Then my eyes met his.
And my world went instantly bleak.
Brown eyes, deep-set in a face that spoke of handsomeness but couldn’t quite disguise the evil in his soul. Thin lips, long hair tied in a greasy ponytail, and a tattoo of an alligator on his neck peeked from the collar of his leather cut.
He nodded, his lips curling at the corners. Something flickered in his hands, drawing my attention.
A lighter.
The tension I’d released shot straight back into my muscles tenfold. Gripping the lip of the table, I never looked away as he flicked the lighter, releasing a small lick of orange flame.
My mind twisted behind the locked door, hurling itself in panic against the amnesiac barrier. My fingers went unwillingly to the fresh burn on my forearm, rubbing at the painful searing that’d sprung from nowhere.
Him.
He was the one who burned me.
That night.
The night they stole me.
Try as I might, I couldn’t remember anything more or how I came to be kidnapped, but I knew with utmost conviction—he was the one to grace my body with yet another scar.
Was it the new burn that set off another episode of amnesia? Could my brain be so traumatized by fire that the barest of flames on my skin made me turn inward and hide?
My heart raced.
Not only was I dealing with remembering one past but it seemed I had two to unravel. A past where my home was England and Corrine and a brown-eyed boyfriend I couldn’t recall, and a lifetime before that one… a childhood of motorcycles, family, and green-eyed lovers who helped me with homework.
Will I ever know the truth?
I jumped as the sandy-blond guy, Mo, sprawled in his chair beside me. His arrival snapped the awareness between me and Lighter Boy, breaking whatever panic attack I might’ve had.
Mo grinned. “Been staying with the boss, huh?” He whistled. “Kinda a big honor to go home with the Prez, you know. What did you do to fuck it up?”
My nostrils flared, body stiffened, and I refused to reply. My eyes skittered back to the asshole playing with his lighter, but he dropped his attention to the table, blocking me from reading his thoughts.
Grasshopper sat on my left, scowling at Mo. “It was always only temporary, dude. She’s the sixth sale—remember?”
The door opened behind me and the scents of grease, cheese, and salami filled the room. The men around the table smacked their lips, eyeing up the huge pizza boxes that were deposited onto the table by a younger member with no patch.
There weren’t too many men—twelve, fifteen, and most of them seemed open and friendly. But I couldn’t shed the horrible feeling of dining with the devil with Lighter Boy across from me.
How did he take me?
How did all of this happen?
And where the hell did they kidnap me from if I’d been living in England? There was no way they could’ve smuggled me internationally. Could they? But most of all—what was the point? Why me? Why the girl who couldn’t remember but had some inexplicable link to their boss? The boss who slaughtered a rebellion the night I arrived.
It all felt like a chess game where everyone knew the rules but me. I was a pawn. Being slid left and right until someone smacked me from the checkered board and killed me off in a brutal checkmate.
“’Bout fucking time you got here, boy. I was wasting away I was so damn hungry,” one biker growled, his goatee bristling. He reached across and flipped up a lid, stealing a piece of delicious-looking pizza.
I was suddenly thankful for staying at Kill’ s place. At least he ordered healthy food—even if he didn’t cook. I doubted I would’ve enjoyed a calorie-controlled diet if I’d been a guest of the compound.
Mo stood up, leaned over his brothers to fill a paper plate with two pieces of pizza, then skidded it down the table to me.
I caught it, unable to stop the growling in my stomach. Margherita and Meat Lover’s. I would’ve preferred Hawaiian but the flavor dancing on the air made my mouth water.
The room went quiet as the men helped themselves to pizza and someone brought in a cooler full of beer. I refused the offer and nibbled on my food while watching the rest of them.
My eyes kept returning to Lighter Boy, wishing I understood. The rest of the men looked dangerous with scars and piercings and the occasional feral glint in their eyes, but they were also… normal. They laughed and joked, spoke of mundane things while eating—chatting about family, grumbling about wives, and household chores. I found it mildly unsettling to be around such everyday life when society had already painted them with the “outlaw rebel” brush.
