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E ver been called to the morgue to identify the body of your husband and find out that he was already married? With kids? And you weren’t even his second wife but rather the fourth to show up to claim him? Neither have I, but I expect that the looks I’m getting from half the group are something kind of like that. People want you both gone, but they also want to ask a million questions.

The other half of the club is a pack of rabid dogs, barely restraining the need to attack me and feast on my flesh.

Not that I blame them. This wasn’t how I wanted to let the club know who I was. But I learned long ago that life is just like that song—you can’t always get what you want.

“Time?” I ask Rue. I have my own watch, but I’m still here to do a job. Rue is many things, but she’s not a full member yet. That takes time and training. She needs to know how much time things are taking without asking. Gauging that is a bigger advantage to you than a person might think, especially when you’re in hostile territory. And there is zero doubt that this is hostile.

Since we moved into the clubhouse—the only part of this that the bikers agreed to—they’ve put us in a cage of sorts. Sure, we’re seated at the middle table in this place, but don’t let that fool you. The moment one of us stands, half the club does, too, guns trained on us. They’ve asked us some questions, but since neither of us has taken the bait, they’ve given up and just use their numbers to keep us in line.

I might not know this club intimately, but I’ve done the research. I’ve seen their track record. They won’t just start shooting at us for the hell of it. They have honor. But if given a reason? Yeah, that’s the part that will get us killed. And we’ve given them enough reason as it is by lying to them and bringing in weapons when they have their families here. Sudden movement might be the hair trigger needed to blow this whole thing up.

So we’re sitting. Barely moving. Watching them watch us. Not my favorite pastime, but it beats being hung up and smacked around.

This is the first time Rue has ever endured this kind of limelight. She might know these people, grew up with a few, but I don’t think anyone ever paid her as much attention as they’re doing now. To her credit, she has her chin held high and is keeping eye contact with anyone hoping to watch her wither under their glare.

“Four hours and some change,” Rue replies.

I nod to her and agree with her assessment. I search out Casper and keep watch over him, waiting for the phone call I know he’ll get from the prospect on gate duty when his boys are back. He’s been on his phone a lot, so no doubt he’s already had contact with them. I just hope they didn’t do something foolish with Jack. It will only make shit harder if I have to deal with her putting down two club members on top of all of this.

I run my eyes over him, appreciating the view, even if I’m trying to just gauge how this is going to play out. His arms flex each time he balls his fists, probably picturing me and my sister being squeezed to death by them. The veins in his arms are pronounced but not in an “ew” way. More lickable, if you’re into that sort of thing.

The rest of him is big, but it’s his arms that draw the most eyes. They might seem disproportionate, but trust me, he has it all in the right places. No doubt his ass is a work of art, and there’s more than a six-pack under his tee. His buzzed dark brown hair, almost black, should scream military and put me off him, but with the matching slight fade on his jaw, chin, and upper lip, he looks menacing. He has a tight jaw, a sharp nose, but it’s his eyes that do me in—deep inset with dark brows above. He looks pissed off half the time, and it’s just sexy as hell on him.

Not that I’m into him. I can’t be. I’ve got a job to do. Nothing more.

When he finally pockets his phone, I straighten in my chair. Showtime. I feel half the club take in my action, Rue included, and everyone seems to brace for impact.

Atom walks in first, followed by Jack and the new guy, Walker. A second later, Domino runs out the door. I would, too, if Jack had my bike for more than half a second. She isn’t exactly known for bringing borrowed things back in one piece. From the smile on her face, she might have even dented it for the hell of it.

Jack and I might be sisters, but we’re total opposites. While I would assess a room like this and tone my shit down till I know what all is going on, Jack revels in it. And why wouldn’t she? She’s finally free to be herself after only sharing that side with me when we’ve been alone for the last few years.

She walks straight up to their bar, leans over the counter, and grabs her favorite drink: Jack Daniel’s. Ironic for sure, but the girl likes what she likes. And asking the prospect behind the bar to get her a drink isn’t something she’d do. Mostly because Jack is never the asking type, but also because the prospect looks like he wouldn’t help her even if she was dying of thirst and he held the last drops of water on earth. Well, the way everyone is looking at her, actually.

She removes the cap and chugs a good portion of her drink before grabbing a chair that one of the club brothers was using as a footrest. Pulling it out, she spins it around and straddles it to face me.

“What’d I miss?” The way she can smile with her eyes is always something I wanted to learn, but I don’t think it can be taught. Or maybe I’m just not the learning type when it comes to that. Never did figure it out.

“Think the better question is, what did we miss?” Bulldog grunts out, and I have a mind to roll my eyes, but I hold back. Unlike Jack.

