Prologue
Mace
One Year Ago
The door cracked open. Half a pale face and one dark eye appeared in the sliver of light coming from inside the apartment. Well, pale except for the multi-colored bruises surrounding his eye and trailing down his jaw bone.
“Pax?” I asked, keeping my voice low like I was trying not to spook a cornered animal. “I’m Mace.” He scanned over my face, taking in the evidence of my own injuries—the sling my right arm was in and the butterfly strips holding together several cuts on my face and neck. Pipsqueak, my friend Lex and Arden’s puppy, let out a little yipping bark from his place beside my feet and pulled on the leash as he snuck his nose through the crack in the door. Pax’s eyes went wide and dropped to the puppy. He pulled the door open wide and knelt, gathering Pip’s wiggling gray body into his arms and holding him close.
A small smile lit up his bruised face before he moved his eyes back to me. He licked his lips. “You can come in.”
“Thanks,” I said, walking inside and letting go of Pip’s leash. “Lex wanted me to tell you he appreciates you being willing to watch this little guy until Arden’s on his feet again.”
“Of course.” He shut the door before his eyes came back to mine. “Arden’s my family.”
"I know he thinks of you that way, as well." I took a step farther into the apartment. It was an open floor plan with the living room, dining room and kitchen all making up the main room, and there was a short hallway leading off to the right. When I turned back, Pax was watching me with wary eyes. He had Pip’s lease held in one hand and the puppy stopped sniffing around to lift up onto his hind legs, pressing his front paws against Pax’s leg. Pax leaned down to lift him and as he stood back up, a pained grimace pinched his face and his skin went pale.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth.
I moved forward, wrapping my good arm around Pip and lifting him out of Pax’s. I set the puppy on the floor and unclipped his leash before laying it on the coffee table. "You don't look fine," I started to say as my eyes zeroed in on the red stain seeping into his T-shirt at the top of his shoulder. "You need help bandaging that?" I asked with a nod toward the spreading bloodstain.
Pax brought his hand up and gently touched the spot with another wince and scowled at the red stained fingers when he pulled his hand away. When he opened his mouth, I thought for sure he was going to argue with me or tell me to fuck off, but instead he let out a tired sigh. “That would be great, actually."
Turning toward the hallway, he motioned for me to follow him and led us to the door on the left. His bathroom was small, but tidy, with a dark wooden vanity cabinet and bright colored beach themed decorations on the white walls. He glanced back at me, his dark eyes vulnerable and a little bit scared, like maybe he was regretting taking a biker up on an offer to administer first aid. But just as quickly, he pulled his shirt over his head with a rough exhale like even that basic movement had pained him. When I saw his back, I was surprised he was able to move at all, and I exhaled roughly myself. "Shit. Pax… Have you had a doctor look at these?"
He nodded. "Yeah, Vivian has one that makes house calls and is, you know, discreet."
Scanning over the multiple gashes covering the otherwise pristine skin of his back, a deep boiling rage started to fill my gut. Not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was, I turned to the sink and got the hot water going. "Where are your washcloths?"
"In the small linen closet across the hall."
I turned and took the two steps to get out of the bathroom and across the hall, pulling open the slim door there. I grabbed a couple neatly folded washcloths and a towel before stepping back into the bathroom. Pax was shaking. I could see his tremble even before I touched him.
"I know you don't know me," I said to him in a gentle voice. "But I won’t hurt you. And I promise you, I'm going to find the man that did this." I doused one of the washcloths in the hot stream of water. After wringing it out, I gently started to clean the blood away from the gash that had reopened on his shoulder blade. He didn't wince, but that tremble got the slightest bit harder. "And I promise you, he's never going to touch you again."
Chapter One
Mace
“I thought you had the night off?” a voice I knew well asked from behind me. Turning, I already had a smile in place for Vivian Sinclair, owner of the nightclub we were standing in and Iron Heretics MC business partner. Vivian was a beautiful woman with fire red hair and a temper to match. She’d also have the exact information I was looking for.
“You know me, Viv. Couldn’t stay away.” I stepped closer to the corner booth—her preferred one—with its silver threaded cushions and shot her a wink.
Wrinkling her nose at the nickname, she motioned for me to take a seat, then lifted her eyes and nodded to the bartender. “Apparently not.”
Viv watched me as I slid into the horseshoe shaped bench on the opposite side of the table from her. I made sure to keep my cocky smirk in place. It had become an essential part of my armor—the same as my Kevlar vest or the glock resting in the shoulder holster beneath my right arm. At the moment, it was a cover for my impatience for this pit stop to be over so I could locate my target for the evening. I let my eyes sweep the room, but there was no sign of the one dark head of hair I was hoping to find.
A tall pilsner glass was set on the table in front of me. With a nod to the server that delivered it, I slipped my fingers around the cool glass and took a long drink. It was my preferred lager, because of course it was. Vivian missed nothing. She also couldn’t leave anything alone—not the beer that would have been perfectly acceptable out of a bottle, not the men she groomed to be in her employ, and certainly not anyone who set eyes on one of them. Spritz was a well-oiled machine and no one had any illusions about who kept the wheels turning.
“Looking for someone?” Vivian’s lips pulled into a little smile that she hid behind her own glass. Scotch, if I had to guess. The crystal it was sitting in glinted in the low light.
Fuck it. I didn’t feel like playing coy. “Yeah, I am. Is Pax working tonight?” I’d texted him earlier, but hadn’t gotten a response. That usually meant he was asleep or already at work. Or flat out ignoring me. That last one grated on my nerves. Not that he did it very often, but he’d been in a valley for a while now, between the torture last year and the damn Devil’s Rage MC guys coming in here and stirring up trouble at the beginning of the year. He sometimes tended to deal with it by shutting out the world.
There wasn’t even a flicker of surprise, and her eyes stayed glued to my face as she set her drink back on the table. “He’s downstairs.”
Something violent erupted in my gut. Pax didn’t work downstairs anymore. Hadn’t for almost a year, and the thought of him down there now had rage and jealousy I had no business feeling clawing at my insides. “What the fuck is he doing downstairs?” My voice came out low and menacing, so I didn’t blame the bodyguard watching Vivian tonight when he took a step forward. Vivian waved him off. He wasn’t a Heretic, but he knew who I was. Since the Iron Heretics had partnered with Viv as Spritz’s security team, we vetted all her personal security as well.