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Zara

He hadn’t yet asked the details I’d heard about him, or why I’d come to this town, certain I’d find him. I knew he had to have questions, but so far, he seemed more interested in making sure I was okay. It only proved to me I’d made the right choice to come here. I hadn’t met anyone like him before.

Truth be told, a lot of women had heard about Azrael. Even though I lived several hours from the Devil’s Boneyard territory, I’d heard whispers about him. When the police hadn’t seemed interested in doing their job and finding my mom, I’d known I had to at least try to reach out to him. He’d been my only hope of ever seeing my mother again. I had no way of knowing if she remained in Florida, or if her abductors had taken her elsewhere.

Of course, I hadn’t counted on getting jumped and dragged into that alley tonight. It had worked out in the end, but he’d been right when he said I could have died. I’d done my best to sound and appear tough. Honestly, I’d been terrified until he’d shown up. I’d caught sight of the name on his cut, and I’d known he would help me. It had given me the courage I needed.

Being in his home didn’t make me as nervous as it should have. I was alone with a man I’d never met before, one who was part of a motorcycle club. From what I’d heard, while his club didn’t harm innocent people, there had been a time when things were different. Of course, everything I thought I knew was based on rumors. The truth could be vastly different. But desperate times called for desperate measures… and I was as desperate as a daughter could get. My mother was the only family I had left, at least out of the ones I knew. I’d never met her family. She’d been born in Egypt, but she’d once told me her family was from Israel.

Azrael had stepped away a few minutes ago to call the man he’d referred to as Doc, then moved me to the kitchen table. Better light for Doc, he’d said. When he’d gone to answer the knock at the door, I’d assumed it was Doc. An older man entered the kitchen with Azrael, carrying a bag in his hand, like the type doctors used to carry for house calls. He gave me a kind smile and spoke softly to Azrael, low enough I couldn’t hear what they were talking about.

When he approached, I noticed he moved slowly. He eased down onto a chair next to me and assessed me with gentle eyes. “I hear you’ve had a rough night.”

I nodded. “Azrael thinks I need stitches.”

He pursed his lips. “Well, he should know. I’ve put him back together enough times.”

I glanced at the man who’d saved me and wondered how often he got hurt doing what he did. And yet, he’d likely heard me scream and come to save me just the same. Most people would have kept walking. Best case scenario, they might have called the police, but I’d never met anyone who would dare enter the alley to try to save a stranger. Until today.

“Let me take a look,” Doc said. I held out my arm and he unwrapped the bandana. His face remained blank, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He’d either dealt with much worse, or he was doing his best not to show his emotions so I would remain calm. Either way, I appreciated his bedside manner. “It seems Azrael is correct. I think five or six should close it up. I can numb the area, but the injection is going to burn something awful. Nothing I can do about that.”

“It’s okay. Not my first time having stitches. Although, the last time I was in the Emergency Room.”

He smiled faintly. “All right. Let me prep everything I’ll need.”

* * *

Azrael

“So,” I said conversationally, trying to distract her as Doc treated her wounds, “you said you’ve been looking for me. How’d you know where to find me?”

Her gaze shifted to my face. “I didn’t, not exactly. I knew the general area your club controls. I’ve been watching, asking questions, putting things together. Women talk, especially when they or someone they know has been saved from being attacked or worse.”

“And you met some of those women?” I asked.

“Yeah. I made it to your town but wasn’t entirely sure where you’d be once I got here. That alley tonight -- pure coincidence. Bad luck turning good.”

“Those men could have killed you,” I pointed out, as Doc tied off the second stitch.

“They could have tried,” she replied with a hardness that made me reassess her. This woman had more to her than I’d initially thought.

Doc finished the stitches -- five in total -- then dressed the wound with antiseptic ointment and a clean bandage. Zara flexed her arm experimentally, testing the pull of the sutures. She’d said she’d gotten them before. Looked like it was true.

“Thanks,” she said, inspecting his work. “Clean stitches.”

