Page 64 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

“Fuck no.”

“So, what options do we have left?”

“I don’t know, Vance. I don’t know. But what I do know is that she means something to me, and if you think you’re going to take this away from me?—”

He nods, still gripping my arm. “I’m not. But it’s the only thing I can think of. Because if it comes down to it, Hawk will want her, and he’ll take her.”

“Oh? And what makes you so sure he’ll share her with us?”

“Because—” He pauses, weighing his next words. “I know the man he is, Tank. And it’s in his nature to share. Specially if it meant keeping the peace.”

My heart rate climbs into my throat, and I nod. “Fine. We’ll figure it out later. But for now, we need to find out what the fuck is going on with our girl.”

“So, we’re in agreement?”

I give him a smirk. “I suppose bikes aren’t the only thing we’ll ride together.”

He shakes his head, turning away from me. “Shut the hell up. Besides, it all depends on her. We have to let her decide. She may only want one of us.”

The tensionin the clubhouse is thick enough to cut with a knife. The kind of tension that makes a man’s skin prickle and his mind race.

Hawk’s pacing in front of the gathered Hellfire Riders in the garage. The smell of smoke and burnt leaves still clings to our clothes. All I can think about is Izzy, and what Vance and I talked about right before the meeting.

The idea of sharing her never crossed my mind, but that’s me being possessive. We’d done it before with flings, chicks we’dpick up and take up to the apartment after a few drinks. There’s not a lot of space up there, so forget any privacy.

Of course, none of this will matter if Izzy has been playing us.

“There’s too much trouble on the horizon right now,” Hawk says, stopping his relentless pacing to face his top men. His eyes are blazing, and he looks like an animal on the edge. “And I want answers.”

The room falls silent. No one has them. Not yet anyway.

Finally, a voice calls out from the back of the room from the shadows.

“We want answers too.”

Gunnar stands from the bench he was planted on in the back corner. He saunters forward, taking his sweet ass time. Vance keeps his eyes downcast, running his finger along the blade of his knife—back and forth.

Gunnar’s tone doesn’t set well with me. It’s laced with something devious and poignant. He’d always struggled with the fact the club voted for Hawk over him, and he never backs down an opportunity to make himself look better.

“We want to talk about that thing you’ve been keeping here,” he says, his voice low and steady. “She shows up, and then our fields go up in flames. That’s too much of a coincidence.”

Hawk’s eyes narrow, as if he’s been expecting this. Though on a passing glance, they might all think he’s cool and collected, I know Hawk’s a volcano about to erupt. Gunnar better choose his next few words very carefully.

Gunnar glances around, gathering support before he continues. “She’s working with the police. She’s gotta be. It’s the only thing that makes sense. We can’t trust her.”

A few voices murmur in agreement around him.

Hawk’s angry, sure, but there’s something else there too—doubt. He’s torn between his instincts and the pressure from the crew.

“She’s with me,” he snaps, spitting the words like they taste bad on his tongue. “I brought here her, invited her to stay. She’s my responsibility.”

“Your responsibility? Or your weakness?” Gunnar sneers.

Blood pounds in my ears, and before I can think better of it, I’m up out of my chair. “You hold your fucking tongue!” I shout, striding towards him, but Hawk is quick.

Two steps and he’s between us, a hand on my bicep. His grip is like iron.

“Is that how you want to play this?” Gunner asks arrogantly. “Protecting her?”

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