LOGINThe little things had finally begun to matter again. The sound of birdsong, the feel of crisp cotton sheets upon my skin, the laugh of others—there was a time I'd hated the fact anyone could find such joy within their life to laugh. I'd hated the happiness within their hearts, which had allowed them to feel what I couldn't, as my world had been dark, haunted. However, even the darkest of hours can become full of light again with time. That's what happened to me—no, it didn't come overnight, or even within days. Weeks hadn't even covered it, for that matter. No, it was more like months.
The rowdy crowd of the bar I worked at had helped; added to that, had been the persistence of a good friend. The mending of my shredded heart had come in increments, but it had come—mostly, because of the man sitting in front of me. Each time I'd bury myself in the hole I'd dug and begin throwing dirt on top of myself, he'd drag me out of it, kicking and screaming, as wiping the dirt off, he'd shake life back into my tormented existence. Finally, there had come a day, he'd helped me fill in the hole and walk away, at last becoming comfortable with only tossing the occasional glance in its direction, however, no longer carrying the desire to crawl in it.
Over time, I'd begun to trust and care for Rook…who had, a little at a time, worked his way into becoming my best friend. As such, he'd become the only one in this new life, who knew of my past.
As I shook myself from my thoughts, I glanced around at my surroundings, realizing we were way the hell out in the middle of bum-fuck Egypt! Nonetheless, we kept moving forward in between Eucalyptus trees that smelled like cat piss, on a path that looked no more than a freaking cow trail, until finally we'd reached an opening.
Abruptly my jaw dropped. "Oh, hell no!" escaped my mouth as I peered at what had to be the largest orgy known to man, and I wanted nothing to do with it!
Rook slowed his bike, then came to a stop, parking within a mass of other bikes, and I found myself growling, "No! NO WAY! Just turn this bike around— right the fuck now—and take me the hell away from here!"
Climbing off, Rook looked at me as I continued to sit, my ass glued to the seat. A grin stole across his lips and he gave a small shake of his head. "Relax, Cookie, will ya? Ain't a soul here gonna touch you without your say so."
Glancing around again, my eyes took in both male and female in all states of dress. I was unable, but to let my eyes roam over the—freedom—of the sexual acts on display for all to see.
After a few seconds, I turned back to look at Rook, exclaiming, "What the hell, Rook?" before stuttering out, "surely you don't expect me to…to…join… in?" Eyes huge and roaming again, I breathed, "HOLY CRAP, Rook!"
Amusement crossed his features, and after pitching his eyes over the scene of debauchery going on around us, a laugh ripped loose from his chest as he exclaimed, "Oh shit, woman…we're just having a blow-out. You weren't brought here for this!" Then sticking out a hand, he muttered, "Now, come on, let's go!"
Slowly, I reached out, allowing him to take my hand and help me off the bike, all the while wondering just what I was walking into. I knew all about the walk of shame, I'd been there, done that. However, this? This would end with a walk from the participants WAY beyond any walk I had ever taken.
As we began to mill our way through the exhibition, I couldn't help but find my eyes falling on the sex acts being performed around us. I'd always felt I was damned liberated and open minded, hell, I'd worked in a damn strip club for Christ's sake, but this—this was a whole different kettle of fish, and I felt like the lone Guppy in a pile of Bass!
My face flushed and my eyes grew big, as the pairing was, to say the least, very open-minded. There were men on men, women on women, two women and one man, two men and one woman, three, four couples, getting it on together, and the list just went on and on.
Hell, I wouldn't have been surprised to see a donkey somewhere within the mix! Then, when I thought I'd seen all there was to be seen, and there couldn't possibly be anything else to surprise me, one particular couple caught my attention and I breathed, "What the fuck? How in the hell? OH MY GOD—I didn't know that was even possible!!!!
Laughing, Rook tugged at my hand, chuckling, "Come on, big-eyes, I think your sensibilities have been overloaded enough!"
With a small gulp, I turned, beginning to follow Rook. However, before we'd made it ten feet, he was forced to raise a leg and kick a couple out of our way, muttering, "Damn Cappie, get your scrawny ass out of the way," as a man and woman flopped over in front of us, a tangle of arms, legs, and body parts, I'd rather not have seen.
Shaking his head, Rook tugged at my hand again, moving us around the couple, who seemed to have not paid the least attention to Rook's words as they continued on with their… God, I didn't know what to call it.
