“The day you put that patch on was the day you handed over your life. You ain’t just the prez, Deuce, you ain’t just runnin’ a club, leadin’ those boys. It ain’t just a responsibility.

“It’s you, brother; your club, your boys are you. You start bleedin’ and they’re all gonna bleed with you. The club comes first, you know it, I know it, every man who gets patched in knows it. Don’t matter how bad shit gets with your old lady, your girls on the side, your fuckin’ kids, you gotta keep goin’. Those boys of yours and their families, they are your family too. They ain’t just respectin’ you or lookin’ up to you, they’re countin’ on you to do right by them. You know this shit, Deuce, the club always—”

“Comes first,” he growled, interrupting Preacher. “I fuckin’ know.”

“Yeah, you know it, but preachin’ it ain’t livin’ it. Time to get back to livin’ it.”

Fuck. As much as he hated Preacher, mainly because the fucker had shot him twice, he couldn’t dispute a single word the man had said.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like you any more than I liked you when I first saw you pawin’ at my underage daughter,” Preacher growled. “But for some fuckin’ reason she loves you, meanin’ I’m keepin’ my mouth shut.”

Deuce narrowed his eyes. “You call this keepin’ your mouth shut?”

Preacher shrugged. “I’m keepin’ my finger off the trigger, ain’t I?”

Jesus Christ, if Eva ever decided she hated her old man, he was going to be first in line to put this asshole in the ground. He might do it anyway, tell Eva he had no clue what happened to Preacher and for all he knew, aliens from outer space had kidnapped the slick bastard.

“You know,” Preacher continued, “me and your old man go way back. Knew him when I was just a kid. Knew your mother too, had a goddamned crush on her…and those fuckin’ dimples of hers—”

“Is there a point to this fuckin’ bullshit?” he spat. The last thing he wanted to hear about was Preacher’s crush on the mother he’d never gotten to meet.

“Yeah, asshole, and I was gettin’ to it. Woulda gotten to it by now if you woulda kept your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

The two of them glared at each other until Preacher gave first, shaking his head and sighing.

“My point is, Reaper didn’t give a fuck about the club, didn’t give a fuck about your mother, or your brother’s mother, or any of you. All he gave a fuck about was himself and what the club or what his bitches could do for him. He wanted power and money, he used the club to get it, he wanted kids to pass the gavel to, and he used those little girls to get ’em. But when it came down to it, he ain’t never gave a fuck. And Deuce, that ain’t you. I know you got love for your boys and your family and that’s why you’re thinkin’ runnin’ is what’s best for ’em all, but I’m tellin’ you it ain’t. You leave and those boys are gonna fall apart. As for those kids you’ll be leavin’ behind, you tell me how it felt growin’ up with an old man who didn’t want ya? All you had was your little brother and when you lost Cas, then what the fuck did you have?”

Fucking shit, thinking about his old man, his mother, and his dead little brother was making it hard to breathe. Deuce rubbed the heel of his palm over his chest in a large circle.

“You had the club,” Preacher said. “And you took the mess your old man left behind and you turned that shit into a brotherhood. You tossed out the garbage, you had your boys pull their shit together, and then you started pulling in more strays then any MC I’ve ever known. Done my homework on all your boys; I know Dirty and Hawk were starvin’ on street corners before you found ’em. Know Cox was stealin’ cars for his next meal, and Ripper, seventeen, no family, didn’t know jack shit about bikes, and what’d you do? Brought them all home with you and gave ’em all a family. You leave them, you’ll be rippin’ out the rug from underneath them all and your kids won’t even have the club to fall back on. Nobody will have nothin’.”

With his arms folded across his chest, Deuce gave Preacher a half-lidded glare. “I really fuckin’ hate you,” he growled.

His knowing eyes trained on him, Preacher pulled a smoke out from behind his ear and lit it.

“Deuce,” he said, exhaling. “The feelin’s mutual. Now, I’m gonna tell you what I tell all my boys when they’re actin’ like fools. Go grab a bottle and a bitch and fuck all that poisonous bullshit outta your system. Then you go home to my daughter and my grandbaby and your kids and your boys, and you fix whatever the fuck is broken. And if you don’t, I’m gonna come collect my girls, maybe grab Kami away from that dirty fuckin’ spic she married while I’m at it, but as for the rest of ’em, brother, that’s your problem.”

