Page 7

I frowned, trying to keep up. My head still throbbed from the beating. “So you want me to come along on a field trip? That’s it?”

He gave a dark chuckle. “Not exactly. There’s a woman out there, goes by Dirty Diana. She’s a whore with a knack for collecting secrets. She’s blackmailing some of the top folks in the biker world, or at least threatening to. I’m not about to let her hold shit over my head. I need someone to get close to her, find out if she’s talked to anyone. If she’s messing with my name or my club, I want to know. I want you to handle it.”

Despite myself, I gave a short laugh. “You want me to babysit a whore who might spill secrets about you? Sounds like your problem, not mine.”

“It becomes your problem if you want to keep your Road Monsters' patch and your head attached to your shoulders. I can make sure good things come your way. Or I can make sure you’re cast out as a traitor and a pig to the entire MC world. Take your pick.”

My jaw clenched. I glanced at Merc, who was still standing near the bar, shotgun lowered but ready. This was too big to blow off. I’d pissed off a lot of folks over the years, cops, criminals, people in between. Having Kingpin’s protection, twisted as it was, had probably saved my ass more times than I cared to admit. “Fine,” I said finally. “I’ll shake down this Dirty Diana. But I’m not killing someone.”

“Hold on, I didn’t tell you to kill her.”

“What’s her story?”

“She’s a tricky one,” he announced, his fingers brushing his beard. “Money talks. She pays for her men, young men, buys them new gear, the works. Half of them, she manipulates and steals their secrets. Then sells them to whoever’s got the biggest checkbook. She’s not as physically dangerous as she is cunning. But word is someone wants her real quiet. Someone’s aiming to kill her, and it isn’t me. But there’s talk. Diana saying something to do with me could be her ace in the hole. Could be the same people who want her dead, want to blackmail me, and she’s willing to sell me out. I need you to keep her alive long enough to find out.”

I studied him, anger still smoldering in my gut. But I had nothing else going for me right now. Sky was gone, voluntarily or not, she’d walked away. I’d lost everything, even my illusions that the Road Monsters were truly independent. They answered to hidden puppet masters like Kingpin, one of the Four Aces. Bastard. “So be it,” I bit out. “I’ll go to California and deal with your problem.”

Kingpin nodded slowly, as if sealing a truce. “Good. The rally’s happening soon. You’ll ride alone. And watch yourself. This business has a lot of shit swirling. The Royal Bastards are restless. The Road Monsters want to expand. It’s a big fucking pot, and we’re all throwing in chips. Don’t get caught in the crossfire.”

My anger flared again. “And if I decide to blow your cover? Tell everyone you’re the Ace of Spades running the show behind the scenes?”

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. “Then I’ll kill you where you stand. Simple as that.” His gaze flicked to the shards of glass around us. “I’m giving you another chance, Pig. Take it or leave it. But you know which choice ends with you breathing tomorrow.”

I forced myself to swallow the words I wanted to hurl at him. Instead, I gave a short, tense nod. “You have my number. Let me know when and where to meet in Anarchy. I’ll do the damn job. After that, I’m out.”

He smirked. “Sure, Maverick. After that, you’re out. If that’s what you want to believe. You can’t run from the biker world. Ask Monster about that.”

My mind spun with hatred and self-loathing all at once. Monster had tried to run, and they skinned him alive. He was a Road Monster like me now. The fact gave me some hope. Kingpin didn’t want us all dead.

I’d always prided myself on being one step ahead, first as a detective, then as a runaway, then as an outlaw. But Kingpin always seemed ten steps ahead. Why he let me live, I never fully understood. Surely, it was because I’d done the dirty work for him. Perhaps he saw some twisted reflection of himself in me. Or more likely he just enjoyed holding something over my head, so he could get whatever he wanted.

I turned to leave, ignoring the protest in my ribs. Every part of me hurt like a motherfucker. My face was swelling, my lip split, and blood trickled down my arms from random glass cuts. I felt half-dead.

Before I reached the door, Kingpin spoke up one last time. “You better be ready to ride soon. The Nashville chapter is rolling out next week. We’re meeting with the Charleston group, and potentially some from other chapters. Could be that we all end up wearing fresh cuts soon.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “You do what you gotta do. I can’t say I give a damn about your business.”

He raised a brow, dabbing at the blood on his split lip. “Don’t kid yourself. If we patch over, that changes the entire dynamic for the Road Monsters. The four Aces might shift alliances, might even rearrange leadership. Hell, you might find yourself taking orders from a whole new set of scumbags. Keep your ears open.”

I remained silent. I’d had enough of his voice for the night. I jerked the door open, ignoring Merc’s curses about the damage. Didn’t even bother tossing him a tip for the trouble. Kingpin was undoubtedly going to handle that. One glance back at the bar. I saw Kingpin leaning on the counter, exchanging some low words with Merc. He had that gleam in his eye that said I was just another piece in his chess game.

