TEMPERANCE

Book Four in The Defiance Series

The reluctant truce between the Defiance MC and Keller’s mafia is necessitated by shared hatred for the Lords of Vengeance—bloodthirsty thugs who pose a deadly threat to both Defiance’s survival and Keller’s people in the difficult post-apocalyptic world. For Rebel, this means more than just a secondary war—Declan, one of Keller’s main assassins, has moved to the Defiance compound.

The problem is, he and Declan have a history, one that Rebel broke off months earlier when the relationship threatened to become more than just covert sex. Rebel’s charged with keeping Declan close, and the proximity makes it impossible for him to deny his feelings. Rebel’s been hiding his sexual preferences from his MC, among other secrets he hold close.

But Rebel realizes that the LoV isn’t the biggest enemy Defiance faces when Declan goes after a mysterious group called the Nomads. Most think the Nomads are little more than a myth, but Declan—and Keller—know the truth. And when one of Declan’s jobs threatens to put Defiance—and Rebel—in direct danger, Declan also reveals secrets that Rebel isn’t prepared for. One that makes him question everything he once thought about the relationship…and forces him to make a choice between his heart and his head…something no one in Defiance is ready for.

TEMPERANCE

Defiance Book 4

SE Jakes

writing as Stephanie Tyler

Temperance

Copyright © 2015 Stephanie Tyler LLC

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Also by Stephanie Tyler

Mirror Series

Mirror Me

Rule of Thirds

Skulls Creek MC Series

Vipers Run

Vipers Rule

Section 8 Series

Surrender

Unbreakable

Fragmented

Defiance Series

Defiance

Redemption

Salvation

Temperance (forthcoming 2015)

Dire Wolves Series

Dire Warning (prequel novella)

Dire Needs

Dire Wants

Dire Desires

Shadow Force Series

Lie With Me

Promises In The Dark

In The Air Tonight

Night Moves

Lonely Is The Night

Hold Series

Hard To Hold

Too Hot To Hold

Hold On Tight

Holding On (novella)

Hot Nights, Dark Desires Anthology

Night Vision (novella)

Harlequin Blaze

Coming Undone

Risking It All

Beyond His Control

Writing as SE Jakes

Men of Honor Series

Bound By Honor

Bound By Law

Ties That Bind

Bound By Danger

Bound For Keeps

Bound To Break

Phoenix, Inc. Series

No Boundaries

Inked Series

Hold The Line

EE LTD. Universe

Free Falling

Hell or High Water Series

Catch A Ghost

Long Time Gone

Daylight Again

Not Fade Away

If I Ever (forthcoming)

Dirty Deeds Series

Dirty Deeds

Havoc MC Series

Running Wild

Bluewater Bay (multi-author series)

No Easy Way (novella) in the Lights, Camera, Action Anthology

Writing as Sydney Croft

ACRO Series

Riding The Storm

Unleashing The Storm

Seduced By The Storm

Taming The Fire

Tempting The Fire

Taken By Fire

Three The Hard Way (novella)

Hot Nights, Dark Desires Anthology

Shadow Play (novella)

Table of Contents

About the Book

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also by Stephanie Tyler

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Epilogue

More Books by Stephanie Tyler

About the Author

Prologue

Pre-Chaos world—seven years earlier

HE WASN’T PREPARED to die. He’d told himself he was, tried to prepare for it, because he was nothing if not practical. His lifestyle demanded it. His family necessitated it further.

But what a fuckin’ way to go, buried in a goddamned pine box in a pauper’s grave. He had a flashlight and a couple of air holes punched into the sides, but that only added to the torture. So he’d be able to breathe as he slowly died from dehydration. And probably panic, once the drugs wore off.

He’d tried to open the box, but the men who’d taken him had been kind enough to show him how far down he was going, the full six feet under. Even if he did escape the box, the dirt would suffocate him, maybe even before it crushed him.

The pouring rain didn’t help.

He shut the flashlight off and heard the absolute stillness around him. It was like wearing noise-canceling headphones that didn’t quite work all the way. Which meant he could hear, say, the siren of an ambulance in the distance, but his voice would give way if he tried to yell loud enough to be heard.

After all he’d been through over the past couple of weeks, this was by far the worst. He closed his eyes against the darkness, prepared to rail against it. His left palm itched relentlessly. It’d started before they’d grabbed him, and it might’ve been itching the entire time, but the pain he’d been enduring had pushed it to the back burner.

He blinked into the darkness when he swore he saw a white light. His flashlight was off—he even turned it on again and saw the light from it next to the other white light.

You’re hallucinating. You’re fucking dying.

He didn’t remember much after that. They’d later tell him that his hands were wrapped because he’d torn off his nails and infected the shit out of his fingers. “Because you never stopped trying to survive,” his father explained. The pain of his injuries, and the scars that remained when things healed, would be there forever.

Declan had been underground for just under twenty-four hours. It’d seemed like goddamned forever. He’d screamed and sobbed and prayed and that all blended.

He’d woken up for months afterward clawing at an invisible wooden ceiling inches from his face.

He didn’t remember much…but what he did was enough to create the biggest scar inside him, one he’d never told anyone about.

When he’d been underground, he’d heard a voice that was different from the men who’d taken him, a voice he’d recognized immediately…and one he never mentioned to anyone after his rescue.

It was at that moment that Declan’s circle of trust narrowed to a fine point that included only himself and his father.

Anyone else? Completely fucking disposable. And he’d promised himself he’d never forget it.

*

Six months later

REBEL WAS SEVENTEEN and living on the compound of the Defiance Motorcycle Club as a probie member when the sky opened up and rained motherfucking fire on his world. The water poured down in torrents and he was convinced the ground would soak so badly that the tubes would just dislodge from their underground moorings and float away, untethered, leaving him and Luna trapped.

She was his best friend, and he’d been preparing to go to her house when the storms hit initially, because she’d gotten into a huge fight with her parents. Because her father had threatened to hurt her…and the storms that would later be forever known as the Chaos had saved her life by collapsing the house.

She’d been on the first floor, backpack in hand, preparing to run. And when Rebel got to her, she was shaken but unhurt. He’d pulled her to safety and they’d made it into his tube where the realization began to sink in that the two of them, like so many others, had been made sudden orphans by the catastrophic events that hit the entire world beginning on that day.

He didn’t find out about his dad’s death until the storms cleared—not officially, but of course, he knew. His dad hadn’t made it down to the tubes, and the chances of him surviving aboveground for weeks were slim to none.

Rebel’s dad had been a senior member of the MC, had sat at the table with the president and other important members. That made Rebel a legacy, but making the jump to being a full-fledged member wouldn’t be an easy job. At least it wouldn’t have been if the Chaos storms hadn’t happened.

Once they did, Rebel and several other legacy guys his age were immediately patched in. But as he sat in the tube with Luna, he didn’t know that. He didn’t even know if there would be a Defiance MC after all of this.

“Nothing’s ever going to be the same, Reb,” Luna whispered next to him on the bed, where they’d remained huddled.

Even though their MC had been prepping for doomsday disasters for years, to have it actually happen was unbelievable. Terrifying. All the death that occurred because people couldn’t get to the tubes…

“Reb, you saved me,” Luna reminded him again, when she saw he was brooding again.

“You’re right. And you owe me, so pay up,” he managed, and she looked shocked for a second, and then laughed. Because he was smiling.

It was the first time either of them had laughed in a week’s time—a seven-day stretch that had simultaneously flown by and dragged like molasses. When a knock at the door of his tube came, he found Lance on the other side of it. Their then-leader had explained that they were to stay underground for several more weeks, at which time the men would assess the damage.

“Plenty of food. Tubes are solid. Generators too. We’re all going to be fine.” Lance must’ve repeated those lines a thousand times that day.

Lance was correct about all of it. Many had survived. They were okay, thanks to all the prep. But the world? That would never be the same. The sun was gone, only coming out every two weeks, thanks to some kind of secret government laser to cut through the volcanic ash and debris that covered the atmosphere. It took power, money, influence and cunning to stay alive, to get food and other necessities. It took balls to even drive half a mile down the now-pitted roadways. The government was in hiding. TV and internet and phone lines were gone, as was most natural gas and water production. It was literally every man for himself.

Add to that, the severe storms continued to come up at a moment’s notice. Literally, overnight, the world became the most dangerous, predatory place there was…and the Defiance MC was ready for all the violence and treachery. Rebel had grown up in its bosom, imbibed those qualities as he’d prepped to become a full member…but hell, he’d grown up fast that day.

There was no escaping now. Even though he’d thought about it sporadically, knowing he’d have to hide the fact that he liked to fuck boys instead of girls. For the rest of his time with the MC, he was now locked in.

He’d survived…and he’d continue to survive, no matter the cost to himself.

Chapter One

Seven years later

“YEAH, REB…DON’T STOP. Fuck, please don’t.” Declan’s words were a growl, a beg, a plea that made Rebel’s eyes light up, even as he teased Declan’s sweat-slicked body with his mouth, biting a path from pec to thigh, causing Declan to shudder each time Rebel sucked his skin into a raised red mark that blossomed like the beautiful pain it was.

A month of this, and Declan knew he’d never get enough. They’d started out thinking they were using each other.

They’d both been so goddamned wrong.

“Fuck!” he cried out as Rebel twisted his nipples hard.

“Focus on me,” Rebel said sternly, and Declan nodded, kept his eyes locked on Rebel’s as Rebel climbed onto him, spreading his legs.

This was the only place Declan was submissive—because in real life, Declan was one of Keller’s men. A hitman. A certifiably dangerous twenty-one-year-old man who’d been fucking Rebel on a regular basis for the past year. Then again, Rebel was pretty damned dangerous himself. There were multiple warrants out for his arrest, mainly for stealing cars pre-Chaos. He’d also been a rogue member of Defiance from the age of sixteen, because of his father, a much loved and longtime member who’d died during the Chaos.

Even though they’d only officially met a month earlier, they’d been circling each other for far longer at the underground gay clubs that had popped up since the Chaos. And now, Declan’s wrists were willingly—gladly—handcuffed to his bed as Rebel fucked him into the mattress. This was where—and how—they’d first connected, and it still worked best for them. Declan didn’t mind that. Rebel let his guard down in bed. Everything was possible when Rebel was inside him.

When they were done fucking…well, that’s when things got tricky. Because Declan began to think too much. Rebel too, until they got all twisted up in mafia/club shit. Because their extended families were enemies…maybe not of the Montague/Capulet extreme but Keller’s mafia and Defiance had been grudgingly trading goods for years, all while trying to undermine the other. The fact that Declan, a Keller assassin, and Rebel, a high-ranking MC member, were sleeping together could get both of them in deep shit, but for Rebel, it would also expose a lifelong secret. Because no one in his MC suspected he was gay, save for Luna and those who saw him in the clubs. Those were don’t ask, don’t tell, and that code was never broken.

Rebel was only here to make sure Luna was safe—she’d snuck into the Keller compound to follow the man she loved, sacrificing her safety purely for Bishop. Rebel would choose protecting himself—and Luna—over Declan. Declan would have to force himself to do the same.

Because no matter how comfortable Rebel was with Declan, and dammit, he was, it couldn’t stay secret. Shouldn’t.

Declan couldn’t imagine a lifetime of secrets. He had plenty of his own, but that wasn’t one of them. He didn’t advertise, but neither did he shy away. Simply put, his personal life was his, but many of Keller’s other assassins knew Declan was gay, and they didn’t give a shit.

But bikers? Whole different animal. And even though Keller wanted Rebel to stay on the compound and work for him—even though that’s what Declan wanted as well—Rebel would never agree to it. He was loyal to his MC, and Declan could never fault him for that. No, he admired the fact that Rebel was a legacy. He understood it.

It wouldn’t make things any easier though.

*

THE FIGHT STARTED out of nowhere. That’s what Rebel wanted to believe, anyway. Had shoved down the anxiety that’d been brewing, almost from the start of their relationship.

When Rebel first picked Declan up in the private, underground bar, he’d never thought it would become more than a simple trade: information for sex. A dance as old as time. And, in today’s post-Chaos world, the barter system was what they resorted to…sometimes it was the only thing they could use.

He’d done it for Luna, who’d made a giant sacrifice. Rebel had followed suit, but not for Declan. No matter how badly he wanted to—and Rebel did want to—being gay or bi in the MC world wasn’t talked about…or accepted, if the code of silence in those underground bars was to be understood. Even so, going there wasn’t without its dangers—there’d been several bombings inside those clubs over the past year, letting the men (and women) who frequented them know that their kind wasn’t appreciated.

Since the storms destroyed half the damned world and took away the sun, it was a fight for survival every minute of every single day. Anything that could be perceived as weakness had to go.

Love, Rebel knew, could make you weak. Coming out would put a target on his back, and he told Declan so.

Declan responded with, “Then stay here.”

“You make it sound so easy, Dec. It’s not.”

Declan shook his head as he dressed, putting on his usual outfit of black jeans and a fine, black cashmere sweater. If he pushed the sleeves up enough, Rebel could just barely catch a glimpse of the tattoos that covered him. There were none above his collar, on his hands or feet, but everywhere his clothing covered him? Yes, he was covered in bold patterns of ink, which was incongruous to his blond-haired, blue-eyed, almost patrician handsomeness.

“Reb, you’ve got to stop hiding. And I’m not saying this because I don’t want to hide with you.”

“You don’t want to hide because you never had to,” Rebel said. Declan could only shrug at the truth of that, because Keller’s compound was a den of inequity—nothing was off limits and more than that, nothing was looked down upon. Being gay wasn’t even considered subversive or odd—it wasn’t blinked at.

Rebel would never had considered coming out when Lance was alive, but he’d hidden for so long, exposing himself was terrifying, and considering he survived the Chaos, that was saying something.

It was also ridiculous.

He’d hoped Declan would cut him a break. But the fucker refused. Kept pushing. “I don’t get it. Bishop doesn’t care—”

“Bishop’s not Defiance.” When Rebel said that, Declan’s brows raised. “I don’t fucking mean it like that. Of course he’s Defiance, but he didn’t grow up in an MC. Neither did you. How many gay MC guys do you know?”

Declan thought about that, then began checking them off on his fingers.

Rebel held up a hand. “Stop. Don’t want to know.”

“No one since we started.”

Rebel’s stomach tightened. “What do you want from me?”

“I think the bigger question’s actually what do you want from me?”

“Dude, is that a trick question?”

Declan narrowed his eyes.

Shit.

“Go public with me,” Declan challenged.

“No.”

Declan shook his head slowly, but he didn’t look surprised. “I know secrets, Rebel. Live them. They save my goddamned life. But yours isn’t…it’s destroying you, slowly. Forcing you to live a lie is one thing the MC’s doing, or you’re doing it to yourself. But not dealing with your past? Fuck, I want to touch you, and not just physically. I want more, Reb. I fucking deserve it. We both do. Go get your shit together. Get in touch with me when you do. Maybe I’ll still be here. Maybe I won’t, but I realize it’s a risk we both have to take.”

Rebel didn’t say anything except, “Nothing’s going to change. It can’t.”

He didn’t turn around as he walked out the door, mainly because he didn’t want to see the pain—or worse, the indifference—that could possibly be etched in Declan’s expression.

Only when Rebel had driven a couple of miles away from Keller’s did he realize how perfectly Declan had played that. Forced his hand, because he’d know Rebel would never be able to go public.

“He was protecting himself,” Rebel muttered. And breaking me in the process.

He’d been so deep in thought, he hadn’t noticed several members of the Lords of Vengeance MC lying in wait ahead. Several more LoVs drove up behind him, circling his truck.

He knew that at best they’d just kill him on the spot. Hell, he considered doing the job himself for a brief second, because the other, more probable path the LoV would take with him would be torture.

He’d seen evidence of that firsthand.

For several tense moments, he remained safely inside his truck—they shot the tires out first thing.

He struggled on the slick roads, but between the large hail, the ice, he was skidding toward the bank of thick trees on the right…and at a damned high rate of speed.

He passed out on impact, mercifully so, as the LoV shot him at some point while he was unconscious. He was vaguely aware of Bishop hovering over him, and he wanted to warn Bishop that the LoV were around…hiding. But he couldn’t get the words out.

Everything was blurred from that point on. He only vaguely recalled being dragged roughly from his truck, but that was a small consolation when he did wake up in screaming pain in the trunk of an LoV car.

Although he refused to scream. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Hell, the only reason he’d come to was because they’d thrown Bishop in there, half on top of him, before they closed the trunk, covering them in total darkness.

Rebel was all too willing to let it wash over him once again.

*

DECLAN ESCAPED THE main area of Keller’s office, leaving Luna, Kammy and Zara behind so he could think for a fucking few uninterrupted seconds. He paced silently in the chamber where he knew Keller often did the same, worried about everything under the sun (when there was sun)…and now, Declan was facing the possibility that in a single evening, the three men he counted on the most were gone.

Rebel.

Bishop.

Keller.

Gone. MIA.

Could they all be wiped out? Could the powers that be actually be that fucking sadistic?

All he had to do was look around at the near-constant night sky to get his answer.

The storm started up in earnest about half an hour after Declan fought with Rebel. Bishop had gone into the blinding rain and wind in order to look for Rebel, and Declan stayed behind with Luna. Because Declan had responsibilities to Keller and to the compound that was his home. But the worse the storm got, the more the tube felt like that goddamned coffin, and Declan spent most of the storm trying to evade a goddamned panic attack.

When the storm had finally ended several hours before, he and Luna had walked from his tube to Keller’s offices…discovering the horror of the mass destruction all around them. It was more from the LoV’s massacre of innocent people who lived on the compound, rather than Mother Nature’s fury, and there were bodies strewn all over the compound under the blazing sun.

Of all the times for the sun to come out on its own, with no help from the government satellite…the images of the bodies tossed around like rag dolls was burned on his brain.

And he knew then that there was no way the LoV—even coupled with Fletcher’s mafia—was in on this alone.

Luna had, of course, asked, “Declan, who did this?”

Even before he’d get confirmation—and Declan knew that at some point he would—he had no doubt who’d masterminded this massacre.

And they’d been here, on Keller property. Close enough to reach out and touch Declan…again.

He’d rubbed the scar on his hip through his jeans as it started to tingle. The N cut into his skin was tattooed over, but it stung worse than the others. Especially at times like this—it was as if that was a direct connection to the men who’d carved it into his skin…the men who’d murdered Keller’s people.

Now, he looked into Luna’s eyes, and he lied. “It was the LoV and Fletcher.”

“I didn’t know they were capable of that,” she said softly. “I thought nothing could surprise me anymore.”

He’d sent Keller’s guards out to assess those who made it down to the tubes in time, checking for anyone who might’ve lived through the massacre…and disposing of the bodies before disease spread. Irony of ironies that the sun not only exposed the massacre, but made it necessary to bury—and possibly burn—the bodies quickly.

“Declan, Siobhan is here,” Kammy called through the door. She never barged in on Keller, and she offered Declan the same respect.

He strode over, opening the heavy door and ushering Siobhan in. “I won’t be long,” he promised Kammy, whose pretty face was drawn with worry over Keller.

When he shut the door, he was almost afraid to turn and look at Siobhan—he’d avoided meeting her eyes when she came in but now it would be inevitable.

Finally, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and faced her.

When she’d first come to live on the compound, she’d been a mere teenager—all of thirteen. Now, she was twenty, all grown up, with auburn hair and dark eyes that bore into his.

“He’s alive,” she told him immediately. “All three are.”

“You’re sure?” Declan asked, not wanting to say any of the names of the men he worried about, not Rebel or Bishop or Keller. But Siobhan would know. And the knowing had to be a burden, but right now he was too damned grateful to dwell on her pain.

“He’d come back here immediately.” She lowered her voice as she spoke of Keller, adding, “He built this,” for emphasis. “There are a lot of dead here, but he’s not one of them. Neither are the others you’re worried about. Especially the one you—” She stopped then, like she realized she was getting too intimate, too involved.

Hell, how much more involved could she be?

And Declan believed her, as he always did.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, Kammy calling through the closed door that a ransom demand had just come in via SAT phone.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Rebel, Bishop and Keller were riding in his truck on the way back from the LoV’s compound. All three were hurt, although Keller far less than the other two. Rebel and Bishop bore the brunt of it—Bishop, forced to box his way through the LoVs three at a time, and Rebel, with his injuries from the car crash, plus a bullet wound and contusions from being beaten and dragged.

Declan’s heart had nearly seized at seeing Rebel like that. It took everything he had not to go to him immediately, to help him.

But Mathias and Luna were there. Instead, Declan helped Keller, who clapped a hand on his shoulder, and grabbed for him with the other, like he was about to fall and needed bracing…and at that point, he slid a folded square of paper into Declan’s hand that Declan would later open, then burn, watching the letter N slowly crumple in the fire.

*

ONCE THEY WERE all settled back in Keller’s office, assessing the damage, dealing with Defiance and their anger, Declan found himself agreeing to live at what was to be the new Defiance compound. Caspar promised the MC would speed up the move, bringing the time down to approximately three months as opposed to the originally proposed six.

He’d thought Rebel had been passed out when Declan was being discussed like a commodity to be traded from compound to compound, a bargaining chip so neither side could hurt the other without the threat of their own being harmed.

He’d been wrong, because later, after he helped Luna get both Bishop and Rebel over to their tube, he settled Rebel in—Keller had a bed moved into the living area for Rebel. Luna shut the door to the bedroom after a long glance at Declan, knowing he and Rebel had things to discuss.

He wasn’t sure if he was grateful or pissed at that. But now definitely wasn’t the time—not after they’d be forced together soon enough.

Beyond that, nothing had changed. Nothing—and everything. Declan knew Rebel wasn’t ready to deal with any of it—he hated it, even as he accepted it time after time. Because there wasn’t anything he could do to change it.

Until he’d forced Rebel to make his decision and leave.

“I want more, Reb. I fucking deserve it. We both do. Go get your shit together. Get in touch with me when you do. Maybe I’ll still be here. Maybe I won’t, but I realize it’s a risk we both have to take.”

Now, the consequence of Declan’s actions was right in front of him, bloodied and bruised, and he’d carry this guilt for a hell of a long time.

As he went to remove Rebel’s heavy boots, easing them off carefully, Rebel glanced at him. “This can’t work.”

He wasn’t talking about boots—that much, Declan knew. But he had no idea if Rebel meant the truce between Defiance and Keller’s. Wanted to think he did, but fuck, he was still so raw from the fight…the break-up.

From falling the fuck in love.

“Not gonna work,” Rebel repeated, his tone stubborn.

“You staying here tonight?” Declan asked innocently.

“You. Me. Defiance.”

When Declan had agreed earlier to go to Defiance, Rebel had been there, albeit in a narcotic haze. Obviously, not enough of one. “It’s done.”

“Shouldn’t be. We don’t mix.”

“We could, Reb.”

“You pushed me away,” Rebel pointed out.

“Just shut up and heal, okay? Christ—you don’t have the goddamned sense to pull over in a storm?”

Rebel gazed at him. “The LoV ran me off the road, fucker.” He didn’t add, “After you pushed me away,” but they were both thinking it.

“We broke up,” Declan told him irritably.

“You said we were never really together.”

Declan didn’t remind him that he’d added that they weren’t really together if Rebel hadn’t been able to acknowledge it to himself. “You need more pain meds?”

“Fuck no.” Rebel tried to sit up and pain tore visibly through his body.

“Dammit, Reb. Don’t always have to be strong,” Declan admonished.

“Right. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Asshole,” Declan muttered, pressing the pain pills into Rebel’s mouth, forcing him to drink some water to chase them down.

“Same to you,” Rebel shot back after he’d swallowed. “Fucking horse pills—disorient the fuck out of me. Didn’t want them.”

“But you needed them—that’s more important than what you want.”

Rebel gazed up at him, silent acknowledgement that they weren’t really talking about the pills. They continued the silent staring contest, Declan’s hands fisted at his side…until the narcotics finally did their job, leaving Rebel sleeping—if not exactly peacefully, at least his face wasn’t drawn tight from pain.

Hesitantly, Declan reached out, his first touch a light, tentative one to brush along Rebel’s cheek. When Rebel didn’t move, or flinch or grasp Declan’s wrist, he got bolder, the way he’d never been able to. Not for longer than a few seconds before Rebel was holding him down.

As much as Declan liked—loved—that, he wanted the intimacy of touching Rebel whenever he felt like it.

And you had to wait till he’s passed out in pain to do it, he chided himself as he stroked a hand along Rebel’s thick, dark hair, traced a strong shoulder, the rose tattoo…then moved back up to run his knuckles lightly over the bruises, evidence of the beating he’d taken, the accident. The things Declan could’ve prevented, at least this time, if he hadn’t forced Rebel to do the inevitable.

Any guilt about touching Rebel when he was passed out was quickly usurped by the guilt of that. And so he continued to stroke Rebel, because fuck it, he’d take it any way he could get it.

Chapter Two

THREE MONTHS AFTER falling asleep staring at Declan, Rebel was sitting in the Defiance clubhouse when Caspar announced, “Table meeting in an hour.” As the president of the Defiance MC, he could call meetings anytime he wanted to. Rebel knew why he was calling this one now, wasn’t surprised when Caspar added, “Declan’s coming in tonight.”

Like Rebel needed reminding. Like he hadn’t thought about Declan most of the goddamned time he’d been separated from him, like he didn’t dream about the guy…

All he could do was say, “Right,” and nod numbly, like it wasn’t the biggest fucking deal in the world, like his entire body hadn’t jumped when he heard Declan’s name. “Is he coming with a Keller escort?”

“Keller says he’s coming alone,” Caspar told him, sneering at the mention of the man who was the head of a mafia, in charge of the food and emergency supplies for Defiance. Currently, Keller and Defiance had remained in an uneasy truce, with enough suspicion on either end to necessitate having a man from each compound stay at the other’s.

Rebel had hoped Keller and Caspar would change their minds about that, but neither leader had. So Keller still had Bishop, and Defiance was getting Declan. It’d taken a few months for Defiance’s new compound to be completely ready for the MC’s actual move, as well as getting it up to Keller’s standards. He wanted security in place before he allowed Declan to move there—and Caspar couldn’t argue, since Bishop and Luna were in a secured location…save for the LoV massacre.

But that was a touchy-enough subject without Caspar poking at the wound, and Rebel thought it wise that the MC’s president left it alone.

“Should be an interesting meeting,” Rebel mused.

“Yeah. Had to agree to let Declan sit in on church. Not tonight’s, though.” Caspar gave a grim smile, the scar that bisected his cheek forming an odd angle.

Church was the most protected of all the MC’s meetings. “You did the right thing, Caspar.” The only thing. Survival post-Chaos wasn’t easy for anyone, but Defiance had survived and thrived over the last years. The underground tubing system they’d created was in high demand, and Keller promised to help them with distribution.

In return, Keller would stop fucking threatening to exterminate Defiance. Thus, the uneasy part of the ‘uneasy truce.’

“I know,” was Caspar’s answer. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Right,” he managed, even though careful hadn’t been a part of his vocabulary for the past year.

“We’ll get through it, Reb.” With a slap on his shoulder, Caspar left him sitting outside the clubhouse, soaking up the last of the government-created sunlight. For a while post-Chaos, that had been the only sunlight available, but lately, the sun was breaking through the layers of volcanic ash and debris that’d clogged the atmosphere after the most severe series of storms they’d ever seen rocked the earth.

Rebel didn’t care where he got his sunlight from—like the rest of the compound, he’d stripped down to practically nothing, letting his body enjoy the heat and warmth of the sun.

It’d been hard for him to feel much of anything since he’d last seen Declan. It was all rolled up together in a big ball of guilt on Declan’s end, Rebel knew. And during his recovery, Declan had been there with him and for him, but not “with” him or “for” him. Both of them had fucked it up.

Except it was a little higher on the fucked up side in Rebel’s column. Because there were only three people who knew Rebel was gay, and two of them were staying at Keller’s compound—Bishop and Rebel’s best friend, Luna—and, of course, Declan.

He didn’t remember much about that last night with Declan at Keller’s, because he’d been drugged up, in the main part of Keller’s suite with a dozen other people, including Caspar. Still, Declan had hovered. Rebel didn’t think anyone really noticed, because the man moved like a ghost…and as much as Rebel wanted to remind him that they were broken up, he didn’t.

Couldn’t.

Maybe, he reasoned, it would’ve been easier if Declan wasn’t going to be living on the new Defiance compound with him. Well, not with him, but fuck, close enough, and now that Luna and Bishop were solidly together, Rebel was definitely under pressure.

Normally, he’d head over to Kat’s house, hook up with random women who worked and lived there to cover, but with Declan right here, that wasn’t going to fly.

Rebel hadn’t seen or spoken with Declan. Through phone calls with Bishop and Luna—God, he missed his best friend, but he was glad she was happy—he’d learned that Declan was all right, that he was resigned to coming to the new Defiance compound once they’d settled in. That had taken a little longer than expected, but it was no easy feat moving an entire MC compound and underground tubing process in secret.

But they’d managed it. Now, there were two Defiance compounds, both of them functioning, but the original compound did not house any of the tubing work any longer. It was simply a functioning compound for families who didn’t want to make the trip. Caspar left one of the senior members in charge, and enough younger members to help.

It never hurt to have another safe place on the road. If nothing else, Rebel did know he was ultimately safe with Declan. Whether or not the rest of Defiance believed it remained to be seen.

*

REBEL HAD BEEN right to dread this table meeting. No Defiance members were exactly thrilled about getting into bed with Keller, even though the MC understood that banding together with the head of an Irish mafia clan to eliminate the newest threats was the smart thing to do.

Those people who merely understood hadn’t been at Keller’s compound the morning after the massacre that their rival MC—the LoVs—had carried out. They hadn’t seen the horror of bodies strewn everywhere in the sunlight. And then hadn’t endured hours of painful torture at the hands of the LoV, the way Rebel had that same night of the massacre.

Most of the men at the table—there were ten of them altogether, including Caspar and Rebel—were treading lightly, because they knew what Rebel had been through, what he’d seen…and they knew he was firmly on Caspar’s side.

Well, most of them were treading lightly. “So this Declan guy—a Keller assassin—is going to sit at this table.” Goose repeated what Caspar had told them. “And what fuckin’ genius agreed to that shit?”

Goose was an old-timer. He’d been good friends with Rebel’s dad, and with Lance too, who’d been the president both before and immediately following the Chaos…until a year and a half ago, when Caspar killed him and took over the helm. With so many of the older gen gone, and the ones left firmly on Lance’s side, Caspar still made sure to listen to them, respect their opinions, even if they disagreed.

Even if they were the biggest assholes on the planet.

“Not happy with this shit either,” Caspar reiterated. “Not on any goddamned level. But Bishop trusts Declan—with his fucking life. So that’s good enough for me.”

“Bishop ain’t Defiance,” Goose pointed out.

“There were circumstances,” Caspar reminded him. “Guy’s gone over and above for Defiance.”

“And in doing so, he got into bed with Keller.” That was Jeb. When Caspar glared at him, asking, “You got proof?” all Jeb did was hold up his hands and say, “Just a theory, boss. Have to admit it’s not that farfetched.”

“Not admitting shit,” Caspar spat.

Rebel couldn’t help but jump in then. “So what, Luna’s in on it too? She’s a legacy.”

“She’s a woman.” Goose pointed out the obvious.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I know the outside world looks like the dark ages, but I figured our thinking had gotten better. At least more enlightened. Luna’s a legacy. Tru’s one too. Luna would never betray Defiance. Bishop wouldn’t either—and his brother’s now Defiance,” Rebel said, then glanced at Caspar, who nodded.