“So many things, but hey, that’s between you and the missus.”

Bulldog leaps up, throwing his chair back as he stands. “What did you say?”

“Jack,” I snap simultaneously as he talks. I get that she feels overjoyed at the whole cat-out-of-the-bag thing, that she doesn’t have to pretend to be something she’s not anymore, but she still needs to curb the attitude. Something I’ve been working with her on since we became sisters.

“Bulldog.” Casper says it more as an afterthought, but I doubt he really cares if his VP starts something with my sister.

Whatever the reason, the guy pulls his woman out of her seat before taking it from her and yanking her down onto his lap. Probably the smartest thing I’ve ever seen the guy do. I might think him a dick more times than not, but Bulldog loves his girls. Bike, ma, kid, and old lady. Not sure in which order, but he’s smart enough to know that if one is in front of him, he’s unlikely to bounce up again and knock heads. Maybe. Sort of. Okay, it’s doubtful, but whatever lie he wants to tell himself is fine by me.

“Where do you want to start?” I give Casper the respect his title gets him in the club and let him pick.

He chuckles as he pulls his own chair close and takes a seat. “Maybe at the part where you think you can come into my club and take charge.”

I shake my head. “Not taking charge. Setting limitations. There’s a difference.”

“Really? Pray tell what that is.”

“You can still run your boys’ club as you see fit, and I still won’t answer to you,” I sass as I lean back in my chair. If they want me to be a bitch, I can be. I’m in the matching-energy game right now.

“I think you’re under the impression that you’re getting out of this unmarred. You are deeply mistaken,” he says with a shake of his head and a cold smile.

It’s my turn to smile now as I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “I think you underestimate the power of my club.” I hold his stare till Flint speaks up.

“And what is your club? You claim to be with the Crazy Eights, but how do we know that’s true? How do we know you didn’t just make it up after you saw something and are just claiming to be part of the C8 group?”

“We don’t have to prove shit,” Jack says before taking another drag from her bottle.

I break eye contact with Casper as I look to Flint and raise an eyebrow at him. “If you want us to believe you and your club, you should believe us too. Just ’cause we aren’t walking around with shirts claiming who we are doesn’t make a difference. You get a lot of people coming in here claiming to be us?” He just crosses his arms and glares at me. I smirk. “I think we both know that answer.”

“Say you are who you say. Why the hiding? Why not come after us for that favor? Why now?” Gator asks for the group.

“Ain’t about you,” Jack pipes up again. I really wish she wouldn’t. She isn’t helping. Not that she’s the type to try or want to make a situation easier. She’s just always been difficult and strives to be.

With an eye roll at her, which she shrugs off, I give them an answer that just creates more questions. “What she means is, we didn’t come to this area for the debt the club owes.”

“Then what for?” Chains asks. He would want to know more than others, since finding and claiming his old lady is the reason the club has a debt at all.

I look to Rue. She hasn’t said much, and she doesn’t need to. It’s her choice. She isn’t being forced to stay mute because of her position within the company. Other recruiters might be that controlling, but I’m not.

“Abigail?” Ruby is the first to pick up what I’m not saying, and I watch Rue flinch a little at the sound of betrayal in her friend’s voice.

“What? Did she call and tell you some shit about us that you think you could use on us?” Kooper, always one to jump in and be an ass, must have been upset for not having talked much before now.

No idea why Casper wanted to do this in front of everyone, but he did, and it’s his club. I personally think a private setting might have been better, but I know that the only private area they have is where the club holds Church, which is apparently off-limits to women. Whatever.

“Wow, you really are full of yourself, aren’t you?” Jack sets the half-empty bottle on the floor as she looks at every brother in this place. “Never occurred to you that we came for Rue and Rue alone. That you being here was nothing more than a damn coincidence. And hell, if your boy wasn’t so lovesick for my girl, we wouldn’t even be here. Think about it. Ever see us do anything besides approach the group when Rue was there?”

“What about when Princess and I got run off the road?” Bulldog’s girl, Lady, chirps as she snuggles against her man. He wraps her closer to him, no doubt remembering a moment that might have cost him both his wife’s and kid’s lives if my team and I weren’t there to stop it.

I cringe a bit because she’s right. “Yeah, okay, that one was more planned than random.” I continue talking quickly before anyone really starts thinking the worst. Well, more than they already do. Despite what they might think, we didn’t come here for the club. C8 was going to collect on the debt owed to them no matter if we were here or not.

