
“I could,” he says, his voice light with humor. “But I won’t. Your safety is far more important than your freedom.”
“You sound just like them, Mikey,” I tell him.
“I am them,” he responds. “I understand your need for freedom more than most, Bitsy. I craved that same freedom for twenty years being stuck in that damn wheelchair. But, now that I’m older, I understand where our family was coming from. Safety is of the utmost importance.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re a new dad,” I remind him. “You used to be the fun cousin. Now, you’re just a Phantom. A protector.”
“I’m saying that because it’s the truth,” he says. “My job requires me to know the most intimate secrets a person has. I’ve gotten into the minds of sociopaths, Bitsy. I know the evil that lurks in this world. And beautiful women like yourself are prime meat for people like that. I’d much rather you be angry and safe than dead.”
