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“Hike. Less chance of being noticed.”

We’re silent as we trek through the woods surrounding Blackstone’s property. It only takes half an hour to get to the camera that needs repositioning. Reaper keeps a lookout while I fiddle with the equipment. I text Matrix to make sure it’s pointed at the correct angle. He confirms it is.

A second later, Reaper snaps his fingers softly enough that I can hear it but not loud enough for the sound to carry past us. I turn toward him to see what the problem is. Movement near the back of the mansion catches my eye. A biker rolls out from one of a dozen garage doors. He’s wearing Demon Riders colors.

“Not a surprise,” I whisper to Reaper.

“Yeah, but look at what’s inside.”

I squint against the sunlight. I wish I had binoculars, but it only takes a minute for my eyes to adjust enough to make out details. Several pallets of long-term food supplies are stacked inside the garage. They shouldn’t be there. How the hell did they get that much food without us knowing about the deliveries? And why do they have it?

“I’m going in for a closer look,” I tell Reaper.

“Same.”

We quietly stalk through the woods, careful not to set off the outer perimeter alarms. We’ve made this hike many times before to test security measures. I know exactly how close we can get without triggering an aggressive response.

I stop just outside the motion-detection-based security zone. Any closer and we’d end up in a firefight with a bunch of Blackstone’s guards. We don’t need any more heat than we already have. This is as close as we’re getting.

“There’s enough food for a hundred people,” Reaper says.

“Unless he’s planning a party and it’s all caviar and Champagne, he’s up to something else.”

“Yeah.” Reaper nods.

“I don’t see anyone.” As soon as I say this, the garage door begins lowering. “Text Matrix and find out if Blackstone has made any announcements on social media about returning to Montana.”

“On it, pres.”

While Reaper types away on his phone, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I count back from ten to try to calm my racing heart. Blackstone hasn’t been in the state all year. When he’s here, I can’t breathe. I can barely think. I’m paralyzed by rage so deeply embedded in me that I’m sure it’s been zippered into my DNA. If he’s coming here, we don’t just have the Demon Riders to contend with. We have to deal with him, too.

This is a disaster. I need to get back to Nina’s and warn the others. I’ve got a duty to protect my men. Between keeping surveillance on the Demon Riders and on Blackstone’s place, I won’t have time to deal with any more bullshit. Letting my dick and stupid, uselessfeelingsgo unchecked will only distract me. I can’t let Julia get in my head. I’ve got to push all that crap away and focus on what’s important—keeping everyone safe. We’re at war, and I’m not going to lose any of my guys to anyone, especially not to Blackstone.

Chapter 16: Julia

Scardidn’t come home last night. I’m sure it’s because I blurted out my love for him like an idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wish I could travel back in time and stop myself from being so stupid. My stomach was so knotted up that I had to skip dinner. Nina and I helped put Max to bed, and then I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning.

I’m still in bed and don’t want to leave it. However, Nina’s cooking smells amazing. She’s making something sugary sweet with a hint of maple. It’s probably pancakes or waffles or maybe French toast. Regardless, it’s going to be tasty.

My stomach growls. I need to get out of bed and get dressed, but I’m so exhausted I can hardly keep my eyes open. I couldn’t stop thinking about Scar all night, so I didn’t pass out until just before sunrise. I’m about six hours short of what I need to function, but I can’t hide in my room all day.

Now that it’s morning, I know what I need to do. I need to talk to him. I love him. There’s no denying it. At first, I thought maybe the amazing sex fried my brain, but that’s not it. I see how he looks at me. He cares about me, too, even if he refuses to admit it. Maybe he doesn’t love me yet, but you don’t kiss someone how he kissed me without there being some kind of emotion behind it. He’d holding back for some reason. Something’s obviously wrong, and we need to talk about it. I’m not going to let him walk away from me until he tells me what he’s really feeling. I don’t buy his bullshit about me being too good for his world. What does that even mean?

I crawl out of bed, groaning as my muscles protest. Hopefully, Nina has a pot of very strong coffee and an IV drip that I can jam directly into my veins.

If I’m going to face him and demand he tell me how he really feels, then I want to look amazing. I need the kind of confidence you can only get from a killer outfit.

After rummaging through the closet, I choose a black bodysuit with cut-off denim shorts. I find a pair of badass lace-up suede boots with two silver buckles around the ankles. A red leather jacket with an asymmetrical zip fastener, waist belt adjustment, silver-tone metal studs, wide lapel, and zipper pockets is exactly what I need to complete the look. If he can manage to keep his hands off me when he sees me in this, then I’m doomed because I look awesome.

With my head held high, I walk out into the kitchen like a runway model. Maybe it’s a bit over the top, but I’m trying to hide how much his rejection hurt me. And I’m trying to ignore the little voice in my head telling me I’m not good enough for him.

“Love the ensemble.” Nina waves a spatula toward me. “I’m making pancakes. Want some?”

“Sure.”

“You probably need a double helping since you didn’t eat last night.” She stacks several pancakes on a plate and then hands it to me. “The maple syrup’s on the warming plate on the table.”

“Thank you. Where’s Max?” I glance toward the living room, but it’s empty.