“Sia!” Ky called. I blinked into focus. My brother kneeled in front of me. “You’re coming home with me.”
I shook my head. “No.” My arms wrapped over my chest, a shield to fend off the thought of leaving. “I don’t want to.” I swept my eyes around my home. The only place I now ever felt safe in. “You know I can’t leave.” Ky went to speak, but I cut in before he could. “I know I went to y’all’s weddings. I wouldn’t have missed them for the world. But I can’t leave here for too long. I . . . I . . .” I searched for more of an explanation, to put into words the vapid stream of anxiety forming in my stomach like a black pit, stealing all of my courage, my reason, my sanity, my very being.
It was ironic: when I was a teen, I made a vow to leave Austin and stop all contact with the Hangmen.
Then, one escape . . .
That was all it took to make me wish I had never set foot outta Texas. Never cut all ties with the Hangmen.
And one man . . .
One man, named Garcia, to make me long for the lazy Texas days and the sound of horses’ hooves padding on the grass outside of my old bedroom window.
“I don’t give a shit if you wanna come or not, Sia. You’re coming, and that’s that.”
The lack of empathy in Ky’s outright order broke through the mental fog that shielded my inner thoughts. A fire ignited the kindling that lived within me. My chin tilted high and my eyes narrowed to stare at my brother. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that, Kyler Willis. Don’t mistake me for a club whore who’ll jump at your command.” Ky’s face reddened. But I wouldn’t be spoken to like this. Right now, my brother resembled the one man who’d treated me like an errant child. A man I blamed for all the shit in my life. “I love Lilah, I truly do. But I am not some meek and submissive woman who’ll accept your orders. I’m your sister, not your fucking lapdog.”
Ky slowly rose to his feet. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
“Does he know where I live?” I asked my brother. He didn’t answer. “I said, does Garcia know where I am?”
Ky’s eyes snapped open. “It’s only a matter of time.”
I got to my feet, ignoring the shaking of my legs. I boldly met Ky’s eyes. “Then I ain’t leaving my ranch. I’m hidden. I’ve been hidden for years. False identity. False deeds on this place. For Christ’s sake, I live in the fucking boondocks. No one around for miles. He ain’t making me leave my home. I won’t give him that satisfaction.”
“Think again.” Ky stood taller. “Get upstairs and pack a bag, and tell that young bitch we hired to help you that she’ll be taking care of things around here ’til you’re back. Tell her there’s a family emergency or some shit.”
My heart pumped faster. “I. Ain’t. Going. Clara can’t deal with everything herself. We have two mares in foal, two saddle broncs that need training. I’m needed here.”
We argued back and forth, back and forth, voices and tempers rising, until a loud whistle cut through our squabbling. I snapped my eyes to Styx, who was standing before the fireplace. His face was like thunder, and he looked like a fucking Titan, he was so huge. He raised his hands. “Sia, grab your shit. You’re coming with us.” I swallowed, defeat settling over me like an unwelcome rain shower on a sunny day. “Ky, calm the fuck down.” Ky turned and bust out of the front door of my ranch. I watched my brother go. I had an eerie feeling that this—the argument, his shitty mood—wasn’t all down to Garcia.
Styx cleared his throat. “You two are way too fucking similar. Both a pain in my ass.” He paused, then signed, “More going on at the club than you know. So how about you chill the fuck out with all the dramatics. I get enough on the daily with my fucknut brothers without adding you into the mix.” His lips tightened, and I knew I wasn’t gonna get my way. “You’re coming with us. I ain’t giving you an option. You’re Hangmen family. And that fucker is sniffing around. Pack your bag so we can get the fuck gone.”
Feeling like a sulking teen, I stormed past Styx toward my bedroom, shouldering him as I passed. He didn’t even move. “Sometimes I fucking hate the family I’ve been born into. Chauvinistic pricks. Y’all have fucking god complexes.”
Styx didn’t even flinch at my words. “As long as that complex belongs to the Dark Lord holding a noose and an Uzi, I’m fucking all right with owning that shit. It’s the way it is. Ain’t gonna change because you’re pitching a fit,” he signed. “You don’t have to like my orders, but you will obey them.” Then he added, “You’ve got ten minutes,” before he left to go after my brother.
