The Most Explosive Novel Since Sons of Anarchy

“If you don’t hear from me in 24h, my will’s in the safe under my bed.”

The first words I heard from my brother in months. Potentially also his last. 

After the message arrived late last night, I tried to call Scorp but each of my calls went straight to voicemail, so by morning, I had no choice but to jump out of bed and pay my brother a visit face-to-face.

By the time I pulled up outside Scorp’s house, it was pouring rain. I flipped down the mirror, checking the thick layer of foundation I’d applied before leaving the house. I couldn’t bear the thought of my brother’s disappointed face if he saw the fresh bruise, nor the thought of what he might do to Elliot if he did see it. Assured my complexion was flawless, I grabbed my purse from the passenger’s seat, opened the car door, and sprinted through the downpour for Scorp’s porch.

I banged on Scorp’s front door, ringing the doorbell non-stop, but there was no answer. I reached down and lifted up the doormat, praying that he still hid an extra key there. Relief filled me when my eyes landed on it.

Unlocking the door, I stepped into the stale, warm air of the dark house. It smelled of weed, man, and home. We’d grown up in this house until I was eight. Scorp had always had a strange attachment to it.

“Scorp?” My heart sank when no one answered. I was too late. My fear for his life went up a notch.

That’s when I saw it. In the dark of the living room, a glowing ember of a lit cigarette. A hooded figure sat there. Tall, dark, menacing. Dripping wet from the storm outside. Staring right at me.

“Where is he?” the man growled. “Where’s Scorp?”

I froze. My body going completely numb. “I don’t think he’s home. I…” My breathing hitched as the man stood up, pushed back his hood and revealed his face.

Some men you can just tell are trouble, and, as I watched him shrug out of his leather jacket, I knew that trouble was exactly what I was looking at. 

Wet strands of long, dark hair fell in front of intense, smoky blue eyes. Pale scars laced the backs of his large hands. Tattoos detailed his bare, muscled arms and disappeared under the collar of his vest, which was embroidered with a symbol I’d seen tattooed onto my brother’s chest when I was six years old. The plain white t-shirt underneath was completely soaked through. The swirls on his chest visible thorough the drenched fabric. 

For the first time in a long while I felt the need to sketch, to draw his beautiful, dangerous face. I’d name it Sin and Salvation. Shit, who the hell was in my brother’s house? My eyes flicked to the kitchen. Looking for any weapon I could find.

“Wouldn’t do that, kitten,” the man growled, one step ahead of me. “You seen my patch. You know what I’m capable of.”

Bikers? Yeah, I knew exactly what they were capable of.

His eyes ran over me, too. Slowly. From my long, dripping hair, down my slim legs, to my pastel heels, the way my wet dress clung to my shivering body. He wasn’t a gentleman about it. He didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes lingered longer. 

Chills spread through my body. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what had him staring. It was the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Should I tell Scorp you dropped by?” I spoke, trying to gain his attention, and was surprised when he actually looked me in the eye.

“Are you his woman or something?” His words were clipped and short. I heard pure and utter frustration in his tone.

His woman. Such a typical biker thinking that all women answered to a man. Bikers. A disgust rolled through my body.

The club was the reason that Scorp and I had a falling-out. I hated the club. Hated how my brother was more loyal to strangers wearing the same patch than to his own blood. But, seeing as I was alone in the house with this man, there was no way I was going to admit that—plus, if there was one thing men like him abided by, it was the fact that a woman who was considered the property of another member wasn’t harmed.

“Something like that.” I felt like I needed Scorp’s protection right now, and if saying I was his woman would stop this man from looking at me like that, then I’d fucking use my brother’s name. After all, Scorp had one hell of a reputation.

“Well…” He leaned down over me, using his height to intimidate me. “If ya wanna stay his woman, you better go and change. Your dress is see-through, in case you didn’t know.” 

With those words from his mouth, my judgment of him was sealed. Typical alpha male. He was acting like he had been in a cage and I was the first woman he was allowed to be around.

Maybe I should redirect him and his bad mood to one of Elliot’s strip clubs.

I couldn’t stop myself from crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes at him. “So is your shirt, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

I moved to walk past him. Instead of stepping out of my way, he blocked my path with his arm. “You and I both know you aren’t club property.”

Again, I felt like I needed to reference a line to the club so he didn’t hurt me. The man’s eyes had the ability to kill. “I owe my life to the club.”

And that was true. The club got Scorp and I out of the country when I was young and he was looking at doing serious time in prison. How he got out from under those crimes was a secret he still kept. Especially since his President, Colt Hudson, had been locked up and put on death-row for his involvement in the same crimes. 

“Move your arm.” I refused to touch him. “Now.”

“Or you’ll do what?” he challenged.

That’s it! I was done being the girl that took crap from every male. What made this stranger think he had the right to question me in my own brother’s house? “Move or I’ll make you,” I gritted out.

Right now was a perfect example of my brother being right and me being wrong, because I wasn’t carrying a weapon like he always told me to.

“Guessing by your reaction, you don’t know who I am?” He gave me a smug look, as if there was a joke I hadn’t caught onto yet.

But, I knew exactly who he was—he was another biker who thought he knew better than everyone else. I tilted my head, watching him, and used the power of silence to have him questioning my next move.

“What ya really doin’ here, kitten?” he sighed.

“Zero of your business.”

“You’re Scorp’s woman, where is he?” he tried again.

“I’m not his woman.” I gritted the words out in frustration. “I’m his sister.”

He stilled at that. His smokey gaze running over me again, then swallowed visibility. “Summer?”

I lost my words. He knew me. Knew my name…My mind began to race, trying to figure out for the nine thousandth time in the last five minutes just exactly was in my brother’s house.

He cleared his throat and threaded his jacket back on. “Then my guess is he’s at the clubhouse. Want me to pass a message on to your brother?” 

I couldn’t stop my lips from twisting sourly. “He’s made it clear that he is more your brother than mine.”

“At least he knows his place.”

“Go to hell,” I spat. 

A dark grin spread across his face. “I just got out.”

My breath caught in my throat as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. As a thirteen year old memory of sharp cheekbones and a wicked grin shot to the front of my mind. As the headlines I’d heard while I’d made dinner last night, while Elliot watched the news in the other room, became clear. Lightning cracked through the sky, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up as I asked, “No, it can’t be. Wait, are you…?”

A wicked gleam lit his face. “Colt Hudson. It’s good to see you again, Summer.”