Page 5 of Blood of Vengeance

Before I could answer, someone hollered from the other side of the room. “We’ve got a live one.”

I turned right as the door slammed closed, the heavy thump of the music playing overhead matching the sudden pounding of my heart. A woman stood just inside the door—a dark-haired beauty with high tits, hips made for grabbing, and way more worry in her eyes than any female should have been living with. She seemed to be chatting with the prospect on door duty, and while he looked to be enjoying the interaction, she did not. But that wasn’t what kept me staring. Wasn’t what had me heading in her direction without any intention on my part.

My wolf wanted to be closer to her, and I never ignored my beast.

I caught the end of her side of the conversation as I moved in behind her.

“…he’s not answering my calls, and no one seems to be able to tell me what’s happening.”

“Yeah, I…” The prospect spotted me as I came to a stop. Gave me one look before the wolf within him peeked through, recognizing my status as the bigger predator between us. I wasn’t looking to pull rank, though. He didn’t matter.

“I’ve got this one, prospect.”

The kid—no clue of his actual name—gave me a nod then got the fuck out of the way. The woman turned all slow and calm, her scent slamming into me just as her eyes met mine. I had three impressions in those first seconds. One, the girl had green eyes, the shape more familiar than I would have liked. Two, those tits were even more fucking amazing than I had thought from across the room. And three, I was fucked. Absolutely fucked.

My fated mate had just walked into the club.

Three

Locklyn

The Hellions clubhouse sat deep in the desert outside of Mesa, a shabby, low-slung building with concrete walls and blacked-out windows. The type of place no sane, single woman would walk into alone. I was both sane and single, but I was going to have to cross that threshold. Once I got myself ready. There was no place for me to pop into, no gas station or store with a restroom I could use to freshen up, so I crouched behind a pickup truck on the outskirts of the lot and unzipped my backpack.

“Whore bath it is,” I whispered, my heart breaking a little at the colloquialism I’d picked up from my dad. I tugged a face-cleansing wipe from my toiletries bag and gave myself a quick wipe-down to remove the worst of the dirt and smell. Three days on a bus was no picnic, but I didn’t have the time, energy, or money to rent a hotel room and rest. I needed to find my dad, which meant I needed to head inside his club and ask a few questions. I had a feeling that was going to go over like a lead balloon, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d faced down angry bikers.

Once relatively clean, I grabbed my makeup bag and went to work beating my face into some semblance of normal. My eyes were red-rimmed, with large, dark bags under them from the whole not-sleeping thing I had going on, which made the job a little harder. Between the noises of the bus itself, the creeper passengers, and the fact that the nightmare of my dad’s murder refused to stop replaying in my head, I could have probably counted the hours slept on my journey across the country on one hand. But I needed the men of the club to talk to me, and the easiest way to get those jaws moving was to appeal to their base needs. Sex being the first one that came to mind.

“Wing the eye and rouge the cheeks. It’s showtime.” I blew myself a kiss in the compact mirror and tucked everything into my backpack. Without giving myself a second to think twice about my plan, I headed for the door to the club, wanting so badly to get this over with but doubting I’d get what I needed.

The pounding beat of some sort of heavy metal music made the parking lot practically vibrate, and the smell of smoke and weed slammed into me as I pulled open the door. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, but once they did, I got a good hard look at the place that had always meant so much to my dad. That I had been sent away from and told never to return to.

Sorry I couldn’t follow your directions, Dad.

“We got a live one,” someone yelled from deeper in the club, reminding me to pay attention. This wasn’t a place to get lost in memories. I had been Chiggy’s daughter all those years ago—without his protection, I was nothing more than fresh meat. I took a deep breath and let the door close behind me, locking myself inside with men who were either my family…or my enemies.

A big man sat just inside the door—a prospect, or wannabe member of the club, if the rules were what I remembered—and gave me a solid perusing before grunting.

“Business or pleasure, sweetheart?”

I kept my chin up, kept my voice firm and without a bit of waver from the nerves building up in me as I said, “Business, then pleasure if things work out.”

His slow grin sent a chill up my spine, but I didn’t shiver. Not even when he reached forward and grabbed a lock of my hair, pulling it over my shoulder and staring at the dark strands as if examining them. “What kind of business does a woman like you have in a place like this?”

“I’m looking for my dad.”

“Got a lot of men in here willing to play the daddy role for you.”

The eye roll I shot his way was something I couldn’t have held back if I’d wanted to. “Not into that particular kink, but I really am looking for my dad. Maybe you know him—goes by Chiggy.”

The guy darted a look down at me, and something in his expression made my stomach drop. Something that looked way too much like fear to calm me down.

“Have you seen him?” I asked. “Because he’s not answering my calls, and that’s not normal.”

“Yeah, I…” The guy looked past me right as the scent of sage and leather caught my attention, his eyes locking on something over my shoulder.

Before I could turn, a warm, gravelly voice came from behind me. “I’ve got this one, prospect.”

The prospect nodded once then rose from his stool and walked away. Mr. Gravel-Voice stepped around me, staring in a way that seemed more hunter than inquisitor, his broad shoulders and ridiculous height dwarfing me in ways that both terrified and intrigued. His light eyes captured every breath I took, every flick of my own eyes taking him in. And his slow grin as I lifted my chin seemed more sarcastic than happy.

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