Too angry to even give two shits about what was wrong with Ky—it was probably some “club business” I wouldn’t be allowed to know anyway—I stuffed clothes and toiletries into a bag and called Clara to ask her to watch the ranch while I was gone and get help from the vet if she needed it. He owed me a favor or a million for taking in sick horses when his practice was full.
Ten minutes later, my house was locked up and I was in my truck, following my brothers to the Hangmen compound. With each mile I drove away from the safe haven of my ranch, I felt less and less myself. I heard Garcia’s voice in my head, telling me he was coming for me. Threatening that he’d own me once and for all.
But like Kyler, I was good at covering what was bothering me.
So I’d pull up my big-girl panties and stay at the club for a while. As we passed through downtown Austin, lights from South Congress Avenue illuminating the cab of my truck, I let two images of Hades guide me: his smug face, and a noose, reminding why I ran away all those years ago.
This club was quicksand. A quicksand in which I was hell-bent on not getting stuck.
*****
“Aunt Sia!” The second I opened the door to Ky’s home, Grace came barreling forward and slammed into my legs.
“Gracie-Bell!” I called, dropping my bags to the floor. I picked my niece up and kissed her cheek. I pulled on a strand of her curly hair. “Curls?”
“Momma curled it for me just now, before bed.”
“It’s beautiful, darlin’.” I looked over her shoulder as my brother brushed past us, running his hand over Grace’s hair before making a beeline for the living room. “Where’s your momma, darlin’?”
“In the living room.” I made my way into the room to see Ky sitting on the couch, kissing his wife.
“I am okay. You need to stop being overprotective,” I heard Lilah whisper against his lips.
Grace groaned and covered her eyes. “They’re kissing. Again!”
I laughed. Ky and Lilah turned around. Lilah moved to get up from the couch, and Ky grabbed her hand, helping her up. Lilah put a hand on his cheek. “I am fine, Ky. Relax. I am not ill.”
Ky looked like he was about to argue, but then shut his mouth. He flicked his eyes to me, then back to his wife. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”
Lilah turned to face me, a huge smile spreading on her lips. “Sia!” she sang as she came toward me. I placed Grace on the floor, and Lilah wrapped her arms around me. “It is so good to see you.”
I hugged her back. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine,” she said and moved into the kitchen. She’d had an operation a while back, but as far as I knew she’d made a full recovery. “More to the point, are you okay?” She put water in the coffee pot and turned to me. “I do not know it all, but I know that Ky is worried about that man . . .” She lowered her voice, checking that Grace was still playing in the living room. “From your past.”
I swallowed, but nodded. Lilah smiled, hair falling over her eyes. Lilah knew men like Garcia. She had lived with worse as a child. Yet she had come through the other side.
I knew, in reality, I was still living in purgatory. The truth was, I hadn’t lived much of a life at all since coming back home from that god-awful time in Mexico. Lilah didn’t know it, but she was my hero. To go through what she went through and survive long enough to be given her own happily-ever-after. It was my ultimate dream. But I wasn’t naive. Lilah was a lucky one. I
was damaged goods. Not all of us were awarded the fairytale ending.
“I hope you are okay with decaf. It is all we have.”
“Sure,” I said. She sat down beside me at the table. My heart squeezed at the sight of the scar on her face. It always did. I took a sip of my coffee. “What’s wrong with Ky, Li?”
Lilah froze, her cup halfway to her mouth. She sighed and shook her head. It took her a few moments to reply. “He just gets overwhelmed at times. I know he can come across pushy and rude, but he is just dealing with a lot. The club, the threats. Me.” She laughed a single laugh and played with the handle of her cup. “He always worries about me. About Grace.” She lifted her eyes and added, “And you. I am not sure you know how protective he is of you, Sia. He worries for you greatly. So much so that he broke club protocol and told me about the man who hurt you, the one who has returned. It was weighing heavily on his mind. He needed to unburden himself to me.” She squeezed my hand. “You are his only blood family. He loves you so much.” A pause. A tender smile. “We all do. Grace, your brother and I.”