“Luna left for cock,” Goose said easily. “Women can’t be trusted.”

Rebel stood, but Caspar put his hand out, motioned for Rebel to stand down.

Mathias, who was at the table now, sat with his fists balled, his body tight, like he was ready to leap across the table. He’d told Rebel earlier that he’d been a hell of a lot happier before he’d gotten a spot at the table. But he was here for outside perspective. And because he had a direct ear to Bishop.

“I’m tellin’ you all—blood will be spilled before this is over,” Goose warned.

Caspar gave an icy grin. “Change always comes with spilled blood. I’ve been here a long time. Paid my dues in blood, many times over. I knew the old rules and I made some new ones. The whole fucking world changed. We’ll be dead if we don’t. We deserve everything we get if we don’t adapt.”

“Adapting is different than accepting what you want us to,” Goose told him.

“What’s that, Goose?” Rebel asked, his voice a deadly combination of anger and calm that vibrated through him. He was well aware that speaking now was like balancing on the tip of the knife’s blade. There was no way to escape unscathed.

For once, he welcomed the pain.

“You want to get into it, we will,” Goose threatened.

But Caspar was across the table, his hand cupped around Goose’s throat in seconds. “It’s not your call, brother.” Goose put his hands in the air and Caspar released his grip. Then their leader straightened and looked Rebel in the eye. “It’s done. We’re here. We need Keller and he needs us. That’s balance,” Caspar said firmly. “We take down Fletcher, we’re set. And we’re close enough to Keller to shut down any crap.”

“What if…”

Caspar turned to Hammer, even as he stopped talking. “Speak freely.”

Hammer frowned. “We know Keller’s working with the government on the exterminations. I’m assuming that’s still happening.”

“And Keller won’t give it up, according to Keller himself, Bishop and Declan,” Rebel agreed.

“So people could think we’re involved,” Hammer continued.

“They could,” Caspar said slowly. “What are you really worried about?”

“Suppose Keller finds a way to force our involvement?”

Caspar spoke, swiftly and fiercely, like the decisive leader he was. “We will never be involved. I’d kill him and take on the government myself. Table vote on that, right now.”

It was unanimous. Recorded in the club rules.

“I know Keller’s ideas of morality are different from ours,” Caspar went on. “But we can’t lose ourselves.”

“It’s a palace of sin,” Goose grumbled. “Orgies, men fucking men…”

Rebel kept his head down, recording the notes for Caspar, as he’d taken to doing before he’d moved away to start construction on this compound. He hadn’t been able to make it for every meeting, and it felt good to be back doing this part of his job. Until Goose’s threatening words gave voice to his worst fears.

But hell, it proved he wasn’t completely paranoid.

“Declan can’t stay alone. He needs someone to tail him, 24/7,” Goose said.

Caspar turned to Rebel. “You spent some time with him when you visited Luna, right?”

“Little bit.”

“And?”

“Seems like a solid guy. Kept Bishop safe. Helped find me, got me medical care,” Rebel told all of them.

“So he knows you. Likes you. And he’d have his guard down,” Caspar mused. “You’d be a good one to make sure he’s the honest man he presents himself as.”

“So I’m in charge of Declan?” Rebel asked, trying to keep his tone neutral with the hint of annoyance.

“Yep.”

Fuck. Rebel nodded slowly. “I’ll deal.”

“Not seeing much of a choice.”

Chapter Three

“I HAVE NO problems eliminating an MC,” Declan reassured Keller while staring into the darkness outside the gates from the safety of his truck. “They’re first on my list. And yes. I plan to wait for the perfect opportunity. They won’t be a bother much longer.

On the other end of the line, Keller said, “I can always count on you to do the right thing.”

“You know it.” Declan looked up as the gates of Defiance began to open for him. “Headed inside. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Times are changing, for all of us.” Keller sighed. “If you’re not sure—”

“I’m sure,” Declan said firmly as he watched the Defiance guards check his car thoroughly for explosives before motioning for him to get out. He had a feeling he could live here for ten years and they’d still search him every single time. “Gotta go,” he told Keller, then slid out of the truck.

“He’s with me,” Rebel called out as he walked through the opened gates toward Declan.

One of the guards turned to Rebel. “You know it’s policy, Reb.”

“Maybe this first time, but after that, he’s treated like one of us,” Rebel told him.

“We’ll see about that,” the guard muttered as he turned to Declan and began a rough search, hands everywhere, under Declan’s clothes, obviously trying to make him uncomfortable.

“Having fun?” Declan murmured when the guy stuck his hand around the waistband of his jeans.

The guard froze, blushed like he’d been caught and finished up quickly. Declan had never seen him over at the bars set aside for gay men, but he was also young. And he had no idea Declan was gay. Most didn’t, until they caught sight of him at those bars, and lately, the only reason he’d visit was to meet Rebel.

Now, he didn’t have to go farther than the next bed. It was odd, what he’d wished for three months ago, until Declan had pushed Rebel to break things off.

Declan hadn’t been able to shake the guilt of either incident, but this was the agreement that Keller and Caspar, Defiance’s president, had come up with when they devised a plan to band together against the newest mafia in town. Ralph Fletcher was someone Keller had been keeping an eye on for years, but until he threatened to invade Keller’s territory—and Defiance’s—Keller had allowed him to do what he wanted.

The new Defiance compound was only ten miles from Keller’s, but in the post-Chaos world, it might as well have been one hundred miles. Although the sun was peeking through more and more often, apart from the lasers the government sanctioned to keep vegetation growing and the atmosphere from freezing out the survivors like the way of the dinosaurs, it was still a dark and dangerous place to travel.

The roads were scarred—potholed and broken. Flooded in lots of places, since storms cropped up far more easily now than ever. There was a lawlessness that many felt would never be overcome. There simply weren’t enough police and military to go around and keep the peace. In their place, MCs and gangs and mafias had taken over, their lifestyles perfect for this kind of world.

Rebel climbed into the passenger’s seat of Declan’s truck, ostensibly to guide Declan to where he’d be staying. Declan felt as welcomed as a rattlesnake—and that included Rebel at this point—but he’d agreed to this assignment, after being handpicked by Caspar. Mainly because Declan and Bishop had worked together so well…they’d had each other’s backs. Declan had proven his worth to Defiance, and Bishop to Keller’s. The rest of the relationships were up in the air.

The tension inside the truck was high. Rebel was basically just pointing, growling “left here” or “just keep going” in his best giving orders voice.

Declan shifted in his seat, because of course that got him hard.

Rebel knew that. Maybe he was ignoring it, maybe he didn’t care, or maybe, just maybe, he was doing it on purpose.

Finally, Declan pulled into the parking garage next to Rebel’s truck—and Rebel’s bike. This was reinforced, but there was a doorway that opened, where the vehicles could be driven underground in case of more serious storms. He recalled Rebel telling him that there would have to be drills on this for efficiency, since having the cars parked underground all the time wasn’t helpful in case they needed to escape.

So fucking much to think about.

He followed Rebel through the aboveground structure that was nothing more than a place to come up to get some air during a storm. From there, they went down into Rebel’s house, down the ladder, while Declan told himself to just fucking breathe…

God, he hated this underground shit, he thought as he forced himself to look around Rebel’s two-bedroom tube. One bedroom was to the left, the other, the right, rather than the typical railroad style.

“They’re mixing it up,” Rebel said with a shrug when Declan commented out loud on it. “Some of the women were bitching about the railroad thing. Everyone’s a critic after a while.”

“Underground living’s not easy.” It was like talking to a stranger.

“I designed it.”

“You?”

Rebel bristled. “Yeah, why? Bikers can’t be smart?”

“Sweetheart, I always knew you were.”

“Did you seriously just call me sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Declan said. “Suits you.”

“Fuck you.”

Declan raised a brow…and didn’t say a word. Instead, he glanced into the bedroom on the left side—it looked unlived-in. “Guess that’s where I’m staying.”

“You think so?” Rebel asked with just the right amount of edge in his voice.

“Yes,” Declan said definitively. “If for nothing else other than appearances.”

“Sure of yourself,” Rebel muttered.

Declan snorted and went to put his bag in the empty room. He found a safe in the floor where he could store his weapons and make his own combination of numbers to secure the whole thing. He went through his weapons bag on the bed, unrolling the various sniper rifles, pistols and knives.

He could feel Rebel behind him, watching, but didn’t let that change his precise method. He would still be carrying out jobs for Keller from here—and working alone if he couldn’t work with Bishop or his crew from Keller’s.

He didn’t want it to be Rebel. Rebel was far from innocent, but hell, being an assassin was a far cry from Rebel’s normal, pre-Chaos world. He was a biker, through and through, born into an MC family. He was a legacy, used to violence…but there was a huge difference in the type of violence Declan was responsible for.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Rebel said now. “I can always tell. Your shoulders set, like you’re suddenly at attention.”

At attention to his memories…a good way to think of it. He glanced over his shoulder, “You’re just looking at my ass.”

“You’re right,” Rebel admitted, coming up behind him, standing close enough for Declan to feel the heat from his body. Declan ached for his touch but was grateful that Rebel decided not to. “You almost done putting away your weapons of mass doom and destruction?”

“Almost. Thankfully, doom and destruction require a lot less weaponry these days.” He turned to Rebel. “What now?”

“Table meeting tomorrow afternoon. Until then, you’re supposed to stick with me. I’m officially in charge of you.”

Declan scoffed and pulled away from Rebel, not ready to be this close to him…not ready to make up with him either. “You going to be in charge of me? Keep me in line?”

Rebel’s voice was husky when he spoke next. “I didn’t ask for the job. Maybe it’s a sign.”

“Some people think the Chaos was a sign,” Declan pointed out. “I’ll request another room.”

“No,” Rebel said too quickly. “I told Caspar I’d do this. He’ll want to know what’s up if you’re out of here this fast.”

Declan smiled. “If that’s the reasoning that gets you through the night. Keeps your conscience clear.”

“Fuck you, Declan.”

Yes, this is going really well. “How’s this going to work?” Declan asked tightly.

“We’ll make it work.”

Declan gave a short laugh. “Just like that? As long as I let you in on every detail of what I do for Keller and let you tail me 24/7.”

“Doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“Rebel, we’re over.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

Declan knew that as well as he knew anything, but he still forced himself to protest. “Are you kidding me? You freaked out when you thought Keller people knew, and they have regular orgies there. And now we’re in the thick of it and you want to start fucking again.”

“Yes,” Rebel said simply.

Declan felt the anger and disbelief tear through him…the familiar longing too. “Let’s keep it professional,” he said before turning back to his unpacking.

*

THE HEAT WAS stifling.

His body was battered and bruised—his throat swollen from fighting back screams he refused to give voice to, his skin hot and tight, almost numb to the abuse it was taking. He cycled through hearing his tormentors’ voices, egging each other on, each wanting to be the first one to make him cry out.

They didn’t…not until they’d locked him inside the box and lowered him into the ground…

“Declan…Dec, wake up, man.”

He shifted violently, trying to make room in a space where there was none. He was tethered to it by the size, the drugs…

“Jesus Christ, watch it, man. Come on, Dec—you’re okay. Wake the fuck up before you strangle yourself. Or me.”

That did it—Rebel’s voice, cursing at him while he was having the shittiest dream ever, brought Declan to the surface of the muddy pond. He gripped the edge of the bank and tried not to slide back in as he veered in between that place of fully asleep and fully awake.

It took him what seemed like hours to finally blink and note that while he was, as usual, half wrapped in the goddamned sheets so tightly he couldn’t move, and inside a goddamned tube structure…it wasn’t his.

And he wasn’t alone.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He shook off the last of the sleep, unraveled the covers and looked at Rebel, lying next to him.

“I live here,” Rebel said cautiously. “What the hell were you doing in your dream?”

Declan ignored his question, demanded instead, “When did you come in here?” with more force than was probably necessary.

It didn’t, however, have any effect on Rebel, which was fucking annoying at the moment. “Right after you fell asleep. Glad I did.” Rebel was up now, leaving the room and returning with a washcloth soaked in warm water to wipe the now-cold sweat from Declan’s face and neck and chest that was making him start to shiver.

“Fuck me,” Declan muttered when he realized he’d had a nightmare. It was most definitely not the first of its kind, and it wouldn’t be the last. But he’d never had one in front of Rebel.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Rebel asked, his voice set to the quiet smooth mode that always made Declan give in.

Except tonight. “Want to go back to your own bed?”

“No,” Rebel said simply. Then he pushed a hand through Declan’s sweat-soaked hair, brushing it almost tenderly away from his face. For such a big guy, he always had a touch like that. “Want to shower?”

“No.”

“Want me to shower you?”

Yes. “No,” Declan repeated stubbornly.

Rebel muttered something that Declan didn’t catch, and he left the room again, coming back with more wet cloths and some dry ones. This time, he shoved himself behind Declan, wiping down his back and neck, streaming water over his hair and then toweling it dry.

He’d also gotten a dry pillowcase, which he changed out for Declan—like he was five or something—and put another sheet in between his body and the sweat-soaked one. Finally, he pushed Declan down onto the pillow and covered him back up, and nodded in that satisfied way he always did.

At least when Declan had spent time with him. Which he’d convinced himself wasn’t enough to have these kinds of feelings for anyone, let alone a Defiance member.

But he managed a grudging, “Thanks,” before letting his body relax. Sleep wouldn’t be in the cards, but with any luck, though, Rebel would drift back off. Guy always slept like a rock.

Except for tonight.

Declan just tried to breathe and forget he was still underground. The enclosed space inside his dream—when he’d been kept in a box—had been stifling. He hadn’t been claustrophobic before that, but now he would have some degree of it forever.

Lots of people were uneasy with the tubing systems the Defiance MC’s founding members had invented and sold to other like-minded MCs, mafias and businesses. If people didn’t have trouble with small spaces to begin with, then the Chaos made them scared of everything.

But they eventually pushed through it. Lots of them took drugs, especially pot, and no one at Keller’s really noticed much when Declan had issues with heading underground during the storms. It was nothing out of the ordinary, they must’ve figured, and Declan wanted to keep it that way.

The ultimate irony was that Keller had bought the tubing systems from Defiance years before the Chaos hit. It was a tie between Keller and Defiance—and ultimately, between Declan and Rebel—that he couldn’t ignore.

The tubing he hated so much not only saved his life, but it had brought Rebel into it.

And then he’d let Rebel go and continue to keep his sexual preferences secret, like being gay was something to be fucking ashamed of when people were scraping to merely survive. And now he was in bed with the guy.

Serious fucking irony. Couldn’t make this shit up.

“Been a long, rough day, right?” Rebel asked.

“Just the usual road trip.”

It was Rebel’s turn to shift in the bed, so he was practically lying glued to Declan’s side. Again, his hands brushed through Declan’s hair as he said quietly, “You know why you’re here.”

“Because this is war,” Declan said, his tone equally quiet. He’d known it from the second the LoVs moved themselves into Keller’s compound and proceeded to shit all over it. Keller should’ve never allowed it. The MCs always overreached. But Keller knew they needed the protection of an MC, and until this past year, having Defiance slip into that position hadn’t been an option.

But the world worked in strange ways, and to Keller, at this point, Defiance seemed the best of the worst. But Declan was wearily beyond trusting anyone.

Except for the man who’d shared his bed for months before any of this. None of the Defiance crew—barring Bishop and Luna, who were staying at Keller’s—had any idea, and he and Rebel had agreed on that from the start. Mostly for Rebel’s sake, since he was insistent on staying in the closet. And now that Declan was going to be living on the Defiance MC compound, that would keep them both honest.

It could also fuck everything up. “I’m here because Keller deemed I’m the best person for the trade,” Declan added.

“Because you’re the best at what you do.”

“Damned fucking right, Rebel. I didn’t think you had a problem with it.”

“I don’t, dammit.”

“But you have a problem with Keller.”

“I’ve never lied about that. His morals—”

Declan laughed, a straight-up belly laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Come on, man. There’s still right and wrong.”

Declan stared up at the tube’s ceiling. “True. But it’s all about personal choices.”

“Is that what Keller says?”

“It’s what he believes,” Declan corrected.

Rebel side-eyed him. “Exactly how close are you two?”

Declan felt the familiar rush of nerves shoot through him, but he forced himself to relax. “He trusts me with his life.”

“So do I,” Rebel commented.

“Guess I’m just a trustworthy kind of guy…once I decide to let you in.”

Rebel gazed at him seriously. “You did. You are. I know that, Dec.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s just hard to reconcile—you with Keller.”

“I’m an assassin for hire. If the world were different, I might be in the CIA. Or maybe I’d still be working for a Keller type. But I have my own line I don’t cross. I know what I’m willing to do. Besides, I thought Bishop already told you that working for Keller wasn’t terrible.”

“He said working with you wasn’t. Plus, having Luna there was a big help too. Guess having someone you love always makes it better.”

Declan wanted to shoot back, “I wouldn’t know,” or “Maybe for some people,” but all he could manage was a resigned, “Yeah,” although he refused to look at Rebel’s face when he said it.

“I’m staying here, in this bed with you, Declan, until you agree to come over to mine,” Rebel told him.

“Your mixed messages are killing me. You know the one where you break up with me and leave Keller’s, only to almost die and leave me drowning in goddamned guilt for months while you recover. And never call or give me a message through Mathias and Bishop.”

“I wanted to,” Rebel said suddenly, the words seeming to echo through the tubing. “Can that be enough for tonight?”

“Not if it doesn’t get you out of this bed.”

*

“WHAT THE FUCK do you dream about, Declan?” Rebel whispered into the darkness as Declan dozed next to him. The guy had tossed and turned for most of the night before he’d started talking—yelling—in his sleep. Rebel had witnessed Declan attempting to free himself from an imaginary prison above him and he’d gone cold. What the hell had Declan been through?

Rebel’d known it was something terrible from the massive amount of tattoos covering Declan’s body, the ink layered over deep scars that Rebel used to run his fingers over when they fucked.

That hadn’t bothered Declan, although neither man had discussed them. Or anything, really, because it was easy to keep things casual, to tell himself that was the only way they could be.

Rebel hadn’t left the bed, as Declan requested, because both beds in this tube were his, as he pointed out.

Declan had told him to go fuck himself. Rebel had assured him that he’d been doing that for three months.

If this was how the next three months were going to go…well, fuck, Rebel wasn’t going to hold out another three hours without touching the man next to him.

He’d always been a shitty sleeper anyway, and he’d lain as still as possible—and wide awake—next to Dec until morning. When he was younger, his body had gotten used to getting up in the pitch darkness of six in the morning, just before the sun rose. That’s when he’d make morning runs with his dad on the back of his bike. It’d been something of a routine, a habit he’d taken to continuing post-Chaos, although he’d been unable to do it these past months.

Now, he scraped his fingertips over the scar of the bullet wound on his chest. It still ached on days when it rained, and although his ribs had finally healed, they could also predict the weather with surprising accuracy. The rest of the assault had left him with contusions and scars that’d healed well on the surface…but they’d always remind him of Declan.

Hell, if they weren’t there, he’d be thinking about Declan anyway. His entire body ached to touch Declan’s. He hadn’t known it was possible to ache from missing someone so badly.

He turned on the water heater and climbed into the shower. The water never got as hot as he liked, but it was warmer than most times of the day, and he let it course over his body.

He’d been hard most of the night. Most of the month, week, hours leading up to Declan coming here. This sharing-the-bed thing would be the death of him.

He gripped his dick, stroking it, picturing Declan…feeling his eyes on him. After a few minutes, he realized that Declan’s gaze was really focused on him—out of the corner of his eye, he could see Declan standing in the doorway of the bathroom, although the guy would be too stubborn to make the first move. Rebel could turn to face him, order him in, make it easy on Declan, make it so Declan wouldn’t have to make the decisions.

But it was too soon. Instead, he concentrated on stroking himself until he came, shot into the shower floor as he gripped the tile and wished he knew the right thing to do.

Chapter Four

Kev

KEV WAS STRETCHED out on an old lawn chair behind the main clubhouse, his friend Carter next to him in his own chair, and both men trying not to groan because they were still hung over from Kev’s eighteenth birthday party three days earlier. It’d been the first official celebration held on the new Defiance compound, and the MC certainly proved its rep as work hard, play hard. Kev didn’t remember a time when his life didn’t revolve around the Defiance MC. He and his brother were legacies, with Hammer taking more of a leading role post-Chaos.

Didn’t matter how old he got though—he’d always be Hammer’s little brother, even though only four years separated them. Which, of course, fucked with Kev’s life more than it would’ve otherwise. Because Hammer was the most overprotective son of a bitch on the face of the earth. Kev couldn’t blame him, but hell, Kev was done dealing with it.

Kev’s best friend until that point had been Hammer. He’d learned to confide in Hammer’s fiancée Aimee too, maybe more now than ever since she’d been hurt. Because she was actually less freaked out about Kev taking his place within Defiance than Hammer was.

But lately, Kev’d been confiding more and more in Carter. Carter’d been a probie at the time of the Chaos. He’d had no family ties to Defiance, and Kev knew he’d been on his own a good portion of his life. Growing up in the MC, especially with Lance at the helm, hadn’t been a goddamned picnic, but he’d had a roof over his head and he’d known where his next meal was coming from.

Carter was taller than Kev now, closer to Hammer’s size than Kev was. And he’d always had Kev’s back. The two’d been discussing the run between Defiance and Keller’s that Caspar had been talking about since before the move—it was a job they both wanted.

Hammer expected Kev to be an enforcer, like he was. Kev wanted to forge his own path, and he’d seen the opportunity arise months ago, before the compound moved, when Caspar discussed the runs that would need to be made between their new compound and Keller’s. Thanks to the proximity of the LoV compound to both Defiance and Keller’s, it was a more dangerous than normal ten-mile stretch. And those runs would need to happen at least three times a week, barring major storms. They were imperative, since technology wasn’t anywhere near as reliable as it should be. Even with SAT phones, it was sometimes hard to get through, and since the two were banding together to support each other against common enemies, they needed to be up in each other’s business a great deal.

But Defiance was already pissed about the involvement with Keller’s, and Caspar’s run announcement was met with a lot of resistance—behind Caspar’s back, for the most part. The meeting that’d been held weeks earlier still bounced around Kev’s head.

“What’s this shit? Now we’ve gotta run back and forth like bait between here and Keller’s? Like fucking messenger boys?” most of the older members—and lots of the younger ones too—were grumbling during the initial phases of the move.

So Kev had gone to Caspar and told him, “I want to be on the crew making the runs. I want to lead the crew,” and impressed the hell out of the club’s president.

And pissed his brother off. And some of the older members too, because they’d all argued about this before—whether it was better to send the single men along the road, or keep them for procreation.

A lot of people argued that “newborns”—as Kev and his generation were dubbed—shouldn’t be subjected to this world.

Many argued that children were their only hope.

Kevin had long ago decided that this life—this world—was all about survival of the fittest. And that all he could do was be as strong as possible and take all the risks he wanted. Hammer had Aimee—and he didn’t take as many risks, Kevin noted. Especially not after how hurt she’d had gotten last year.

To him, Hammer had become a Defiance elder, even though he was only four years older than Kevin. In Defiance, post-Chaos? That was a lifetime.

“Caspar, take my brother off the list,” Hammer had announced.

But Kev wasn’t having it. “I said I’d do it.”

Hammer had turned to him, pointed. “There are plenty of other volunteers.”

“I’m one of them,” Kev said calmly, not taking his gaze from Caspar.

Knowing Kev was forcing him to choose, Caspar’s eyes grew icier than normal. He blew out a breath when Hammer interjected, “This is between brothers.”

“No, it’s not, Hammer.” Caspar had spoken calmly, decisively, even though his body was tense. “It’s about what’s best for the club. It’s about Kevin being a full-fledged member, not a probie. It’s about choice.” Hammer’s jaw had clenched. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. Instead, he walked away and Caspar muttered, “Shit.”

“I’m up for it, Caspar.”

“Know that. Don’t need a war between brothers.”

“Hammer’ll deal with it.”

Caspar had put a hand on the back of Kev’s neck. “Need you to lead the guys. Let’s get you prepped.”

And Caspar had given him some old maps to practice marking off routes. Kev and Carter had been diligently planning. But planning got old after a while, especially when there was no doing.

They’d been at the new compound for three weeks, and Kev felt like they were fucking burning daylight. “This sitting around waiting’s bullshit.”

Carter glanced at him. “Did you memorize the new routes?”

“Go ahead and quiz me.”

Carter snorted. “With the amount of booze you drank, I’m surprised you have brain cells left.”

“More than most of the old timers,” Kev muttered, getting more restless as the moments went by. Now, he turned to Carter and asked, “Wanna get the fuck outta here and take a practice run?”

“Let’s do it,” Carter agreed.

“Gotta tell someone here, so they know to watch out for us,” Kev mused.

“That’s the smartest fuckin’ thing you’ve said this whole conversation,” Caspar said easily.

Kev and Carter froze, then turned slowly to see the president of the MC sitting behind them. He’d probably been there first, and he didn’t have to alert them to his presence. No, they’d been stupid enough not to check.

“We’re just ready, Caspar,” was all Kev could say. “I’m tired of everyone bitching about having to do their job. They don’t want it, but I do.”

“Me too,” Carter added.

“I know the routes,” Kev emphasized. “I’ll do a dry run with Carter in the van. Keller’s guards will call when I get to the compound. I can fucking do this.”

He’d spoken calmly enough, although Caspar looked icy as fuck.

“Sure you’re ready?” Caspar asked.

“Truth? I’m scared shitless,” Kev admitted.

Caspar actually smiled at that (and Caspar’s smile was just as scary as any angry expression he had) and Kev frowned until Caspar explained, “Fear’s a good thing. No fear means you’re fucked.”

“Hope you’re right.”

Caspar nodded. “I’ll bring it up with Rebel and Keller tonight. See if we can get this going in the next day or two.”

Kev waited a beat, then said, “And Hammer?”

Caspar growled, “Hammer’s got a fuckin’ job, right?”

“Right.”

With that, Caspar walked away, and both Kev and Carter breathed a sigh of relief.

“Dude, that could’ve gone so much worse,” Carter said.

Kev agreed. “We can’t fuck this up now.”

“Gonna be hard not to. Maps are for shit,” Carter reminded him. “All this planning, and we don’t have any solid leads that these roads still exist.”

“Caspar rode them.”

“Three months ago,” Carter pointed out.

Truth was, things changed on the daily here, depending on weather and enemies and tons of other post-Chaos shit that changed their lives. “We’ll figure it out.”

Carter nodded. “Gotta get to work.” He was helping out with tube production—they all were, during these busy times. “Catch up with you later.”

After Carter left, the lights on the generator and the solar-assisted lights of the compound began to slowly come up. Strategically placed to save money and fuel, they actually ended up making things look more damned depressing than they were in the dark. But today, Kev couldn’t worry about that, because he spotted the new guy, sitting a few yards from him. Far enough that he hadn’t heard the conversations with Carter and Caspar. Close enough to know that this had to be Declan.

Declan had been rumored to have pulled through the gate the day before, and he was bunking with Rebel, as per Caspar’s orders.

And here he was, just hanging out by one of the main spotlights, reading a book.

Who would know the routes better than one of Keller’s top hitmen? Because even though Caspar and some of the others knew them too, Kev knew he had to become self-sufficient, to prove to Caspar—and Hammer, by extension—that he could do this shit. He was tired of Hammer trying to keep him reined in, although he got it—after seeing how hurt Aimee had been, Kev couldn’t blame his brother for being overly protective.

“Heard Bishop worked with him over at Keller’s compound,” Carter had said that morning. “If Bishop can trust him…”

“Doesn’t seem like anyone else around here’s taking that too seriously,” Kev had noted.

“Except Caspar,” Carter pointed out.

“Not like he’s got much of a choice.” Kev had shrugged.

Now, Kev sucked in a breath and walked over to him. Declan didn’t lift his head when he told Kev, “Yes, I’m from Keller’s.”

“I know. Declan, right? I’m Kev.”

Finally, Declan tore his gaze away from the book and stared up at Kev. “You want something?”

“Actually, yeah.” Kev crouched down. “Look, you’ve been riding these roads around Keller’s for years, right?” Declan stared at him without answering, so Kev pushed down his nerves and continued, “Right. So I figure, you must know the routes like the back of your hand.”

Again, Declan just stared.

Fuck. “I’m going to be the one leading the runs back and forth between the compounds. I’ve got Caspar’s maps, and some other intel, but…”

Finally, Declan answered. “You could ask Rebel. Call Bishop. Why ask me?”

Kev glanced around. “Because you don’t know me.”

“Exactly.”

Kev shook his head impatiently. “Because you don’t see me as the younger brother around here, so you won’t bullshit me.”

Declan gave a small smile. “But you just told me you’re the younger brother.”

“I’m eighteen. Around here, that’s goddamned ancient.” Declan’s wry twist of his lips let Kev know the hitman was in agreement about that. Kev lowered his voice and said, “I heard you were doing hits at sixteen.”

Declan looked at him steadily, and Kev was pretty sure he’d just ruined his chances. Instead, Declan told him, “I was seventeen. And I trained and practiced until I was good. Sounds like you’re taking your role seriously enough, wanting to do the same thing.”

“Yes,” Kev agreed. “I don’t want to go out there and get lost like some asshole, or killed on my first run.”

He’d known the roads from the old compound like the back of his hand, but these were narrower, with longer stretches of open road that left the rider exposed.

“You’ve got a map?”

Kev pulled the drawings he’d done out of his back pocket. “I sketched them based on the maps Caspar has. But it looks like there should be more here.” He pointed to the blank spots in between the two main roads which connected the Defiance and Keller compounds.

Declan nodded, took the pencil from Kev’s hand. “Some of the best routes are never on the map. You need to learn these fast and burn these maps. Deal?”

Kev guessed Declan was about to impart some secrets to him. Maybe he should be suspicious, like most of the other members were. But something about the guy didn’t trigger any of Kev’s alarms. Sometimes, he figured, you just had to go on faith. Right now, Declan was his only shot. “Deal.”

Chapter Five

DECLAN SHOWERED, DRESSED and was rubbing the dampness out of his hair when he heard Rebel come down into the tube. Tonight Defiance was having one of their famous parties, and he knew Rebel wouldn’t go unless he did.

He also knew that Defiance was expecting him to be out and about—they’d hate it, but it’d be worse if he stayed in and hid. Either way, the MC members would be suspicious of him, but he’d be damned if he’d hide.

No, he hadn’t been lying to Rebel when he’d told him that he’d given up hiding things a long damned time ago…at least not things that could be helped.

“Dec?” Declan turned to face the open bedroom door and Rebel continued, “I think we have things to clear up.”

Declan stopped rubbing his hair. “Like what?

“You know what.”

“Come on—we’re going to have this fight again?”

“You’re the one who goddamned started it,” Rebel pointed out. “You pushed me.”

“Obviously didn’t take much, Rebel.” Declan quieted. “Like I said, it was all about you fucking me. I’m not allowed to touch you.”

“You don’t seem to mind when you’re coming. Which you do. Every single time.”

“I guess sex is enough for you. I want intimacy.”

Rebel’s tone was somewhere between a reprimand and a cajole. “You trust me to tie you down, Dec, and that’s as intimate as it gets.”