Finally, as we reached the door leading into the clubhouse, I found myself letting out a relieved breath, happy to put the whole, free-living circus behind us. However, the jarring thought it was highly possible I'd find the same type of behavior, if not worse, occurring on the other side of the door as what I'd been witnessing, stopped me dead in my tracks. Rook, feeling my sudden resistance, peered over his shoulder at me, as I breathed out a worried, "Um, Rook?"
Raising an eyebrow, he silently encouraged me to continue. I gave a quick glance at the scene behind us. "What do you think the chances are of finding that," I asked, indicating the mass of thriving bodies with my head, "going on in there?"
With a practiced eye running his eyes over my face, Rook murmured, "You're really uncomfortable with this whole scene, aren't you?"
I gave a shrug. "'Uncomfortable' is an understatement! Shit, Rook, I've seen animals in the zoo with far more modesty than what I've witnessed here!"
With a smirk, Rook scratched his chin, but before he could answer my question, a deep, gravelly, somewhat hoarse voice sneered from behind me, "Close your eyes, then, princess!"
Jerking around, I found myself staring at the bearded face of a man I had a hard time deciding whether was devastatingly handsome, or fucked the shit up!
A jagged, raised, purplish-red scar ran from left to right across the length of his forehead, just below the skullcap molded to his head. Slowly, my eyes dropped lower, tracing the bare chest beneath his vest. The smoothness of his skin was marred by multiple crisscrosses of the same type of red, purplish-hued scars as his face.
The disfigurements painted the otherwise perfection of his flesh in puckered whelps, which flowed their way over his stomach and abs in harmonized rivers that trailed off beneath the waistband of his jeans.
Though the scars weren't fresh, I could tell they weren't that old, either. Yet, even with all the damage to his features and body, somehow, it didn't repulse, instead, they added mystery, allure, and, I admit, made him sexy as all fucking hell!
Quickly realizing I was ogling the man, my eyes jerked up from where they'd been taking a leisurely stroll over the bulge beneath his jeans. However, I suddenly found myself sucking in a harsh breath, and taking a small step back when the man under my perusal murmured sarcastically, "So… This is your bitch, Rook?"
Twin flags of anger stained my cheeks red, and my eyes lit with the fire of death. The hell-fire his words lit within me roared into an inferno, and stiffening, my hands balled into fist at my side and I lunged forward. From behind me, Rook groaned, "Oh, shit!" then hastily swooping down, he grabbed me around my thighs, before lifting me off my feet, he regained a standing position.
Twisting me within his arms, he planted me firmly across his broad shoulder, before grabbing the doorknob, he jerked the door open, but not before the words, "What did you just call me, Beast?" spewed from my lips.
Following us inside the clubhouse, the man I had nicknamed Beast, laughed. "Oh, how sweet! Kitty has claws!"
From over Rook's shoulder, I glared at the Beast. "Damn straight she does, and given the chance, I'll fuck up that messed up face of yours even further!"
With a smirk curving up the side of his lips, Beast murmured, "Shaken' in my boots, Kitten!"
I could feel Rook hesitate beneath me, then with a shrug and a small shake of his head, he slowly began lowering me to the floor. As my feet touched down, I swiveled in his loosened arms, and before he could get a good grip on me again, I lunged at the insufferable man before me. Neither of them had expected my sudden move, which allowed me to get the jump on Beast.
With my hand forming a fist, I swung out, connecting it with Beast's firm jaw-line, causing him to give a slight stumble back. However, before I could slam my fist into his face again, Rook grabbed my arms, dragging me away, as from behind us, I heard someone shout, "Whoa, Kitty got claws and balls! She just jacked the fuck out of Satan's jaw!"
Legs kicking and arms swinging, I fought Rook to be free as he continued pulling me across the floor. I whipped my head around toward the motley crew of men and women sitting and standing around the bottle and glass strewn tables. My eyes zeroing in on one man in particular, who was more than obvious to me to be the word jester of moments earlier, I snarled, "You want some?"
Then, never lessening my fight with Rook as he pulled at me, I screeched toward the smirking man who was now backing away. "Where do you think you're going, you shriveled up shit-dick?"
The man merely raised his hands in the air: palms out, he began laughing his ass off.
With a loud swear, Rook hissed at the man, "Jesus Christ, Jax, just shut the fuck up, will ya?" At the same time, he was trying to avoid being hit by my octopus arms and legs. After barely avoiding a wildly flung arm to the face and fist in the stomach, Rook hissed out, "Holy hell, Cookie, calm down!"
