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Except everything changed that summer, and I never returned to Canary Basin, let alone McMurdo Valley. Over the years, I’ve often thought of Walla Walla. He was my ideal guy who couldn’t possibly be as good in the flesh as he was in my head. But a part of me never let him go.
Now, Walla Walla stands in my clinic’s parking lot. Goose is at his side. Her red hair is short and spiky, just like I remember from years ago. While most women wanted to be sexy and soft, there was Goose riding with the boys, throwing punches, and following her own rules. I thought I’d be like her one day.
But that night with the ranch hands stole my confidence. I realized I was weak. All my toughness was a façade.
I’ve spent years hiding from the past. Based on how Walla Walla and Goose walked straight up to us, I can assume this visit isn’t an accident.
The past just crawled its way back into my life.
MARTIN “WALLA WALLA” CARTER
My earliest childhood memory is getting whacked on the arm for giggling. I don’t remember what I thought was funny. I can’t recall if I cried after I was smacked. Wouldn’t surprise me if I did. I was an emotional kid, and my parents were mean. To their dying days, they’ll claim I’m defective. No matter how much they swatted me with that damn ruler, they never broke the fun part of me.
That’s all I wanted as a kid. Just to play and goof around. No church garbage or lame chores or silent praying. I wanted to run around and scream and pretend I was a Ninja Turtle.
All my life, I’ve played the lovable clown. Compared to my fellow members of the Steel Berserkers Motorcycle Club, I’m an easygoing guy. However, my religious folks with their rules and endless lessons know I’m stubborn as fuck and own a nasty temper.
And right now, I’m pissed.
My club family is the only one that matters to me. I cut the binds to my blood family long ago. They weren’t a right fit for me, and I don’t waste time with people who rub me the wrong way. As soon as I could stand on my own, I walked away from the Carter family.
Protecting my club family has been a priority since I was a kid. Even before I could fight, I’d still jumped into a brawl to save one of my people.
Decades later, I’m a seasoned warrior. That’s why I’ve volunteered to travel out of my club’s territory—the ruggedly beautiful McMurdo Valley—to chase down the assholes who made our people bleed days ago.
The trouble should have landed solely on the Halvorson family. The patriarch has a habit of hiring ex-cons and former military. Urick seemed to keep a tight control over them. However, the old man is dying, and his two sons are as soft as bread dough.
Months ago, Erik Halvorson convinced the ranch workers to jump the club’s youngest member, Yagger. We rallied to save him that day. One of the assholes ended up dead. Yagger was just banged up.
We thought the bullshit had blown over. The club gets into brawls from time to time. We’d moved on. The assholes hadn’t.
Going rogue, they ambushed the Halvorson men. Erik was shot in the back and left paralyzed. Urick suffered a heart attack from the shock. Meanwhile, Peter survived the attack unscathed.
The assholes also came after the club. Several members were banged up and even shot. Yagger took the worst damage. Though bad off, he should survive.
During the battle, we killed plenty of the assholes, but enough got away to remain a threat. According to Peter Halvorson, the ranch workers are still out for revenge. Now, they’ve hatched a new plan to kill Urick’s only daughter.
That’s why my club sister, Goose—born Lisa Palmer—and I are currently headed to a gambling town named Banta City.
My club has vengeance in mind for the fuckers. I do, too, but protecting Austen is my main priority. After all, years ago, when I first saw the gorgeous redhead, I fully believed she would be the woman to inspire me to settle down.
Instead, she just disappeared. I’ve long assumed she had a falling out with her family. As far as I know, she never visited the Halvorson ranch in Canary Basin again.
Now, the same men who attacked my club are on their way to take the life of that sexy redhead.
Before Goose and I left McMurdo Valley, we looked over the informational file given to us by Peter. He swore he couldn’t just call his half-sister and warn her. Of course, I knew he was full of shit.
Urick paid a Banta City private investigator to send regular reports on his estranged daughter. They had Austen’s addresses—home and business—and phone numbers. Even if she wouldn’t pick up the phone for them, they could leave a fucking message.
“She won’t believe us,” Peter claimed.
Personally, I think he hopes she dies. His rich father is dying. His younger brother is paralyzed and might not survive. If both younger siblings die before Urick does, Peter will become the sole heir to an impressive fortune.
“Bringing Austen back to McMurdo Valley could be dangerous,” I tell Goose when we stop for lunch on our way to Banta City. “Her brother might want her dead.”
“That’s not our problem,” replies my club sister.
“Aren’t you worried about the life of another ginger?”