Rebel was so damned convincing, Declan believed it on one level. It wasn’t like he thought Rebel didn’t give a shit about him at all. As rough as their sex could be, and it often was, Rebel was always aware of Declan, his comfort level, and basically everything.

“It’s always about your pleasure,” Rebel assured him.

“What about your pleasure?”

Something flickered behind Rebel’s eyes, a flash of emotion Declan couldn’t quite place. “You give it to me, Dec. All of it. You’ve gotta know that.”

“Ah, Reb.”

“What?”

“You’re so convincing with the bullshit. And I want to believe it.”

“So believe it.”

“I want more.” The words almost came out in a whisper, even though Declan felt as though he were shouting them.

Rebel’s tone matched when he admitted, “I don’t know if I can do that.”

And where that left him, Declan had no idea.

Because he was here, in Defiance, for the foreseeable future. Asking to not be would result in suspicion. Beyond that, Keller needed him here, looking after the family interests.

Then there was the fact that Declan did want to be here, with Rebel, because maybe they could move forward. Somehow. Rebel had learned enough to realize nothing stayed the same, no matter how badly he wanted it to. “I didn’t start shit. You approached me, remember? All I asked was not to have to hide our shit.”

“You didn’t ask—you bulldozed—”

Declan ignored that and continued. “I pushed you because you wanted out, but you’d never do it. Not as long as I made it easy on you, letting you sneak to see me, not letting me touch you, not letting me be seen with you. And I would’ve let it continue, holding out hope that you’d step up. And I’m not exactly the shrinking violet type, Reb. I knew what would push your buttons, hear? So I fucking pushed and over you went.” He was oddly pleased with himself, even though the plan totally screwed him over along with Rebel.

“You bastard. You knew I couldn’t—”

“I knew you wouldn’t. Huge difference. And I pushed but you walked. It was a convenient excuse, so don’t bullshit me.”

Rebel didn’t have an answer for that, even though Declan desperately wanted him to. Instead, Rebel went silent.

And nothing’s changed… “Come on—time to party.”

Rebel looked troubled. “You don’t have to.”

“Sure I do. Everyone’s already suspicious. I’m not going to change their minds by going tonight, but avoiding? Nah, better everyone keep their eyes on me. Just like you’ve been charged with doing.”

Rebel nodded. “You’re probably right.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll be good.”

At that, Rebel snorted. “Didn’t realize that was possible.”

“At least you remember something.” As he turned, Rebel grabbed his biceps and used the momentum to turn a surprised Declan and press against him.

“I fucking remember everything. Long before I needed to keep an eye on Luna. I kept an eye on you for goddamned years, Dec, so be sure that I tried to memorize your expressions, your voice, your touch…” He trailed off, then let go of Declan. “Let’s go—music’s starting.”

Declan took a deep breath, adjusted his goddamned cock and followed Rebel out of the tube. As he and Rebel walked across the compound, the lights were blazing, and Declan felt eyes on him from every direction.

Defiance had a decent-sized population, but Keller’s was nearly double, full of civilians. Keller’s property was much more spread out, and he had the men—and the means—to keep it gated and guarded 24/7. Keller’s operation was large-scale, although Defiance’s tubes were a stroke of motherfucking genius—and a literal life-saver. Defiance MC were the original doomsday preppers, and Declan had to admit that they knew how to party. Even the LoV, with their violent as fuck, “rip your throat out as soon as look at you” tendencies, could be fun when they partied. Relatively speaking.

Now, the music pounded inside the tent. People milled in and out, and he caught sight of a dance floor. There was also a fighting ring, which didn’t appear like it would be getting use tonight.

Women were dressed in skimpier clothes than normal, since the heat lamps were all up and running. The normal temperature, thanks to rare sun, hovered in the twenties and thirties outside, which was why the heat lamps were needed to help grow food. Still, underground gardens worked best, and there were entire sections of tubes devoted to that. Defiance might’ve survived the Chaos, but they still prepped like the worst was yet to come. Eventually post-Chaos, everyone’s body adjusted to the new temperatures. It was rare to see people bundled up, but no one really hung out outside unless the sun came out. Otherwise, they were in the aboveground houses and shops and diners, all right on the compound.

Keller’s ran the heat lamps almost nightly. Keller liked people out and about during the day. Wanted everyone to have fun and relax, because contented people didn’t fight or make trouble. Keller always said he wanted peace, and Declan supposed that was because so much of Keller’s life centered around violence.

Here, in Defiance, because people were together out of want and common interests—a lifelong investment in the MC—they were like family. And that was the biggest difference between Defiance and Keller’s. Defiance’s common bond wasn’t built on survival as they’d bonded together pre-Chaos.

They were family.

And you’re so very not. God, it gnawed his gut that he never could be. Even though Bishop and Mathias were outsiders who’d been accepted, their circumstances were way different than Declan’s. Mainly because of who he worked for…and because Rebel would never let his MC know what Declan meant to him.

If he meant anything.

Looking around, it all made him homesick. Angry—admittedly irrationally so—at Rebel, at himself, and at Keller…and at anyone who facilitated bringing him here with no end date in sight.

He was treated like a narc.

“Here—you look like you could use this.” Rebel pressed a small bottle of homemade hooch into his hands. “And no, no one else can tell that.”

Fuck, when he said things like that, Declan wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch him or fuck him.

Hell, both would work. He downed the crap that passed as alcohol here and almost choked.

Rebel patted him on the back. “You’ve never had moonshine?”

“Christ no.” He coughed hard. “I thought grappa was bad.”

“Keep drinking. Two more sips and it’ll go down easy.”

“I can’t…”

“What? Get drunk?” Rebel stared at him. “I’m not drinking, Dec. I’m sober.”

“To watch me.”

“Yeah, but not because I’m supposed to. Because I want to. This might let you sleep without nightmares tonight.”

Declan winced. And took another sip. Choked again, then managed, “You just don’t want me to try to kick you out of bed again.” He spoke, his voice low. He looked up at Rebel, who didn’t seem particularly worried that they were talking about this out in the open.

“Maybe I’m trying to get you drunk so I can take advantage of you.” Rebel’s tone was pre-sex husky. Flirtatious. Declan downed the rest of the bottle before his mouth—or his body—responded.

This time, he held back the cough, mainly because he’d made the fatal mistake of looking into Rebel’s eyes and seeing the pure heat there. “Sucked not seeing you.” Then he stared into the empty bottle in order to break the gaze between them. “This shit truth serum or something?”

“One way to look at it. Truth’s not always bad.”

Declan bit his tongue at that fucking irony coming from Rebel, but they were interrupted by Kat sidling up to them. “Looks like she’s on a mission,” he told Rebel, and when Rebel didn’t argue, Declan turned and walked a few feet to where Mathias and Jessa were sitting. Apart from Rebel, Declan knew that they’d at least be welcoming, and he wasn’t about to stand there and watch Rebel pretend he liked women. Fuck that. Because as much as Declan knew this was all about show, it didn’t mean he needed to perform.

After another small bottle of moonshine, Declan wasn’t feeling any pain. Still, he was more worried than mellowed. Hanging with Mathias and Jessa felt more like a night at Keller’s. He missed Bishop too—and that connection they’d made was something he hadn’t seen coming. Especially given the circumstances under which Bishop arrived at Keller’s.

Both Bishop and Luna knew about Declan and Rebel. Declan wasn’t sure when Bishop knew—or how—because he’d never told him outright. But Luna hadn’t been surprised upon finding out either.

And that’s probably what freaked Rebel out the most, Declan decided…right before he accepted the third bottle of moonshine.

*

REBEL CLOCKED KAT sliding over toward him—no surprise, since she’d been eying him all evening.

Kat’s house had been a fixture in Defiance since the pre-Chaos days, so it was a no-brainer to reestablish it on the new compound. Kat, a tall woman with a sleeve of tattoos, a raunchy laugh and a pretty face, ran the house—and she also slept with whomever she wanted to, whenever she wanted to. And more often than not, Rebel ended up in her bed. It gave him an excuse—like Luna had when she’d been pretending to be in love with him—not to have to fuck random women. Gave him an out the nights he just couldn’t do it—she was cool with him when he feigned tiredness. Told him, “Sometimes it’s just nice to have a man in my bed. But only sometimes, because you all tend to take over.”

“Been a while, babe,” she told him now, the sleeveless black leather vest she wore a contrast to her colorful tattoos and platinum blond hair.

Another thing he liked—she was as busy as he was. He never had to make excuses when she said stuff like that to him.

“Moving here kicked everyone’s ass,” he agreed.

She smiled. “You need some stress relief?”

He wound a hand around her waist and pulled her close. “Love to, but I’m on babysitting duty.”

Didn’t matter that he was hard thinking about Declan—Kat would think it was for her, and that worked out in his favor.

“Right—the assassin.” She glanced over at Declan. “He’s hot. I’d be up for a threesome.”

Reb smiled even as his gut clenched. Not that he couldn’t get out of it, but hell, being in the same bed as Declan and not touching him? Fucking torture.

Beyond that, Declan would never go against what he was. Not for show. Not like Rebel had been doing his entire goddamned life. “Not his thing.”

“He’s got someone serious?”

A bit of irrational jealousy hit him “Yeah, he does.”

“Good for him. I’d like to see it happen for you.”

“Never know—you could fall first.”

“Yeah, sure.” She laughed, but there was a hollowness behind it. They’d never discussed who she’d loved and lost pre-Chaos, but she’d arrived in Defiance and rented—and paid to fix—the big house with the tubes under it. She’d brought some women with her, and many more approached her, looking for work. And from that point on she’d had Defiance’s protection—and most of the men’s undying gratitude.

The women—the old ladies—for the most part sucked up the presence of the women their significant others cheated with on a regular basis. That had been part of the MC’s code—the men could fuck other women, and the old ladies accepted it, knowing the men were coming home to them. Lance had wanted that tradition to continue, but there’d been a shift when Caspar took control. Mainly because he never slept around on Tru.

He still protected Kat and her girls, and if a married guy went there, Caspar said nothing. But he didn’t do it. It was no longer a necessity and a lot of the men turned back to their old ladies and got closer.

And there were still plenty of single men—and visiting MCs, like the Kill Devils—to keep Kat’s girls busy and paid.

“You know prostitution’s still illegal?” She held her hands up to the sky. “All this shit, and the morality police are still firmly in place.”

Even though it was pretty unenforceable. “Good thing none of them live here.”

Kat smiled. “Call on me soon, babe—we’ll catch up more.”

Rebel watched her walk away—on to her next conquest—and swore he caught Kian, president of the Kill Devils MC and Caspar’s ally, glaring at him.

So what the fuck was that all about?

He had bigger things to deal with, like Declan, who was ignoring him even as Rebel moved closer. He knew why Declan was giving him the cold shoulder that only Rebel would notice. He was, it seemed, having fun playing cards with Mathias and Jessa, talking about Bishop and telling stories. Jessa laughed, Mathias stroking her back as she did, and damn, at times like this, the ache of not being able to touch Declan felt like a true hole in his heart.

He missed the man who was no more than six feet from him. Fuck.

He missed Luna too. If she were here…

Nothing would change.

By midnight, the party was breaking up. Defiance wouldn’t want to attract attention and needed extra guards on duty at night. Because even though it seemed like it was night all the time, most people still held on to the conventions of night and day.

Night was always more dangerous. That had never changed.

Declan had held his own against the moonshine—at least better than Rebel thought he would—but he still wobbled a little when he stood to head back to Rebel’s tube before slinging an easy arm around Mathias’s shoulders. Mathias laughed and helped walk him across the compound. Rebel resented the easiness of that, mainly because he knew he couldn’t ever pull off as casual a hold on Declan. He’d be more possessive, and that would show through.

No, he couldn’t be casual with Declan. That was going to be a problem.

Hell, for Rebel, it already was.

Chapter Six

Kev

KEV WAS PRETTY sure that nervous energy carried him over the roads between the two compounds that first time. Instinct, and his bike, took over and the route he’d studied until his eyes went blurry was spread out in the dark in front of him, guiding him and Carter to safety.

When he pulled up to Keller’s gates for the first time and the guards surrounded him, he wasn’t sure he could get off the bike and hold himself up. Thankfully, Bishop was waiting for him, looking like the cross between a proud parent and a disapproving one.

“You came alone?” he demanded.

“What the fuck am I—a mirage?” Carter called from where he was being searched.

Bishop looked over at him—and the four other guys who’d been picked as their crew—and shook his head. “That’s just great—maybe next time Caspar could pick from the middle schoolers.”

“Fuck off, Bishop—I’m older than you were when the Chaos hit, you asshole,” Kev told him.

That seemed to make Bishop happy. “And you made it.”

“Of course.”

Carter came up then and handed Bishop the heavy sheath of papers he’d carried with him. There was also a suitcase—money for the goods Keller would deliver, with Defiance guards helping his own.

This ‘one for all’ shit was weird.

“Come on in—Keller’s waiting.” Bishop led the way and Kev and Carter followed him through the compound, the energy buzzing around them. The other four remained behind with Keller’s men.

“Place is intense,” Kev murmured.

From his side, Carter nodded. “Like a fucking carnival. Feel like a kid again.”

“Good, because that’s what I was going for,” Keller said as they walked into his underground office.

Keller was a tall, handsome man—and he looked like a cross between a rich guy and a boxer. It was an unnerving combination. And disagreeing with him would be disrespectful, Kev told himself, especially when Luna came up to greet them.

Neither of them looked any worse for wear. They were smiling, although some of that was no doubt because they were now solidly together. “Hey, Kev!” Luna gave him and Carter warm hugs, and Bishop followed suit.

“I hear you made killer time,” Keller told him. “Nice work. You impressed the fuck out of me.”

Kev smiled. “Had a little help.”

“Dec?” he asked and when Kev nodded, Bishop interjected, “He’s a good guy, Kev. They’ll give him a hell of a time there, but he saved my life. Telling you the truth.”

Keller nodded. “Declan’s the best. Bishop’s becoming pretty indispensable too.”

“Not stayin’ here forever, Keller,” Bishop growled, but it was easy to see that there was definitely a warmth between them. Kev was surprised but relieved. It wasn’t that he agreed with everything he’d heard about Keller, and he’d seen some of Keller’s wrath rain down on Defiance in the form of attempting to withhold supplies and the like in the past, but it was sure nice to have some peace.

“Have at it, boys,” Keller told them. “Caspar wanted you to stay with Bishop overnight and go back in the morning.”

“Let’s go get you guys all settled,” Luna said as she began to usher Carter and the others out.

But Keller held Kev back with the motion of his hand. As Kev waited, so did Bishop, who seemed to anticipate what Keller was going to say and shot back, “Don’t even think about it, unless you want Caspar at your doorstep.”

Keller gave Bishop an amused look. “I’m shaking.” Then he turned to Kev. “You want a job with me, it’s yours.”

Kev didn’t know what else to say but, “Thanks.”

“Go have fun. Bishop, stop glaring,” Keller told them.

Kev saw no reason not to do as Keller asked.

Chapter Seven

EVEN THOUGH THE moonshine had him passing out immediately, it didn’t stop the nightmare from slamming through him, harder than the one the night before…and it wasn’t until Declan felt his fist collide with actual flesh and bone that he realized he’d been dreaming.

That woke him faster than normal.

“Fuck.” He sat up, slammed a fist against the night table, his body shaking. “Did I hurt you?”

He glanced over at Rebel—in the soft light of the oil lamp Rebel kept burning at night, he could make out the redness on his cheekbone.

“I’ll live,” Rebel said tightly. “What the fuck, Declan?”

“It’s always like this when I deal with major change.”

“It didn’t happen before when we—”

“You never stayed with me,” Declan interrupted. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like an accusation, or maybe he did.

Rebel pushed the sheets off him and, in a flash, he was half on top of Declan. “I’m staying with you now.”

“No, I’m staying with you,” Declan attempted to correct him, but Rebel put a finger across his lips.

“I climb into this bed next to you, Declan. Whether you like it or not, I’m staying with you, on my own compound…”

“Where no one can ever know anything happened between us.”

“Why’s that so important to you?”

“Why’s it not important to you?” Declan demanded.

Rebel pulled back. “Whatever the fuck you’re dreaming about? Seems like a pretty damned big secret to me. These scars?” He reached out to finger one of the deep ones that ran down Declan’s shoulder, covered by tattoos. “They seem like a world of secrets you’re hiding. But I never asked, because I know that secrets keep us safe.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes they can hurt us more than anything.”

Rebel stared at him for a beat, and then he leaned in and kissed Declan. Declan thought about protesting. Throwing Rebel off. Safewording.

He did none of those things. Instead, he returned the kiss, wrapping himself around Rebel, allowing him to pick Declan up with ease and settle him onto his lap. They sat, facing each other, balancing precariously as neither of them were interested in breaking the kiss.

Rebel was already naked.

“Convenient,” Declan noted around the kiss.

“More so if I could fuck you.” And then Rebel’s fingers played with his ass, lubing him up, and Declan didn’t stop him, even though he knew where this would lead. Because he wanted it to, was surprised they’d both held out this long.

Finally, Declan pulled away, stared at him. “You can, Reb.” Rebel nodded. Went to move, to lay Declan down, but Declan stopped him with a simple “Please.”

He didn’t think Rebel would comply, but strangely enough, he did. He let Declan lower himself onto Rebel, who watched him with lazy, hooded eyelids.

“God, Reb, please. Please,” he groaned as Rebel’s girth stretched and filled him. He was taking Rebel in too fast, would pay for that in the morning, but he didn’t care now. And he didn’t know what he was begging for, since Rebel was letting him do this, although he wasn’t touching Declan.

He couldn’t, really, because he was leaning on his hands, and Declan was balancing himself with his hands on the mattress as well, because he knew the second he touched Rebel, this would end. He’d be tied up, wrists held down, and fucked, and while he craved that, he wanted to prove to Rebel that this worked too. That Rebel didn’t have to be on constant guard with him. That he respected the fact that Rebel didn’t want to be touched during sex.

Declan stared at Rebel, refusing to break his gaze. Joined, with Rebel’s cock in his ass, Declan balanced, shifted so Rebel was stroking his gland with every jolt of Declan’s hips. It was the closest thing to control Rebel had ever let him take, and Declan took advantage of that.

Maybe it was Rebel’s way of apologizing, but he didn’t look put out. He looked flush with pleasure and with pride as he watched Declan ride him.

God, Rebel always promised him complete satisfaction, and he always delivered. And he knew exactly what Declan needed, and when he needed it. Slow and steady beats connected them, brought them back to each other. This was proving their trust was still there—the next steps would test its boundaries.

Rebel watched him carefully. “That’s it, baby. Take what you need.”

He did need this…but he needed more, and Rebel would make him ask for it. It was partially humiliating, but mainly exciting. What he craved.

“Say it,” Rebel urged, the cords of his neck tight from the exertion of not moving.

“Hold me down, Rebel. Show me you missed me.”

In seconds, Rebel’s hands were on his hips, pulling Declan away, slamming him down into the mattress. Declan opened his body for Rebel to take him, unable to wait. Now that they’d started this dance, there was no way they could go back.

When Rebel held his wrists, pinning him, spreading his legs, Declan groaned. Before Rebel entered him, he said, “Tell me this isn’t just for old time’s sake.”

“I wish,” Declan told him honestly. “Can’t fucking shake you, Reb. Don’t want to.”

“Been waiting for you to say that,” Rebel murmured. “Gonna make it all better now.”

Declan nodded. “Hurry.”

*

“REB, COME ON—FUCKING hurry.” Declan’s voice was a hoarse groan, because Rebel had kept him on edge for the past hour.

Rebel hovered over him as Declan strained at the bindings. He traced a finger down the man’s chest and oh yes, the look in Declan’s eyes was as satisfying as the ropes.

How he could let Rebel tie him up, hold him down, trust him the way he was doing now always amazed him. Watching the stress leave Declan’s face was Rebel’s ultimate goal, and tonight was no different.

He bit Declan’s nipples, loving the way Declan surged upward, the ropes biting into his wrists. He’d have red marks—and Rebel loved looking at them. Loved marking the guy, knowing that when he wasn’t around, someone else would see them and know that Declan had been with someone he trusted enough to tie him down.

The majority of Declan’s body was covered in tattoos—they stopped where clothing would cover, unless Declan wore short sleeves or stripped down completely, and then they were everywhere, beautiful, scrolling ink. It was only after Rebel had first worked him over with his hands and mouth that he’d realized the tattoos covered some pretty severe scars.

Declan didn’t talk about them, but he’d never frozen when Rebel touched them. Rebel figured they all had scars, but couldn’t deny that he wanted to know more about them.

He thought about them every time now. And finally, he took Declan’s cock in his palm and stroked him.

“Don’t stop, Reb.” Dec’s hips surged up as Rebel thrust inside of him, harder and harder.

“Not going to.”

“One day, I’m going to tie you up and make you scream.” Declan’s words were both a threat and a promise, and then he was coming, hard, crying out Rebel’s name. Rebel joined him a minute later, his body jackknifing through an unexpectedly powerful orgasm.

Afterward, he untied Dec, massaged the blood back into the man’s arms and legs. Dec stretched out on his belly, letting Rebel have his way with him while his body shuddered through aftershocks.

Before Declan, it was all about a series of one-night stands, mainly through the bar Keller owned off his compound. It was a gay bar, a real moneymaker that promised anonymity.

So far, that promise had been kept.

On his first night there, he’d been unable to ignore Declan, because the guy had circled him. He’d almost left when he realized it was Keller’s hitman, until he realized the guy was there for the same reasons Rebel was.

“I wouldn’t mind letting you fuck me here…but we’ll be more comfortable at my place.” Those were Declan’s first words to him. And yeah, Declan’s place was way more comfortable.

Rebel almost hadn’t gone. Bound by fear, he’d finally let the man kiss the shit out of him behind the bar, until they’d both almost come in their pants.

Seemed like a lifetime ago.

*

“WHERE DO WE go from here?” Declan asked, hours later. Three orgasms each, plus a halfhearted attempt for a fourth, because they couldn’t get enough.

Declan was surprised they’d lasted the twenty-four hours they had without attacking each other.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, Dec. Can’t predict the future,” Rebel told him. They lay on their backs, hands threaded together, since that was the only real contact Rebel seemed able to handle post-sex.

Declan rolled onto his side, refusing to break the hold. He stared down at Rebel’s hand, with the familiar, almost ubiquitous biker’s rose that threaded along the side. It was the placement, Declan decided, that made it so different.

He ran his pinky over the stem. “What if I hadn’t come here?”

Rebel stared at him. “I’d have broken down and come to you, Declan. I was close to doing that, but…”

“But I didn’t come to you,” Declan finished. “Guess we’re both stubborn assholes.”

Rebel smiled. “Let’s just keep this time for us, okay? That’s the way I’d want it, no matter what.”

For now, Declan could accept that. For how long was a whole other story. “You’ve got to tell Caspar…at least.”

“You mean, tell Caspar I’m fucking a Keller hitman? Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

Declan snorted. “That’s convincing. I thought things were different in Defiance.”

“What do you want me to say, Dec? I don’t want to fight—not after tonight.”

“Isn’t that what we do best?” Declan asked and Rebel sighed. “It’s the end of the world, Reb. If now’s not the time to do whatever the fuck you want, when is? What are you holding out for?”

“This is my family.”

“And your family should accept everything about you.”

Rebel shrugged. He was jealous that Declan could be whatever the fuck he wanted to be and he told him so.

“So work for Keller.”

“No chance.”

“Then just work for me.”

“I won’t be dependent on anyone,” Rebel growled.

“Never said you had to be.”

“I’m not a hitman.”

Dec nodded. “You’d be stealing, not killing.”

“What the fuck is there left to steal?”

“You’d be surprised.”

Rebel considered it for half a second before Declan was on him, pressing him to the mattress. Rebel let him take control for a few minutes, until the old, familiar fear bubbled up inside him. In seconds, he’d rolled Declan back under him, his cock rubbing Declan’s, and everything was right again.

Chapter Eight

Kev

KEV HAD BARELY woken up when Hammer was slamming his bedroom door open, leaning over him and demanding, “Where the fuck have you been?”

Kev blinked and stared up at his brother. Caspar hadn’t said he’d tell Hammer…but fuck, Kev assumed he would’ve. “Keller’s.”

Hammer jerked back like Kev had slapped him. “You are fucking kidding me.”

Kev pushed Hammer away hard and got up. “Not. Caspar sent me and Carter.”

“How do you know the routes?” Hammer demanded as Kev yanked on jeans.

“Christ, I can’t get credit for doing anything,” Kev told him. “If I didn’t know them, you’d bitch. When I do know them—and they’re good, fast and secret routes too—you still bitch.”

Hammer got in his face. “There’s plenty of shit for you to do right here in Defiance.”

“I’d rather be road crew—you’ve always known that. I’ve been doing it since before the Chaos.”

“Operative word is before,” Hammer said through clenched teeth. “And don’t pull that ‘you’re not in charge of me’ shit—I’ve been taking care of you the last seven-plus years. Longer, even.”

Because Mom and Dad sucked at it, was the unspoken sentiment. “I know that, man. I do. But now, you’ve gotta let me do what I need to. I’m a patched member.”

“Because we had no choice.” Hammer looked like he immediately regretted the words.

Not nearly as much as Kev. “Go fuck yourself, brother, if you think I didn’t patch in here on ability. I might’ve been younger than average, but I think the Chaos aged us all.”

“Did Caspar give you those routes?” Hammer demanded through clenched teeth.

“And if he did? You gonna beat him up?”

“Kev—”

“It wasn’t Caspar.”

“Then there’s only one other person here who’d know those roads well enough to get you here that quickly. Reb’s traveled them, but not enough to know the ins and outs. Bishop hasn’t left Keller’s much, and he’s never been here. So it had to be that fucker, Declan.”

“What if it was? He got me and Carter there and back, safely.”

“You don’t talk to him—he’s the fucking enemy, goddammit. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Kev shoved his brother back hard. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Hammer, but hell, he’d take Hammer on if it meant getting rid of the rope around his neck. “Don’t you tell me what to do. I’ve got my job—my place in Defiance. You fuck it up, brother, and I’ll take Keller up on his offer to work for him.”

The utter fury on Hammer’s face was accompanied by Hammer fisting his hands as if to hit Kev…and then slowly backing away.

Maybe that hadn’t been the best time to share that offer, but fuck it, maybe Hammer would get that Kev wasn’t a kid anymore, that he was goddamned useful.

*

“YOU.” THE MC member they called Hammer was pointing directly at Declan. Actually aiming his finger between Declan’s eyes, it appeared, and angry as fuck as he marched closer.

Declan stood, and stood his ground, dropping his book behind him onto the chair. Hammer’s yelling had gotten the attention of people who hadn’t noticed Declan there before now, and some of them started walking over.

He hadn’t seen Rebel since earlier that day, when he’d woken alone in the tube, and the only way he’d known he hadn’t dreamed the entire night were Rebel’s bite marks on the insides of his wrists and the ones on his nipples.

“Problem?” Declan inquired of the man he’d just met briefly the night before—and one he knew he’d be seeing at the table meeting later on this evening.

“Big fucking problem.” Hammer got right in his face. He was a big guy. Same height as Declan though, and Declan knew his easy manner would piss the guy off even more.

That was mainly why he did it.

“You need to stay the fuck out of my brother’s business,” Hammer hissed.

Ah, so this had to be the big brother Kev was trying to escape from. “He came to me for help. Did you want me to give him the unsafe routes to Keller’s?”

Hammer grabbed the front of his shirt. “I don’t want you to fucking give him anything—you got that? I don’t want you to talk to him or look at him.”

Declan stared into Hammer’s eyes for a few moments before he clamped his hand on Hammer’s wrist. Hard.

Hammer’s expression showed a flicker of surprise at Declan’s strength.

“Get your motherfucking hand off me before you lose it,” Declan told him.

It took a few seconds before Hammer released his shirt, but he did it.

It was a few more seconds before Declan released his arm.

“This isn’t over,” Hammer promised him.

“Never is,” Declan murmured as the man walked away.

*

REBEL’D HATED LEAVING Declan alone after last night, but Caspar had needed him in the warehouse a lot that week to help out with some of the trickier dimensions. Math and science were Rebel’s forte, which was why he was called upon to deal with the books and the math behind the tubes. When he’d begun supervising at the warehouse, the Defiance books had been handed off to Baz, but Rebel oversaw a lot of that still as well.

The tubing came easily to him. Eyeballing a space was enough for him to begin creating, and before he knew it, most of the day had passed.

He barely had time to get to his tube and grab Declan before the meeting. As he came down into the tubing, he was calling, “Declan, table meeting in ten.”

Declan was at the fridge. He grabbed a water and disappeared into his bedroom with little more than the barest nod of the head.

After eight minutes had passed, Rebel went to the room and knocked on the door. It was partially open, and he saw Declan tucking a knife into his jeans pocket. “What the fuck? These meetings aren’t like that.”

“Not doing it for the meeting,” Declan told him coolly. “Doing it for the before and after.”

Rebel frowned. “What are you talking about? Did something happen today?”

“Yeah, something happened. Nothing I can’t deal with, Reb.” Declan pushed past him, and Rebel had no choice but to follow him out of the tube and over to the meeting space.

There was also a tube underneath the meeting room, but most of the time the meetings were held aboveground. Part tradition, part superstition—there were Defiance members who guarded their space already standing in their familiar circle outside the structure.

Caspar would be the last man to walk inside. When Declan got to the door, one of the guards stood directly in front of him, staring him down.

Yeah, something definitely happened today. He told Kelsey, “This is Keller’s man, Declan. He’s sitting at the table.”

Kelsey didn’t take his eyes off Declan as he said, “I hear you, Rebel. But the guy’s already fucking around with our men.”

“Then we’ll deal with it at the motherfucking table, Kelsey, so move the hell out of the way.” Rebel’s take-no-prisoners tone made Kelsey do as he’d asked—and quickly.

Declan shook his head and pushed inside, and Rebel pointed warningly at Kelsey before following.

Hammer was already at the table, along with Goose, Jeb and Harvey—the three most senior MC members. Mathias was also sitting in, since he spoke with Bishop regularly. He was the newest member at the table, except, of course, for Declan.

“Sit here,” Rebel told him, pulling out the chair next to his. There weren’t many rules about the table beyond Caspar at the head, and Goose and Harvey given the seats of respect in the middle.

Caspar’s XO, Hammer, sat next to him.

The tension in the room was unfuckingbearable as Hammer glared at Declan. Goose looked satisfied that Hammer was pissed, and Harvey just sighed.

Mathias rolled his eyes at Rebel. He’d met Declan before, and the two of them were cool with each other. As long as the guy’d been good to Bishop, he was cool in Mathias’s book.

Now, Mathias signed, Bish says hey, before realizing that Declan couldn’t understand him and reaching for the talking device he used. Rebel had been learning sign language, along with a lot of the other guys, so they could understand Mathias, but also because they realized what an effective language it could be, especially in a combat-like situation.

When the message repeated, Declan nodded. “Tell him I said hey back—and to not fuck up my music collection.”

Mathias gave an easy smile and nod.

“Can we get to other business instead of this kumbaya shit?” Hammer growled. “Because I’ve got a real fucking problem with Declan.”

“By all means, let’s address it,” Caspar said as sarcastically as possible.

Hammer glared at Declan. “He gave Kev routes to Keller’s.”

“And Kev got to Keller’s and back—record time with each run,” Caspar confirmed.

Hammer clenched his jaw. “I don’t fucking trust him.”