“Lots of practice.” Doc packed away the supplies, then stood. “I’ll leave you in Azrael’s hands, but if you need me, I’m a phone call away.”

“What about antibiotics or pain meds? Can she shower? I’m sure she’d like to clean up,” I said.

“She’ll be fine without meds. Tylenol if the pain is too much. I put a waterproof bandage over the stitches. If you want to make doubly sure, cover it with plastic wrap or a trash bag. She’ll be fine for now.”

Doc let himself out and I went over to the coffeemaker and started some coffee. Zara remained at the table. There was still a lot I didn’t know about her or the situation, but I doubted I would resolve anything tonight. She’d been through hell and probably needed some sleep. The coffee was more for me than her, but maybe a few sips would warm her up at least. It finished brewing, and I pulled down two mugs, filling hers halfway and mine to the top.

I slid her mug over to her. “It’s not some fancy flavor, and I don’t have creamer, but it’s hot.”

She took it gratefully, wrapping both hands around the mug. I hadn’t thought about the fact she might have a bag or car somewhere. I’d just focused on getting her out of the alley and away from those men. Now I had time to sit and think.

She looked so innocent under the bright kitchen lights. Wasn’t likely she was underage, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. “How old are you?” I asked.

“Twenty-two,” she replied. “Old enough to know what I’m doing, if that’s your concern.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you doing, Zara Colton? Besides getting yourself attacked in alleys and stitched up by strangers?”

Her gaze never leaving mine, she said, “Looking for my mother. She disappeared about five days ago. The police say she probably ran off, but they don’t know her. She wouldn’t leave without telling me, not voluntarily.”

“And you think she was taken by… whom? Human traffickers?” Probably not a leap most people would make, but if she’d been looking for me, that had to be the case.

Zara nodded. “I’ve been doing my own research. Following leads. There’ve been a lot of missing women, and they fit a certain profile -- exotic-looking, between thirty and forty-five, most with some connection to the Middle East or North Africa.”

“Like your mother,” I said, seeing where this was going.

“Like my mother,” she confirmed. “She’s Egyptian. Or rather, that’s where she was born. Apparently, her family is actually from Israel. I’m not sure where exactly. I’ve never met them. Mom met my father when she was only seventeen. The two fell in love and were inseparable. He died a few years ago. In case you were wondering about my eye color, he was an American. Blond-haired and blue-eyed. Everything else I inherited from my mother.”

“My mom was also born in the Middle East,” I said. “No clue who the fuck my father is, but if I ever find out, I’ll be sure to send him straight to hell.”

Her eyes widened slightly. I’d said more than I should have. Just the same, I’d meant every word. I leaned back in my chair, studying her.

“Daddy issues?” she asked, probably trying to lighten the moment.

“Mom was gang-raped by three men. I’m the result.” I saw her pale, and figured I should have found a better way to tell her. Or kept it to myself.

“You used past tense when saying she’s from the Middle East. Does that mean she’s gone?” she asked.

I nodded. “Cancer.”

She pushed her mug aside, and I noticed she hadn’t taken so much as a sip. At least it had warmed her hands. If she was going to stay here, I’d have to find out what she liked. I was a fairly simple man. I kept coffee on hand, occasionally grabbed a soda, but otherwise I drank water.

“You should get cleaned up, then get some rest.” I stood up. “We can talk more in the morning. The club will want to hear your story.”

She stood as well, swaying slightly before steadying herself on the back of the chair. “I need to know if you’re going to help me or not.”

I looked at her -- this small, fierce woman with her stitched-up arm and determined eyes. She’d tracked me down, survived an attack, and was still standing, still fighting for her mother. How could I turn her away?

“We’ll help you,” I said finally. At least, I hoped the club would agree. If not, I’d do what I could on my own. “But understand something -- once you’re in, you’re in. There’s no backing out halfway through. Think you can live with yourself if I have to spill blood in my pursuit of bringing your mom back?”

Zara lifted her chin, a flash of pride in her expression. “I’m not the backing out type. And whoever took my mom would have done it against her will. As far as I’m concerned, they deserve to die.”