Lilah’s soft confession made the anger I was keeping close to my chest lessen. In that moment, I couldn’t speak. He was all I really had left too; they all were. The sound of Grace laughing drew my attention to the living room. Ky was fresh out of the shower, dressed only in jeans, his long hair dripping with water. Grace screamed and ran to the couch as he flicked the watery strands on her.
Lilah laughed, the sound enough to pull my brother’s gaze. He looked past Lilah to me, and the smile he was wearing for his daughter fell. I gave him a small nod, glad to see him happy. Ky came into the kitchen and poured himself a coffee.
“I think I’ll turn in,” I said. “Getting up at dawn each day on the ranch has conditioned me to get tired pretty damn early.” I got up from the chair. Lilah got up too, but I held out my hand. “Please, don’t get up. I assume I’ll be in the guest room?”
“Yes, it is all ready for you,” Lilah said. “Good night, Sia. We’ll catch up further tomorrow.”
“Night, Li,” I said, and added, “Ky.”
I was almost out of earshot when I heard him reply, “Night, sis.” And as always, since the day he rescued me from the hell that was Mexico, my heart melted toward him a little bit more.
The guy could be a prick. Too much Poppa Willis sneaking through at times. But inside him lived a kindness, one our poppa never possessed. A kindness I knew was inherited directly from our momma.
A kindness that was impossible not to adore.
Chapter Two
Hush
AK handed the guns to the Chechen. I sat back on my Harley’s seat, Glock in hand, checking the old deserted mill. After the shitshow that was the Klan sex-trafficking ring, and all the shit with Phebe, I never trusted any fucker anymore.
In truth, I hadn’t for a long damn time.
The Chechens pulled their van away from the drop-off point. AK pocketed the cash, took a smoke from his cut, and walked back to his bike, which stood between Viking’s and Flame’s. Cowboy was next to me, lying back on his Chopper. Fucker was just lapping up the sun.
A fucking smarmy laugh came from Viking as he looked at his phone. AK looked in the brother’s direction. Vike lifted his eyes and waggled his brows. “New blood, fuckers. Got fresh pussy staying at the compound.”
Cowboy laughed and pulled the front of his Stetson over his eyes. Cowboy, the most laid-back man I’d ever met. Nothing fazed him. Lived for the moment and took each day at a time.
“Who?” AK asked.
Viking threw his leg over the saddle of his Harley. “Only a fucking golden egg.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, mon frère?”
“It means, Hush baby, that we have an unattainable.” He thought for a second and then smiled. “As in, touch her and your balls will be chopped off for the pleasure.”
I waited for him to continue. Fucker loved the dramatics. Even Flame looked his way as Vike leaned forward and announced, “A certain sister has moved into the compound. A certain sister with long blond hair, blue eyes, and mmm . . .” He moaned and shifted his cock in his jeans. “That body, those tits . . . that round, juicy ass.” He opened his eyes. “Yeah, bitch is just begging for a ride on the anaconda. At least she will be when I work the Viking snake charm on her.”
“Whose sister?” AK asked, then a second later, laughed right in Viking’s face. “You ain’t talking about Ky’s sister, right? Sia?”
My body tensed as I waited for the answer. My fucking hands twitched at my side as I waited for the red-headed mountain to fucking speak. “The very same.” He swung off the saddle and pointed at us all. “I call first dibs. That pussy is mine.”
Sia . . . Vike started talking smack about how she’d eye-fucked him at Styx’s wedding. But I was frozen, thinking of Ky’s little sister. I felt someone’s eyes on me. I looked up. Cowboy had lifted up his Stetson and was staring at me. A single eyebrow lifted slowly. A second later, I snapped myself the fuck out of it and slid onto my bike. I tuned back into the conversation, ignoring Cowboy, who was still watching me. I knew why, but I wasn’t gonna entertain that bullshit right now.
“First, I ain’t looking for pussy,” AK replied to something Viking said. “And secondly, Ky would actually rip your cock off this time if you touched his baby sister. You know, the one he spent years of his life hiding.”