“I’m right here, man—don’t have to talk about me like I’m not,” Declan said.

Rebel fought a groan at Declan’s words, especially when Hammer shot out of his seat and practically went for Declan’s throat across the table.

Declan simply got up in time, an easy, swift move that left Hammer looking like an asshole. And then Declan grabbed him, pushed his cheek to the table, “You want me to send your precious brother off a cliff? ’Cause I can do that if you keep this shit up.”

“Ah fuck—Declan.” Rebel grabbed him, pulling him off Hammer, while Mathias stopped Hammer from lunging again.

“You keep pushin’, you’re not always gonna like what you get,” was all Caspar said. “Sit the fuck down, all of you.” When they did, he continued, “Kev and Carter will lead the tours back and forth to Keller’s three times a week. Declan’s routes proved useful. I’ll bet he’ll make sure we all know them, if we ask.”

Declan stared at Caspar for a long moment before he said, “I’ll tell you, Caspar. Not sure about the rest of them. Up to you to share as you see fit.”

“Fair enough. Like that you had Kev memorize them, then burn the maps. Man can’t count on his memories on these roads, he’s fucked.” Caspar turned to Hammer. “Obviously, Kev’s not fucked. So drop it.”

The rest of the meeting was tense as fuck, but at least there weren’t any more fights. Declan kept quiet and Caspar didn’t push. There’d be another meeting in a couple of days and Caspar would expect something from him then.

This tension between Declan and Hammer wasn’t going away anytime soon. For a second, Rebel entertained the idea that it might be easier on Declan if Defiance knew they were…what? Together, for lack of a better word? Screwing?

He reasoned that if they trusted him, then they should trust who he was with. But the sane part of him knew that wasn’t true at all.

The meeting ended an hour later, with Caspar asking Rebel to go back to production at the warehouse. “They’ve got some questions for you and that shit’s gotta be done tonight.”

“Got it,” Rebel told him.

Caspar dismissed them by walking out. Normally, Goose, Harvey and Jeb followed and then they all walked out in a big mob. Sometimes the mood was jovial, sometimes not, but this was like nothing Rebel had seen. Everyone stayed in place…at least until Rebel ushered Declan out. He quickly realized that everyone was following them, except Mathias, who’d come up on Declan’s other side, like he was protecting him.

“What the fuck,” Rebel muttered, turning to the group.

Jeb started, “By agreeing to watch him—”

“I’m doing what the fuck Caspar asked me to do,” Rebel finished.

But the men weren’t going to be satisfied with that—and Declan knew it too, telling Rebel, “I’m pretty sure they want to have a nice chat about me with you.”

When Rebel turned to tell him to shut up, he saw that Kev was there too, waiting, like he was planning on guarding Declan.

“Looks like I have an escort.”

“Get the fuck away from him, Kevin,” Hammer warned, but Kev impressively ignored his brother, telling Declan, “Not letting you get screwed over because of me,” before adding, “I’ll get him to the tube safely, wait till you get back.”

Mathias nodded, signed that he’d wait too, even as the mob scene behind Rebel gave a semi-collective growl at that statement, but Kev and Declan walked off without further issue.

Chapter Nine

AFTER DECLAN CONVINCED Mathias and Kev that he was fine on his own, and fuck, that took some doing, although he appreciated the sentiment, he came back up from the tube, stood outside and breathed in some fresh, cold air.

Too much time in the tube, especially without Rebel there, would lead to more nightmares at this point. The meeting was for shit, but Declan would go though that a thousand times before having another nightmare.

Rebel’d had his back in the meeting, as much as he could. Next one might be even worse, when Declan talked about Fletcher and revealed what Keller wanted him to let Defiance know.

Speaking of, he pulled out his SAT phone for his nightly check-in. Sometimes it was with Bishop if Keller was in a meeting—mainly because Declan preferred that over talking to the other guards there—but most of the time, like tonight, it was Keller who answered the call.

“How are things with the moral majority?” Keller asked now.

“They suck,” Declan said truthfully. “Motherfuckers can’t let their own people grow.”

“I take it Kev and Carter came back.”

“You offered them jobs.”

Keller laughed. “I’d have loved to be a fly on the wall when Kev let everyone know that.”

Fucking fifty-year-old gleeful troublemaker. “I didn’t say anything yet.”

“Make it soon—I want you out in three days. I’ll let you know the specifics by tomorrow night.” Keller was all business now, and Declan’s body thrummed with the importance of the impending job.

After a bit more chatter, Declan hung up. And waited. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d spotted Goose walking. Or maybe stalking was a better word for it. Guy was supposed to be guarding the perimeter, but it looked like they’d drawn one around Declan and they were circling him like he was the caged lion at the circus.

This oughta be interesting…

Goose finally let the circle bring him closer, until he was maybe eight feet from Declan. He carried a rifle in both hands, the barrel across his chest, and, without warning, his arms snapped and he threw it at Declan’s chest.

Declan caught it easily, holding it in the same position as Goose had…but he let his expression turn to stone.

When he spoke, his voice vibrated in anger, and the promise of follow-through. “You ever throw a loaded gun at me again, I can promise it’ll be the last thing you ever throw.”

“Get over yourself. Do something around here. We all take turns guarding the perimeter.”

“Surprised you don’t think I’ll invite all the Keller men inside,” Declan goaded purposely. Why not let the old man’s mind work overtime? Probably the only workout his brain got these days.

“You’re on watch with me,” Goose announced.

“I work alone.”

“Not here you don’t.”

“You’re not in charge of me, Goose. Keep pushing to really find that out—the hard way.” Declan let the gun down fast, making Goose jump back. But then Declan paused, emptied the bullets and put both down on the ground between them. “Go order someone from your own club around and leave me the fuck off your list of things to do.”

Goose sneered, “I know the kinds of things you do.”

“Really? Something on your mind?”

Of course, Declan knew what Goose had to be referring to, but whether it was based on reputation, or something Goose saw here between Declan and Rebel, was something Declan needed to determine. Needed to figure out the threat level before he went off and did the wrong thing.

The funny thing was, Declan’s rep preceded him, at least to a select few he’d seen at bars for “his kind.” Whether they knew about Rebel or not, they didn’t say a word. They all kept the code.

All but the guy who told Goose. Unless…

Nah. But still. “Didn’t know you were into my kind.”

“Fuck that. But I know where you hang out.”

Declan grew cold. Was Goose behind some of the bombings at certain gay bars over the past few years? He’d been sure it was more than one person, but the amount of contempt in Goose’s eyes…

Well yeah, one person could contain that much hate.

*

REBEL DRAGGED IN about four hours later, only to find Declan waiting outside the tube. At first, he wondered if he’d had another nightmare, but Declan didn’t offer an explanation. He just let Rebel go down the ladder first and then he followed, locking up behind them.

“I would’ve walked over to get you,” Declan said.

“Better that you didn’t,” Rebel told him, then immediately wished he hadn’t.

Declan nodded, his expression tight. He asked, “Goose—what’s his deal?” then didn’t wait for an answer. “I don’t trust him.

Declan’s words sat uneasily with Rebel. “Why’s that?”

Declan shrugged. “A gut feeling.”

“You think he knows…?”

“About us?” Declan asked, almost angrily. “No. So you don’t have to worry about your secret.”

“That’s not what I—come on, Dec. What are you worried about?”

Declan stared at him with that haunted look his face sometimes took on. “Forget it. Probably nothing.”

“You’re not the paranoid type.”

“You see me a couple of times a month and now you think you know me so well?”

Rebel bit back his anger. Declan was looking for a fight, and the reason why didn’t matter. What did was that Rebel knew how to fix it. At least for a night. “I’m seeing you a lot more than that now.”

“Because you’re forced to.” Declan crossed his arms. “I set you free. You left.”

“And you made sure Bishop found me.” Guilt crossed Declan’s face as Rebel referenced the night he’d been ambushed by the LoV. That hadn’t been Rebel’s intention at all, but they couldn’t keep dancing around it. “Dec, you couldn’t have known. I pushed you into breaking up with me.”

“Yeah, glad you recognize that.”

Rebel stalked over to him, even as Declan stood his ground. “Always, Dec. This isn’t how I want things. In a perfect world—”

“There’s no such goddamned thing. Never was. That’s just a myth people like to share about the old world. It’s just abject sentimentality. Memories always soften the worst things.”

Rebel ran a thumb across Declan’s bottom lip. He heard the hitch of Declan’s breath. “Yeah, babe, I get it. You were always from a different world.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Your father accept you?”

“Yes,” Declan said unflinchingly. “Do you think yours would’ve?”

“I do, actually. But I also think that he’d tell me, if I stayed in the MC life, to keep it quiet. For my safety…and yours.”

Declan blew out a frustrated breath. “Goose is watching me, Reb. You need to be careful. Because if he finds anything out…if he tries to hurt you, I’ll kill him. Got that?”

Rebel knew he wasn’t kidding.

Chapter Ten

THE SECOND MEETING would be worse than the first—Declan went into it with that kind of optimism, figuring things could only go up from there.

Rebel escorted him, as usual. Things had been tense between them since yesterday’s meeting, but it hadn’t stopped them from fucking each other’s brains out. Repeatedly.

The first part of the meeting was Defiance business, shit about the tubes and suppliers, and Caspar mentioned that Keller was getting them some major new buyers with deep pockets. Declan knew this would all get reported to Keller, so he let himself glaze over that while noticing the other table members.

Mathias was still friendly, even sat next to him, so he and Rebel were boxing Declan in, but more a defense position than anything. Mathias carried pen and paper, not his voice talker, which made Declan wonder. Because Declan knew some of the signs, mainly because Bishop often “spoke” to him in ASL without realizing it. Such a good habit, especially in dangerous situations. Declan saw the benefits to it immediately and set about learning shortcuts. But full conversations? No way.

Like most of the others, Hammer continued to ice him out. It wasn’t him that Declan needed to worry about this time—it was Goose. At least judging by the guy’s body language, especially when it came to new business.

Before Declan could offer anything, which he’d planned on, Goose turned to him and demanded, “What do you know about Fletcher and Keller?” Caspar growled. Goose shook his head at the club’s president and protested, “If he’s gonna fuckin’ sit here, he needs to bring something to the table. This is bullshit—he knows all our business—and now, so will Keller. And we don’t know shit.”

“We know ‘shit’ from Bishop,” Caspar pointed out. “Keller’s doesn’t do table meetings like we do. We’re in this together, whether you want it that way or not.”

Declan had known this would happen. Keller had as well, which was why he’d armed Declan with information to share on the MC and Keller’s newest shared rival…and the news Declan brought wasn’t good at all.

Another reason some of them wouldn’t trust him—no one was ever happy with the messenger. But still, he broke in with, “I can offer some information.”

Caspar nodded, his glare icier than ever, but not directed at Declan.

So Declan added, “We think Fletcher’s got more than the LoV on his side—apparently, they’re just his newest recruits. They’re pissed at Keller for kicking them off the compound and they went looking for revenge.”

“Keller shouldn’t’ve lost control of them,” Jeb grumbled.

“You weren’t there—you didn’t see what they did,” Declan told them, his voice as controlled as he could possibly make it. He didn’t dare look at Rebel, who’d been too hurt to notice much of anything, although he’d been told about the massacre.

“Right—we weren’t there. We were on our own compound, minding our own business, and somehow now we’re involved, because of Bishop and Luna. In my day, a woman wouldn’t get away with that shit,” Goose told him.

Caspar slammed a fist on the table. “Told you, that discussion’s closed, old man. Stop livin’ in the past and come into this world. Where I’m in charge.” His eyes flashed to Declan. “You know this connection for sure?”

“Word is, Fletcher ordered the LoV to carry out the plan—I don’t know whose idea it was originally.”

“Right—the LoV are suddenly gonna jump for him after being screwed by Keller,” Manny drawled sarcastically. “I mean, they’re stupid, but they haven’t survived this long without some smarts—I can’t see them getting into bed with Fletcher. I wouldn’t.”

Declan flicked a gaze at Manny. “He offered you enough money, you’d suck his dick.”

“Christ, Dec—so fucking unnecessary,” he heard Rebel mutter as Manny jumped toward Declan and Mathias snorted.

Caspar shook his head. “Wanna cut the bullshit.”

“Just making the point that there’s a price for everyone and everything,” Declan added smoothly. “Hoping Manny knows his.”

“You mentioned that the LoV aren’t the only ones helping Fletcher,” Baz said. “I want to know more.”

Finally, someone with good listening skills. Declan had liked Baz on sight—the guy was unassuming, which meant he was smart as fuck. It was always the quiet ones that everyone underestimated. “Keller thinks the Nomads approached Fletcher first. He doesn’t think Fletcher would’ve had the balls to try to take him down without major backup, and the LoV just doesn’t have that kind of power.”

And he waited for the fallout.

He wasn’t disappointed. Everyone started talking at once, except Caspar, who just watched the conversation, and Rebel, whose gaze Declan could feel burning through him.

“Nomads are a goddamned myth,” Jeb shouted over the din. “People been talking about them like they’re legends since I was a boy—since Lance’s father ran Defiance. I’m tellin’ you, if they existed, I would’ve seen them. Sixty years and not a sign.”

“Thought that was the point, that they didn’t show themselves?” Baz asked.

Jeb shot him a death glare. “Told you, boy—”

“Everyone’s got a voice here,” Caspar growled. “Heard the stories since I was a kid. Never met anyone who claimed to be a Nomad, unless they were phonies.”

Rebel glanced at Declan. “I don’t think legends start from nothing. There’s something behind the story—and it’d be stupid, in light of Keller’s worry, not to check into it.”

“Right—we’ll just do whatever Keller wants,” Goose said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

“Keller’s not a paranoid guy,” Caspar said firmly. “He’s run a good, strong compound for a long time, been head of a mafia before the Chaos. Don’t get to his position in life without knowing shit.”

Declan nodded in Caspar’s direction. “Nomads are supposed to have some kind of mystical thing going on to be invited to join. Not necessarily a legacy thing. Family members not born with that were often killed if they couldn’t be gotten rid of early, before they had any idea they were Nomad-born.”

Caspar nodded. “Heard that too.” It was Mathias who asked the next question, signing, and waiting for Caspar to translate. “He’s askin’ if you’ve ever seen or met a Nomad personally.”

Declan debated the question internally, but only for a split second before saying, “No.” Which was a complete fucking lie, but telling this table the truth would open up a can of worms he was never planning on opening.

Never.

Caspar didn’t believe him—Declan could tell. Rebel probably doubted him too, as well as Mathias. But the ones who counted—Goose, Harvey, Jeb and Hammer—they believed Declan.

Mathias was writing something now, slid it toward Declan even as he signed and Caspar translated what Declan read.

N’s…up for E?

Translation: Nomads up for extermination? And since the extermination was a government-based thing, Declan answered honestly, “I don’t know,” because he didn’t ask Keller. He didn’t want that burden, and Keller didn’t want him to have it either.

Chapter Eleven

AS FULL OF information as the meeting had been, it was also a complete and utter clusterfuck. Rebel tried to process everything Declan said, veered between being grateful he could spend time one-on-one with him, going over all the details again…and being really fucking pissed that Declan hadn’t told him all of this ahead of time.

Should he expect special treatment? Fuck yeah. And he’d share that with Declan, when he found him. Because the guy had lived up to his reputation this time and disappeared like a ghost after they all walked out into the darkness. One minute Dec was next to him, and the next, gone.

Rebel looked around as casually as he could and came face to face with Hammer.

“What the fuck are you doing, Reb?” Hammer asked. “After everything we’ve been through.”

“I don’t know what you’re looking for me to do, man. Caspar asked me to room with Declan. I didn’t tell the guy to give Kev directions to Keller’s. I don’t have ties to Keller’s.” Rebel’s voice rose with the frustration, mainly what he felt toward Declan at the moment.

“Rebel, why don’t you and I take a walk,” Goose said, suddenly the voice of reason as he stepped in as if to separate him from Hammer.

Hammer had been a damned good friend of his since childhood. “That’s a good idea.” He couldn’t help but turn to Hammer and say, “I’d never fucking let anything happen to a member of this club. If you don’t believe that, I can’t help you.”

He walked with Goose, and Charlie, Goose’s oldest son, trailed behind them.

“He’s always got my six,” Goose explained to Rebel. “Expert marksman.”

Rebel nodded numbly. “Thanks for getting me away from Hammer back there. I know what you’re going to say—”

“No, you don’t, Rebel. You think you know, but you’re not thinking clearly. Maybe it’s because Bishop and Mathias have turned your head, the way they have everyone else’s since they’ve arrived.”

“They didn’t bring the changes, but they helped us deal with them.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they fucked things up good when they decided to rescue Jessa.”

Rebel knew that was the truth, but… “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing in their position.”

“You would’ve, because you’re Defiance. You have the club’s best interests at heart. They didn’t. They were thinking of themselves, not the group. Doesn’t make them bad guys, Reb…just makes them not Defiance.”

“Mathias is Defiance. Bishop’s as close as it gets.”

“And Declan? He’s a fucking killer,” Goose pointed out.

Rebel wanted to argue the semantics of that, explain that Declan was an assassin, and that there was most definitely a difference, but Goose wouldn’t give a shit. “They have Bishop and Luna and we have Declan. Checks and balances.”

“Screw that.” Goose spat tobacco on the ground a foot from where they stood. “Mark my words, the killer’s gonna bring trouble to this place. We don’t know that Keller’s not going to order a hit on us, or on Caspar, especially.”

Rebel’s gut nodded, but Goose didn’t need an answer—not when he was on a roll.

“If your old man was here, Caspar would be listening more, at least keeping his distance from Declan. In the meantime, it’s up to you, Rebel.”

“To do what?”

“Stick to the killer like glue. Don’t leave him alone for a second, because you need to protect Caspar. Because he won’t protect himself.”

“That was the plan,” Rebel said hollowly, trying not to flush when he thought about how close he’d been to Declan even an hour earlier. Truth was, he had no clue where Declan was now.

“Mark my words, the guy’s trouble. Your old man never would’ve let you get involved with him,” Goose promised before he walked away.

Rebel’s cheeks burned and he was glad for the darkness. Goose couldn’t have known his involved comment would hit home the way it did, and Rebel hated himself for being so worried about that. In reality, he was concerned for Declan, his safety…and for a decision Caspar made that seemed to be dividing the club.

“Sorry, Reb.” Charlie spoke then, obviously hadn’t followed Goose, but rather, stayed behind to try to explain. “Look, Dad’s fucking nuts,” he admitted. “But fuck me, I can’t shake the what ifs. What if he’s right? We didn’t send Bishop in to destroy or assassinate Keller. We have honor. We don’t operate the way Keller does…and we know how he operates. You’ve seen the retaliation against him, firsthand. That doesn’t happen unless what Keller did to them was equally bad.”

Rebel countered with, “Bishop and Mathias may be new here, but they’ve never let us down. They have better survival instincts than most. They trust Declan.”

“Doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t keep an eye on him. You think they’re not doing that to Bishop and Luna?”

No, Rebel knew they were. “I told Goose that I’d stick with Declan—make everyone here feel more comfortable.” He understood the fear and distrust. If it’d been anyone else from Keller’s, he wouldn’t be this adamant, but Declan would never hurt Defiance. Not the way Goose and the others thought.

This was Rebel’s family. Declan knew that, and he also had respect for Bishop.

Charlie nodded. “You trust him. But do you trust the man he works for?”

“Not entirely,” Rebel admitted, when the answer was really not at all. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust what Bishop said, but Keller—his compound—were both seductive. Smoke and mirrors. He had a hard time deciphering any sense that they cared about right and wrong.

Granted, so did the entire world these days, including their own goddamned government. And because Keller was working for—with—the government, that took things to a whole other level. Rebel sometimes wondered if Keller had something sprayed in the air over the compound to keep everyone singing the compound’s praises.

Then again, Keller’s compound did deal with their own share of violence, as Goose’s kid pointed out. Rebel had been caught in that crossfire, a place he never wanted to be again.

Because of Declan…and Keller. Fuck.

Chapter Twelve

DECLAN WASN’T BACK at the tube when Rebel got there. He prowled around for a while, until the alarms rang and the hail started coming down almost immediately.

So much for fucking early warning.

“Such bullshit,” he muttered as he yanked the tube door open and descended underground. Halfway down the ladder, he caught sight of Declan. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and he was still damp from what must’ve been a most recent shower. He also swayed slightly as he walked, still holding a mostly empty bottle of moonshine. Rebel reached up and locked them in, checked the perimeters, set the alarm, unable to settle in.

Declan noticed. “Dude, you’re soaked. Take your shit off before you do that.”

Rebel wanted to remind him that the LoV had accomplished a lot in a far worse storm than this, but it wasn’t the time to bring that shit up. They had enough between them. “Where the hell’d you go after the meeting?”

“Needed to clear my head.” Declan seemed unconcerned as he used a second towel to rub his hair dry. “You need a towel?”

“No.” Rebel kicked his shoes off and yanked his shirt over his head. “Seriously, where were you hanging out? With Kev? Or Mathias?”

“You jealous, Reb, or just checking up on me?” Declan teased, then paused. Frowned. “Fuck. You are.”

“Dec—”

“It’s okay. Can’t fucking believe this is where we are. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Rebel caught him in a strong-armed embrace and Declan didn’t struggle away. At least not that hard. “Dec, baby, I’m doing this to satisfy some of the older generation. They’re suspicious. I can’t blame them. And really, this gets us what we both want—more time together.”

“In your closet,” Declan finished flatly.

Rebel pressed his forehead to Declan’s. “Come on, man. You said you wouldn’t—”

“I said I’d give you time. Time doesn’t mean forever.”

“What’s your problem?”

“The longer you don’t say anything, the guiltier you’re going to look when this all comes out. And it will come out,” Declan said, without a touch of threat in his tone. “Even though we’re innocent, we’re going to look guilty as fuck. I mean, hell, they’ll never trust me. But if you keep us a secret, then you’re guilty by association.”

“I’m screwed either way.”

“An excellent way to look at it.” Declan’s eyes flashed misery, then he proposed, “I could give you the best kind of screw if you let me.”

“You already do,” Rebel told him seriously.

“It’s not the same as being able to touch you, so don’t fucking placate me,” Declan warned.

But Rebel would, knew how to melt Declan’s anger, his defenses. Even now, the fire in Declan’s eyes was more lust than anything. “Come on, Declan. Let me make it better. You know I can.”

“Only if I’m chained to you, right? And if we can keep it all a secret.”

“There are reasons, beyond me wanting to keep my personal life personal,” Rebel said. Declan crossed his arms and waited, a this is going to be good expression on his face as Rebel began to explain. “If I’m with you, then they can’t accuse you of shit.”

Declan rolled his eyes, assassin turned petulant child. “All for my own good, right? You gonna spoon-feed me my veggies too?”

“Not telling the MC I’m gay—or fucking you—doesn’t mean I don’t trust you, or that I’m ashamed of you or me. It means you’re my personal business.” Rebel’s eyes flashed. “And if Luna was being pushed to reveal her personal life…”

Declan threw his hands up in the air. “You hid behind Luna forever. That’s the difference. You can’t be that thick not to realize that.”

“We can’t all be as out and proud as you. Oh right, you don’t go around announcing it either.”

“I would if you were open to it,” Declan told him, then relented. “Like I said, I understand secrets.”

They were nowhere…and everywhere, again. They were together, not just in the same compound or tube or bed…they connected, more strongly than before. They were more than the sum total of their shared secrets.

*

“I GET IT—I don’t belong here,” Declan said finally as the silence stretched between them, heard the bitterness in his voice that he couldn’t have hid if he’d wanted to.

“You belong with me—we know it. Can’t that be enough for now, Dec?” Rebel asked. “Because this is about safety too.”

“We were never safe. Never will be.”

“You’re always safe with me, and you know it. Let me prove it to you, over and over.”

“Fuck you,” Declan told him petulantly. If Rebel wanted him, he’d have to fight for it tonight. But Rebel was up for it, blocked Declan’s drunken punch easily. “Fucking hick moonshine shit this MC serves.”

Rebel gave him a half smile and encouraged, “Keep going. Get it all out.”

Declan could’ve let it go, but after the moonshine and the rejection, Declan realized he wasn’t going down easily. “What’s the real problem, Reb? Does Defiance thing I’m going to blind you somehow…put you under some goddamned Keller spell?” Declan tilted his head. “I can’t deny I like the idea of you wrapped around my finger, but only in bed. I don’t need a yes-man in my life. Don’t need, don’t want.”

“Good, because you don’t have one. Except when I’m inside you,” Rebel growled, and that’s when Declan knew he was utterly and completely done for…at least for that night.

Rebel lunged, caught him easily and pushed Declan down on the bed with dizzying speed. Declan was on his stomach, his towel ripped off, his arms pushed up toward the headboard—and bound before he could protest.

“Fucking asshole,” he muttered, and Rebel just chuckled, no doubt keeping a tally of Declan’s offenses. He’d make Declan pay for each and every one of them, and right now, Declan hated knowing that he’d love it, each and every time.

Rebel yanked Declan’s hips off the bed, forcing him to balance on his elbows, as his wrists were bound and tied to the headboard. Rebel put his hand between Declan’s shoulder blades, allowing Declan to put his head down against his arms and anticipate what was to come.

Declan’s legs trembled, from nerves, from want and need, from a desire so strong that oftentimes he had no idea what to do with it or how to manage it. That was, until Rebel came into his life like a fucking freight train, running into him at full speed, forcing him to confront every sexual ache he’d ever had…

“Open for me, Dec. Come on, give it up to me.”

Declan relented, the pressure off since he’d been bound. “I’m yours, Reb.”

“Mine for sure,” Rebel growled, then bit the back of Declan’s neck, sinking his teeth in as he inserted two lubed fingers inside of Declan. He quickly added a third and Declan spread his legs further, jolted as those fingers hit the sweet spot, rubbing his gland, making him howl with pleasure. “Don’t come,” Rebel warned. But both men knew it would be impossible for Declan not to. That was part of it—the breaking of rules, the punishments…it was all a part of the game Rebel played so well with him. For him.

“Fuck. Missed you. Missed this,” Declan panted against his cheek as Rebel stroked him, then bit his shoulder, hard.

His way of saying, “Missed you too.”

Chapter Thirteen

Siobhan

“WE’RE NEVER GETTING out, Siobhan.”

Siobhan looked at Sashi’s face, the tiredness etched on it like it had been painted on. Sashi was only five years older, but she looked at least double that. “I don’t think anyone is. Then again, where would we go?”

Sashi sighed. “This is as good as anyplace.”

“No, it’s better,” Siobhan said, hating to have to constantly remind her sister of that fact. But she forced herself to be patient. Between the medications Sashi was on, and the other factors, Siobhan was lucky that Sashi was as functional as she was.

“Better than the other compound,” Sashi said hoarsely, before she gripped Siobhan’s hand. “Promise me we don’t have to go back there.”

“Never,” Siobhan told her fiercely.

“Good. Because I’d die first,” Sashi said.

Her sister meant it. Siobhan didn’t dare tell her that the Chaos hadn’t been a picnic for anyone, that actually, they were doing all right, all things considered. That they had a roof over their heads, and a tube beneath it, and there were here at Keller’s generosity. And Declan’s too, maybe even more so.

Siobhan didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to.

“Sorry, Sib. I know you’re working hard.” Sashi turned to her. “You’re not still stealing, are you?”

“What if I am?”

“You suck at it,” Sashi murmured. “It’s almost embarrassing.”

Siobhan waved her off and went to start dinner. It wasn’t much—soup and a grilled cheese, but they had food and shelter. And each other.

Siobhan ate quickly, because she had to get out there. Tonight was Carnivale—Keller had it twice a week, and it was the most party time of all the parties that took place here.

*

Kev

FOR THE PAST week, Kev—along with Carter and several others handpicked by Caspar—had been making trips between Defiance and Keller’s. Getting to know the routes, the roads, dealing with all kinds of weather. They always took a van and a bike. Always a SAT phone to connect with Caspar and Keller.

Most times, they spent the night at Keller’s, hanging out with Bishop and Luna. It was a different world on Keller’s compound.

Each time, Keller reiterated the fact that he’d hire Kev in a second. Then he’d ask about Declan. When Kev would lie and say things were going okay, Keller would almost wince, but he never pushed. Like he wanted to accept that answer, and so he did.

Today was no different. He hadn’t expected to make another trip to Keller’s, but Caspar had grabbed him after lunch, and an hour later he was riding on the rain-slicked road doing the ten-mile stretch that now separated Defiance from Keller’s.

Carter rode behind Kev, while Kev looked out for danger.

Really, danger was fucking everywhere. He’d never actively had to look for it. As he maneuvered his big Harley that he’d rebuilt from scratch, it rumbled pleasantly beneath him.

The sun had been out at three different times this week, and he figured that helped his mood—or maybe it was the fact that he was actually doing a job that counted for his MC.

After the drop was made, it was still early enough—no matter the darkness—to turn around and make the trip back. That’d been the plan, until Bishop wound an arm around his shoulders and said, “Come on, you guys need to stay for the party.”

Kev tensed. That was code for, LoVs spotted on the road. And it was something Bishop only shared with Kev, who then would share it with Carter. The way they figured it, no sense in scaring the other guys. Then again, he didn’t want them to get complacent either, but he was trying to figure out a happy medium.

Later, Kev wandered away from Carter and the guys who’d begun drinking. He grabbed a pretzel, the kind Hammer used to buy for him at the amusement park when he was a kid, and he chewed it thoughtfully as he looked at the mayhem around him.

She was fast. If he hadn’t turned at that moment, he definitely would’ve missed her behind him, attempting to pick his pocket.

She didn’t. Being a practiced thief himself from the time he was young enough to reach people’s back pockets, he avoided putting anything important in the easiest place to grab from.

He went after her anyway, tailing her through the partiers as the music pounded in time with his footsteps. She took him on a wild goose chase—although he wasn’t really sure if she knew he was behind her or not, but she still ran like the devil was at her heels, through the windy roads. At one point, Kev wasn’t really sure they were still on Keller property, but he wasn’t turning back. He was too damned intrigued.

Finally, he caught sight of her as she disappeared into a small house that was well set back from any other property. At first glance, Kev realized he wouldn’t have actually noticed the house at all—that’s how well it was camouflaged, and not just because of the darkness. It looked like it had grown out of the woods that seemed to overtake it.

Because of that, the house was as dilapidated as most these days. The real living spaces were underneath, the tubes Defiance patented and got rich from.

Hell, most importantly, the tubes were the only reason Defiance lived through the Chaos.

He debated on whether or not to go up to the house, but in the end, he did. In a compound full of thieves, a woman stealing was pretty ballsy…even if she sucked at it.

“I don’t suck at it,” she shot back, her chin jutting defiantly toward him.

He had enough practice in dealing with life’s surprises not to react. Instead, he tilted his head and told her, “You’re going to piss off the wrong people.”

“Looks like I did. No one’s ever followed me here.”

“Maybe you just didn’t know.”

“Honey, I know everything.”

Honey? Who was this chick? And better yet, what the fuck was she thinking? “So if you know everything, you tell me why I’m the only one who’d come here.”

“Because you’re not from Keller’s. You don’t know any better to avoid me, or this house.”

“Fuck. Tired of riddles.” And tired in general. Riding the way he had took a lot out of him and they had to turn around in the morning and do it all again.

“Don’t,” she said suddenly.

“Don’t what?”