“Buttercup, eat your spaghetti. The meetin’s coming up and you know you can’t be here.”
I shoved the unwanted spaghetti around my plate, sulking. I wanted to listen in—after all, I was his only child and I needed to know how the Club was run, so I could take over when he was gone. But he never stopped reminding me that girls didn’t run the Club. That girls remained on the outskirts—being protected by the men like my dad, who did naughty things to keep up our way of existence.
“But I want to listen.”
He ducked to my eye level. “Go find your friend. He can help you with your homework.”
“Don’t wanna,” I pouted. I was ten years old and it sucked that the boy I’d always looked up to suddenly wanted nothing to do with me. He said he was too cool for kids.
Bully.
My dad laughed, ruffling my unruly hair. “Ah, Buttercup, don’t hate the boy. Mark my words, the minute you turn thirteen that kid will notice you again.”
A small smile spread my lips. “Really?”
My father grinned, his light blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners. His auburn hair was slightly darker than mine and I’d inherited the small freckles on my nose from my mother, who was a pure redhead.
“Truly. No boy or man will be able to resist you. And that’s why I’ll be ready to shoot him if he tries anything.”
The flashback ended, slipping me back into lunch conversation as gently as melting into a warm bath. My heart glowed with love. To remember my father—his face, his voice—it was more than I’d ever hoped for.
Unbelievably cherished.
Relief was swift and full of content. I’d finally earned a concrete puzzle piece in my hunt for answers.
“So, Sarah… what did Kill do to keep you entertained at his place?”
I took a bite of my pizza, letting the wash of conversation lap around me.
A finger poked me in the side. I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
Grasshopper frowned, pointing at a young biker with brown hair pulled back in a wet gel look. “He asked you a question.”
“He did?”
The guy nodded. “Yep, used your name and everything.”
The pizza slipped from my fingers. I should’ve jumped to his question—so in tune with the name I’d only just remembered. Shouldn’t I?
Ignoring the chill trickling down my back, I asked, “What was the question? Sorry.”
Mo spoke around a mouthful of pizza. “He was being an asshole.”
“Oh?”
He chuckled. “He wanted to know what Kill did to keep you ‘entertained.’ ” He waggled his eyebrows.
Two reactions rushed through me. One, to blush and look away. Two, to grin and play them at their own game. Two people lived inside me. The girl who lived abroad and studied hard, and the teenager who’d been brought up with men just like these and a confidence that only came from being around safety and family.
Keeping my eyes resolutely from Lighter Boy’s I said, “If you must know, he took me shopping, brought me lunch, and respected my boundaries.” I kept my face deadpan. The answer was, for all intents and purposes, true—the reply came from the mind of Sarah.
Sarah is quiet and serious.
My eyes went wide, my brain pointing out yet another twist in my journey to remember.
Then who was the vivacious girl who loved a biker’s son? Who was I when I kissed Kill so wildly in the changing room?
Grasshopper groaned. “Boring. Tell us the juice. I already know he fucked you.”
“Stop that.” I turned to stare at him. A strange bond had formed between us—not friendship or understanding—just mutual… respect? Or just a truce because we both knew I’d be leaving in a few hours. “You might know but I don’t want others to—”
“Ah, pumpkin.” A man with a large belly laughed. “He kept you at his place. We know he fucked ya. So… dish it up.”
Annoyance wrangled with mischief. The men, excluding Lighter Boy, watched me with eager amusement and intrigue. It was so nice to be around people again. I’d forgotten the ease of being in a group, of laughing with strangers who slowly became friends.
Friends were all I could gain with my mind like a giant sieve. I had no family.
But I do.
My heart swelled like a hot air balloon. For the first time in years, I wasn’t alone. I came from someone. I belonged to someone.
And it isn’t the boy from your dreams. He didn’t want me.
My spine straightened as tiredness fell over me. Kill still hadn’t showed up. What did that mean? That he still despised me? Still completely in denial that the woman he’d mourned for years actually was never dead?
Was that even possible?
“Come on, Sarah. Tell us—is our Prez a good fuck?” The guy with the belly elbowed another, winking at me.