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She was beautiful in her rage, and I knew at that moment that I’d do anything for her. Even fuck off if she ever asked me to.
Ryder never asked why Mad Dog took me in, and since Pops said the fewer people who knew about what happened the better, I wasn’t about to enlighten him. The club had always protected its own and somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten that rule. She’d saved me, turned my life around, and I wasn’t there when she was in trouble.
Never again. Whether she liked it or not, I was never leaving her side. Anyone who dared to say shit to me about it could fuck right the hell off. I didn’t expect them to let me back into the club, I knew I’d burned that bridge, but if they were smart, they’d stay the fuck out of my way. Stel was mine, and it was about damn time I lay claim to her.
Ryder must have sensed the direction my thoughts had taken because he raised a dark brow. His shoulders blocked the doorway, separating me from the club.
He looked me up and down, but I wasn’t sure what he hoped to find. If he was looking for an apology, he’d be waiting a long damn time. My regrets had nothing to do with the club. I’d choose her over them every time, without question.
“You look about as good as a pickled cat turd.”
He’d always had an interesting way of wording shit. I wasn’t exactly sure what a pickled cat turd looked like, nor did I want to, but I couldn’t hate on him for the description. It probably fit right about now.
My beard was untrimmed, my T-shirt was wrinkled to hell and back, my usually slicked-back hair hung limply in my face, and I was pretty sure the bags under my eyes had bags. About the only thing on me that looked cared for was my cut.
Ryder’s dark eyes narrowed on the patch below my name. Nomad. Not the Tucson charter. When I’d gone to my president, he’d given me a choice. I could either ride out on the next drug run or go nomad.
He never thought I’d rip off my patch and walk out. The life of a nomad was dangerous. No men at your side, but all the same enemies. What he didn’t understand was that nothing could keep me from coming to get her. For her, I would gladly burn the world down.
Ryder’s eyes wandered back up to meet mine, and I could see the pain clearly reflected in them. I wished I could say I wouldn’t hurt him again, but I knew that was a lie. I’d be forced at some point to twist the knife I’d already sunk into his back, and for that, I was truly sorry. But it didn’t sit right with me to rely on another man to save what I should have protected.
“Good. Lets me know I made the right decision in calling you.”
He turned around, giving me his back, and pain filled my chest knowing that he might later regret those words. Most people thought I left and never looked back, but the reality was far uglier. I was a shadow of the man I once was, and all because I’d never truly left. My heart had remained in San Antonio, tearing my spirit in two.
When I entered, the room descended into silence. Every man turned toward me, the heat of their glares palpable. Well, everyone but the new prospect who viewed me with curiosity rather than open hostility.
That was okay, though. They could tell me to fuck off with their eyes, I admitted to deserving their ire. I’d left them in their darkest hour for Stella, and if she asked me to, I’d drop them all again in a heartbeat. There was no room in my heart for remorse because it was near to bursting for Stel. Always for Stel.
Beast coughed into his meaty hand and nodded at an empty chair off to the side, away from the long wooden table with The Devil’s Deviants logo burned into the center. I’d always liked him. He was the type of man that would call you on your shit, without judgment, and then hold out his hand to help you up.
I nodded and sat, hoping that by the end of church everyone would forget about me. Watching and listening was the only way I was going to figure out where Stella was being held. The club didn’t trust outsiders, and while nomads were still Deviants, I no longer belonged to a charter or got a vote. Which made me not only a traitor in their eyes but also an outsider.
Tweak threw his hands up in the air. “So, we’re seriously just going to ignore the elephant in the room?”
There went my chance at blending in. Damn Tweak and his big fucking mouth. He was calling me out because he had mad love for Stella, and I respected that, but it still made me want to punch his pretty face in. Let’s see how much pussy he got with a black eye and a missing tooth.
“Yes,” Ryder huffed out with a glower. “I invited Switch to be a part of the recovery operation because Stella’s going toneed all the support she can get. Anyone have a problem with that?”
He stared down the table, daring anyone to speak up. When he was satisfied no one was going to say shit about me being here, he continued, “Good. Now, since this is Hunter’s show, I’m turning it over to him.”
Hunter cocked his head to the side, his cold eyes assessing me as he spoke. “Their pattern is to rotate the girls every couple of days until they’re sold, and if I’m right, she’s already been at that location for two days. If we don’t grab her tonight, they’ll move her, and I’ll have to start all over again. We’ve found twenty safe houses so far, but I suspect there’s more.”
“Jesus Christ,” Gunner muttered under his breath as he pulled his shoulder length hair away from his face. “Has the boyfriend resurfaced yet?”
A boyfriend? Stella had a fucking boyfriend? The thought of another man touching my girl made me want to put my fist through the wall. Then again, what the hell did I think would happen? Anyone with eyes could tell underneath all the baggy coveralls she was fond of lay a body meant for sin.
I should have never listened when she was hurling angry words in my face. Worse yet, I’d stayed away. God, I was an idiot, and I had no one to blame but myself. Ryder had been right all along. She might have been off limits to the club, but not the rest of the men in the world.
Fuck, I needed a smoke if I was going to deal with this shit.
“No,” Hunter deadpanned. “Unless his body magically turns up somewhere, I’ll keep looking.”
Tweak’s eyes, dark as Ryder’s, narrowed on his cousin. “What about the dude before him? The one I had a bad feeling about. Did you ever check into him?”
Jesus, there were two fuckers who’d had their grubby little hands on her. Two!
My hands balled into fists in my lap, my nails breaking through the skin of my palms. She’d had fewer boyfriends than that in high school. Of course, back then I’d been around to scare off even the most persistent of them. Might have even ended a guy’s football career with a well-placed boot to his throwing arm. It wasn’t my finest hour, but it was better than having to face this shit.