“Leave first thing. Wait until after ten in the morning.” With that, she slammed the door hard, in his face, and he heard a heavy lock turn.

How the hell did she know when he was leaving? More than that, how did she know about the danger? Was she privy to Keller’s plans? Or working for the Kill Devils?

He backed away from the rickety porch slowly, not sure if listening to her was the biggest trap of all.

It took him less time than he’d thought to wind back through the roads to the main portion of Keller’s. He followed the spotlights from the Ferris wheel…and the pounding of the music also kept him moving in the right direction.

Once or twice, he could’ve sworn she was following him, but he didn’t bother to turn around. He didn’t want to hear any more goddamned disturbing news couched in the form of a psychic prediction.

Still, when he caught up with Carter, he simply said, “We’re leaving later than planned tomorrow,” and realized that he trusted what she’d told him. Or rather, his instincts agreed.

Carter didn’t question him—none of them did. Mainly, they’d be happy to sleep in, and Bishop had already turned in for the night with Luna, so Kev didn’t have to deal with telling him anything.

When morning came, he could always lie and say they overslept. Wouldn’t be the first time someone had too much of a good time at Keller’s. It was pretty much a prerequisite.

If he’d seen Bishop, Kev would’ve asked him about the girl—hell, he hadn’t even gotten her name. Maybe next time.

Maybe. And he knew there’d be a next time—his instincts told him they’d make it home okay, even though his sleep that night was restless, broken at best.

Halfway home from Keller’s, he discovered that there’d definitely been something to the girl’s story. He slowed at first when he saw shadows on the road, but he didn’t stop completely. Sometimes other gangs or MCs would put shit on the road and then ambush the convoys when they stopped to check on things.

He soon found out that that’s exactly what had happened—the shadows he’d passed were enough to get a convoy to slow down. Where exactly it had been going and who it carried was something Kev couldn’t tell.

That’s how bad the carnage on the road in front of him was, his headlights highlighting the extent of the bloody brutality.

This time, he had no choice but to stop, mainly because the van was unable to get around the wreck. But Kev didn’t let Carter stop for long, urged him to back up and pull into the woods, onto a narrow, windy road that would go around the wreckage, putting them out a mile past of it.

Still, after they’d parked their bikes, none of them could help but go over to check for survivors.

There was no way whoever did this was hanging around, waiting for another convoy. Either this was planned, or a message for Defiance and Keller’s.

If that was the case, the message was most definitely received.

He used a small flashlight, as did the others. There were most definitely no survivors. What lay strewn on the ground around him couldn’t be called bodies anymore…it was more like…pieces.

Kev wanted to lie on the ground in the fetal position and rock with his eyes closed, but a sudden strength surged through him. It was as if someone—something—touched his shoulder, pushed him forward. In that moment, he grew up more than he had in his entire eighteen years of life.

In that moment, he’d become the man his father would’ve wanted him to be.

Behind him, he heard one of the younger guys puking. Kev sucked the bitterness of the scene down, leading by example and not letting the sick kid feel too bad while still taking control.

Jesus, what a shitshow.

He forced himself to look more closely at the bodies, looking for evidence of who these men had been. When Carter called, “I’ve got heads here,” Kev noted the fraying patch lying in blood on the ground. He picked it up, brushed it off and saw the Kill Devils MC symbol.

“They’re Kian’s men,” Kev said.

“Should we go back to Keller’s?” Carter asked.

“No, we head to Defiance—quickly,” Kev answered decisively, without hesitation. “First, get the tarps. Gather what you can for burial.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” one of the younger members asked.

Kev turned on him fast, grabbing him by the throat. “We don’t leave our men behind. And the Kill Devils are our men.”

After that, everyone shut up and concentrated on the brutal task at hand.

*

Siobhan

“HE SEEMS NICE.”

Siobhan turned from the door to her sister. “Nice?”

“Well, for an MC guy anyway. He’s MC, right?”

“Yes. Defiance. I recognized the patch.” She’d also gotten a splitting headache, which meant that she’d have to deal with the two dead men who’d come up behind him and now waited just outside the salt line on the property.

“Those men were killed last week. They’ve been following Kev,” Sashi confirmed.

“They don’t want to hurt him,” Siobhan agreed, having long ago gotten used to the fact that she and her sister simply knew things, like Kev’s name, despite the fact that he’d never introduced himself to either of them. “They’re just…lost.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips.

“I can do it, sis.” Without waiting, Sashi pushed past her, and Siobhan didn’t have the strength to tell her not to do it. As if she knew, Sashi turned and said, “The medication’s helping. I won’t fall apart.”

Siobhan chose to believe her. She hadn’t lost her mind from their shared ability, not the way Sashi had for a while post-Chaos, but seeing the dead—and being able to communicate with them—was a terrible, insane-making thing for anyone to deal with.

And Sashi had never been completely mentally stable. Maybe because her gift was stronger than Siobhan’s…or maybe because Siobhan was stronger. It didn’t matter. All that did was keeping Sashi medicated at times to keep her from hurting herself.

There were so many days Siobhan wondered why she was bothering, though—she was causing her sister more suffering.

“You’re causing it for yourself too,” Sashi told her gently now.

And yes, at night, Siobhan would come home and break down…and here she’d thought Sashi too medicated to know that. “I want you to have peace.”

Sashi smiled. “Ditto.” And then she stepped down from the porch and began to attempt to dispatch the dead.

After a few moments, Siobhan heard her sister yelling—it didn’t sound like it was going as peacefully as it should be. Sometimes, the dead got angry and they didn’t understand they weren’t supposed to be there, especially if they’d had a violent death. From what she’d divined from another dead man, what was supposed to happen on the road to Defiance last week was supposed to be brutal. And it was supposed to happen to the Defiance crew…

She couldn’t feel guilt over changing Kevin’s fate. But she hadn’t realized who was responsible for the massacre…not until she ran out and found Sashi lying on the cold ground, sobbing.

“Sashi, come on—get inside.” She half dragged her sister in, Sashi clutching her head the entire time. Since Siobhan didn’t see the two dead men anymore, she assumed they’d been sent on their way.

She grabbed her sister’s pills—the ones to calm her down—and she forced them into Sashi’s mouth. An hour later, Sashi was sufficiently drugged enough to stop crying. She latched her hand onto Siobhan’s wrist and said, “Nomads.”

Siobhan’s body went numb. She was aware that she was moving her mouth but nothing was coming out. She wasn’t sure how long she remained like that—could’ve been hours or minutes—but she was aware that her sister wasn’t letting go of her hand.

Finally, she managed to whisper, “Why are they back?” in a voice that sounded broken, like she’d been screaming for hours for real, and not just inside her head.

“I don’t know. But they are. And they’re close,” Sashi whispered. “We need to leave.”

Her voice was slurred from the drugs, her body limp. Even if she wanted to run, she couldn’t, and Siobhan took comfort in that. She’d spent too many days and nights chasing her sister when she attempted to outrun things she couldn’t possibly. “We can’t, Sashi. We’ll be okay.”

Later, in the cold, dark of the house, Sashi asked, “Are you going to tell Kev?”

Tell him what, exactly? She had so much baggage she dragged around with her, she didn’t know when or how to begin unpacking it. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Sashi told her. And then, by silent, mutual agreement, they dropped the subject entirely. For the moment, anyway.

Chapter Fourteen

REBEL HAD DONE as he’d promised, sticking closely to Declan. Declan, for the most part, allowed it, although over the next several days he did pull his Houdini act a few times, mainly just to prove he could.

He’d always show up ten minutes later, looking way too satisfied.

Tonight, though, it was longer than ten minutes. It was more like an hour, and Rebel was pissed as fuck when he returned without explanation.

“You don’t want your secret shared, and I don’t want a keeper,” Declan said, his tone haughty. “But I do have a job to do.”

“You’re doing it.”

“I meant, off this compound. I’m still on the job for Keller,” Declan reminded him. “I’m not here to hang out and be watched like the Keller sacrificial lamb.”

“Can’t go alone¸” Rebel pointed out. “You never let Bishop out of your sight on jobs. He never worked alone. Convenient coincidence?”

As Rebel mused, Declan smiled unapologetically. “Hell no. But Bishop’s Bishop. I can work alone. And I will. You’ve got a problem, call Keller. You’ve got his best assassin, but that doesn’t mean you can castrate him.”

“Things are different now.” He didn’t want to say that the MC members would no doubt freak about letting Declan off the property unsupervised. They’d be worried he’d be bringing back some kind of army to destroy them.

“Not used to answering to anyone but Keller about my jobs. Actually, I don’t even have to answer to him—just need to tell him the job’s done,” Declan said tightly.

“You need someone to watch your back. If you’re not bringing Bishop, you’re bringing me.”

“The job’s not in the direction of Keller’s,” Declan said.

“Then I’m your option,” Rebel said firmly.

“We’ll be gone for two days.”

“So?”

“I’m sure Defiance can’t spare you.”

“Pretty sure you don’t know what Defiance can or can’t do, Dec.”

“Fine. Whatever. Flex your MC muscles if that makes you happy. We leave in an hour.” Declan went into his room and shut the door.

An hour? What the fuck? Rebel was pretty sure Declan wouldn’t try to leave ASAP, but even so, he remained outside the tube when he called Caspar from a SAT phone he didn’t use too often. When Caspar picked up, Rebel explained the situation quickly.

For a long moment, Caspar was silent, and then he instructed, “Your instincts were right—you go with him.”

“Okay.”

“And, Reb? Remember, you don’t have to do what he does. You’re only there to watch his back, because we’re on Keller’s side now. Jesus Christ,” Caspar tacked on at the end, like he couldn’t believe he actually said that.

There was a lot of that shit going around.

Rebel paused before heading back into the tube, Caspar’s words echoing in his ear. You don’t have to do what he does.

But Reb knew violence, watched Defiance descend into it, especially in the early days. The violence of the Chaos was what drew Caspar back in, and mellowed the club out, at least in terms of senseless violence. They were about protection of family and business, but they weren’t looking for fights. Hell, they didn’t have time.

That didn’t mean these men couldn’t, and didn’t, fight. They’d grown up street fighting, which meant fighting dirty, and over the past years learned the importance of trained fighting, like Caspar and others learned during their time in the military.

Who—what—he’d be fighting today, he had no idea. He only hoped it wouldn’t be Declan.

*

THE URGENCY BUILDING inside him meant that Declan refused to argue. At this point, Defiance would be implicated either way—no getting around that, Keller told him—and so bringing or not bringing Rebel would have the same outcome.

The opportunity had presented itself—Declan would be a fool not to take it. And he was no goddamned fool.

The closer to the assassination, the more focused he got. He’d learned not to think about how badly he wanted it. Instead, he concentrated on the plan, went over it again and again, accounting for every shot. Every possibility. If he had to do it over, he wouldn’t have spent time buried in that goddamned coffin panicking, but rather, planning.

Didn’t matter—either way, he’d learned. It was a lesson he’d been meant to learn…and he had.

Tonight’s job was all about sending that message.

Declan could try to lose Rebel before the job, but that wasn’t an easy proposition. Tonight, the mission was straightforward, but he’d been counting on some alone time in order to continue the hunt that’d started years ago.

His left palm itched, the way it always did when he thought about who he was hunting. In the end, anyone who got in his way would be collateral damage.

This was war. And Declan had no doubt he’d win.

He began throwing his shit into his go bag, needing to mentally prepare for what was happening next.

“I’m ready,” Rebel told him. “Surprised you waited.”

“I live to surprise you,” Declan said in the most sarcastic tone he could muster.

Rebel somehow always managed to still him with a look, and Declan relaxed, the way he did whenever Rebel was close. Fucking guy was like a drug to him.

Declan had his weaponry loaded. “You’re carrying?”

“Yes,” Rebel said simply, and yes, Declan sometimes forgot that Rebel was pretty damned dangerous himself. Although he didn’t often have to show it, Rebel could take down men easily, which showed how unfair the LoV fight had been.

Most of Rebel’s wounds had healed, some leaving behind visible scars, but Declan knew from experience that they all left scars.

*

“GOING TO FILL me in on the job?” Rebel asked as he got behind the wheel of Declan’s truck. It slid silently through the back gates, the ones only Caspar had access to at the moment. He and Mathias were the only ones who knew that Rebel and Declan were leaving, and since a storm was headed this way, everyone else would be underground soon enough. Their departure wouldn’t be very noticeable, and that’s how both Caspar and Declan wanted it.

Declan wanted Rebel to drive so he could watch Rebel’s back. So there wasn’t any time for small talk—or any talk, beyond giving directions—as the truck rumbled across some of the worst roads Rebel had driven in a while.

Finally, they reached their destination—a hole-in-the-wall-looking restaurant that was dark and inviting inside. Declan seemed to know the owners, who led them to a back table and served them food without showing them a menu.

“Been here before?” Rebel asked.

“A few times.” Declan stretched out and placed his booted feet on either side of Rebel’s, symbolically locking him in—and locking them together.

“With?”

Declan grinned. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Good.”

As the food began to flow—and the beer, for Rebel—he began to feel warm and contented. Declan was fucking flirting up a storm with him, and being out with him? Rebel never thought he’d be this comfortable with it.

Granted, no one in the main room could see them and the waiters didn’t seem to care at all.

Declan was taking charge of this…date, and Rebel didn’t mind that, let himself be taken care of. Declan had made all the decisions about the food and drink—and it turned Rebel on to see how competent he was at giving orders.

Especially because Rebel knew Declan was doing it all for him.

*

DECLAN EXCUSED HIMSELF and headed in the direction of the restroom. One of the owners came by to talk to Rebel, and then Declan came back to the table. The owner clapped him on the shoulder, and Rebel saw a quick exchange of cash.

“You ready to head out?” Declan asked him.

Rebel nodded—he was full enough to be sleepy, although there was an energy about Declan he couldn’t quite place.

“I’ll drive,” Declan offered, and the truck climbed the hill behind the restaurant after turning off the small road that would be easily missed if someone wasn’t looking for it. Declan hadn’t even put the parking lights on, and Rebel could barely make out the road. Declan obviously knew where they were going so he didn’t worry.

Lightning flashed the sky as they approached a small house. Declan got out and manually opened the garage, then came back to drive the truck inside. As he shut the door behind them, Rebel should’ve found himself in total darkness.

But he didn’t. He slid out of the truck as well, and through the blackout windows caught sight of a flash of lights down the hill near the restaurant. “What’s going on there?”

Declan didn’t answer.

Rebel heard the unmistakable roar of motorcycles over the sounds of light hail hitting the roof and suddenly, his suspicions grew. “Dec? Did you…?”

Declan guided him away from the garage and into the house. He lit a few candles before answering, “That’s what we were there for.”

“I thought it was dinner.”

Declan laughed a little. “No reason not to take advantage of a good meal.”

“You should’ve told me…”

“What? That I was going to do my job? I don’t have to tell you that, Rebel.”

“You would’ve told Bishop.”

“You’re not Bishop. This, what we’re doing now? This is fucking with any relationship we might have. I can’t work with you, Reb. It’s too fucking personal.”

“Sometimes that’s the best time to work with someone.”

Although it’d felt like they’d been driving for a while, they weren’t very far from the restaurant, actually, almost behind it and up on a slight hill. If he looked down, he could see the activity, hear the roar of motorcycles racing up and down the streets beyond.

“They won’t come here. Don’t know this exists. On maps, it looks like this is a pond. And it was, at one point,” Declan told him. “Still, no reason to tempt fate.”

Inside the cabin, the windows were darkened—Rebel supposed they’d look that way to outsiders, despite the lit candles.

For all intents and purposes, they’d disappeared. And that made Rebel uneasy as fuck, for both of them. “Who’s looking for you now?”

Declan shrugged. “Maybe the LoV.”

“And the owner? The waiter?”

Declan shook his head. Rebel supposed whatever was inside that envelope was enough to buy his privacy and maybe this safe house. “We’re good, Reb.”

“No, we’re most definitely not good. Who was it?”

“Does it matter?” Declan asked coolly.

“It matters to someone, I’m sure.”

Outside, the storm raged. The cacophony down the hill was masked by the sudden hail that hit the windows so hard it was like they might break.

“Haven’t been topside during a storm like this since…” Rebel trailed off when he saw the look on Declan’s face. “I wasn’t talking about that night. Fuck, Dec, I don’t blame you for my accident or for the LoV. Is that what this was about tonight? Revenge?”

“Flattering yourself,” Declan told him.

“Then who was it?” Rebel asked again.

Declan gave him a small, satisfied smile before saying, “Fletcher. And Big C.”

Big C…as in, president of the LoV. Rebel’s stomach dropped. “Jesus.”

Fletcher was bad enough, but once Big C was gone, that meant that, between Keller’s and Defiance, they’d taken out two of the top-tier LoVs in under a year. It was one of the reasons Bishop had gone to Defiance to start with, since he’d killed one of those top-tier LoVs…and Keller’s son, Victor, at the same time. What a motherfucking mess.

“Tonight was just a warning.”

“That’s more than a warning. That’s a full-on declaration of war.”

“I’m ready, Rebel.”

“What’s going on here? Really—what’s Keller up to?” Rebel demanded as the storm began to rise in intensity, both outside and in.

“Not in my wheelhouse. I just do as I’m told. Don’t worry—you won’t be implicated.”

“That’s not what—fuck.” Rebel paced. He was used to club violence, had been involved in some revenge runs. He’d watched Caspar kill a man for the love of his life.

But this…Rebel had a sinking feeling that what happened tonight had escalated things far more than Caspar would’ve liked.

Then again, maybe Caspar knew. Maybe Rebel was the one out of the loop. “What the ever loving fuck, Dec?”

Declan looked half high—maybe this was what happened to him after an assassination. Maybe it was his drug. “Like I said, none of this is your call.”

“But is it yours?”

“Not entirely, no.”

“What does that mean? You said you took orders—that this was just a job. Now you’re telling me you might’ve had a hand in the planning. And I’m thinking Caspar has no fucking idea what you’ve just done. Thinking neither you or Keller warned him ahead of time.”

“Do you think Caspar would’ve tried to stop it from happening?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well you goddamned need to, Reb. Can’t go around blindly following shit your whole life,” Declan challenged.

“I’ll throw you through the fucking wall if you talk like that to me again,” Rebel warned. “I won’t follow blindly, but I have loyalty, to the MC. To Caspar, who pretty much saved Defiance from the path Lance led us down. And what’s pretty clear to me is that your loyalty isn’t with me at all. I guess fucking really is just fucking, although you try to tell me differently.”

Declan tilted his head. “You think I should be sharing these secrets in the bedroom?”

“You know what? I do. A warning would be nice—it was one thing when you didn’t tell me about the Nomads before the last goddamned meeting…but this? Now I finally understand that your loyalty does, and always will, lie with Keller.” Why realizing that hurt so badly, he didn’t know. It shouldn’t have been a revelation.

“It does, Reb.”

“What’s he done for you that’s so wonderful? Pay you?”

“There’s that, yeah. He also gave me life,” Declan said quietly, stunning Rebel into silence.

When he found his voice, he asked hopefully, “You don’t mean that in a metaphorical way, by any chance?” trying to bring a note of levity into his voice. Declan looked sad and scared, and those were two emotions Rebel didn’t associate with him. “Declan…seriously—Keller’s your father?”

“Couldn’t tell you. I never tell anybody.”

“But you just did.”

“But I just did,” Declan echoed.

Jesus. Rebel couldn’t think, not over the roar in his brain, or the storm overhead or the worry that the entire LoV or Fletcher’s mafia would end up at their door—or at the gates of Defiance tonight. All he could do was gather Declan in his arms and he held him there for what seemed like an eternity.

“Hey Reb?”

“Yeah?”

“I did what I could to make sure Defiance is safe. Bishop and Luna at Keller’s. And Kev wasn’t making a run tonight. I checked all that. I made it look like Big C killed Fletcher, then tried to run, and was killed by a couple of Fletcher’s men. I want to tell you that they’ll never be able to figure out what really happened, that they’ll be too busy chasing each other, blaming each other. But we both know that’s bullshit.”

“Is that why you did it? So they’d take their focus away from Defiance and Keller’s?”

“Part of it.” Declan hesitated. “We’re trying to bring the Nomads out of hiding. If we take away the groups they’re hiding behind…”

“Fuck,” Rebel breathed. “So Defiance and Keller’s are still in their line of fire.”

“Yes, that hasn’t changed. But tonight didn’t make it worse—it just leveled the playing field. It’s the Nomads against us,” Declan said. “I made a call to Keller before we left. He was calling Caspar. You can relax.”

“Relax?”

Declan blew out a harsh breath. “It had to be done now. Tonight. After what Kev and Carter saw in the road on the way home…”

“Nomads?”

Declan nodded. “If they make moves, we need them to do it alone. Combined with the others? It’s too much.”

“So the LoV and Fletcher’s crew were involved with Nomads for sure?”

“Yeah.” Declan drew out the word, still spaced out.

Rebel’s head reeled. That information alone was mind-blowing. But the fact that Declan was Keller’s son? It made sense, on every level. Things clicked into place because he had the knowledge. “Why tell me all this now?”

“Which part?”

“Start with the Keller is your father thing.”

“Because I’m tired of lying to you about who I am,” Declan bit out. “I’m not ashamed of it. Love him or hate him—without him, this area never would’ve survived. If he and Defiance would cut the power-play shit, we could have a nice enterprise going.”

Rebel ran a hand over Declan’s hair but Declan slid from his touch. “You should’ve—”

“Told you?” Declan shot back. “Right? First thing, I’ll announce it. Better yet, I’ll tattoo it on my forehead.”

“I wasn’t a stranger.”

“Than what the fuck are you?” Declan demanded. “Because you walked away.”

“I’m here now, goddammit. Despite the shit you’ve just pulled.”

Declan snorted. “You have no idea what I’ve done, Reb. No fucking idea.”

“Then tell me.” Declan shook his head slowly at Rebel’s request. “Tell me about the goddamned Nomads—give me something concrete, because it’s next to impossible to fight against a ghost.”

“They’re not ghosts,” Declan said tightly. “They’re flesh and blood. Just good at what they do.”

“What is that, exactly?”

“Not being seen.”

Rebel threw his hands in the air. “The fuck, Dec? Why’s all this so goddamned secret? It’s like you know but can’t…” He paused, like he realized what he’d just said. He turned slowly to face Declan, who hadn’t moved from where he sat. “It’s like you know.”

Declan’s jaw set stubbornly after he ground out, “Don’t.”

“Dammit, what do you know? How the hell do you have firsthand knowledge of this?”

Declan smiled, but there was no light behind it, not like earlier when they were eating and laughing. “Gonna be secret for secret, Reb?”

“Is that what you expect—a push of boundaries for a push of boundaries?”

“If I waited for that, you’d never get shit from me.” Declan sighed. “The strength of the Nomads is in their secrecy. You don’t know who they are…that’s how they get you.”

Rebel stared at him, Declan’s words echoing in his mind.

You don’t know who they are…that’s how they get you.

“Dec, whatever your reasons for putting yourself in the path of the Nomads…you have to know this could kill you. It will.”

Declan started at him steadily. “I’ve known that since I was sixteen, Reb. I’ve been waiting for it. The only thing stopping me from going in full force against the Nomads now is…”

When he trailed off, Rebel grabbed him. “What?”

“You, okay? Because of you, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.”

“You told me revenge is bad.”

“It is. It’s fucking me over. But I believe in revenge. Karma. And I’m the only one who can dish out this retribution. I’ve trained for it from the time I was sixteen.”

“If this is personal business…”

“Get clear, Reb—it’s fucking personal as hell, but if they’re left to roam? They’ll fuck up everything you worked so hard for…and I’m not exaggerating.”

“You’re the reason Defiance will be involved in this.”

“I’m the reason? Get over yourself, fucker—you helped them already.” Declan’s eyes flashed. “Defiance sold them the tubes.”

“How could we sell tubes to an MC that doesn’t exist?”

“Not an MC—and fuck, they exist…although if I have my way, not for much longer.”

“I call bullshit on the tubes. Give me a name Caspar can trace—we have records.”

He lifted his chin. “Look for a big order under V. Kash.”

Rebel narrowed his eyes. “You know him?”

“Defiance killed him. Victor.”

Rebel stilled “Victor was working for the Nomads?”

Declan nodded. “Lance and Victor also had plans. Now, don’t ask any other questions you might not want answers to, hear?”

“I want all the motherfucking answers,” Rebel said stubbornly.

Declan shook his head slowly. “You’re in too deep already. I’m not pulling you in further.”

Rebel had a decision to make—either he was in or completely out. Either way, he was screwed…but with one of them, he wouldn’t have Declan.

And goddammit, Rebel wanted him. “You took me to dinner. Made me think—”

“What, Reb? That we were on a date?” Declan’s eyes blazed. “You don’t think I want that? You don’t think I could’ve just taken you somewhere to wait and snuck out and done my job? Not like I haven’t done it before.”

“How romantic—dinner and a killing.”

“At least I took you out in public. I notice you weren’t giving a shit who saw us.”

“Because who would think—” He stopped abruptly when Declan’s eyes flashed. Regretted starting the sentence that Declan finished for him…

“Who’d think that Defiance would be in bed with Keller. Right. It’s ridiculous.”

He’d spoken so calmly that his lunge at Rebel was a surprise. Even though Rebel hadn’t expected it, he was built for fighting, always primed, reflexes at the ready. But still, Declan was strong. And pissed. More so than Rebel—which, hell, Rebel should be the one with all that anger Declan now possessed.

And then all that anger slammed Rebel to the wall, and then Declan grabbed him and slammed him to the floor just as quickly. Before Declan could do anything further, Rebel rolled him until they hit the wall again…with Rebel on top.

They were both hard. Panting. Sweating, clawing, punching, and still somehow struggling to get closer to each other. But as soon as the fight became about fucking, as soon as his brain realized that and switched from fight to fuck, Declan was touching him.

Declan’s hands were strong on his shoulders, prepared to shove him away…but his mouth accepted the hungry kisses readily. Rebel could kiss him for hours and it wouldn’t be enough. At least that’s what it felt like at this moment. Declan was pushing his body up against Rebel’s, and Rebel was so lost in the kiss that he barely registered Declan wrapping arms and legs around him. Free hands in Rebel’s hair, and it was so good. So good, until Rebel noticed and then, before the panic could set in, he sat up and grabbed to restrain Declan’s arms. As he did so, Declan’s legs dropped from Rebel’s back and onto the carpeted floor. Declan didn’t fight the hold on his wrists. He looked up at Rebel, face flushed, lips swollen and almost bruised-looking, and panted, “Fuck me, Reb. Now.”

He grabbed the collar of Declan’s sweater—fine black cashmere that wouldn’t look nearly as good on anyone as tough as Declan was. His long, fluid body screamed sex and the fuck-me vibe was unmistakable and handled without arrogance.

“Take it off,” Declan told him.

Rebel complied. When he let go of Declan’s wrists, Declan kept his hands in place, so Rebel tore the sweater over Declan’s head smoothly. Then he pulled his own T-shirt off and used it to bind Declan’s hands together…and then to the table leg near his head.

Once bound, Declan sighed contentedly, like he didn’t have to think any longer about what to do next. Now, he could just feel everything Rebel would do to him…and Rebel had plans.

Chapter Fifteen

HE’D NEEDED THIS so badly—and Rebel hadn’t turned him away. He could’ve, easily, and Declan wouldn’t have blamed him. The assassination tonight had turned everything the both of them knew on its ear, changed their futures forever. Whether it was for better or worse remained to be seen.

Rebel worked his way along Declan’s body, sucking and biting, adding his own marks to Declan’s tattoos as Declan’s skin tingled and tightened at his touches. “Yeah, Reb…just like that.”

And when Rebel had marked what seemed like every part of Declan, that’s when he began to ready Declan to take him.

“Fuck the lube—I don’t care,” Declan told him. “I want it to hurt.”

Rebel didn’t completely comply with that, but he used less lube than he normally would’ve, allowing Declan to feel the sweet burn as he entered. After that, Rebel fucked him in earnest, taking out his frustrations from the evening, exactly as Declan wanted him to.

The carpet burned against Declan’s back as Rebel drove into him. His legs were splayed on Rebel’s shoulders and he was totally helpless against the onslaught.

He closed his eyes and let Rebel’s special brand of magic fucking take him out of himself. The past weeks leading until tonight had been tension filled, and tonight had been a culmination, a release.

Having Rebel fuck him was the icing on the day. And after he’d come, yelling Rebel’s name, Rebel untied his wrists from the table and flipped him onto his belly. Once retied, with Rebel’s arm under him to hold him up a bit, Rebel brought his hand down hard on Declan’s ass.

“Fuck.” Declan attempted to squirm away, hadn’t expected that right after his orgasm, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t help but count the slaps—twenty in all—and when Rebel was done, Declan’s ass stung…and he’d come again.

*

“DON’T,” DECLAN GROWLED at Rebel, hours later, after several orgasms and being helped into bed. “It’s too much.”

“Never had to force you before—I don’t intend to start now,” Rebel assured him. His palms splayed across Declan’s shoulders as Declan’s nerves, shot from the stress of the last several days, plus the nightmares, bucked at the overstimulation. “I’ve got you. You might not believe that, or want it but—”

“Fuck,” Declan muttered as Rebel’s hands calmed him. The guy’s touch had done that for him since day one.

Rebel chuckled. “Not tonight—I’m not that easy.”

“Bullshit you’re not.” Still, Declan felt himself drifting as Rebel pushed him chest-first against the pillows. When Declan lay prone, Rebel continued to knead Declan’s tender flesh.

“You’re here, Dec. I’ll protect you.”

“Who’s going to protect me from you?” It slipped out before he could stop himself.

Rebel’s response was a soft kiss on his neck, almost behind his earlobe and then, “That ship sailed a year ago.”

“You left,” Declan reminded him, like that needed to be said.

“You made me,” Rebel shot back.

“We’re not doing this. Not when I’m staying at Defiance. It’s suicide. Especially because it’s a secret.”

“I don’t owe anyone an explanation of my sex life. And we’re not at Defiance right now.”

Chapter Sixteen

WHEN REBEL WOKE, the storm was still raging. He glanced at the bedside clock that read six a.m. then looked to Declan beside him.

Declan slept. Like a baby.

And then the monumental-ness of what Declan had done the night before (before Rebel got him bound and in bed) struck Rebel like lightning—painful, fast and unexpected. The jolt got him up and dry heaving over the toilet.

The killing—and who got killed—weren’t the sticking points. It was what Defiance would say, because even if no one knew Declan was behind it, Rebel was sure Keller would waste no time announcing it.

Hopefully, Keller would wait until they got back to Defiance safely. The thought of another ambush made him dry heave again.

This was pushing all his secrets, forcing them closer and closer to the surface. If they broke through…

Declan was behind him, handing him a washcloth, handing him water…not touching him or saying anything.

What was there to say? It was time to go back to reality. “Need to go,” he croaked.

“Not till there’s a break in the rain. Better to lie low here anyway.”

At the reminder of last night, Rebel’s throat tightened. Finally, he managed, “Need a shower,” then pushed up and into the enclosed glass space. “I’ll save you water.”

“Don’t bother. Want to smell like you for as long as possible,” Declan told him.

Rebel was caught between panic and lust…and the latter won out. Last night, he’d promised to protect Declan. Today, he’d get his shit together and do just that. “Tell me what Victor planned to accomplish with the LoV and the Nomads? If he eliminated Keller, was he taking over?”

