Page 24 of My Darling Mayhem

“Might be good for the guys to see you for a bit at least,” Thistle suggested, keeping his focus on his bike and his comments off my withdrawn attitude.

I dipped my chin in understanding. He was holding shit down, and I knew it wasn’t easy for him. He was a great VP but didn’t want to be president.

“Yeah, I’ll hang for a bit.”

I surveyed my club, trying to find the same sense of freedom I had before I decided to move to Atlas. Before I knew I’d be taking responsibility for my little brother’s life and agreeing to raise him. Something humbling rooted me to the ground when I considered what the courts needed to see from me. I knew the men in my club had families and jobs; most had careers outside of this club, yet when they walked in through those doors, they seemed like the lost boys in Peter Pan.

Never having to grow up. Never having to face responsibilities.

I meant what I said to Wren about us not being a gang. Most people didn’t understand that our love for our bikes drew us together. Riding was as close to flying as we’d ever get while still getting to feel the wind through our leather cuts, reminding us we weren’t angels or anything holy.

Just broken men with a passion for riding and a desire to build community. Gangs built their existence around corruption, greed, and crime. We might skim a little and push the boundaries to make some extra cash, but we’d still be us if we lost that. Wild, free, and happy.

“No, I’m not running that route again. Those fuckers are crazy!”

My head snapped up at the sound of one of our prospects barging into the club, tossing his helmet across the room. Thistle’s brows furrowed as he watched one of our captains, Dozer, approach the kid. I wouldn’t ask until I knew more, but a tantrum like he was having in front of other members and some of the non-members was an absolute fucking no.

I couldn’t hear what Dozer said to the kid, but the prospect yelled again.

“This is the third time they’ve intercepted our routes. We’re lucky to even be alive.”

The kid pushed past Dozer, which was another big fuckin’ nope, which is when Thistle caught my eye.

We walked to the back of my office and shut the door. This room had no windows, just gray walls, a leather couch against the back wall, and my desk on the other. Thistle stood with his arms crossed, waiting until Dozer walked in.

Dozer was Armenian with thick, black hair, tan skin, sky-blue eyes, and a sharp nose. Built like a fuckin’ tank, which is where he’d gotten his nickname.

“What’s this about?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. Felt weird being back in it after being away for so long.

Dozer let out a sigh and sank down onto the couch. “The routes along Manhattan. Same shit, just a new fuckin’ year.”

I glanced up at Thistle. He gave me a subtle nod, which made my mind go back to Wren and that tattoo I had seen on her arm.

“Is this still that gang, El Peligro?” I thought they had new leadership or something. For the longest time, they hadn’t been an issue because the primary leader didn’t give two shits about us, but something shifted recently.

Dozer nodded, staring down at the ground, lost in thought. “Their patrols are more frequent, and every time we come close to one of the checkpoints for a meetup, their men intercept us. The last few times were just warning shots, but this time, he said they tried to light their bikes on fire.”

“Shit,” I murmured, tracing a groove in the desk. That little black heart on her arm. Why did she have it? What connection did my neighbor have to this fucked-up gang?

“You sure it’s still them?”

Dozer tossed me a card. Black heart, dripping as if it were bleeding. Their calling card.

This complicated things.

“Pull back until we can get around their patrols and figure out why they’re suddenly being so aggressive. I might have to reach out to their new leader and figure it out.”

Thistle shifted against the wall. “Leaders.”

My head swung up at him, my brows dipping. He clarified a second later, giving Dozer a quick glance. “There’s two.”

The stars were out, and they were so much brighter here than they were in the city. I should focus on the expanse of dark sky and the bright lights twinkling above me as I sipped beer and relaxed on my patio lounger, instead of waiting for my neighbor to come out. I heard Wren’s sliding door open, and then voices trailed over the fence, making me sit up so fast my drink spilled.

“Shit,” I whispered, then quickly moved to wipe up the mess from my shirt while briskly walking through my yard until I was right next to her fence.

I was far too ashamed to admit that I was eavesdropping.

“It’s fine,” I heard Wren say, but she sounded in pain.

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