“I’m here to see Talia,” I told him, and he nodded, his face distinctly uncomfortable. Great, she must be up to something. Just what I needed to deal with tonight.

“She’s right inside.”

I opened the door to find the clubhouse maybe half full. Men wearing Nighthawks colors sat around talking, and girls flitted back and forth, fetching beer and giggling. Along one wall I spotted Cord and the other malcontents watching the rest with calculating eyes. A few women wearing leather vests sat with them—their old ladies. I’d been studying them closely and was convinced that Cord and his group wanted Marsh gone as much as the Reapers did. That added urgency to the situation, because sooner or later they’d stop watching and waiting. Then we’d have a civil war on our hands and that’d bring down trouble on all the clubs.

I looked around for Talia, spotting her toward the back of the room. Sitting on another man’s lap. Fuck. I knew him—Mike something-or-other, another hangaround. The thought struck me—another hangaround—because that’s all I could be right now. A fucking hangaround, after nineteen years with the Reapers. Going undercover sucked—I missed my club colors.

Talia glanced toward me and I saw her eyes harden. Great. I was supposed to be out here an hour ago, but I’d eaten dinner with Tinker instead. Now she was going to punish me. Deliberately turning her back on me, she swung a leg over Mike’s lap and straddled him, her mouth covering his. She obviously wanted a scene, and I’d have to give it to her or roll over and beg like a pussy.

Heh. Wouldn’t that serve her right.

Eyes followed me as I strolled across the room, resigned to playing my part. At least she’d picked a nobody. If I confronted one of the brothers, they’d kill me.

Little cunt.

If shit like this happened back home with a woman I was seeing, we’d have a problem but it wouldn’t last for long. No brother would pull that on me, and if another man was stupid enough to touch what was mine, I’d put him in the ground.

In Hallies Falls, things were more complicated.

These men weren’t my brothers, and they had no reason to back me up. If she’d chosen one of them, it’d all be over because it’d be me against the whole club. She obviously knew that, so she’d picked out a nobody, forcing my hand. If I told her to fuck off, I’d lose my connection to the club. Even worse, it might be seen as an insult to her brother. I’d watched him enough over the past few weeks to know he was erratic as fuck—what made him laugh one night would lead to him beating a man half to death the next. Sure sign he was using his own product. You take a man who starts out as a sociopath and start to give him meth, things get ugly fast. Now the little bitch would get her scene, which pissed me right off. Probably a good thing—it put me in a fighting mood.

That’d make what had to happen here a lot easier.

I moved across the room toward them, playing my part because Talia needed my jealousy to feed her ego. Marsh stepped out of the hallway in the back, presumably to enjoy the show. I caught his eye, then jerked my chin toward the couple making out. Marsh smirked, but he nodded his head and I knew I was in the clear to take care of business.

Catching Talia’s arm, I jerked her off the man’s lap. She fell to the floor as I caught him by the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

“You don’t touch what’s mine,” I growled. “Now get the fuck outside and we’ll finish it.”

He held up his hands.

“No need to fight over a gash.”

“That’s my sister you’re callin’ a gash,” Marsh said loudly, obviously enjoying himself. “You sayin’ she’s not worth fighting over?”

I could practically see the thoughts racing through Mike’s head as he finally realized just how fucked up the situation was. Man apparently wasn’t that bright.

“Get your stupid ass outside,” I told him again. “I don’t want to make a mess in the clubhouse. That’d be plain rude. You don’t want to be rude to the Nighthawk Raiders, do you?”

He blinked, and I realized the dumbass was drunk as fuck. Christ. Talia hadn’t taken any chances—Mike was a lamb to the slaughter.

“I’ll kick your ass,” he slurred, and we started for the door. Voices rose around us, a new energy in the air. Everyone loved a good fight.

Outside there was just a trace of light still in the sky, and the evening air was hotter than it had any right to be. I caught a whiff of smoke and wondered if they’d been stupid enough to start a bonfire or something. There was a burn ban across the whole region. Last summer there’d been huge wildfires and we’d gotten even less rain this year. Combine that with low snowpack and a couple lightning strikes up in the hills, and building a fire was a real, real bad idea. Hopefully even Marsh wasn’t that stupid.

Mike stumbled into the parking lot ahead of me as the bikers followed us. He must’ve been faking me out, because suddenly he turned and tried to sucker punch me. I managed to dodge it, which left him off-balance, opening the way for me to slam my fist into his kidneys. Fucker groaned but kept to his feet, which impressed me.

“Fight, you fucking pussy!” Talia shrieked behind us. Mike lunged and I danced back out of the way, feeling the anger rise. Anger at Talia, anger at Marsh. Hell, even at poor Mike for wasting my time. Some men loved to fight, but I’d never been one of them. Not that I was scared of anything—I’d stood up for my brothers time and again—but destroying a man with my fists was just another job.

Man? Hell. Mike hardly qualified, I decided, catching him in the stomach. Barely old enough to drink legal, and while he had strength and energy, I had experience on my side. Mike crashed to the ground, groaning, and I gave him a kick for good measure. Men shouted all around us, and I realized some of them were taking bets. Fuckwads.

Shooting a glance toward Talia, I caught her licking her lips, mesmerized by the violence. She loved this, having two men fight over her. Fed her ego, made her feel important. Christ, but I hated her.

The thought caught me off guard.

She’d pissed me off and disgusted me, but in that moment I realized it was true—I genuinely hated the bitch. Huh.

Mike lunged for my leg, catching me off-balance while I was distracted. Fucking moron, keep your mind in the game. He tackled me as I went down, the annoyance and frustration I’d felt blazing to new life. Fucker wanted a piece of me? I’d give him a goddamn piece.