“Fuck that. My brother wasn’t taking over shit,” Declan said. “He made stupid deals with the LoV, like getting in bed with the president’s son. Like that was really going to work out well for anyone.”

Rebel stared at him through the open glass door as the water rained down on him—and Declan watched with interest. “But Keller stood behind him.”

“Yeah, to save face. But he knows Victor got what he deserved, because if he didn’t, you know that Bishop and Mathias would be dead, no questions asked.”

“So if that’s true, what’s the deal with this debt Bishop’s paying off?”

“It’s got to be paid.”

“Hell of a payment.”

Declan sighed. “You think I’m some kind of soulless asshole. What did you do before the Chaos that made you a fucking saint, Rebel? Tell me.”

Rebel couldn’t answer that, because Declan was right. There wasn’t much of anything he did but hide the fact that he was gay, ride around earning his probie patch and generally fuck around.

“I’ve been working for my dad since I can remember. I know all his assets. Codes. Escape plans. I’ve been to the School of Keller. I’ve been kidnapped and tortured for information three times before we cut all ties on paper. And post-Chaos, it’s been easier to keep it looking like a mere business relationship.”

“But you’re not a robot,” Rebel couldn’t help but interject, because Declan wasn’t all about work. He liked to read, watch old movies. He was into pop culture when there’d been such a thing. He was cultured, but not in the way of someone who grew up learning a little bit of everything for social purposes only. No, Declan’s knowledge was much deeper and more thoughtful. He’d given Rebel books to read—his favorites, and Rebel understood him a lot more because of that.

“No, I’m not a robot. Neither’s my father. If anything, Victor was the one you don’t want in power. He had no soul,” Declan said.

Rebel tried to understand how Declan justified killing for Keller, but for Declan, it was really simply all about business. If you borrowed money or goods and you didn’t pay what you owed, you deserved what you got.

This world had harkened back to the Wild West, incorporating a lot of street justice. There were few laws enforced to keep people honest. It was more about an exchange of goods on a more personal level.

“There was never a good time to tell you,” Declan said now. “Not the first night, or the second. And then, when we kept seeing each other, I got more freaked out.”

Rebel did what he did best—he walked out of the shower and set about calming Declan the fuck down. First, hands on the man’s shoulders, a firm grip, a strong caress, and Declan stopped talking. His head fell forward a little. A sigh escaped his throat. Relief. Release.

“I’d have to go into hiding—and I’m not doing that again,” Declan said stubbornly.

“But if you don’t…”

“Know the risks, Reb. Lived them,” Declan shorthanded quietly. “Already got killed off once. I can’t reinvent again. Not with all the exposure I’ve had as one of Keller’s men.”

“So we’ll make sure no one finds out,” Rebel said firmly. Declan ran his knuckles over Rebel’s cheek unexpectedly, like he’d forgotten Rebel didn’t like to be touched. Instead of grabbing Declan’s wrist away like he usually did in situations like this, Rebel sat back, closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, almost rubbing his cheek against Declan’s fingers as Declan refused to break the moment, refused to pull his hand away. Probably because, for the first time, Rebel was finally admitting to the palpable connection between them.

Rebel knew Declan would’ve kept his hand there all night if it brought any measure of comfort to Rebel.

“I’m supposed to be comforting you,” Rebel murmured.

“You are,” Declan assured him.

“I’m not leaving, Declan, okay?”

Declan nodded, murmured something unintelligible, probably because Rebel’s hands slid over his chest, pinched his nipples as he sucked hard along the side of Declan’s neck.

“Yeah, Reb, that’s it,” Declan murmured.

“Not leaving,” Rebel repeated. “Never leaving you behind.”

It was a promise he intended on keeping.

Chapter Seventeen

Kev

KEV WAS FINALLY back at Keller’s and hanging out at Carnivale after a week of lockdown at Defiance, first because of the massacre he’d encountered and then because of the storms that followed.

Before he’d left, Caspar told him and Carter that Declan and Rebel had been caught in the storms that happened just west of there. And then Caspar’d told all the MC members about the murder of Fletcher and Big C. He didn’t come right out and say that Declan was responsible, but then again he didn’t have to.

Kev heard mixed reactions in Defiance about that. Some were still convinced that Declan and Keller were going to bring the demise of the MC, while most of the others now began to see Declan in a different light.

But for Kev, he was most interested in how that girl from Keller’s knew about the ambush-turned-massacre. He couldn’t rest until he knew. What if she was in on it? What if Keller was too?

Although he liked Declan a lot, he wasn’t going to just believe shit blindly. Now, he turned to Carter and said, “Hey, I’m headed out for a while—cover for me.”

“No problem,” Carter said easily. “Want to tell me where you’re headed?” Kev hesitated, just long enough for his friend to smile and add, “You got lucky last time we were here, didn’t you?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

“Couldn’t have been all bad if you’re going back.”

Kev just shook his head but didn’t comment. “I’m not leaving the property. I won’t be long.”

Carter didn’t press it any further, but eventually, Kev would have to come clean. Maybe because he was more intrigued by this girl—this woman—than he wanted to admit.

He’d dreamed about her this past week, her dark eyes and auburn hair cascading across his chest when she called his name, and hell, he’d dreamed of women naked after far less interaction than he’d had with her. But fuck, she’d literally saved his life, and whether or not it was some kind of odd prediction or a solid lead she’d gotten, he needed to confront that. For the sake of Defiance, at least.

It took him longer to get to her house this time, almost as if the woods surrounding it were purposely fucking with the paths to protect her. But he’d always been good with a compass and his memory guided him away from the busy compound toward her.

The partying hadn’t started up yet, so he was hoping to still catch her at home.

You don’t even know her name…

He realized that after he knocked on the door. He saw someone peek out the side window—not his girl, but another one with dark hair, although she had dark eyes as well that studied him for a long moment before shutting the curtain.

And then…nothing. He waited. Knocked again. Called out, “I know you’re in there,” because even though it was the wrong girl, he could still ask some questions.

The door finally jerked open, and the dark-eyed girl was standing there, staring at him like he was a mirage. “Why did you come back?” she demanded. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“How did you know?”

She looked…afraid as she answered. “Just a gut feeling.”

Then she started to close the door. He put his palm out flat to stop her from closing it on him completely. “Bullshit.”

His curse seemed to snap her out of her fearful state. “Listen, go ask around Keller’s about the weird girl who knows things. You’ll get an earful, and then you can leave me the fuck alone.”

“I don’t listen to other people about shit like that—I want to hear it from you.”

She blinked, surprised. “Fine. I know things. I don’t share it a lot because I don’t want people like you coming back and demanding to know how I knew it. Because you’re skeptical. You think I might be in on the ambush…or at the very least privy to the planning of it.”

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t in on it at all. I just knew about it.”

“Just like that—out of thin air.”

“Right—just like that,” she echoed.

“So you’re like, psychic or something?”

“Or something,” she muttered.

“You’re just going to repeat everything I say?”

“You seem to know an awful lot.” She shrugged. “Not sure what you want from me.”

Kev didn’t know either, except he’d never been drawn to anyone the way he was her. “I’ve been dreaming about you,” he blurted out.

She crossed her arms and backed up. “Well, don’t do that anymore.”

“Like I can stop dreams,” he scoffed.

“You could try.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” he pointed out. “Maybe they’re some of the best dreams I’ve had since the motherfucking Chaos. And maybe I’m fucking nuts but hell, if you can’t be fucked up now…”

He shrugged.

She slammed the door.

Smooth, Kev. Really fucking smooth.

*

CASPAR WATCHED TRU dancing with her friends. Even though they were on high alert, so far there hadn’t been any blowback from the murders of Big C and Fletcher.

No, the Defiance members wanted Declan out, but for much different reasons. But none of them had made the connection that Declan had been the assassin. It helped that it’d been set up to look like a war between the two factions. And if Rebel and Declan had been able to come back before most people were let up from the underground, it might’ve worked perfectly. But now that they’d been gone for two nights, Caspar knew it was inevitable that Defiance members would put two and two together.

Before this, no one noticed they’d been missing, not with the storms keeping everyone underground and separate. Tonight was the first night that the rain receded enough to hang out outside, at least under the tents. And Caspar heard rumblings, members putting the pieces together when they couldn’t find Rebel—and by extension, Declan.

Caspar refused to say a word beyond the announcement of the killings. Rebel and Declan would be back soon enough and then he’d deal with everything. But for now, it was time to party and blow off some steam.

Kian, the Kill Devils president, had rolled in with his bodyguards a couple of hours after Declan and Rebel left. When Lance was in charge of Defiance, the Kill Devils were most definitely enemies. And when Caspar took over, that seemed like it wouldn’t change…until Tru came into the picture. Tru was a legacy of Defiance, but she’d run before the Chaos. And she’d come back three years post-storm to find Caspar home from the military, trying to deal with what the world had become.

Lance had still been in charge, but Tru had picked Caspar. And Caspar had murdered Kian’s brother, thereby helping Kian take control of the Kill Devils.

Now, the two MCs were tightly banded, although they tended to keep that information quiet. For both their benefit.

“Kev and Carter here?” Kian asked now as they stood together, surveying the scene.

“Sent them on their run with their crew,” Caspar informed him.

“How are they?” Kian asked tightly.

“Not great.” Caspar had gotten the call from Kev last week when he’d made the discovery of the body parts strewn in the road. Caspar had told Kev to try to identify the men…and to his credit, Kev had already done so, had come back to Defiance, covered in blood, shaken, but with a frayed Kill Devils patch.

“My men?” Kian asked now.

“What’s left of them,” Caspar said bluntly. “We counted ten of them.” God, not all the body parts had been there, so Caspar had to rely on the heads. He’d recognized some of the men, but Kian’s MC had many rogue members who lived out this way. “Their rockers were gone. No wallets or anything else to identify them.”

“They took the body parts with tattoos,” Kian said quietly.

“Burned them.”

“Fuck me,” Kian muttered. “I need to bury my men.”

“That’s why my men are standing by to help you.” Caspar paused. “Supposed to be Defiance,” Caspar said.

“We could be targets just as easily,” Kian protested. But none of it mattered in the end. What did was who was willing to kill that brutally. “It’s not the LoV. Bullshit they did the massacre at Keller’s.”

“With Fletcher,” Caspar reminded him, but both men knew what—who—they suspected was pulling the strings. They were just too motherfucking superstitious to say the name out loud.

“Did you talk to Keller about it?” Kian asked finally.

“Yes.”

“Are we all on the same page?”

“Yes.” Caspar had already filled Kian in about the most recent assassinations—right before they happened. “Reb’s going to be pissed I didn’t tell him sooner.”

“Then maybe you should’ve.” Kian sat back and Caspar shot him the finger. “Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty—except mine.”

“Fuck.” Caspar ran his hands through his hair. “Knew getting in with Keller meant war, but this is major.”

“Take ’em a while before they realize who fucked ’em. If they ever do,” Kian offered. “In the meantime…”

In the meantime, the Nomads were coming—Caspar could feel them, like they were riding the fucking wind or something. When he was younger, he’d convinced himself they were some goddamned fucked up MC fairy-tale myth. He knew better now, but he wished he didn’t.

As if reading his mind, Kian said, “Nomads are evil fuckers.” Kian spit after he said the MC’s name, then knocked the back of Caspar’s wooden chair.

Caspar couldn’t blame the guy’s superstitions. Since Declan had mentioned the Nomads at the last meeting, his sleep had been more fucked than usual. Lying next to Tru had gone a long way toward helping him over the past years, but something about the idea of the Nomads actually surfacing? Nightmare-inducing.

“You were hoping they’d been destroyed?” Kian asked him now.

“You blame me?”

“Not a bit.” Kian drew a long drag from his homemade cigarette. He rolled them expertly with one hand—so his other hand was always free to grab his weapon, he’d explain to anyone who asked—in seconds. Something that mesmerized everyone, especially the women. Tru had told Caspar many of the women on the Defiance compound would be willing to pull up stakes to go with Kian if asked.

Kian definitely enjoyed his time at Defiance, but he wasn’t in the market for commitment…beyond committing to his MC helping Defiance. At least that’s what he told everyone. But the way he watched Kat? Yeah. Caspar wanted to pat him on the back and wish the miserable bastard luck. Instead, he’d sit the fuck down and watch the show.

Chapter Eighteen

RE-ENTRY TO DEFIANCE was a bitch, in all respects. First, the storm had made most of the roads back almost impassable. It was slow going, even in Declan’s truck, which was built like a tank and able to power through pretty much anything. Rebel still white-knuckled it through, refusing to let Declan take the wheel.

Why Rebel was babying the fuck out of him, neither of them understood, but Declan had stopped fighting it. Especially once he realized that Rebel wasn’t pitying him—not by a long shot.

“I know what I’m walking back into,” Declan had assured him this morning, right before they’d gotten on the road. And he’d been right. At the gates, there were a swarm of men, all wanting answers. It was only when Caspar appeared, shooting a shotgun into the air several times to break the shit up, that the truck could pull through.

With Caspar in the backseat. He didn’t say anything, not until the mob was behind them. And then he asked, “You both okay?”

“Fine, yeah,” Declan said absently.

Rebel could only nod. “Doesn’t seem like things are okay here.”

Caspar stared back at him through the rearview. “They’ll deal. Had to be done.”

Rebel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You sound like…wait, you knew what was going to happen?” Caspar continued to stare at him, obviously annoyed at being questioned. But Rebel didn’t care. “You sent me in unprepared. What the fuck?”

“Sent you in with Declan. Call that prepared, Reb.” With that, Caspar slid out of the truck. It was only Declan’s hand on his arm that stopped Rebel from following.

“Don’t fuck with him,” Declan told him. He was right—Rebel heard the barely controlled anger in his voice. “I’m going to take on the retaliation from this MC, so he doesn’t have to. I’m okay with it.”

Rebel would have to take it on too—guilt by association.

“It was necessary,” Declan continued.

“I don’t know what the fuck to believe anymore.”

“You can believe everything I told you,” Declan said quietly. He took his hand away and Rebel stared out into the darkness, the CD that’d been playing while they were driving restarting and swirling around him.

He hadn’t even heard Declan get out of the truck. Once he realized he was alone, he got out and dragged both their bags down into the tube. But Declan wasn’t there either.

He found him ten minutes later by following the yelling.

Declan was in the middle of the circle, fighting upward of seven Defiance members. Or at least that’s how it appeared to have started. By the time he got there, Declan had taken down four men, incapacitating them easily…more easily than they should’ve gone down.

Caspar stood at the edge of the group, his icy gaze on the scene. Rebel couldn’t jump in while Caspar was there, not giving orders to break it up.

And really, Declan was doing fine. More than fine, actually. Watching him manhandle the men stirred something in Rebel.

He can protect you.

He can handle you.

It was nothing he didn’t know, but seeing it illustrated in spectacular Technicolor made it crystal clear. He shoved his hands in his pockets in case his dick took the lead and gave his feelings away.

Declan squared off against the final man. His hair glinted blond in the last of the sunlight, his eyes burned as Kiefer, the biggest of the bunch, taunted, “You gonna have us exterminated?”

“I can do that all by myself,” Declan promised. “Want to meet your maker now? I’ll give you a final smoke. Or wank, if you prefer.”

The man’s eyes went cold with anger, especially after Caspar snorted. Rebel wondered if Declan was hinting at something about the man’s sexuality, goading him.

Rebel was sure the big man had goaded him first. He forced himself to stand there and watch Declan make quick work out of Kiefer.

“Think we’re fuckin’ done here,” Caspar called then. “Everyone back to your goddamned tubes. Rain’s comin’ in.”

And it was. Rebel heard the rumble and, as he walked Declan back to his tube, lightning tore the sky in half, illuminating Declan’s face. Declan wouldn’t meet his gaze, stared straight ahead, not picking up the pace even as the rain and hail started. They were both pretty soaked when they got safely inside the tube, and only then did Rebel ask him, “What the fuck was that all about?”

“Guess they missed me.” He shrugged. “Thought they weren’t supposed to know we were gone.”

“They didn’t, at first. Storms fucked it up. And they’ve been underground for days. They’re all pent-up—nervous about the murders. They don’t know what the fuck to do with themselves.” Rebel paused. “They don’t know you killed those two men.”

Declan laughed a little, with zero humor behind it. “Come on, Reb. Not too hard to figure out. Even MC men can put two and two together.”

Rebel’s brows raised but he let that go in favor of tending to the few cuts Declan bore. He guided Declan to the bed, sat him down, got a washcloth and the first aid kit and began to gently wipe Declan’s face. His lower lip was split, and there was a cut above his eyebrow, and Rebel carefully got rid of the drying blood without resplitting it, and then he covered the cut in steri-strips.

He ran his hand along the side of Declan’s face. “It shouldn’t scar.”

Declan rolled his eyes. “They all do.”

“That’s all you can goddamned say?”

“I could add that you almost came when you watched me fight.”

Of course the fucker would notice that. Hell, maybe that was even part of why he’d fought in the first place. “You couldn’t just come back here and lie low?”

“No, I couldn’t. I won’t. Fuck off, Reb, if that’s what you’re expecting,” Declan spat, then took a deep breath. “Look, I fucking hated that you had to be involved. I don’t want you involved.”

“But I was—I am. I’m in this up to my fucking neck,” Rebel growled. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

The tension between them was thick as the night—the fight had only made things worse, wound them both up past the point of no return. They were walking dangerous ground.

Declan and Bishop were both assassins for Keller…except that Declan didn’t seem to let it bother him. Rebel tried to ponder that, wondered what the hell that meant about Declan. What it meant for him since he was attracted to Declan. “How do you do this shit and not let it affect you?”

“You think I’ll lose sleep over this?” Declan growled. He grabbed Rebel’s hand and put it on his chest, where some of the deepest scars were. “You’ve felt them from day one. These happened during my kidnapping. I was sixteen. It was right before the Chaos. So yeah, I don’t have guilt in getting rid of people who deserve it. I don’t agree with a lot of my father’s methods, but this? I’m in.”

Rebel let out a harsh breath. Declan let go of his wrist, but Rebel kept his hand on the scars, traced them with his fingertip, even though his eyes never left Declan’s face. “We’re all fucked up, Dec.”

“You think I don’t know you are? That I didn’t get it from the first night?”

Rebel tried to jerk away, because he hadn’t expected the conversation to go there. And Declan wasn’t letting him run, not this time.

“I hate MCs. Hate what they stand for, their barbaric shit. But the Chaos changed a lot of them, especially Defiance.”

“So you hate MCs.”

“And you hate Keller’s men,” Declan shot back. “But nothing’s changed. I’m still the same guy you fell for. Who I am shouldn’t matter.”

“Everything’s changed. And it matters to me.” Rebel slammed against him, but Declan wasn’t letting that happen. It was the first real, physical fight they’d ever had, and for the first time, Rebel realized that Declan could’ve been easily overpowering him this entire time, but never did. Instead, Declan was choosing to remain submissive, and it pissed Rebel off more, thinking that the guy was doing it because he sensed Rebel’s unwillingness to be touched.

But when Declan pinned him, holding his full weight against Rebel, chest to chest, Rebel started to flip. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that Declan was tough—the guy was a Keller soldier and an assassin, after all. But with Declan on top of him, pinning him, forcing him down…

He was okay for like half a second. Because it was Dec. But Dec was Keller’s fucking son. The betrayal of that ripped through him, nearly flayed him. The fact that he was being held down? That made everything worse.

“Get off me,” he told Declan.

“Not until you listen.”

“Declan…” His voice sounded far away to his own ears, his face flushed and his ears buzzed. He wasn’t in Declan’s room anymore. He was eight years old and the shit that was happening to him would ruin him forever, it seemed.

“Rebel, come on. Breathe,” Declan was saying. It took Rebel a few moments to realize Dec had moved off him. That he was telling Rebel exactly what Rebel would tell Luna when she had her panic attacks. Finally, he rolled onto his side and stared straight ahead at the wall. Declan stroked some hair off Rebel’s face and said, “What happened just now has nothing to do with whose son I am.”

“Fuck you. You’re an assassin, not a shrink.”

“That’s how easily I see it. You think I don’t notice that I’m not allowed to touch you? That we don’t fuck so much as you fuck me?”

“If you’re not satisfied…”

Declan pinned him again, fast, and Rebel forced himself to remain calm. “I’m satisfied, Reb. But I’m worried. You’re a ticking time bomb.”

Rebel bucked hard, backing Declan off him. Rebel got up and Declan did too, and the men circled each other as Rebel observed, “Convenient to say that now.”

“Yeah, everything about this is really convenient. Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you?” Declan asked him point blank. His voice was low and dangerous, his eyes sparking in a way Rebel hadn’t seen before.

Even though Declan was the killer, Rebel was the rougher one. But now, with Declan advancing on him, Rebel stumbled back until he hit the wall, the concrete not going anywhere but pressing his body while Declan had advanced to cover his front. “Don’t fucking do this,” Rebel asked him.

“Why not? I’m supposed to lay all my secrets out on the floor and let you keep all yours?”

“Yeah.”

Declan tilted his head and stared at him. Rebel wanted to close his eyes, do anything to break the gaze, but he couldn’t. The man’s hand moved up to his throat, cupped it so Rebel’s Adam’s apple pressed his palm. Not a tight grip, but not a loose one either. It was a hold meant to keep him in place, and along with Declan’s strong body weighing on Rebel, it was surprisingly effective. “Tell me, Rebel. Tell me what the fuck happened to you that I can’t touch you when we have sex.”

*

REBEL, TO HIS credit, lifted his chin and allowed the grip. It was an unusual show of submission for him, and Declan took it as a sign of Rebel’s unconscious want to share.

For now, it was enough.

Declan moved his hand away. Kissed Rebel’s neck where his hand had been. “You want to know what happened to me?”

Rebel nodded.

“The scars? The burns? The beatings? They were all part of it.” He paused. Shut his eyes for a second then forced them open. “So were the rapes.”

Rebel’s eyes flicked over his face, surprise visible. Declan couldn’t blame him. But Declan had always liked it rough, so that obviously had no connection to what had happened to him. Every time he let Rebel tie him down, he wasn’t reliving the most awful week of his life. He was rising above it, not letting it ruin the kinks he’d been born with.

Every time he let Rebel tie him down, Declan won. And it felt damned good to win. “I like it when you tie me down. That would’ve been me, no matter if the kidnapping happened or not. You need to know that. To believe it.”

“I do, Dec.” Rebel’s voice was rough with emotion, but he held it together.

That’s what allowed Declan to continue. “I told you, I was sixteen when they took me from the boxing gym. My dad’s goddamned gym. I was supposed to be safe there. And at first, I assumed it was about Keller’s money. Because there had been threats before—always threats, but they’d never been followed through on. Keller was—is—fucking crazy. And everyone knew it. But this time…it was different.”

He moved away from Rebel, pacing a little. Now that he’d started, he just wanted it out.

“There were four of them. One guy—Neil—I knew him. I’d fucked him.”

“Jesus,” Rebel breathed.

When Neil saw Declan thrown into the room, their eyes had met in recognition. “I thought about outing him, especially when they told me their plan. But I didn’t.” Not while he endured the violent horror of rape and beatings.

“How long?” Rebel breathed.

“Three weeks.” Every minute was excruciating—physically and emotionally. “But I got through it.”

“Yeah, you did, babe.” Rebel held a hand out and Declan paused for a second, and then walked back to him.

*

REBEL TUGGED DECLAN against him slowly—wrapped an arm around him, wanting to center him, but more than that, wanting to hold him.

It was fucking heartbreaking—more so that Declan kept his hands lightly on Rebel, like he knew not to press too much.

This isn’t about you. “Where are they now, Dec?” he managed, not really trusting his own voice.

“Dead,” Declan answered hollowly. “Dad killed two of them at the scene, before the police got there. They wouldn’t dare charge him—he was too powerful. So much so, this was kept out of the papers completely. A year later, I killed Neil. He knew, the second he saw me, that he was dead. He apologized. Meant it. I could see the stress on his face, the toll it had taken on him. He’d become a drunk. His life was ruined. Fucked. Leaving him like that would’ve been the real punishment.” Declan’s tone was firm but his eyes were somewhere far away, like he was seeing the scene unfold right in front of him. “But he apologized. So I put him out of his misery. I couldn’t live with myself I’d killed him for pure revenge. I see that now in a way I never could before.”

Rebel shook his head. Wondered if he could’ve ever done the same and decided no. He was all for vengeance, and he’d taken it by threatening Frank, from the time he’d become old enough—big enough—to no longer be scared. “And the fourth?”

Declan paused for a long moment. “He died at the hands of Defiance.”

Realization dawned on Rebel slowly. “Jesus Christ, Declan…you don’t mean…Victor?”

“Yeah, Victor.”

“Your brother.”

“My brother,” Declan repeated. “So when I say I trust Keller, you have to know that I don’t take that shit lightly. I know what it’s like to be betrayed by family. By the person who you think would always have your goddamned back.” His voice broke a little on the last words, but then he caught himself, shook his head like he was willing himself to be strong.

Like he wasn’t already the strong one. Because it was Rebel who felt like he’d been slammed into a brick wall.

And Declan knew it, murmured, “It’s okay, Reb.”

“No. Fucking not okay,” Rebel whispered, although he wasn’t sure if Declan heard him. Then he picked his head up as another realization rolled through him. “Declan…the scars under the tattoos…”

Declan’s eyes flickered, anguish and defiance tied together undeniably. “They’re my goddamned scars now. All mine.”

“Why? Why the fuck did they do this? Was it money?”

Declan pressed his lips together. “Victor didn’t know I was gay. The rape and the beating had nothing to do with sex.” Declan swallowed hard and Rebel swore he tasted the bitterness. “They beat me and recorded it—or they tried. When I wouldn’t scream, they took to filming it with a camera and that got sent to Dad…the rapes too. The whole time, he didn’t know it was Victor who’d done it.”

“Did you tell him?”

Declan shook his head. “I didn’t have to. A part of him knew it. Victor didn’t stay on the compound with us after the Chaos for very long. Claimed it was better that he become a traveling liaison. We knew to keep our eyes out, but figured it was better if we played dumb. At least that was my plan. Because I didn’t know for sure…not one hundred percent sure until…” He paused. “Doesn’t matter. I know for sure now.”

“Dec…what aren’t you telling me?”

From the tone of his voice, Declan could tell Rebel knew—or at least suspected. But before he could even get to that…fuck, he didn’t want to talk about the last part. The worst part.

To some, that might sound crazy, but during the beatings and the rapes, he had the power. Locked underground? He was truly at their mercy. The only way not to be was to survive. “There was a coffin.”

“Dec…no.”

“They put me in. Locked it. And put me in a grave in the middle of an actual cemetery.”

Rebel’s mouth opened, then closed.

“I can’t talk more about it, Reb. I just can’t.”

“You lived it,” Rebel whispered.

“Because they were trying to purify me,” he whispered back.

“Wait—who is they? You know who did it?”

Declan nodded. “The beating and the rape? Victor thought it was a way to get money from Keller. But it wasn’t. The men he was working with, the ones who helped him kidnap me…for them, it was part of the ritual. The Nomads wanted me back.”

Rebel’s mouth dropped. Declan’s stomach tightened, but it was too late to turn back time and stop this conversation. It’d always been too late, and maybe he’d been kidding himself into thinking he and Rebel had a future. Why would Rebel ever want to be hooked up with someone who had a target on his back?

He cleared his throat and continued, since Rebel sat waiting. “They marked me. And in the end, they planned on digging me up. If I was alive, that meant I was reborn—and strong enough to be a real Nomad. When we first met, I told you I didn’t think the world was all that bad, and you asked why—how—I could think that. Well, I’ve been to dark, long before the Chaos. And I think Keller’s trying to take the darkness away for the majority of the people who aren’t us, who aren’t mafia or gang or MC. Most of the survivors are still regular people.”

“You’re more than a survivor.”

Declan shook his head. “That’s all I am. All I’ll continue to be.” He paused. “I know you must have more questions…and if you want me to leave after what you know, I will—”

“I don’t,” Rebel said quickly.

“I can’t talk about it anymore. Not now. Please.”

“Okay.”

“Fix it. Take me. Use me. Just don’t fucking leave me alone tonight,” Declan told him. “I know you’re still pissed.”

“I’m not—”

“Bullshit.”

With that one word from Declan, Rebel was on him, literally pinning him to the wall, grinding with a slow thrust of his pelvis against Dec’s.

The man was hot and cold, but when he was hot Dec had no restraint, no will to resist him. And he didn’t see a reason to bother—most of the time. He sensed Rebel’s agitation, his need ringing out clearly, infusing Dec’s senses…ramping up the urge to let Rebel take him, any way he wanted.

The kiss was hot and fierce. Dec bit Rebel’s bottom lip as he pulled away, making Rebel growl with pure pleasure. The gleam in his eyes had Declan ready to come…but Rebel wouldn’t make it quite that easy for him.

“Yeah, take it out on me, Reb,” Declan growled.

Rebel ripped his shirt open, tied him tight. “Can do whatever the fuck I want to do to you. And you’re going to fucking love it.”

Declan groaned, want and frustration mixed. Had anything changed? Had Rebel simply not absorbed the information Declan had told him—or had he understood that Declan still needed everything Rebel gave him, maybe more desperately than ever? “Mark me,” Declan ground out. “Do it.”

Rebel did. He used his belt, knowing the exact pressure that would leave the kind of marks Declan desired….but wouldn’t hurt him. Because Rebel knew that someone had already done that.

When the first thwack hit Declan, right across his ass, Declan howled. Back of his thighs.

“You’ll feel this for days.”

Declan groaned, because that’s what he wanted.

*

IN THE AFTERMATH, Declan loved kissing. A romantic fuck, although he’d scoff at that characterization.

Rebel didn’t care. This was something he enjoyed more than he’d admit, bringing Declan back down. From the floaty space, giving him a soft landing.

Declan was moaning into his mouth, his body still shaking from the orgasms.

“Gonna be okay, Declan.”

“How?”

“Just shut up and believe me,” Rebel instructed, then went back to kissing him before Declan could argue.

Chapter Nineteen

Kev

BY THE TIME Kev got back to the main part of Keller’s compound the partying was in full swing. News had gotten out about Fletcher and Big C, and most of the people at Keller’s seemed to understand that it was both a cause for celebration and a reason to worry.

At the moment, it looked like celebrating had won out.

At least Keller had waited until Declan and Rebel got back to Defiance—and until Kev had gotten here—before making the announcement. Fuck, Kev didn’t want to like the guy, but that was becoming impossible.

Kev joined Bishop, who was hanging out with Luna and Carter and the other Defiance members just outside Bishop’s tube. It was quieter over here, but the music still drifted overhead.

Bishop had ordered food, so there was a nice spread on the tables that were put out for them. Now, he walked over to where Kev stood, facing the crowds. “LoV deserves nothing less.”

“They’ll retaliate.”

“If they can get their shit together.”

“You ever coming home, Bishop?” Kev asked suddenly.

Bishop smiled. “Yeah, I am. I like it here, but I need Mathias. And I happen to like what I’ve found in Defiance.” He glanced over to where Luna was swaying to the music. She caught sight of him looking and joined them.

“You okay, Kev?” she asked.

He nodded, then asked, “What’s up with the chicks at the edge of the property?”

Bishop frowned, but Luna nudged him and murmured, “Siobhan and her sister,” and Bishop nodded. “How do you know about them?”

Kev didn’t want to get her in trouble, so he simply said, “I saw her giving a reading.”

