Prologue
Midas
I never saw it coming.
As the club’s Tail Gunner, it was my job to watch everyone’s back. You could call me the club safety man, the one that made sure the roads were clear, steady, and free to ride. As the rear lead, I was the Road Captain’s righthand guy. A shadow sweeper that kept everyone in their lane and out of harm’s way. My loyalty bled brighter than the cut on my back. I never questioned what I was told. I kept my eyes on the road and believed in the family I helped to protect. I always had everyone’s back until someone shot me in mine.
The bastard couldn’t even look me in the eye. He waited until I wasn’t looking to take me out of the equation, and when he thought he got the best of me, he buried me in a shallow grave on the outskirts of town.
I’ve tried to figure out what I did wrong. What I could’ve said to make one of my own brothers turn on me, but none of it makes any sense. I did everything right. I was dedicated to the family. I never asked questions, even when they did shit that I didn’t agree with.
If I hadn’t caught a glimpse of the familiar Devil’s Armada logo right before he started shoveling dirt over my nearly dead body; I would’ve never believed that someone from the family had a hand in my murder attempt. I wish I could’ve seen his face, but all I could see was the cut on his back and a flash of dark hair.
He may have buried Midas in that shallow grave, but it was a different man that clawed his way out of the muddied earth thirsting for revenge. Now that I’ve lost the only family I’ve ever had; all I have left to live for is her. The hardest part about that night wasn’t digging myself out of my grave or recovering from my bullet wound; it was turning my back on Faith and allowing her to think I was dead.
Returning to the family without knowing who tried to kill me would only put her in danger. I couldn’t risk her life, not when I knew somebody wanted me dead. They’d kill her to get to me, and her life meant more to me than my own life ever would. So, I left her—I left them all. I had to turn my back on the only woman who has ever truly loved me for me. She didn’t care that I was bruised and broken. She didn’t see my size and run away like I was some side show freak. Faith loved me unconditionally. It didn’t matter that I was three-hundred fifty pounds of leather and abandonment issues; she loved every pound on my body and all the scars hidden underneath.
It was that unconditional acceptance that drew me to her in the first place. Faith is the type of woman who loved everyone, and everyone loved her in return. It was easy to fall in love with someone who’s only flaw was being too kind. That’s what I loved most about her. Faith didn’t have a mean bone in her body, and I did everything in my power to protect her from the club’s extracurricular activities.
I was ready to make her my Old Lady and circle that beautiful finger with my ring. That ring now sits heavy in my pocket, waiting for the day I can drop to one knee and pledge my life to her. She had no idea I was going to propose, and it kills me that they took that moment away from us. That’s why leaving her hurt me more than the betrayal of my brothers. Faith was my world, and someone worked incredibly hard to shatter that world into itty-bitty pieces. I have no idea what her life’s been like since I’ve been away, or if she’ll even forgive me for leaving her like this. But I have to try. My life just isn’t the same without her in it.
It’s been seven long years since I last saw her, and I didn’t plan on coming out of hiding this soon, but when I got a mysterious email from an unknown email address, telling me that Faith’s life was in danger, I knew it was time to come out of hiding and reclaim what’s mine.
My only questions now are, who was the mysterious mailer? How did they find me? And can I trust what they’re telling me is true?
Midas may be dead, but the man who crawled out of his grave is ready to return home and find his Faith again.
Chapter One
Faith
Everybody knows not to enter Devil’s Armada territory. There are strict rules involving the lines that have been drawn between the four major MC’s that ride in Garter County. Our club owns most of the county and the other three get to pick through the scraps. That’s how it’s always been. The Scorched Brotherhood rides in the east, the Venomous Vipers claimed what’s left of the west, and the Diablo Saints do their best to take what’s not theirs. It’s a hierarchy that’s lasted for over two decades and everyone knows that if they step across our borders, it’s probably the last step they’ll ever take.
That’s the kind of attitude you need to have when you ride on the outside of the law. I used to believe in the good of humanity. I once dreamed of that white picket fence and a life that wasn’t all about booze, male egos, and motorcycles. Then my dream for a happier life died when the man I loved was murdered in cold blood. His death hardened me. I went from being a kind, carefree spirit, to the mean bitch that runs the club’s bar. Everyone knows better than to mess with me because if they do, my family will step in. I can hold my own, but it’s nice to know that a bunch of burly men have my back when shit starts to get hairy. Being the younger sister of the club president does have its perks.
I do my best to stay out of club business, but occasionally, they bring their shit into my bar. I can’t even count how many times I’ve had to replace glasses and tables because some idiot decided to wander in here where they don’t belong. The rules are simple. I only serve club members, their friends, and the few sweetbutts who are lucky enough to drag their high heels and boots through my bar. I guess that’s why when he walked through the door it caught me totally off guard. Civilians don’t just waltz into The Devil’s Watering Hole—they know better.
Yet there he was, six feet of pure muscle and tattoos, strolling through the front door like he owned the place. He looked around, pausing for a few seconds when he saw me standing behind the bar, before moving over to a dark booth in the corner. He didn’t pick up a menu and he didn’t look around. He just sat in the corner, fingers clasped together, staring at his hands like he was saying a silent prayer.
“Are you fucking lost?” I yelled from behind the bar.
The man didn’t look up, nor did he acknowledge my question, which only pissed me off.
“Listen, asshole, this bar is only for the Devil’s Armada and their friends. You’re obviously not part of the Armada, and sure as shit ain’t one of our friends, so why don’t you get up and take your happy ass straight back out that door, before my family comes in here and scrapes you across the pavement.”
When he didn’t move from the booth, I started to panic. My brother warned me that things were starting to heat up between the club and our rivals, the Diablo Saints. He gave me a gun for my protection and I’ve never had to use it before, but for some reason this man was making me feel uneasy.
I grabbed the pistol from behind the counter and held it with shaking hands. At the moment, I was the only person in the bar other than him. The family was at Church having one of their secret meetings, and my bar-back had the day off. I was hesitant to approach him, even though he wasn’t wearing anything that showed an allegiance to a rival MC.
I walked over toward his booth and aimed the gun straight at his temple, ready to pull the trigger if he dared to move.