Vike looked at Flame. The psycho fucker just glared at him then ran his hand over his wedding ring. Vike rolled his eyes. “I swear, since you two fuckers got tied down neither of you are any fucking fun. Your bitches are carrying your balls around in their purses. Just petting them like their pretties whenever they take out the cash you’re no doubt supplying them with.” He looked right at me and Cowboy. “I’d actually warn you two off, but figure there’s no point. You’re hardly at the club, probably ass-fucking one another or eating your weight in pineapple pieces.” I looked to Cowboy for an explanation, but he just laughed and shook his head, silently telling me not to bother asking.
“That just leaves me,” he said happily and got back on his bike. “Time for the Viking to pummel and pillage the pussy.”
“Just make sure it’s Sia this time though, yeah?” AK prompted.
Viking rolled his eyes. “They have the same fucking hair, okay?”
“What you talking about?” Cowboy asked, mounting his Chopper.
“This fucker.” AK pointed at Vike and started laughing. “Got fucked up on bourbon at Styx’s wedding and walked up to Sia at the bar. Started whispering in her ear and stroking her hair, tried to rub his cock against her back.”
“Just trying to show her the goods,” Vike mumbled.
A wave of jealousy took hold of me as I imagined Vike touching Sia. She’d sat with me and Cowboy at most of that wedding. I hadn’t seen Vike go near her. She hadn’t stayed out long, choosing to go back to her brother’s cabin with Lilah—
“Only it wasn’t Sia, was it, Vike?”
A red blush coated Vike’s cheeks. It was the only time I’d ever seen the fucker embarrassed. He stood off his saddle, and admitted, “Look, her and Ky look real fucking identical from the back, okay?”
AK and Cowboy burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but join in too. Fuck, even Flame’s lips were twitching. “You should’ve seen Ky’s face when he turned and Vike was all up in his ass,” AK forced out through his tears of laughter.
Vike rubbed his chin. “Took a shot to the chin that night. The VP’s fists are like friggin’ boulders.” Vike crossed his arms defensively as we all kept laughing at him. When we calmed down, he looked at me and Cowboy and said, “You two like dick. You gotta be honest; Ky is one good-looking brother, yeah?”
I shook my head, ignoring the idiot, but Cowboy shrugged and agreed, “He’s very handsome, mon frère.”
“See!” Vike argued. “An easy mistake to make.” He tutted. “The gay guy gets it. Clearly the only one outta you fuckers with taste.?
?? We all got on our bikes, ignoring him, needing to ride the fuck back to the compound. Then Vike added, more to himself than to us, “And, shit, but that brother’s hair was so soft. Smelled sweet too . . . like burnt vanilla and spun sugar.”
AK shook his head at his best friend. Then, leading the pack, he lifted his hand and signaled for us to hit the road. As we pulled out onto the back country roads, wind on my face and Cowboy at my side, all I could think of were Sia’s blue eyes and long blond hair. And her smile.
Shit. Bitch had a killer fucking smile.
Shame I’d only ever know it from afar.
*****
“You’re back,” Tank announced as we entered the club bar. Tanner was sitting next to him. I eyed them both like always. Tank wasn’t so bad. He’d managed to cover most of his Nazi ink up with Hades shit. But Tanner, the fucking White Prince of the Klan, made me feel nothing but rage. The brother might have said he’d changed his ways and weaseled his way into Styx’s good graces. But I would never trust any member of the Klan. My left hand twitched to pull out my Glock and push the fucking barrel against his skull, the one that had been shaved most of his life so every fucker knew which “people” he belonged to. And which “people,” people like me, he lived to destroy.
“You okay, brother?” Tank narrowed his eyes as I glared at one of his best friends. Unlike Tank, Tanner still wore his white-power ink. Swastikas, the number eighty-eight for “Heil Hitler,” white-pride Celtic tattoos, and anything fucking else a racist motherfucker could think of.
“Ça va,” I growled, replying in Cajun French so I wouldn’t say exactly what wanted to pour from my lips. I forced a strained smile at the two ex-skinheads. But my heart slammed in my chest and my hand shook at my side. I was a fucking time bomb around any sign of the Klan. Conditioned to feel a hate so strong it controlled me whenever they were around.