Luna frowned and Bishop told him outright, “Bullshit.”

“She gives readings,” Luna protested.

“Not in public,” Bishop said with a hard look at Kev.

“Fine. She tried to pickpocket me. I followed her.” He explained the rest of the story, about her warning that he shouldn’t rush to leave Keller’s that next morning. About how he followed her directions and came across the massacre on the road later the next afternoon…and how that would’ve been him and his men. “If I hadn’t listened to her, I’d be dead. And I don’t know why I listened to her, or how she knew it. I don’t understand if she knows more about the LoV than she’s letting on, or if the rumors about her psychic crap are real.”

Bishop whistled while Luna looked stunned. She hugged Kev—hard—and then looked at Bishop. “I think we should talk to her.”

“I think it’s better if Kev does,” Bishop said. “If she’s already got a connection to him…”

Luna put a hand on Kev’s shoulder. “I don’t know much about them, except the people here avoid them both—unless they want answers. They keep to themselves. And they’re very much protected by Keller.”

Interesting. At one point, anyone protected by Keller would be an immediate enemy of Defiance, but nothing was black and white between the two camps any longer.

It was time for him to start digging into the gray…so he went back.

Siobhan seemed to be expecting him—she was waiting on the porch, unsurprised when he walked through the woods into the clearing. She did look over her shoulder toward the doorway of the house, though, and she shut the door so he couldn’t see inside.

He saw the sister peek at him through the curtains and then quickly close them.

“I’m Kev,” he told her when he got close.

“I know. I’m Siobhan.”

“I know. Bishop and Luna told me.”

She nodded, her arms wrapped around her tightly. “They’re good people.”

“They know what you told me.”

“I figured you’d tell them.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. It was only then he noticed how exhausted she looked, like she’d run a marathon since the last time he’d seen her…and that had only been a few hours ago. She glanced over his shoulder, shook her head. Murmured, “Too much. There’s too much going on right now. I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” he asked gently.

But she shook her head, refocused on him. “Sorry. I’m just…it’s been a long day. And if you’re back because you want more information…”

“I do, but not like that. I mean, I want to know more about you. Not about what can happen to me. Fuck, I’ve known this life’s dangerous since I was born into it.” He paused. “Although I should thank you for telling me—I owe you one.”

That seemed to anger her. She shook her head hard, pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you say that—you don’t owe me anything. That’s not why…I didn’t do anything. I didn’t save you. If I didn’t tell you, your instincts would’ve taken over.”

“Sometimes it’s okay to say thank you.”

“It’s too dangerous. Trust me.” She shook her head. “I know—you’re going to say you know danger.”

“Mind if I sit?” he asked.

She glanced down at the bench and shook her head. “As long as you’re dreaming about me…”

“Is that a joke?” he teased and she tensed up again. He motioned to the empty space next to him. “Join me?” He sat first, and it took her a few moments to sit next to him. When she did, she tucked all up into herself, her legs underneath her, her arms crossed over her body, like she was protecting herself. He was pretty certain it wasn’t from him, though. “Bishop and Luna told me that you don’t do public readings or anything, but that you’re…approached.”

He didn’t add that he knew Keller let her stay here, that she was protected.

“I don’t like doing readings,” she admitted.

“Then why do them?”

“Money.” She shrugged. “Desperate times. And people are desperate. I don’t approach them. But if they come to me…look, people aren’t interested so much in the truth. They want to hear all good things. I can’t blame them, but even something as simple as, ‘that business isn’t going to be as successful as you thought’ gets them annoyed. So I tell them what I think they want to hear. Bullshit stuff.”

“No truth to it?”

She shrugged. “Not necessarily. It’s all surface stuff. It’s amazing how happy people are when you tell them exactly what they want to hear.”

“What’s the point of going to a psychic anyway?”

“Hope? Justification?”

“What do people do when they’re angry with you?” Kev asked, and she tried to blow the question off by rising up from the bench. But he stopped her, blocking her with his body. “Tell me.”

She sighed. “Sometimes they demand their money back, and most of the time, I don’t have it to give back.”

“Then what?”

“Why do I have to tell you?’ she demanded.

He wasn’t sure how to answer that, exactly. It was true that he wasn’t here much, so what could he do to protect her?

Finally, she put him out of his misery.

“Kev, you don’t need to worry about me, okay? I’ve perfected ways to make sure people don’t come back to demand money. It means I have to live on the outskirts, but it’s worth it.”

“You threaten them?”

“I tell them that I can remove curses. Word eventually got around that I could also curse people and I like it that way. It keeps us safe.”

“And ensures you’re alone.”

“We have each other. It’s worth it for my sister. She needs a lot of medical care and it’s the only way I can get it for her privately.”

“The doctors come here?”

“Of course. They’re too logical to believe the curse stuff.”

“Should they believe?”

She met his gaze. “Yes.”

“Did I freak you out…about the dream stuff?”

She shook her head with a grin. “Psychic, remember.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You knew?”

“It bothers you, right?”

He thought about it for a second. “Actually, it turns me on. So if you’re trying to keep me away…”

“I’m not actively trying. And we just met.”

“I’ll come here more often, then.”

She shook her head. “At some point, you will stay away. It happens every time.”

“Why don’t you want people around?”

“Because sooner or later, it’ll become too much. I’m too much. I can turn it off for a bit, but I’m still always going to know things. And that drives people crazy. You’d start out saying that it doesn’t matter, that you don’t want to know. But you’ll get curious. Then frustrated, and then you’ll start to resent me. Demand answers. And answers like I have are addicting.” She stood then. “Goodbye, Kev. Go party…and stop dreaming about things that can never happen.”

Chapter Twenty

“GOTTA STOP BY Keller’s,” Declan announced the next morning after Rebel took him to check in with Caspar.

“No,” Rebel said, his tone as calm as Declan’s.

Declan shrugged. “Not asking.”

Rebel wondered how things could go from semi-normal to Declan’s I’m doing what the fuck I can and you can’t stop me act. “Declan—”

“You can stay here if you want,” Declan offered smoothly.

“And you know I can’t let you go alone.”

“I told you—it’s not about letting, dammit. I’m a grown man with a fucking job—”

“Yeah, we know all about the damned jobs,” Rebel muttered. Declan shook his head and left the room. “Fucking impossible.”

“Go with him,” Caspar instructed. “Talk to Bishop—you need to find out what the fuck’s going on. It’s more than Declan’s saying.”

Sure was. Caspar would fucking flip if he knew half of what Rebel knew…but until Rebel had all the facts, until he didn’t think he could trust Declan, he wasn’t saying shit.

Was this the start of Rebel’s betrayal of Defiance? Or was this protecting himself and the man he loved first…

Dammit, Declan. You need to prove yourself to Defiance.

An hour later, he was being driven to Keller’s by Declan, in Declan’s big, black truck. They were ushered quickly through the gates, and then the alarms sounded.

“What’s that for?”

“Drills,” Declan said grimly. He parked and they hustled into Declan’s private length of tubes, which were heavily guarded and alarmed—he had several rooms and he never slept in the same one two nights in a row.

Rebel could easily understand that kind of paranoia anyway. But now, knowing what he knew about who Declan was, it made a hell of a lot of sense.

“Look—I’ve got to go meet with Keller,” Declan told him. “As soon as this is over, I’ll have one of those guys escort you to Bishop, okay?”

“So you’re allowed to be out and about during drills?”

“Who said anything about being out?” Declan asked as he disappeared through the door. Rebel stared after him for a second and then went after him.

And found himself facing an empty hallway. To the right was the way outside, with cameras mounted on both sides of the door that Declan turned on and off when they came in here together. It was monitored by his father’s men—mainly his father, though, for safety purposes, and Rebel could certainly understand that.

To the left was the way into the compound—an underground tunnel that could connect Declan to his father and his half-brother from Keller’s first marriage that Rebel just learned about. Those cameras couldn’t be turned off. But the wall looked smooth, and Rebel had no idea how to get through that door.

Whenever Rebel left Declan’s rooms when they were first together, his back had been turned so he couldn’t be identified. He could pull a cap down over his head and move through the hallway, pretend to be Declan, but he wouldn’t fool anyone.

What he did want was to see Luna, and so he walked into the hall and stared defiantly at the cameras leading to Keller’s, like he was daring whoever was watching to do something, to come after him.

Because he was done living in goddamned fear of Keller…and of who he slept with. Declan said no one at Keller’s cared about sexual orientation, so it was time to see if that shit was true. Because Rebel didn’t need to stay in Declan’s room with him—the guy had an entire tube to himself and there were plenty of other rooms. Hell, Rebel could’ve been staying with Bishop and Luna as well…but instead, he was right on Declan’s six.

Telling Defiance was another matter entirely, but this was the first step. Something he wished he’d done when it would’ve mattered. Now, the men would think he was here because of Defiance.

But you know.

And that, for the moment, was good enough.

*

DECLAN WASN’T SUPPOSED to be on the compound—that much, Siobhan knew. She hadn’t seen him since that afternoon she’d had to assure him that Keller, Bishop and Rebel hadn’t been killed, that awful day when the LoV invaded. She knew, the way most everyone did, that Declan had been put in with Defiance, because Keller told everyone. And Keller had mentioned that Declan wouldn’t be making random trips to the compound, mainly for his own safety.

She was really worried about his safety, for so many reasons that he’d know about. But she was also really glad to see him, and so she didn’t question the whys, just stepped aside to let him in.

He settled in across the kitchen table from her, the way he usually did before sliding the envelope to her. He did that monthly.

She hadn’t expected him to be the one making this delivery, and while she was grateful, she was also particularly ornery. “You want a reading?”

“No,” he said easily, meaning it.

“Suppose I want to give you one?” she persisted.

He sat back and she watched the candlelight gleam across his handsome face. He was an easy guy to have a crush on. Easier still, knowing how safe that really was. He’d never reciprocate, and that’s how she liked it.

“Go for it,” he told her, held his hands toward her, palms up.

She stared down at them, regretting pushing this almost immediately. But she ran a finger over his lifeline in his left hand, because he was left dominant, and said, “Your lifeline is…cloudy.”

He snorted. “That’s not normal, I’m guessing.”

She gazed up at him. “No. It’s seriously rare. Something—someone—sent you into this world with some serious protection. From other people…and from yourself.”

He looked intrigued by that, and slightly confused too, but unlike most, he didn’t ask more questions. Because he was really smart.

She wasn’t as smart, so she continued, “You’re going to fall in love really deeply.”

She’d spoken those words carefully, and he noted that. Raised a brow when he told her, “Don’t treat me like the rest of the assholes who come to see you.”

“Why do you come to see me?”

“Because you won’t accept the money unless we go through this dance.”

She acknowledged that with a nod. “But you take a big chance coming here.”

“Really? Like you wouldn’t know this information either way?” He knew she would, and maybe that’s why he hadn’t been worried to approach her in the first place. That made sense. If his secrets were already in her hands, maybe he had a certain relief with her. Maybe he didn’t have to pretend.

She didn’t have to pretend with him, either. Still… “It doesn’t worry you that I know what I know?”

“I wouldn’t be paying you if I didn’t think you had integrity. You know this envelope isn’t hush money.”

It wasn’t—Declan’s intentions burned so brightly that she’d known everything about him days before she’d actually met him. “I have no desire to spill your secrets. Or anyone’s,” she said honestly.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“He loves you,” she blurted out, only because—especially because—he looked so sad after he’d spoken. “He’s suffering too.”

“I don’t know how to make it better.”

He wasn’t looking for psychic advice at this point. “I don’t know what to do about Kev either,” she confessed.

He smiled a little. “How about letting him in?”

“I don’t know if I can put myself through more hurt.”

“We have the infinite capacity to heal. You don’t want to miss out, babe. It’s too good to miss out on, especially when it’s right.”

“Stop being so smart,” she muttered.

He laughed. Pointed to the envelope. “There’s more in there. Zara mentioned the new meds.”

“They’re helping.”

“Good. Glad something is.” He paused on the way out. “Let Kev in on what’s happening.”

“He knows everything.”

“You and I both know that’s not the same as letting him in.”

“I know a lot of things,” she blurted out.

He stiffened, then turned back and shut the door again. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re coming.”

“I know. They’ve always been coming, Siobhan. No way to stop this from happening.” He looked serious. “We’re taking care of it.”

“If I knew more—”

“You’d tell me,” he finished. “I do want to know one thing, though. How did you know—about me?”

She supposed Declan had always known that she’d realized he was Keller’s son. “It was early on—maybe my first week on the compound, post-Chaos. One of the men who kidnapped you…” She paused, shook her head. “One day, I saw this guy following you.”

“A dead guy?” he asked slowly.

“Yes. You were walking. Stopped. Rubbed your head.”

He remembered doing that a lot after the rescue. “I had a concussion—a lot of migraines after the recovery. And then one day…”

“The headaches went away,” she finished. “The man, dark hair, army green jacket? He was with you. Tormenting you. Trying to finish what he started. He was hurting you. And I talked to him—he told me why he kidnapped you and what the plans were. I listened and told him I could help him. I lured him in and then banished him.”

He stared at her, not in disbelief but rather astonishment. He was trying to take it all in.

She continued, “He wasn’t ever military. He was posing. His name was Zeke. And he and his two friends pulled off the plan with the help of—”

She stopped then. He grabbed her wrist and said, “Write it down.”

“Are you sure?”

But he was already rooting around for pen and paper. He tore it in half, wrote on his and folded it. He waited for her to do the same.

They exchanged the notes.

In his handwriting was the name Kash.

On hers, she’d written Victor.

“Different name,” she said softly.

He smiled wanly. “Same person. V’s nickname was Kash—he brokered deals as V. Kash when he didn’t want anyone to know he was a Keller. No one knew that but us. The family. And apparently, the men he hired to hurt me.”

“I never met him.”

“I know. I remember when you came here—from the start, I’d felt protective of you. I guess you’d been returning the favor.”

“Because I had to.”

“No, you don’t have to do anything in this world—I know that.”

She could barely get the words out. When she did, her voice was reed-thin. “Zeke was a Nomad. He was our brother.”

Declan stared at her. Inside, she quaked, knowing she might’ve just thrown away her whole future here on the compound. Keller kept her and Sashi for their abilities, because they could clear the dead. Because he was superstitious that the exterminations and the other killings he ordered would take their toll on him and on the compound.

He didn’t know her lineage. Or so she’d thought, until this moment of clarity when the truth was apparent in Declan’s pained expression. “You knew?”

He held his palm out to her, traced his own lifeline again. “Look closer, Siobhan. Sometimes you miss what’s in front of your own damned eyes.”

*

REBEL WAS STILL with Bishop and Luna when Declan finally got back to his rooms. He’d met with Keller—and then Keller’s team. He’d briefed them about what could happen…but the only one who knew the real plan was Keller.

It needed to be that way, no matter how badly Declan wanted to let Rebel know. Either way, it was going to hurt them both.

This wasn’t the way Declan had pictured things ending. Then again, he wasn’t sure how else it could’ve.

“You were just fooling yourself,” he said angrily to his reflection after he’d spent time in the shower trying to wash away his future.

He stripped the towel off from around his waist and walked out into the bedroom. As usual, Rebel seemed to have a bead on whenever he was naked, and this time was no exception.

Rebel smiled, leaned back on his elbows on the bed and watched Declan. “Good timing.”

Declan tensed. “Sure.” Rebel stared at him, then got up off the bed and walked toward him. Declan seemed unable to move, and he wasn’t sure why. “You didn’t have to rush back for me.”

“Didn’t have to. Wanted to.”

“Last I looked, you didn’t want to be here at all.”

“Fuck, Dec, I don’t know a hell of a lot. All turned around. But I know the one thing I want. The one thing I need. And he’s right here.” Rebel ran a finger along the scars on Declan’s chest. They were deep, but the tattoos covered them perfectly. Declan had wanted to put his own marks on his skin, even though Keller had offered reconstructive plastic surgery.

No, the ink was a much better choice. A reminder of how far he’d come.

Just then, Rebel frowned. Rubbed his fingertips together, like he was trying to recreate or remember the texture of…something.

Declan took a step back, maybe unconsciously so, just as Rebel moved toward him. “Don’t.”

But Rebel wasn’t about to be deterred…and it appeared Declan was powerless to stop him.

It was inevitable.

The pads of Rebel’s fingertips trailed along Declan’s arms lightly. But quick enough, like Rebel was feeling for—and dismissing—scars.

Finally, his fingers hovered so damned lightly along Declan’s hip…just below where his pants would sit.

Declan stilled completely as Rebel just traced the letter, over and over, slowly at first then moving faster over the N that had first been cut intricately, and then branded, into his flesh.

Rebel mouthed the word “Nomad,” barely giving voice to it.

Declan wanted to tell him that he didn’t understand, not really, but it appeared to be a betrayal. Probably one too many for Rebel to handle. “You want to hate me.”

“Couldn’t.” Rebel’s hands dropped from Declan’s body. “What’s happening, Declan? Are you going to try to take them all down?”

“Does it matter?”

“You matter.”

It would be better—easier—if Rebel hated him. Declan would rather be hated than mourned. It would be much easier to take on the next steps. “Can you fuck me, Reb? The way I need it?”

Rebel smiled at him. “Always the way you need it, Dec. Always.”

*

REBEL WALKED OVER to where Declan stood, holding himself tightly. For the first time ever after a session of rough sex, he actually shifted and jerked away from Rebel’s touch.

“Was I too rough?” Rebel asked him.

“No.”

He traced the marks on Declan’s back, his ass, the ones that circled his wrists, his touch firm, showing Declan that with this shit, he wasn’t fooling around. And Declan didn’t pull away from these touches, but he stared straight ahead, his expression neutral as Rebel examined him.

“Come on and lie down. I’ll put some arnica on these,” he told Dec now.

“Don’t need to.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Declan sighed and walked to the bed stiffly. God, the fucker looked miserable, and all because Rebel decided to hold that father shit against him, and mainly because Rebel was more pissed at himself for falling in love with the guy to start with.

If you’d known that from the first night, would you have done anything different?

Unless Declan had been wearing a sign attesting to his lineage, there was no way Rebel would’ve been able to stay away. It’d been an instantaneous attraction.

Declan lay there, waiting, and Rebel blurted out, “I want to tell you something.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Rebel. Not now. Not when it’s something you’re sharing out of guilt.”

Well, that stung, but Declan was right.

He massaged the arnica into his wrists first, traced Declan’s hands too, for the hell of it. And then he moved to Declan’s ass and finally his back, ending up lying next to him.

“None of this was punishment.”

“Can’t really be if I enjoy the hell out of it. I’m not an idiot on that front. I knew I could stop you,” Declan said. “And now I am.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think…when we go back to Defiance…we should just be roommates.”

“Seriously? How did we get back here?”

“We never got past it, Reb. We just pretended. And we’ve fallen back into this cycle.”

“You don’t trust me?”

Declan’s eyes flickered over him. “With my fucking life, Rebel. You know all about me. That’s not why I’m doing this. In your heart, you have to know that. I’m not punishing you. I’m letting you go. This is too much to expect from anyone, but especially someone from an MC my father could threaten at a moment’s notice. I don’t want you to think I could fix it all for you, because I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to. That’s interfering in shit I shouldn’t be touching. But I’m telling you, I’d never let anything happen to you or Defiance, no matter what it took.” With that, Declan got up and headed to the bathroom. “I’ll stay in another room tonight.”

Rebel took a step forward. “No.”

“Please.” Declan’s voice might’ve broken a little on that word, but Rebel couldn’t be sure.

“Don’t give up on me, Dec. Not now. Everything you told me, it’s locked up tight here, with you.” Rebel touched his fist to his heart. “Fine to be scared—of me, of everything. But I’m not letting you push me away.”

Declan had nothing to say to that. It was like the fight had gone out of him…and also, at Rebel’s words, some of the worry. “Okay.”

Last night—the past week—had taken a lot out of Declan—Rebel knew that. It was up to him to put those pieces back together again, and so, instead of letting Declan walk out of the room, Rebel gathered him up. After a tense moment, Declan’s resistance faded and Rebel took him back to bed.

Declan slept with his head on his chest the whole night.

Chapter Twenty-One

Kev

THE DREAMS GOT more intense after Kev’s last visit to Siobhan. It was like she was there with him, in the bed, and he was glad he lived alone because waking up naked, jerking off and realizing she wasn’t there with him was just fucking weird. And slightly humiliating.

But he smelled her perfume—or her soap or her scent or whateverthefuck it was all over him too. It was there when he buried his face in his pillow to go to sleep at night. And it was still there as he walked through Keller’s compound on the way to her cabin.

This time, though, he almost felt watched. He had better than average night vision but if someone was tailing him in these woods, they were way more practiced than he was—and damned quiet too. It freaked him out a little but he pressed on, the need to see Siobhan greater than anything.

When he approached the house, once again he saw the flash of a curtain, the peek of hair and wondered if that was Siobhan or her sister. He’d kept an ear to the ground about both of them—and Carter had too. Turned out there were rumors about the sister’s mental state—and most people were scared as fuck of both women.

The psychic thing didn’t scare him at all. There had to be more to it, and yeah, he wanted to get to the bottom of it, but he also wanted to kiss Siobhan too. Badly.

He knocked and then backed off to wait at the edge of the porch. Lots of women were especially skittish post-Chaos, and he didn’t want to do anything more to freak Siobhan out.

*

Siobhan

KEV WAS BACK, waiting outside the cabin, one foot on her porch. Behind him, a few dead men floated past, their gait heavy and burdened. None of them looked at Kev…not at first. And then one met her gaze and ran a hand along the back of Kev’s shoulders.

Kev reached around and brushed at his back—she had no doubt he felt the touch and she didn’t like it.

“This is just like Mom predicted,” Sashi said.

“Shut up,” Siobhan told her irritably. Like I don’t remember…

She walked out onto the porch and ignored the way Kev’s eyes lit when he saw her…ignored the way the butterflies spread low in her belly. The dead man who’d brushed Kev’s shoulders was standing there, watching.

Kev took a step in her direction.

He was going to kiss her, and she didn’t have to be psychic to know that. She could feel the energy zing between them, like there was an invisible tightrope tethering them…and drawing them together with an intensity she couldn’t try to fight.

She’d been promiscuous pre-Chaos. It had been the best way to manage the gifts she was dealing with, a way to turn everything else off and channel it into another person. And then she didn’t have to stick around for any kind of relationship…because those were as fraught with danger as the dead who hung around outside their house, like it was the hottest club in town and they were waiting patiently for their turn to be let in.

She met Kev halfway, bent her head and kissed him first—and after a moment of surprise, he kissed her back.

She wound her arms around his shoulders, tugging him close. At the same time, she threw the mixture of salt and sage in the direction of the dead man, and wiped the remains on Kev’s back to protect him.

How could she ever have a normal relationship with this shit constantly happening? And even as she thought that, Kev’s arms tightened around her and his kisses became harder, more promising.

She matched him kiss for kiss. She didn’t realize the rain had started until he stepped up onto the covered porch, not letting go of her or breaking the kiss. When the thunder rumbled overhead, she knew Sashi would head down to the tube—she never liked hearing the thunder.

Reluctantly, Siobhan pulled her mouth away from Kev’s. “We can go in.”

“Because it’s too dangerous to stay out here?” he asked, a slight mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Because I want to take you to bed.”

His eyebrows rose, and his mouth curved into a small grin. “You sure?”

“Isn’t that why you came here?”

“I came here because I can’t stop thinking about you. Dreaming about you,” he corrected. “I was hoping you’d just talk to me, but hell, now that you offered, I’m taking you to bed so I can prove you made the right decision.”

Without further discussion, he swung the door open. When he closed and locked it, the hail began to pound the old tin roof, and, still carried by him, she pointed the way to her aboveground bedroom. “Are you okay staying up here?”

“I’d prefer it,” he told her.

If it was getting too dangerous, she’d know. For now, she let Kev lay her down on the soft, old blankets that somehow smelled like him already. He buried his head in her neck as he pressed against her.

“Going to take my time with you,” he murmured.

*

“I DON’T MIND the storms,” she said suddenly, after a burst of lightning came through the window and seemingly flashed over their heads in the darkness. “Never did, even after Chaos. That’s weird, right? Everyone who lived through it hates the storms.”

“They don’t bother me much. It’s more about the loss, I think, than anything. But Mother Nature’s just doing what she does.” He ran a hand through his hair as Siobhan curled herself against him, the warmth of his body drawing her in farther.

Dangerous. This was all so dangerous…and for once, she didn’t care. “Your MC lost a lot of members?”

“Yeah. And my parents died in the Chaos,” he said roughly.

She wanted to say, “Mine too.” And technically, that wouldn’t have been a lie. She could practically feel Sashi’s disapproving gaze from somewhere below in the tubes.

“Why’d you rub me down with salt and sage?” He didn’t sound accusing—his expression—his eyes were easy and contented. He hadn’t moved a muscle to let her go, either.

She’d known this wouldn’t last, but to have it be ending so soon… “I see the dead,” she blurted out. Like ripping off the Band-Aid. Let him go screaming into the night sooner than later, because more time in bed with him and…

“Makes sense.”

She glanced up at him to see him grinning. “No it doesn’t.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “But I’m guessing you’ll fill me in so it will.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I know that too.”

“There’s a lot of suicide in my family,” she admitted straight-out and then, when he didn’t get up immediately and root around for his clothes, she added, “And a lot of mental illness—or maybe it’s stress induced, brought on by our gifts.”

“That’s rough.” He paused. “Notice you called it a gift though.”

Dammit. “Either way, most see it as a burden.”

“And you?”

She gazed at him intently…and for some godforsaken reason she couldn’t lie for him. “I won’t let the fuckers win.”

“Good girl,” he murmured into her ear.

“I’m no one’s girl.”

“Mine,” Kev said urgently. “Come on, Shivvy…you know it too. Don’t know how or why, but it just is.”

She pulled away from him. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

He stretched, put his arms behind his head and stared at her. “Waiting for you to tell me.”

*

Kev

SIOBHAN WAS TRYING to get rid of him by spilling all her secrets.

He didn’t scare that easily. “Were there dead men watching me in the woods?”

She started. “You felt them?”

“I don’t know…I thought maybe…it was you or your sister, protecting your house.”

“It wasn’t.”

“So why are they wandering around?”

“Do you know how many dead people are wandering around? Do you think this kind of destruction doesn’t make spirits rise from their rest? They’re goddamned angry, like the rest of us,” she told him bluntly. “And after the Chaos it was…impossible.” Her eyes grew haunted at the memory. “I thought I might go insane, like my sister. I think at one point, I might’ve descended into the madness with her. It was awful, Kev. Because they found me. They’d crowd me, rush me, demand I help them. They were all so confused. Most had no idea they were dead—they wanted me to help them find the way home. It was awful.”

He couldn’t imagine. He didn’t even want to believe her, but what the hell was she getting from making this shit up? Because she could actually earn more money promising to help people talk to their precious dead.

Like she knew what he was thinking, she told him, “I never offer that.”

“So you can’t see the future?”

“No, but Sashi can. Sometimes there are dead around the people I’m reading and they tell me things. Past things. I find a way to include it if I like the person…but I never tell anyone this. I can barely handle it.”

“Is that why you live out here?’

“Yes. It’s way more crowded where the largest concentration of population is—and was. Out here? It was never populated.”

“And you run from them.”

“I hide. Try to confuse them. Lot of false paths. And once they get here, I’ve got a lot of protection—layers they can’t get through.” She took a deep breath.

“Why tell me?”

“Because I won’t start this on a lie. Whatever’s happening between us…if you even think there is…”

He grabbed her. “I don’t come out here for the ambiance.”

That made her laugh. And in turn, that made him happy.

Thunder rumbled overhead, loud enough to make the house shake. “I’m going to just check on Sashi. I’d still rather stay up here.”

He would too, so he let her go, and she was back in minutes. “She okay?”

“Not at all.” She glanced behind her. “Do you want the official story, or do you want the truth, Kev? And think hard before you answer, because once you do, there’s no going back.”

“Am I ever gonna get past these gates you’ve got up? It’s like you’re trying to wall yourself in with the dead, because it keeps the living out.”

“I want to tell you to go fuck yourself,” she muttered. “Sashi’s more of a sensitive than I am. It leaves her open to be…jumped, I guess is the best way to say it. If she can’t banish the ghost fast enough, they try to take her energy and ultimately her body.”

“Fuck.”

“Any wonder why most doctors who’ve met her declare her clinically insane almost immediately? Chaos just hastened the inevitable.”

“If there’d never been a Chaos? I’d probably be doing time. Or fucking around, not doing much of anything,” Kev confessed. “Chaos is probably the best thing to happen to me.”

She smiled a little. “Well, I’m glad it was good for someone.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’d be fucked up either way,” she admitted.

“Does Keller know?”

“About me and Sashi? Yes. Declan does too. I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself. Others know too, which is why we’re basically pariahs around here.” She paused. “Keller lets us stay here in return for keeping the place safe. He’s superstitious that the ghosts from the extermination are going to hurt him and his family. And no, no one told me about the extermination. No one told me. No one had to—the dead find me. Tell me what’s happening.”

“Do you protect the compound from their retribution?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

Chapter Twenty-Two

THE RIDE BACK to Defiance was tense, but Rebel knew that Declan’s anger had little to do with him. Not after Declan spent hours inside Keller’s office, and came out afterward, not speaking, just fucking marching to the truck and refusing to answer Rebel’s questions.

The only reason Rebel didn’t bother forcing the issue was because Caspar wanted them back. And as much as Rebel wanted to stay to visit with Luna—and Bishop—longer, he knew it was imperative…for Defiance’s safety, and for Declan as well.

Rebel parked close to the tube and realized that Defiance was getting ready to party. The heat lamps were out, music was starting. He opened the door to his tube, let Declan go down first and followed.

Declan looked up to the opened door above them. “Going to hang out?”

It wasn’t a loaded question but rather, a simple one. Rebel moved to tug him close and Declan just watched him curiously…but still allowed it. And then the opening strains of Coldplay’s “Yellow” filtered through.

“Love this song,” Declan said against Rebel’s cheek.

“I know,” Rebel murmured back huskily. “I asked Riley to play it first and last, in case we didn’t get back here in time.”

Declan pulled back for a second, surprised.

“It’s a step,” Rebel said. Declan smiled, then put his head down on Rebel’s shoulder and they were dancing in place. Rebel held him close.

When it ended, Rebel knew Declan was fading. He’d had two more nightmares this week, but overall, Rebel thought he was sleeping better. Although he’d still been stubborn about moving into Rebel’s bed…until Rebel physically moved him. Just the way he did now.

Once Declan stripped and crawled under the covers, Rebel went and locked the tube doors.

Declan’s eyes were still open when he got back, like he was waiting for Rebel.

Rebel crawled in next to him. “Get some sleep.”

“Trying.”

“Job tomorrow?” Rebel questioned.

“And miles to go before I sleep,” Declan murmured noncommittally.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.” Declan closed his eyes as Rebel reached his arm around and lightly drew along the lines of the tattoo he’d memorized.

It was Declan’s biggest tattoo—his back piece of a phoenix rising. It was mainly gray and black, with washes of soft color so well done it looked as if it’d been painted on his back. Like it should fly away when touched…like it was real.

It mesmerized Rebel when he fucked Declan, made him feel almost otherworldly.

Now, as Declan slept peacefully, Rebel continued to trace the phoenix, even as his plan solidified in his mind.

*

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Declan got called into a meeting with Caspar.

