Page 1 of Sean Collins

Chapter One

Elora

I lift the drink to my lips and sip my single malt scotch. It's an acquired taste – something I started drinking to look like a badass and then kept drinking because I liked it. My father always loved single malt scotch, so it was also a tribute to him. I spent the last ten years searching for my parent's killers. They tried to put me in foster care after that terrible night, but I ran away. My dad taught me how to fight and survive. I lived on the streets for a while until I discovered I had a talent for charming rich older men. I never stopped low enough to sleep with them; I merely teased them, put a little something in their drink, and moved on to the next mark.

I lost my innocence at the age of 15 when I hid in the secret passageway in our house and watched men wearing patched leather jackets gun down my parents. I vowed to get revenge when grief, shock, and horror solidified my heart, making an impenetrable shell. It had been ten years, and no one had been able to break through it. After I had enough money to be comfortable, I started robbing to give to poor people. Until that day that my parents were killed, I lived a more-than-comfortable life. Being on the streets had been a shock, but it further hardened me.

I'm like Robin Hood – only with boobs and leather.

Sipping my drink, I give the evil eye to the next guy who wants to hit on me. I am not here for pleasure; this motorcycle club is just the next one on my list. They are dirty, rotten assholes, or at least that is what I know from experience. I have yet to run into one who doesn't have drinking, drug-using, and sex trafficking on their mind. Busting them and stealing their money has always been a pleasure.

While doing my research, I got wind of the jackpot. The Steel Kings MC has the reputation of being the most ruthless of the lot. Word is, they are going straight, but I don't believe those rumors – men like them never change. I have also heard they are loaded. Seeing the bikes parked out front and the cars that their wives drive, I believe it. The only thing that would make this job sweeter is if I have finally found the MC that killed my parents. That would be the extra cherry on top. If not, I will keep searching and with the Steel Kings’ money in my pocket.

The wooden door behind the bar opens, and the President of the club walks out. His piercing green eyes survey the room. They land on me and hold my gaze for a moment before continuing his sweep. One of the other men comes up to talk to him. I know that this one's named Torque. Fresh out of prison for killing a guy, he is as mean as he looks. Not only do they have a murderer and ex-con in their midst but an ex-military and mafia as well. These men are not pushovers – I have learned that after watching their movements over the last week.

"Hey, sweetie, do you need another drink?" I look down at my empty glass and then up at the barely clothed blonde who just spoke. These little biker bunnies seem to be entertainment for the customers, not the club. Even with their daisy dukes and large breasts almost spilling out of tiny tops, none of the members have even looked twice at them.

I shrug and give her a little smile. "Sure, why not?" She winks at me and goes to the bar to refill my glass. I feel the President's eyes on me again, and I return the stare without flinching.

Too bad, he is a biker with his close-cropped blonde hair, hard body, and tattoos, not to mention those eyes and the five o'clock shadow; otherwise, he would be just my type. But I don't date bikers. They are all the same kind of people who are just out to screw someone over. I am here to settle the score.

The little blonde waitress bounces up to me and puts my drink down on the table. My gaze is still on the President as I pay for it and give her a generous tip. He nods in my direction, and I give him a slow smile before turning my back on him.

All of a sudden, half the people in the bar stand up and strides out after the President. Something is going down, and the club members seem to be on the hunt. I look over at the guy next to me at the bar. He looks like a regular customer at the saloon and has sat on the same stool, drinking beers all night long for the entire week I have been visiting this place.

"Hey, what is going on there?" I ask him, leaning closer and letting him get a good look at my cleavage. He doesn't take the bait, which surprises me.

"From what I have overheard, it looks like Cash got himself into some trouble with the Community. There are a bunch of backward fake Amish outside of town," he grumbles before picking up his beer and taking a sip. “Maybe the Kings will run them out of this valley. They are doing a good job of cleaning up the rest of the place.”

I just nod and nurse my own drink, hardly keeping myself from rolling my eyes. There may be more to this altruistic act that these bikers are selling. It is most likely a con to keep the law off their backs and get the support of the locals. Whoever heard of a clean biker gang anyway? Unless you count the ones made up of newly sober people or stressed-out execs looking for a thrill, that does not exist. There is no way that real biker gangs would give up their profits from gun-running, drugs, and prostitution. Though the Steel Kings don't seem to be involved in any of that, it may just mean that they are more cunning than others.

I look around the almost empty bar. All that's left is a few drunkards and an attentive bartender. I watch her discreetly; as soon as she goes into the backroom, I make my move. I slip into the office like a shadow to see if I can find where these guys are hiding their real assets. And if I come across something of value, then I guess it is my lucky night.

Chapter Two

Sean

"You have got to be kidding me!" I yell so loud that Dice, Torque, and Marshall come running into the office. I just stand there, my mouth open. There is no way that this really happened. This place has better security than the Pentagon.

"What's up, Boss? Is everything alright?" Torque asks, crossing his beefy arms over his chest.

I don't say a word; I simply stand aside and let the guys see the situation for themselves. The door leading to the secret backroom is hanging open, as well as the large safe that they keep in it.

“What the actual fuck?!” Toque exclaims, effectively voicing out the exact thought going in my head right now. I walk into the room and look at the empty safe, blinking in disbelief a few times. Whoever broke in here has it all keys to the armory, the casino, our safe house, and all our other properties. The stacks of bills stashed here are gone. A total of 500,000 dollars – just gone. Not to mention, my father's antique guns used to stay in this room. They were said to have been owned by Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday themselves. They were his pride and joy, but now they’re nowhere in sight.

"Get me the surveillance tape,” I order under my breath.

"Boss, what's with all the screaming?" Brandy asks, coming in through the gaping door. Torque steps in front of his lady upon seeing the scorching look on S.C.'s face.

"Move out of the way, Torque. I just want to ask her a few questions," I utter, my voice as hard as my gaze. I know that Brandy had nothing to do with this; she is one of the most loyal people in the bar. Whoever did this had to be a fucking genius to get past her.

"Torque, move. S.C. isn't going to hurt me," Brandy says impatiently, walking around him to stand in front of me. Her legs are spread wide, and her arms cross over her chest – a sign of confidence. The fire in Brandy’s eyes burns, and her mouth is set in a grim line. I see a flash of hurt in them.

"Do you really think I had something to do with this?" Brandy asks bravely, even though her voice cracks. It is hardly noticeable except to those who know her well. Torque puts his meaty hands on her small shoulders and glares at me. The message is clear: I have upset his woman, so I need to fix it. Now.

"No, Brandy, of course, I don't think you had anything to do with it," I say in my most exasperated voice. I see her shoulders ease down a bit, and I give her a little smile despite the rage coursing through me. “You are more loyal than half the guys in the MC. I would trust you with my life.”

Brandy smiles a little. "Before you ask, no, I didn't see anything. It must have happened when I ran out of tequila. There were some ladies in the back, drinking sunrises like Jose announced he was going to quit making tequila. I was gone in less than a minute.”

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