I liked this woman. More than I should. “I’ll lend you something to sleep in. I’m assuming you have clothes stashed somewhere?”

“Yeah. Motel across town.” She sighed. “And thank you. For the rescue, the medical care, listening to me. All of it.”

I shrugged, uncomfortable again with her gratitude. “Get some sleep, Zara. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“Shower, then sleep. You were right. I do want to get cleaned up. I feel grimy after being in that alley.”

“Bathroom is across from the spare bedroom. It’s the only one in the house, so if the door is closed, it’s occupied. Towels are under the sink. There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer.”

“I never asked your name,” she said softly. “Just know you as Azrael.”

“It’s better if you don’t know it. Around here, I go by my road name. That’s all you need for now.”

Something like understanding flickered in her eyes. “Fair enough, Azrael, Angel of Death.”

She disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I fetched a shirt and pair of boxers, then knocked on the door. She cracked it open, the shower already running. I passed them to her, then went to the kitchen, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Bringing a stranger into the compound was risky enough, but getting involved in her personal issues was another level of complication. The club would have questions, and I didn’t have all the answers.

But there was something about Zara Colton -- her determination, her courage, the fire that burned behind those blue eyes -- that told me she was worth the risk. And if her mom had been trafficked, maybe it would tie into the Devil’s Minions somehow. I knew the club wouldn’t turn her away then.

I settled on the couch, my gun within easy reach, and listened to the quiet sounds of the house. The water in the bathroom shut off, and a few minutes later, I heard the door open and she quietly padded to the bedroom.

She was safe for now, under my protection and that of the club. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for tonight, at least, the demons had been kept at bay.

For both of us.

Although, I had a feeling Charming would have a few choice words for me. I hadn’t exactly asked for permission to bring her here or informed him yet. It actually surprised me he hadn’t called or dropped by. Between the Prospect at the gate who’d seen me come here with Zara, and Doc stopping by to treat her, someone should have ratted me out by now. Either they hadn’t, or Charming was giving me time to come clean.

“No time like the present,” I muttered. I pulled my phone from my pocket and shot off a text to him. If the kids were asleep, no fucking way I was waking them up with a call this time of night.

Saved a woman from getting gang-raped. She’s at my house for tonight .

It only took a few minutes for him to respond. Seems like you’re leaving a few things out .

Shit. Looked like he’d already spoken with Doc. I called Charming’s phone, hoping his eleven-year-old twins, Misha and Alek, weren’t going to wake up. Those boys would give their dad hell, which meant his wife, Dakota, would be pissed as well.

He picked up before it even finished ringing once.

“Any reason you waited until now to tell me about your houseguest?” he asked, not even bothering with a simple hello.

“She just went to bed. Not mine, just so we’re clear. Her name is Zara.”

“Not what I asked.”

Fucking hell. “I was out riding, heard a scream and went to check it out. Found her in an alley with three men intent on doing whatever they wanted with her. She was a bit banged up, had to get stitches in one arm. Turns out she was searching for me. I guess I’ve made a name for myself.”

“Angel of Death?” he asked.

“Does everyone but me know about it?”

Charming chuckled. “Most likely. Did she say what she wanted with you?”

“Her mom is missing. I don’t have all the details yet. Just know her mom was born in Egypt, but apparently her family is from Israel. Dad was American. Died a few years ago. Sounds like it’s just her and her mom.”

I heard Charming walking through his house, then a door open and shut. I was willing to bet he’d gone outside so he wouldn’t bother his family. “How old is she?”

“Says she’s twenty-two. It’s not like I asked for her ID.” I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. “Now you know as much as I do. I’ll see what I can get from her, but I’m probably going to need some help on this one. She wants me to find her mom.”

“We’ll talk more in the morning. But you know damn well she can’t move in with you.”

Before I could say anything in response, he ended the call. I stared at the phone a moment before I got up. After I made sure all the doors were locked, I went to the bedroom and stripped out of my clothes, then flopped back on the bed. I had a feeling things were about to become complicated.