“Yeah?” he said dryly. “And while I’m drinkin’ and fuckin’, what the fuck are you gonna be doin’ ’bout Big Jay?”

Preacher took another drag off his smoke and shook his head. “I’m postin’ the hit tonight. You don’t gotta do a damn thing.”

• • •

With her sleeping toddler straddling her hip, Eva attempted navigating through the front of the club toward the back hall, wanting to leave behind the din of several ongoing conversations, the children crying or complaining, men laughing, women giggling. After five days, the constant noise was painfully bouncing around inside her skull, making her head ache for peace and quiet, and making her stomach churn with constant anxiety.

She’d never before minded lockdowns. In New York, she’d usually spent them in her bedroom, listening to music with Frankie or later, when they were older…

Her eyes started to burn and her grip tightened on Ivy.

Frankie.

Turning away from everyone, she closed her eyes…

Leaning back against the outside of the Demons’ brownstone, tall and broad, his thickly muscled, heavily tattooed arms folded over his chest, stretching the material of his black T-shirt, his long brown hair pulled tightly back, his head cocked to one side, his dark hungry eyes focused on her, a smile playing on his lips.

“Baby,” he said in a low, harsh voice as he crooked two fingers. “Come here.”

A cry bubbled up from her aching heart and lodged painfully in her throat. She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling the loud release of air.

No. She wasn’t going to think about Frankie. That chapter of her life was over. She’d made sure of that when she’d put a knife through his throat. There hadn’t been any other option. Frankie had been too far gone, causing too much pain to everyone he came into contact with; he’d been a walking time bomb.

Somehow Eva had managed to overcome the crippling guilt that killing him had caused. She’d pulled herself out of her pain, and taken control of her life again.

It was Deuce that was refusing to let it go.

Frankie had done the worst thing he could possibly do to a man like Deuce; a man who would have taken any sort of physical punishment Frankie could have meted out, preferred it actually. But Frankie had known that and instead had rendered Deuce immobile, forced him to watch the woman he loved being fucked by another man, then to take her, leaving him wondering if he was ever going to see her alive again.

To a man like Deuce, what Frankie had done was a punishment far worse than death.

It was also something a man like Deuce wasn’t going to forget.

She’d tried…

And tried…

But she couldn’t do it anymore. When it came to Deuce, it felt as if she’d been running in circles her entire life.

It wasn’t just her anymore; she couldn’t afford to be selfish, to do as she pleased, to let the man in her life do as he pleased. To keep waiting on something that might never happen. She had a daughter who deserved the very best life Eva could give her.

She was leaving.

The decision had been made the night Deuce had left for New York. She was going home, back to her father and the Demons, back to what she’d thought she’d left behind for good in exchange for a life of happiness with the man she loved. She hadn’t told anyone yet, hadn’t had a chance to. The very next night the club had gone on lockdown and now she was stuck here.

“Do you want me to take her for a while?”

Dorothy appeared beside her and held her arms out. Grateful, Eva smiled as she passed Ivy, who blinked sleepily as she was shifted between them but settled instantly back to sleep on Dorothy’s shoulder.

“I need something to keep my mind off Jase and Chrissy,” Dorothy whispered, rubbing small circles on Ivy’s back. “She’s out there talking about their upcoming anniversary—”

Eva stopped listening. Dorothy was a broken record when it came to Jase. Constantly upset yet still holding out hope that Jase would someday leave his wife, when it was clear to everyone except Dorothy that he never ever would.

Lost to her own thoughts, she watched as Ripper came through the swinging kitchen doors and hooked a left toward them. She braced herself for his usual death glare.

“Yo,” he said, passing by her and a still chattering Dorothy.

Her eyes widened in surprise. It wasn’t friendly but…it wasn’t horrible either.

Was he finally ready to forgive her for being married to the man who’d hurt him? She hoped so. It devastated her seeing his scars, what Frankie had so callously done to him.

My god, how had she not realized what her own husband had been capable of until it was too late?

Eva shook her head, still trying to clear Frankie from her thoughts, when the kitchen doors swung open again and Danny walked out, headed in the opposite direction.

“Hey you,” she called out and Danny spun around, a startled look on her face.