I turned in Rook's arms, glaring at him. "Well goddamn, am I supposed to just take their shit?"
Suddenly, I heard a long, drawn out, "Meeeow," quickly followed by a chorus of meows and hisses about the room. Rook to let out another aggravated groan and a muttered, "Oh, fuck, me!" However, I was no longer giving a shit about any of what was occurring around me, as giving an audible gasp, I turned my head toward the man I now knew to be my nemesis…Satan…the club's VP.
As I stared in his direction, my imagination took flight. My breath froze in my lungs, and I cried silently. No, it can't be! It's not possible! It's. Not. Possible— was it?
Unable to pull my eyes from Satan, I swept his features again, my heart galloping as it begged for it to be true. Though the scarring on his face was horrendous, the inexplicable draw, and familiarity I'd felt since I'd first gazed at his features, suddenly made sense. Even with the scarring, his features were so strikingly similar to Torin's, they made my heart hurt. Unable to help myself, I breathed achingly, "Torin?"
With his arms wrapped around the woman who had sidled up against him, Satan lowered his head; his lips captured the womans' in a kiss, lingering on them a few seconds. Finally, his hands running down the length of her back and moving onto her ass, he cupped her cheeks, giving them a quick squeeze. Afterward, pulling back a little, he looked in my direction. Gaze hard and eyes impenetrable, he murmured, "Satan, Kitten! My name's Satan."
Shoulders drooping, yet still continuing to gaze at him, I shook my head. "I … it's … you look—" Words abruptly cutting off, I swallowed down the tightness in my throat, then with tears forming in my eyes, and a small muffled sob escaping my mouth, I tried my best to place a tourniquet around the profuse bleeding of my heart. After a few seconds, I softly breathed, "You just...look a lot like someone I… lost."
Gaze still pinned on me, I watched a flicker of something come and go within the depths of Satan's eyes before voice a low growl, he raised an eyebrow, asking, "So, you misplace things often, Kitten?
Everything in me deflated, and in a small broken voice, I whispered, "God, I wish I'd just misplaced him…but…he… he died."
Satan stood staring at me for a few more seconds, his face unreadable, then dropping his gaze, he turned and made his way over to the bar that ran almost the full length of the back wall of the room. Slipping behind the counter, he stood motionless for several seconds as he gazed almost absently at the fully stocked wall of alcohol in front of him.
Second passed, then he reached out and grabbed a bottle of JD and a glass from behind the counter. Finally he breathed, "Yeah, seeing the ghost of someone you love and lost, can sure fuck a person up!" Then, downing the whiskey, he pushed away from the bar and walked out of the room.
I learned something long ago: you don’t confront a traitor the moment you realize he exists. That’s how people end up dead with questions still in their mouths.You wait. You watch. You let him believe he’s the one steering.The car rolled on through the city like nothing had changed, engine steady, tires whispering over asphalt. Harlow sat beside me, relaxed, one arm braced against the door like this was just another night run. His calm was practiced. Rehearsed.It pissed me off how good he was at it.“Route change,” Calder’s voice cut through the comms, tight but controlled. “You didn’t signal.”“I saw congestion ahead,” I replied evenly. “Adjusting.”A pause. Just a beat too long.Then Calder said, “Copy.”Harlow glanced at me, head tilting slightly. “You always drive like this?”“Like what?” I asked.He shrugged. “Like you’re expecting company.”I kept my eyes on the road. “I’m always expecting company.”He chuckled under his breath. “That kind of thinking’ll shave years off your l
After the briefing, the others dispersed. Calder moved with intent, rechecking gear and collecting his men like he was building a wall around us. Mercer stayed at the comms table, fingers flying, sweat gathering at his hairline.Harlow drifted toward the back like he had all the time in the world.I followed him without making it obvious.He stopped near the loading bay door and pulled out his phone, holding it low. One thumb moved fast across the screen. Then he looked up, caught me watching, and didn’t flinch.“Problem?” he asked, voice light.I kept my face flat. “You texting your wife?” I asked, letting it sound like sarcasm.Harlow’s mouth curved. “You jealous?”I stepped closer, slow. “No,” I said. “I’m careful.”His smile didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened a fraction. “Careful gets men dead when it turns into paranoia.”“Paranoia gets men dead when it turns into trust,” I answered.We stood there for a beat. The air between us tightened, not because either of us moved, but be