“We had someone monitoring the vehicles you have, and once we got the call that a car accident was in progress, we stepped in. We only meant to get to Rue, as we didn’t know what car she was in, only that she was at the baby shower. We like to keep eyes on our people when we can. Once we got there, we tried for minimal contact till we could find another way to get to Rue.”

“Why do you call her Rue and not Abigail?” This from Ruby again, who seems to be taking this harder than she should. But then again, after what happened to her dad recently, I can’t fault her for feeling more than most right now.

“She’s a recruit,” Jack says.

“Fucking hell, we got one of our own in with C8?” Kooper cries out in outrage.

“Your own? Remind me what the fuck you’ve done for her other than allow her to come to the clubhouse. Have any of you checked to see if her place is secure? Did any of you know she was living with a junkie because she needed help with rent? Or that people harassed her most of the time just because she was seen with one of you when she walked around town? She has the rep of your vamp sluts in town with no perks like the protection. She’s a walking target, and not a single one of you gave a fuck till just now, when we took away your toy. Well, boo-hoo and get the fuck over it.” Jack shakes her head before picking up her whiskey once more.

She might not let Rue slide on any shit, but I know she has her back. And now so does Rue, as I’ve never seen her blush before. I would call her out on it if we were around someone other than this group.

“What’s your name?” Casper has been just watching the exchange. Not sure what he’s thinking, but when he speaks, the club settles. Not that it was overly loud to begin with, but I feel a hush over the crowd. Casper doesn’t even have to raise his voice to speak up; everyone just knows that when the prez talks, you don’t.

“Billy. Wendi was my cover. Same for Jack.” I nod to my sister.

“Why did you make your alter ego autistic? Get a kick out of pretending to have a serious mental disorder?” Domino snickers. Not sure when he got back, but if he’s not shooting Jack, I take it she actually took care of his ride.

Unfortunately for him, he touched on a subject that usually sets me off. But I was expecting it. Jack shouldn’t have to, but the girl never was good at controlling her temper when she wasn’t undercover. She springs to her feet, but I shake my head.

“Jack.” It’s a soft plea, one only she can hear in my voice while everyone else probably thinks I’m tired of her antics. I wait till she sits before I address Domino.

“The act was my idea. We needed a reason to get us close. As C8 dictates, we work as a team in the unknown unless absolutely warranted. And despite what you might say out loud, most people don’t know what to do when they see someone with autism, much less an adult with it. Jack goes unnoticed as Penny more often than not. You all just chalked up her actions to her disorder and didn’t realize that her headphones were sound amplifiers or that she was carrying four guns on her at all times within her elaborate outfits. Might be shitty of us, and I’m sure there’s a spot reserved in hell for us, but it worked,” I finish with a shrug.

“To be fair, we were always going to hell. Just don’t know when the internal damnation part will happen yet.” Jack tilts the bottle up and finishes it off. Might seem hard, but she’s been knocking back whiskey bottles since she could reach the counter to pay for one.

“Right, well, this was fun, but we’ve got shit to do.” Jack stands and stretches.

“Jack.”

She jerks her thumb toward the bar. “I’m going to take one for the road.”

“Jack,” I say again, and she continues to ignore me.

She walks behind the bar this time instead of just leaning over it. “Oh, you got Johnnie Walker back here too? I’ll take that as well.”

“Jack.” I put a bit of force behind it, just enough to have her look up from her shelf shopping.

“What?”

“We aren’t leaving,” I say as I shake my head.

“Why? Cover blown, shit to do. Sounds like time to move on to me.” She grabs both bottles with a wide smile.

“Charles is coming.”

“Charles? Here? Why? Because of her?” Jack points to Emily, who hasn’t moved from the sofa and has barely looked at anything, or anyone, since we all moved inside.

“You know why.” I give her a pointed look, one she knows well. She can pretend all she wants, but this isn’t a shock. This was coming.

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she points at me, despite each hand still holding a bottle of whiskey by the neck. A second later, she screams and drops both bottles before pulling her jacket off. In a fit like a toddler, she pulls off every single weapon she has, which is more than a few, and slams them onto the counter. She’s smart enough to unload each gun, but she’s still acting as if she was told she can’t wear the pink dress to school. Not that Jack would wear pink, but you get the gist.

Girl is pissed.

The club recognizes the loose cannon and lets her slip out the front door. Though a few brothers follow after getting the nod from the president.

“Rue.” I nod to the exit. “Take care of it.”

“Shit,” she mutters as she stands and heads after Jack.

“And Rue?”

She turns back.

“Don’t go easy on her. You know she won’t.” I don’t envy what’s about to happen, but Rue’s in training. This might be the biggest test of them all.

Surviving my sister’s rage.