But I was too tired to fight it anymore.

Outside, the cool night air soothed my battered face. My motorcycle, a new matte black Harley, waited in the narrow lot behind the bar, reminding me I didn’t completely hate being a Road Monster. I fished out a rag from my saddlebag and wiped the blood off my arms as best I could. The distant hum of city traffic reminded me I was still in the underbelly of some nameless backstreet. Places like the Velvet Rooster drew outlaws like me. We drifted in, we drifted out, leaving disasters in our wake.

I took a moment to breathe, resting against the seat. Memories coursed through my skull, each one like a fresh bruise. The first time I met Kingpin in Nashville, the way he set his sights on Eve right away. Then me finding out she cheated while I was still reeling from the miscarriage she and I had suffered. But the truth was, I hadn’t been faithful to her either. I hadn’t even been kind. I drove her to it.

I thought of the rage that consumed me as I pushed her away, pushed her toward Kingpin. My petty revenge, stealing away his woman, Sky, who turned out not to be carrying his baby at all. The baby was some other bastard’s, and eventually I learned that bastard wasn’t a Royal Bastard, not a biker at all, but a mobster named Ralph Getty.

Sky and I had ended up in Alaska, living under the names Owen and Savannah Black, with her kid Caden. We even got married. Then we came back when I joined the Road Monsters, ran a safe house. For a while, it felt normal, stable. But fate always had a twisted sense of humor.

Our baby died in a miscarriage, just like the one I’d lost with Eve. And that’s when the wedge drove between Sky and me. Next thing I knew, she was gone, not even giving me a chance to fix things. Or maybe I was too broken to fix shit. She’d run off, or so I thought, got kidnapped but no, after that dust settled, she went to Getty, her son’s real father all on her own, helped him double cross his uncle and cousin, kill them to take over the Music City Syndicate.

Learning that Kingpin was behind the Road Monsters MC I’d joined just added another layer to the betrayal. I’d come full circle, right back to this asshole’s sphere of influence. And now I was in his pocket again, heading off on some mission to guard some bitch called, Dirty Diana.

“Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath. The emptiness in my chest felt colder than the night air. I had no one left, no reason to fight except for my own pride and survival. The open road was all that made sense anymore. And, ironically, the MC was the only place that let me be the brand of savage I’d become.

I swung a leg over my Harley, aware of every ache and pain from the fight. My ribs objected when I breathed too deep. My lip stung. But I’d had it worse. I’d keep riding. It’s what I did best, ride away from problems, or ride straight into them, whichever kept me moving.

The engine roared as I kicked it to life. The vibrations coursed through my arms, and for a split second, I felt the freedom I loved more than any woman. I tore out of that parking lot, my headlight splitting the darkness. My head pounded, blood drying on my face, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

I needed the highway beneath my tires, the rhythmic hum that drowned out the pounding in my skull like I needed air to breathe. Because if I stopped, I’d have to face the truth. I’d lost Eve. Sky was long gone, too. I had no family that would claim me. I had nothing except a battered MC cut and a new name that felt as empty as the rest.

Hallow… August Adam Hart… each name was drenched in shame and regret. The quiet detective who once believed in justice was a distant memory. The outlaw I’d become as a Nomad as Maverick was all I had left.

As I sped down the deserted back roads, red taillights reflecting off wet asphalt, my mind inevitably drifted to the next step. I’d have to pack up what little I had and prepare for the ride to Anarchy, California. I’d meet up with the Nashville chapter, or possibly the Road Monsters from wherever. Then I’d locate this Dirty Diana, see what the fuss was about, figure out if she was leaking intel on Kingpin and the rest of the MC. Then what? Did I turn her over? The details were never clear with Kingpin. He just wanted me to be his eyes and ears, and also his fists. But if there was blackmail involved… let’s just say I’d seen how far he’d go to silence a threat.

My bike thundered over the interstate, weaving around slow-moving cars. At nighttime, anonymity was my shield. Headlights flashed by, an endless stream of strangers with their own problems. No one gave a shit about me, about the blood staining my clothes. The open road was the only judge now. I’d gone from detective to outlaw, and sometimes I struggled to see the line where my old moral code ended. Maybe it ended the day Eve left. Or it could have ended when I first crossed the line to protect my partner in Columbus.

The panic of the night my partner shot that suspect lingered in my mind. A young father who ran a red light. The guy wasn’t armed. He wasn’t our suspect from the bank robbery, either. That fact didn’t save the guy's life. My partner claimed he was. Internal Affairs grilled us. I tried to do the right thing, but the brass wanted me to cover it up. The scandal tore me apart, even though I never pulled the trigger. I hopped on my bike and rode, leaving behind a career in tatters and a city that now hated me.

Another memory, another regret. No matter how fast I rode, I couldn’t escape them. But I sure as hell tried.