Page 1 of King's Reckoning
The roar of the motorcycle engines echoed through the streets of San Francisco as Rowan Matthews wove her way through traffic, her heart pounding in time with the throb of the bike beneath her. She'd been riding for hours, pushing herself to the limit, trying to outrun the demons that had been chasing her for as long as she could remember.
But there was no escaping the truth. Not anymore.
She'd spent years searching for her father, following the trail of breadcrumbs left by her mother before she died. And now, after a lifetime of dead ends and false leads, she'd finally found him.
Marcus King, the formidable sergeant at arms of the Blind Jacks MC.
The man who'd given her life...and then abandoned her.
Rowan's grip tightened on the handlebars as she took a sharp turn, the tires skidding across the asphalt. She'd been watching the Blind Jacks for weeks, learning their routines, their weaknesses.She knew everything there was to know about the club, about the men who rode under its colors.
But she still didn't know the one thing that mattered most.
Why her father had left her. Why he'd turned his back on her and her mother, leaving them to fend for themselves in a world that had shown them nothing but cruelty.
She needed answers. She needed closure. And she was going to get it, one way or another.
As she rounded the corner onto the street where the Blind Jacks' clubhouse was located, Rowan felt a sudden jolt of adrenaline surge through her veins. There were bikes lined up outside the building, their engines rumbling like a pack of hungry wolves.
And there, in the center of it all, was the man she'd been searching for her entire life.
Marcus King.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair showing the faintest hint of gray at the temples. His eyes were a deep brown, cold and hard, maybe even a bit haunted, as they surveyed the club members gathered around him. At his side stood another man she recognized—Darkness, the club president, a natural authority radiating from him as he spoke to the assembled members.
Rowan's heart skipped a beat as she watched King, her breath catching in her throat.This was it. The moment she'd been waiting for. The moment she'd been dreading.
She knew she couldn't just walk up to him, couldn't just announce herself as his long-lost daughter. She needed a plan, a way in. And thanks to her mother's careful instructions, she had one.
Prospect. The lowest rank in the club hierarchy, the one reserved for those who were willing to do anything to prove themselves worthy of wearing the Blind Jacks' colors. The position was rarely filled by women, but she wasn't just any woman. Her specialized training would give her an edge—skills her mother had drilled into her since childhood, abilities honed specifically for this reckoning.
It was a dangerous game, one that could get her killed if she made even the slightest mistake. But Rowan had been playing dangerous games her entire life. She knew how to stack the deck in her favor, how to play the odds until they bent to her will.
And she was willing to risk everything to get what she wanted.
She pulled her bike up to the line of motorcycles, cutting the engine as she swung her leg over the side. She could feel the eyes of the club members on her, could hear their low murmurs of conversation as they sized her up.
But she kept her head held high, her shoulders squared as she strode toward the clubhouse door. She knew she looked like an outsider, with her tornjeans and battered leather jacket. But she also knew that sometimes, the best way to blend in was to stand out.
As she reached for the door handle, a hand clamped down on her shoulder, spinning her around. Rowan reacted on instinct, her elbow slamming into her attacker's jaw with a sickening crack.
The man stumbled back, his dark eyes wide with shock and anger. He was tall and powerfully built, with a neatly trimmed beard framing a strong jawline. Intricate tattoos covered his arms and disappeared beneath his tight black shirt, with what looked like tribal designs wrapping around his neck. Two silver chains hung against his chest, catching the light as he straightened.
"What the fuck?" he snarled, rubbing at his jaw. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
Rowan smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of her lips. "I'm the girl who's going to be your worst nightmare if you don't get your hands off me," she said, her voice low and steady.
His eyes narrowed, fists clenching at his sides. "Name's Reed Morrison, Road Captain of the Blind Jacks," he growled, taking a step toward her. "And you just made a serious mistake."
The intensity of his gaze sent an unexpected shiver down her spine—a reaction her mother's training hadn't prepared her for.Before she could respond, another voice cut through the tension.
"Enough."
It was King, his voice hard and commanding as he stepped forward. He looked at Rowan, his gaze assessing, calculating. "Who are you?" he asked, his tone brooking no argument.
Rowan met his gaze head-on, her chin lifting in defiance. "Rowan Matthews," she said confidently, searching his face for any sign of recognition. "I'm here to prospect."
King's eyebrows shot up, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he schooled his features back into an impassive mask. "Is that so?" he said, his voice deceptively mild. "And what makes you think you have what it takes to ride with the Blind Jacks?"