~TORIN~The job had rules. Not the ones written down in binders with laminated tabs and cheerful acronyms. The real ones. The ones you learned the hard way, or you didn’t live long enough to learn at all.Rule one: if something feels easy, it’s usually a trap. Rule two: the first thing a traitor steals is your sense of normal.By day seven on this assignment, normal didn’t exist.We were operating out of a rented industrial space that smelled like old oil and new lies, the kind of place you could park a box truck in and disappear a man in the back room without anyone asking why. The lights buzzed. The concrete sweated. Our comms station sat on a folding table that wobbled if you breathed on it too hard.I stood over the table with a map spread out and my shoulders tight, not from the paper, but from the pressure of holding everything in my head at once. Entry points. Sightlines. The route we’d run twice already. The route we weren’t supposed to run again.My phone stayed face-down in m
~ROOK~Darkness doesn’t announce itself. It settles, and that’s what most people don’t understand. They expect violence to arrive loud, dramatic, obvious. Raised voices. Broken glass. Sirens. But the real danger slips in soft, like a breath held too long. Like a room going quiet because everyone felt something shift and didn’t know why.The compound felt like that tonight. Not tense. Not panicked…alert.I stood on the upper walkway overlooking the yard, forearms resting against the railing, eyes moving slow and deliberate. Counting patterns. Logging changes. The bikes were lined up the same way they always were, but the spacing was tighter. Intentional. People clustered without meaning to. Nobody wandered.That told me everything. Fear scatters people. Preparation pulls them together.Below me, Marlowe sat at one of the long tables near the fire pit with Tonya and Ginger, hands wrapped around a mug she hadn’t touched in ten minutes. She looked calm if you didn’t know what calm cost. He
~MARLOWE~By the time a week had passed without Torin, the compound settled into a new rhythm. Not quieter. Not calmer. Just…adjusted. Like a body learning to compensate for an injury by shifting weight somewhere else. People still laughed. Bikes still came and went. Ginger still yelled at anyone who stood still too long in the kitchen. But under it all, there was a subtle reordering. A constant recalculation.I felt it most in the pauses. The way conversations stopped a half second sooner when I walked by. The way Rook was always somewhere I could see him without ever being close enough to feel crowded. The way Reif stayed busy, always busy, like stillness might crack him open.That afternoon, I found myself in the laundry room folding towels I didn’t actually need to fold.It was quiet in there, the hum of the dryer steady and dull, the smell of detergent sharp and clean. Normal things. I needed normal things. My hands moved automatically, matching corners, smoothing creases, stackin
Night came down slow, like it didn’t want to draw attention to itself. We didn’t leave the warehouse district until after sunset, long after the last legitimate worker had gone home and the wrong kind of people started moving in patterns that only made sense if you knew what to look for.Surgeon drove. Doc rode shotgun. I took the back seat, not because I wanted it, but because watching from behind gave me a wider angle.The city changed at night. It always did. Streetlights flickered like they were tired. Neon buzzed in the distance. Somewhere close, music thumped from a car with blown speakers, bass rattling windows like a borrowed heartbeat. People drifted. Lurked. Waited.We followed at a distance when the baseball-cap man finally left the warehouse.Not close. Never close.He walked like he owned his time. Didn’t rush. Didn’t check his phone. Didn’t look over his shoulder. The kind of confidence you earned by knowing someone else was doing the worrying for you.He climbed into a l
~MARLOWE~I wasn’t sure how the hell it had come to this. Witness Protection! Oh my God! Never in my life had I thought I’d ever be in this position. But dammit, that's exactly where I had found myself! I’d done everything I could to adjust. It just hadn't happened. The first few days had been awful
As the days went by, the boredom of the safe house began to drive me crazy. I had nothing to do. Thankfully, Casey kept me up on the progress they were making with the data on the USB.I was happy for the information she gave, but it wasn't enough. I needed to hear about Marlowe. However, no matter
I'd dealt with Casey quite a few times over the years and she always had a way of making me feel like I was the most dangerous man in the room, even when she had a whole squadron of cops at her back. When she finally pushed through the locked door leading from the offices and into the lobby, her eye
~TORIN~I watched the chaos unfold from a distance, my bike idling between my legs. The flames coming from the warehouse lit up the night-sky, but I felt no remorse for the body inside being consumed by the fire. It was done, and the mother fucker had deserved his death.As I easily dismissed my unc