“Be a while,” Caspar told him.

Normally, Rebel would be pissed about not being privy to what was happening, mainly because he’d been there while Declan’s last job had been happening, but today he wasn’t in the mood to hash out the Nomad thing again. He already knew the salient points, and with the free time, he could put his plan into action sooner than he’d thought.

Luc was inside his shop. The tattoo parlor wasn’t officially open, but then again, it never seemed to officially close.

Luc greeted him warmly. “Hey, Reb—long time no see.”

Rebel tensed for a moment and then realized Luc wasn’t referencing the times they’d seen each other out in the gay clubs through the years. “Yeah, it’s been a busy time.”

Luc tapped the seat across from him and Rebel sat. Luc rarely partied with Defiance—instead, he seemed much more comfortable in his shop, waiting for the next man or woman to come in for ink.

“I want a phoenix,” Rebel started. He outlined the basics but knew Luc would be able to freehand it and make it perfect.

“Sounds good. Where?”

He’d wanted it on the back of his hand, but Luc convinced him to let it take flight on his biceps instead. It wouldn’t be as grand as Declan’s, but that was the point. It was about the connection, the way it made him feel, and that was all that mattered.

He sat back as the buzz of the needle began to mesmerize him, the way it always did. For a while, they remained in comfortable silence, until Luc asked, “Anyone special behind this?”

Rebel hesitated for a second before admitting, “Yeah. Very.”

And fuck, that felt nice to be able to admit to someone. Especially to someone who understood.

As if reading his mind, Luc said, “I’m bi,” casually. “Probably makes it a little easier. Not like I have to force myself to fuck a woman.”

Around here, the tattoo artist was as sacred as a priest. More so actually, because they knew everything, told nothing and never made you pray for your soul’s redemption. Luc didn’t seem to need any further explanation on Rebel’s part, so Rebel settled in to take ink and advice without judgment.

“Thing is, Reb? It was almost the end of the world. If you can’t do what makes you happy now…well, fuck it. What’s the worst that can happen? And isn’t the worst that could happen worth your pain?”

It was. And Rebel kept that in mind when he went to the tube and found Declan there.

“Where’ve you been?” Declan asked.

Was there a note of possessiveness in his voice? That made Rebel happy in a weird way. He never thought he’d be thrilled to have someone dogging him. “Sorry. I was, ah…”

He didn’t know what to say, so he lifted the sleeve of his shirt and Declan came forward to see the gauze.

“Are you hurt?”

“What? No. It’s…I mean, I know it’s…I hope it’s…” Rebel took a breath, not remembering the last time he was this nervous. He muttered, “Fuck it,” and ripped the tape off before gently easing the gauze away from the healing piece.

Dec froze…and then he smiled. He goddamned smiled. “Your own personal guardian angel.”

“No, that’s you.”

“It’s fucking perfect, Reb.”

“Yeah.” Rebel stared at him. “It is. It really is.” Then he paused, almost didn’t continue, but it was time. “He was my dad’s friend,” he started. “I was ten. Playing around behind the garage one day and he invited me into his workshop. He made these really cool soap sculptures, and he said he’d show me how.”

“He touched you,” Declan said, his voice tight. “Tell me he’s dead, because if he’s not…”

“He died during the Chaos, yeah,” Rebel told him.

“How long did it go on for?”

“Three years, until I got bigger than him,” he said. “Guess he got bored—or scared, or both. I didn’t know he was messing with Luna. I don’t know if he hurt any of the other kids. No one else talked about it.”

His voice broke and Declan thought he was going to stop. Or that he needed to. “It’s okay, Reb. You don’t have to…”

“It has to. It’s going to upend my entire fucking life, and it’s almost done that already. It’s come between us.”

“Not the only thing,” Declan said quietly. He dipped his head and pressed his cheek to Rebel’s. “I’m not going anywhere if you’re not. We’ll figure it the fuck out.”

“Yeah,” Rebel said. In the dark, he smiled a little. “You knew.”

“I assumed,” Declan admitted. “I’m so fucking sorry it happened to you.”

“I threatened the guy when I got bigger. I gave him a second chance. I believed in shit like that.” He paused. “Now I know that vengeance is the answer. Fuck forgiveness.”

“Unless it’s for the right person,” Declan told him quietly. “You’re safe, Reb. You’re under my protection. Have been since I moved here.”

“You’re going to shield me from everything?” Rebel asked.

“That’s what you do for someone you love.” Declan looked oddly triumphant, and Rebel felt too vulnerable for comfort.

But that was okay. Because he was under Declan’s protection, and so he grabbed Declan, yanking him close. “Thank you,” was what came out of his mouth, words neither of them expected.

Declan smashed his mouth against Rebel’s, and yeah, that was the inevitable. Didn’t matter that the world around them was going to total motherfucking shit—the danger a stone’s throw away. Maybe that’s what made it so goddamned good, made him feel so alive, every nerve ending vibrating with need.

The need to made Declan incoherent with lust. He hadn’t seen that in months.

There wasn’t much Rebel could do to save the rest of the world, but he could do this for Declan.

It was the only thing he could control…and so he would.

*

AFTER REBEL TOLD Declan, “You can fuck me. I want you to fuck me,” Declan didn’t ask if he was sure. No, Declan wasn’t stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth, and questioning Rebel when the man was at his most vulnerable point would fuck everything up.

Instead, Declan stripped him, making sure to only touch Rebel’s clothing and not his skin—yet—as he continued kissing Rebel as much as he could. Distracting him so he wouldn’t get skittish and renege. And when Rebel was naked, Declan told him, “Get on the bed. Now.”

Rebel lifted his chin—a subtle baring of his neck, a subtle sign of submission. God, it was perfect, just like Reb looked as he walked to the bed and lay down on his back.

Declan didn’t want to fuck this up—couldn’t. Not when Reb had made everything so perfect for him. “Arms up.”

Rebel complied after a moment’s hesitation. Declan had grabbed the ropes Rebel used on him sometimes—they were softer than most and didn’t leave marks. It didn’t matter that Declan didn’t tie them tightly, or in a way that Rebel couldn’t break out of. That wasn’t the point of this at all. The ropes were purely symbolic—Rebel would be the only thing holding himself there for Declan.

*

THE ROPES SLID against the bare skin of Rebel’s wrists as he stared up at Declan. The intensity on Declan’s face comforted him, although he still had to order himself to relax and deal.

You need this, he reminded himself, just as Declan’s palm came down on his chest, a firm touch meant to hold him and ground him. An electric charge ran through his body, a current of Declan’s pure energy that both calmed Rebel and made him prepare to plead for more.

Before Rebel could do anything, though, Declan was on top of him, his jean-clad cock grinding against Rebel’s naked skin, the sensation enough to make Rebel groan into Declan’s mouth. They dry humped for several minutes, until Rebel’s skin was tight and hot and he wasn’t sure if he was coming or going.

It had never been like this because he’d never allowed this to happen.

“I’m not stopping. Don’t care how much you beg and plead for me to,” Declan murmured roughly in his ear as he ground his cock against Rebel’s.

Rebel’s arms tugged at the bindings. Instinct, and maybe some fear, but his cock didn’t seem to have a problem with it. If anything, he was harder than he could ever remember being. “Come on, Dec. Do it.”

“Trying to call the shots?” Declan smiled. “You’re lucky that turns me on.”

“Then strip,” Rebel ground out.

And Declan did, followed Rebel’s orders to touch himself, put on a show for him. For those few minutes, Declan allowed Rebel the illusion of control…and then he moved down Rebel’s body and took his cock into his mouth.

Rebel’s body surged upward as Declan’s hot mouth enveloped him, sucked him hard enough to satisfy the urge to break away from the damned bed. Declan’s hands held his hips down as his tongue played along Rebel, his eyes never leaving Rebel’s face.

“Yeah, Dec…that’s good. That’s…” He closed his eyes and bucked into Declan’s mouth, the quickness of the orgasm surprising him as it overtook his senses. His entire body tensed and relaxed within seconds of each other as Declan licked him clean, and Rebel was floating, so much so that he didn’t realize that Declan had lubed his fingers and was now pressing them into Rebel’s ass.

The tension was there again, threatening to ruin everything, until Declan said quietly, “It’s me, Reb—I’ve got you under my protection. Nothing bad’s gonna happen here. I’m gonna make you feel so good. Trust me—please.”

Rebel nodded, because his throat was tight with a wash of emotions that ran the gamut from lust to fear. He’d never allowed anyone to fuck him, not willingly, since those incidents when he was younger.

Declan was going to get rid of those now, wipe the slate clean. Just his fingers brushing over Rebel’s prostate made Rebel’s cock hard again, made him gasp in a breath. He’d known how good it would feel—hell, he’d spent most of his adult life making other men feel it…but now Declan was doing it all for him.

“Fuck me—come on. Now,” Rebel commanded, because he still needed some semblance of control, and Declan still needed the remnants of obeying his commands if this would work. And it did, because Declan slid into him, slow and steady at first, until Rebel demanded, “Harder. Come on—fuck me harder, Dec. Make me come right now.”

Declan smiled and did as Rebel asked.

*

IN THE AFTERMATH, Declan lay against Rebel’s chest. He was listening to the riotous beating of his heart when he felt Rebel’s strong arms wrap around him.

Declan knew it’d be the last time he felt the man’s touch…would’ve been, whether or not Rebel discovered the mark. Better Rebel hate him than mourn him.

And really, what had he been thinking anyway? He’d known this day was coming…but he’d thought there would be more time.

It wouldn’t have mattered how many more hours he stole—no matter what, Declan would mourn enough for both of them in the brief time he had left.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kev

A FEW DAYS later, Kev made the trip back to Keller’s, at Keller’s request. After dropping paperwork off to Keller, Carter said, “You going to see your girl.”

Kev shrugged…but he still grinned. “I cannot tell a lie.”

“Yeah, bullshit. Just watch out for the weather.” Carter glanced up. “Supposed to get bad tonight.”

“You staying with Bishop and Luna?”

“What makes you think you’re the only one with a girl here?”

Kev snorted. “Have fun, man. We’ll take off as soon as we can tomorrow.”

Carter nodded and waved as he disappeared into the crowd. People were milling about—not the usual party. There was more of a frantic nature, like they were getting in the last bits of company and conversation before being locked down for the storm.

Funny, even knowing they’d be safe, the idea that going down in the tube might end up to be an extended stay freaked most people out, and it got worse over time.

Funnier still, because he felt the exact same way.

The heaviness in the woods was worse than it had been before—and palpable. He fought the urge to run, and when he saw the house in the clearing, he breathed a sigh of relief.

The door flew open and Siobhan motioned him in. “Hurry—it’s going to come down in buckets!”

She wasn’t exaggerating. The second he stepped inside, the sky cracked wide and simply poured a river that slammed the old tin roof.

Like she knew his moment of panic, she put a cool palm on the back of his neck. “Sashi’s underground already.”

“How sturdy’s the place?”

“Hasn’t fallen down.”

Hopefully it would hold out for tonight, because he had plans, and he didn’t want interruptions. He picked her up, hands on her slim hips. She was strong, hanging on him.

The candles on the table flickered against the wind that found its way through the cracks in the walls. She grabbed him. Kissed him. As the fury of the storm took over, he took Siobhan to bed, rolling like thunder in the old bed in the old house…

“It’s not going to last long,” she murmured.

“Can’t say that about me.”

“God, that’s horrible.”

She slapped his shoulder and he moved so he was on top of her, murmuring, “Need me to prove it?”

She wrapped around him. “God yes.”

*

THE NEXT MORNING, when Rebel woke, Declan was gone from the tube. Rebel dressed quickly, really hoping he wasn’t going to find Declan had snuck out of Defiance—or worse, was fighting with a mob scene around him. Again.

But Declan wasn’t far from the tube. No, he was waiting at the door of his truck in the small, more private lot, hemmed in by trees and away from prying eyes. With his bag.

“Job?” Rebel inquired as he got closer.

Declan shrugged. Shook his head no as he tossed his bag in the car. “Reb…I can’t…can’t stay.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I’m leaving Defiance.”

“And me,” Rebel whispered.

“You’re still not ready.”

“I told you more than I ever thought I could. I did what you asked…”

“Yeah, you did. But there’s something bigger than that, and I have to deal with it.”

“Have you been fucking saying goodbye to me this whole damned time?”

Declan didn’t answer. Didn’t matter—Rebel already had his answer. His tattoo burned, his heart raced and he turned away.

But Dec said he’d protect me…

At that thought, he turned back around just as quickly. “Listen, I’m not doing this, not letting you run me off again. The whole world’s complicated. Shouldn’t love be simpler? Good? Come the fuck on, Dec…how hard can loving someone be, especially after what we’ve all been through?” Rebel’s voice sounded almost frantic to his own ears.

Declan remained stone-faced. The change from last night to this moment was undeniable, and Rebel wasn’t sure what the fuck was happening. His mind reeled as he tried to think back on what might’ve caused this sudden turnabout.

Until Declan’s calm tone cut through his thoughts. “I’m leaving, Rebel. It’s better this way, all around. I shouldn’t have come here to begin with. Keller realizes that now. So does Caspar.”

As he watched Declan drive away in the direction of the gates until he could no longer see the truck, Rebel had no idea whether or not it might be the last time he ever saw Declan. His mind was screaming at him to go after him, to do something…

Anything.

You knew, he told himself. Declan was giving up—on them. Maybe on everything. Because it was either go after Declan, or deal with the voice behind him that said, “I knew you were fucking a guy, but I didn’t know you were fucking Keller’s kid.”

Rebel would never second-guess that choice, not for as long as he lived. Slowly, he turned to see Goose standing there, half emerged from the surrounding woods and semi-illuminated by the generator-fed low light emanating from the parking lot. “What the fuck are you doing spying on me?”

“Your daddy’d roll over in his grave if he knew about this.”

“Leave him out of it,” Rebel ground out.

“Although maybe he wouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always liked it, knew that from when you were little. You’d give it up for Adam,” Goose told him with a sneer.

Rebel froze. “You…saw? You knew?”

“Knew you were queer,” Goose spat. “And Adam—”

“Adam raped me,” Rebel said quietly. “I was ten…and you watched him and did nothing. And it’s my fault?”

“Adam wasn’t queer,” Goose said, like that logic would defy everything. “You’re gonna take this place down—you, and Keller’s queer son. I’m putting a stop to it. It’s either you leave or I’ll tell everyone who Keller’s son is.”

Rebel didn’t bother to ask how Goose knew that last part—he had to be in bed with the Nomads. All he did know was that if he left, Goose would have no intention of keeping that promise…and that his vengeance could destroy Declan—and Defiance—for good.

But before he could do anything, Declan appeared, out of nowhere. Walked up to Goose, smiled, and then stabbed him in the heart and held the knife inside him, watched him struggle…and die.

He let Goose drop to the ground with the knife still in his chest. Turned to stare at Rebel.

“Dec…”

“So you wouldn’t have to,” Declan told him firmly. “This gives you an out—for everything. No one would let me stay here now.”

Rebel felt like the knife had gone through his heart as well. “I would’ve killed him to protect you.”

“I know. That’s not why I killed him, Reb.” Declan’s voice shook a little. “He knew. He watched. He did nothing. He deserved to die. If it stopped you from killing him for me—and getting kicked out? Two birds, one stone. Or knife, as the case may be.”

“Get out of here, Dec.”

“You tell them I did this, Reb. Don’t take it on yourself. Promise me, dammit.”

Rebel opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded. Only then did Declan back away.

Rebel stayed there, crouching down, staring at Goose…reliving the torture he’d gone through with Adam. “And you knew, you dirty old fuck. Deserved everything you got…and more.”

“What the fuck, Reb?”

Rebel looked up from the ground to where Hammer was staring down at him. He glanced at the scene like an outsider might see it—him, hovering over Goose’s dead, bloody body.

“Reb…did you do this?”

Rebel could say no, that he walked up and saw it. He could say that Goose attacked him. But he didn’t. “Yeah, I did. I killed him.”

“Talk to me. What? Why?”

“I can’t tell you. I won’t. But I don’t regret it. And I never will.”

“You said you’d never hurt a member of this club,” Hammer reminded him—like Rebel needed reminding. “And now you’re murdering a senior member after getting into bed with Declan.”

Getting into bed was a figure of speech, but it still made Rebel’s heart stop. Because Declan had been right—by not telling them before this, if it did come out it would look like Rebel had been conspiring with Declan the entire time.

Weren’t you though, in a way? Just not in the way Hammer was implying. “Better go get Caspar,” he told Hammer. “We’ll move on from there.”

Hammer stared between him and Goose, and then moved away, presumably to do what Rebel had asked.

Chapter Twenty-Four

KELLER WAITED FOR him at the mouth of the compound. As he drove there, Declan steeled himself for what could happen: imprisonment. Beating. Being shunned. All of the above. If Keller needed to make a point to Caspar, Declan would deal. MCs were all about vengeance, an eye for an eye, and that was definitely something Declan could understand.

When he walked into Keller’s office, he’d barely closed the door before saying, “I killed a Defiance member. He was in with the Nomads, but that’s not why I did it.”

Keller nodded. “Rebel took the credit, but I don’t think Caspar believes it. Not based on his phone call about your sudden, unauthorized disappearance. I’m sorry, Dec. I know how much you risked for him.”

“I’d do it again,” Declan said. “But still, I fucked everything up.”

“No,” Keller told him seriously. “You’ve never done that. You’ve picked up more slack, done more than your share. Suffered more than you deserved.”

It was this side of his father so few saw, and Declan knew why. The show of emotions always equaled weakness in their world. If Keller understood nothing else, he understood human nature. It was what had gotten him so far in life. And he’d always told Declan that Declan was a blend of his mom and Keller—the perfect balance, he’d say, to survive in any kind of world.

But Declan was tired of simply surviving, and Keller understood that too. There wasn’t a lot anyone could do to facilitate that, and the fact that Keller got that made up for a lot. “I can’t stay.”

“I know.” Keller furrowed his brow. “I’ll send Bishop and Luna back.”

“No, send another Keller rep to Defiance. Maybe Jojo,” Declan suggested. “I think Caspar will deal with that.”

Keller’s expression hardened. “They need us more than we need them.”

That might be true to a certain extent, but a mafia without an MC ally wasn’t in the greatest position. “Try to keep the peace. Caspar wasn’t the issue there. Others were.”

“Then Caspar should be able to keep them in line.”

“It doesn’t matter—I left for Rebel. For his reputation. He sits at the table. I should’ve known that it wouldn’t work. Should’ve told you.”

“I knew, Declan,” Keller said softly. Declan’s neck snapped toward him in surprise. “If I can trust that you won’t compromise this compound, I’d think Defiance should be able to feel the same about Rebel. Didn’t he grow up in the life, just like us?”

Just like us. Declan supposed there wasn’t much difference between the mafias and the MCs, either pre- or post-Chaos.

“We’ll work it out,” Keller promised as a knock sounded on the door, and both men pulled it together, so much so that no one would mistake them for anything more than a leader and his respected colleague and worker. Even Keller’s longtime girlfriend.

Kammy greeted Declan warmly, even with the slight surprise in her tone. Keller would fill her in on certain events when Declan left…but not his lineage.

In less than an hour, Declan would be back on the road. His fate had been sealed long before he’d been locked in that coffin.

*

DECLAN DROVE HALFWAY between Defiance and Keller’s…thought about just continuing on.

“No,” he told himself firmly, out loud, as he braked the truck and slammed out. He walked a few feet into the woods and waited. Counted backward from ten and felt them by the time he got to number three.

And even though he knew they were there, knew they were coming…he still froze.

“Well, this is interesting. I expected we’d have to drag you out of Defiance, and yet, here you are, waiting for me, like the sacrificial lamb you are.”

Declan steeled himself and turned to see the Nomad named Malachi. Until this point, he’d only seen the man in pictures, blurred…and given to him so he could identify the enemy from the time he was six years old. He’d seen sketches, heard tapes…and seeing the man in the flesh, looking only slightly older than he’d been in those photos, was an experience Declan wasn’t sure he could ever be ready for. “There’s nothing sacrificial about what I’m doing.”

Malachi touched a finger to his chin and tapped. “You certainly got my attention with the killings. I like your style.”

“I don’t give a shit what you like.”

Malachi’s expression hardened for a brief second. “I’ve been watching you for a while. But you knew that.”

“Did I kill a family member of yours? So sorry,” Declan said dryly, even as the scar on his hip began to burn, the way it had for days and months post-brand. Like it knew it was around its kind.

Malachi stared at him. “You’re one of us. Much as you pretend not to be, deep down, you know it’s true.”

“I’m a Keller.”

Malachi frowned. “Renouncing your mother?”

“She renounced you when she escaped. She didn’t want anything to do with you—and she didn’t want me involved either.”

“She was misguided. We were hoping you could bring her back—”

“She’s gone,” Declan said flatly. “Left when I was twelve.” And Declan knew why—that was typically the induction age for the Nomads. She was afraid that her escape had been too easy, was worried the Nomads were simply waiting for him to turn twelve.

She hadn’t worried about that with Victor. Declan figured she must’ve known Victor was most definitely not Nomad material. He hadn’t been Keller material either. Instead, he’d been some kind of cross-bred projected-to-be wunderkind who hovered somewhere between Keller and his former-Nomad wife, like all the bad from their previous generations had poured into him.

Declan oftentimes felt sorry for Victor—wondered if his brother was too dense to understand that he most definitely wasn’t the chosen one. “Why not take Victor?” he asked Malachi now, even though he knew the answer.

Malachi smiled. “Just because you’re born to a Nomad doesn’t mean you are one.”

Declan’s blood ran cold at how easily Malachi was giving him this information. The more secrets Declan knew, the fewer chances there were that the Nomads would let him escape with his life. “What’s to stop me from killing you right now?”

Malachi barely got the start of “Nothin—” out before he was gurgling with surprise, the steel-barreled pen sticking out of the side of his neck until Declan swiftly yanked it and let him bleed to death at his feet.

The Nomads who’d been waiting at a respectful distance began circling him slowly. There was nothing they could do to save Malachi. They were all about conserving energy, not wasting time on emotion and sentiment.

The fact that Declan could kill one of the leaders actually made him a stronger candidate for induction.

The fact that Declan just killed his half-brother made him the perfect Nomad in their eyes. The only loyalty was to the strongest. They were the only ones who survived.

Today, he would be the only one who survived. That was imperative. That was the goal.

He’d trained for this fight for years, sparring with Keller guards, two and three and then five and six at a time. Sometimes he’d go off the compound incognito to join the underground fighting league to further test himself.

Infiltrating the Nomads wouldn’t give him what he ultimately needed. But becoming a ghost, like the Nomads prided themselves on being, coming after them the way they stalked others…

That was his goal.

Even if it meant living alone for the rest of his days. And that was something he couldn’t let himself think about too hard. But for now he let the anger at that lonely future carry him through the fight, man by man, until he was covered in blood…and the last man standing.

And then he set about sending his message.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Siobhan

ON THE WAY back to the house from Keller’s office, her headache got worse. Siobhan squeezed the sides of her skull with her palms, eyes narrowed and looking straight ahead as she wound through the woods.

There was one dead man in particular she didn’t want to see. Maybe he was too powerful to be banished…

Her mother’s voice echoed in her ears. Everyone can be banished with the right intentions.

She made it to the door, but barely. Sashi opened it for her and Siobhan practically fell inside the house. “Declan…”

“I know.” Sashi helped her over to the couch. Shook out some pills but Siobhan brushed them off.

“It’ll pass, Sashi. Keller knows about Declan. And Kev saw it happen. He’s here.”

“He can’t be. He’ll come here to you, and they’re coming, Siobhan. You know that.”

She didn’t answer her sister, as if that could change the outcome.

If only.

“They’ll kill him,” Sashi persisted.

“I know.”

If Sashi knew that, was already too late? No, Siobhan refused to believe that. At one point, Sashi’d told her it was too late for both of them…and they’d escaped. And they were here, years later, very much alive. “We’ll be okay.”

“No, we won’t. They’re coming. If they see you with him, they’ll kill you—or him. Or both.” Sashi whispered as if someone was listening. Siobhan looked out the window and saw no one, dead or living.

She blinked, looked again and saw a glimpse of Malachi in the woods. Smiling at her.

She turned away. Shook her head. Not real, not real, not real.

*

Kev

KEV ALMOST DROVE the bike straight through the guards and the gates of Keller’s. He was closer to there than Defiance, and while the guards drew their guns, he stumbled off his bike, breathing hard enough to vomit. But he said, “They’ve got Declan,” and “Get Keller,” and he didn’t remember much after that, except being led off by a group of men.

Now, facing Keller’s interrogation, with Carter being held in the hall, he recounted what he’d seen.

“Why did you stop?”

“Because…” Kev shook his head. Ever since his first meeting with Siobhan, he’d been paying more attention to his gut feelings. Or maybe his gut feelings were stronger because of her. “I just had a feeling, dammit. I told Carter we needed to pull over. We did…and then we heard talking.”

It’d been so damned quiet. Calm weather, and even though Declan and the man he’d been talking to hadn’t been yelling, Kev heard them clearly.

“And you got close,” Keller prompted.

“Yeah. Saw Declan surrounded. If Carter and I thought we’d be of any help, we’d have jumped in. You goddamned know that. But we figured better to come get you, let your army here go find him.”

“Who was Declan speaking with?”

“Some guy with dark hair and something on his palm.” Kev held up his own and pointed to it. “Looked like a big scar or burn, maybe. And there were other men around, but they weren’t right up on Declan.”

Keller nodded. “Thank you for coming here to tell me. I’ll take it from here.”

“I’ll go back out to look for him.”

“No.” Keller’s tone was firm. “You’re staying here until this matter is resolved. I have no idea if you were spotted, which puts you—and my compound—at risk.”

*

AFTER HAMMER WENT to tell Caspar about Goose—and Rebel’s part in it—Rebel remained in place. Nowhere to run to, no matter how badly he wanted to chase after Declan.

It was an hour later when Rebel saw Mathias coming toward him, motioning for Rebel to walk with him.

“I have to…” He trailed off as he pointed to Goose’s body.

Mathias’s eyes flickered disdainfully over Goose and it was obvious there was no love lost there. He wrote something and showed it to Rebel.

Caspar knows. Wants to see you. And I have other news.

It was then that Mathias used his voice to tell about the secret call from Bishop to him, before Bishop made the official call to Caspar. Rebel sat in shock, listening to Mathias’s voice machine tell him the story.

Declan’s been kidnapped. Kev saw it happen. Keller’s suspicious about that, thinking that Kev is giving Defiance an alibi…and pretending that Nomads took Declan. Word is that Kev’s not going to be let off the compound…

And then, before he could react, Caspar was barking at him and Mathias to “Get the fuck into the clubhouse. Now.”

Rebel followed numbly behind Mathias, ready to put on the surprised act. He didn’t really have to, since it was only them and Hammer.

Caspar started with, “This is all coming from Bishop. Keller’s going to get back to me after he confirms it.”

Caspar looked ready to confirm the fuck out of someone, and he was only holding back because he was in charge. The Caspar Rebel’d known a few years earlier would’ve been off this compound, flying to Keller’s.

Which is what Rebel planned on doing the second Caspar ended this meeting.

“This is bullshit,” Hammer was saying. “Just because Keller’s losing a man—and we don’t even know if the kidnapping was for real or if it was staged—suddenly that means Defiance is plotting against Keller? Are you kidding me? Declan might be a great assassin, but these days, those are a dime a dozen. I think he’s been taking too much of whatever drug they give out like candy there.” Rebel’s body tensed as Hammer pointed to him. “All we know is that Keller’s got Kev and Carter. He’s not letting them go. And Bishop’s under house arrest, along with Luna.”

Caspar looked ready to break something—or someone.

“I don’t think he was kidnapped,” Rebel said bluntly. He was walking a fine line here, keeping information secret while doling out just enough to get both Declan and Defiance the help they needed.

Caspar looked at him hard. “You got news, now’s the time to share it.”

Rebel gave a side-glance to Hammer. “Look for Goose’s sons. I’m betting they’re off the compound. Check their rooms—also betting they’re emptied.”

“Maybe they’re afraid you’re going to kill them,” Hammer challenged.

“Or maybe they’re in with the rest of the LoVs and the Nomads, by default,” Rebel shot back.

“You thinkin’ that they’re in on this?” Caspar demanded. “You’d better be right, because I’ve had enough of you takin’ justice into your own goddamned hands.”

“I had to, Caspar. If I’d thought his boys were in on kidnapping Declan, I’d have—”

“Don’t fuckin’ say it,” Caspar warned.

“I’d strangle them with my bare fucking hands,” Rebel told him, and again, the room stilled. Caspar tilted his head and looked at Rebel like he could see right through him, and in that moment, Rebel didn’t have time to parse it. Because it didn’t matter—Declan did. “I’ll do it now. Bring them to me.”

Caspar narrowed his eyes at Rebel. “Is that why you killed Goose? Or did Declan kill Goose?”

“I wanted Goose dead,” was all Rebel would say. “There’s damned good reason, beyond the fact that I think he sold out this club. If I’m right…”

Caspar translated Mathias’s signs. Wait—you said that Declan wasn’t kidnapped. Where is he, then?

“He’s been hunting the Nomads. For his own reasons—but also to protect Defiance. Turns out Lance sold them some tubes—through Victor.”

Caspar growled at the mention of Victor’s name—the room vibrated with it.

Hammer shook his head. “What does this mean for Kev?”

“I plan to go find out. Either way, Declan’s in trouble—and he’s trying to help us. We can’t leave him alone,” Rebel said.

Caspar stared at him with those icy eyes, didn’t look away when he said, “Hammer, permission to go inside Goose’s tubes.”

Hammer didn’t wait. The three of them—Caspar, Mathias and Rebel—sat in silence, waiting for his return.

Ten minutes later, his report was, “They’ve cleared out. Vehicles gone too.”

“I bet they don’t even know Goose is gone,” Caspar muttered. “Probably waitin’ on him.”

“Which means we could ambush them,” Hammer suggested.

Gotta find them first. Need a team, Mathias signed and Caspar translated, then said, “How about you lead that?”

Mathias nodded.

Caspar turned to Rebel. “I’m leaving you to deal with Keller. Whatever he’s hiding, I want to know. And I want his men—and Bishop and Kev—to help out with the ambush.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Kev

KEV WALKED IN to find Siobhan looking pale as shit, and Sashi somewhere between glaring at him and shaking. She took one look at him and almost crumpled, and Kev was confused, but only for a moment.

She knows. And he could barely get the word, “Declan?” out.

“No,” Siobhan said at the same time Sashi announced, “They’re coming.”

He wanted to ask if the “no” from Siobhan meant she hadn’t seen Declan’s ghost…but wanted to know who was coming more.

He had to assume Sashi was talking about the dead people she and Siobhan always saw. But no, apparently, those sightings were nothing compared to the live people who were close, based on the look in both women’s eyes.

A chill went through him as Sashi seemed to go into some kind of trance. He shivered, and her voice was monotone when she told him, “Someone just walked on your grave.”

Siobhan admonished her with a hard, “Sashi, stop,” and then took Kev’s hand in hers. “You should go into the tubes.”

“And leave you both here to face…whatever’s coming alone?”

“Not whatever. It’s another…club.”

“Even more reason for me to stay.”

“Kev, downstairs. Please. I’ll never forgive myself if I let you stay up here.”

“What’s this about?” he asked.

“You, mainly. You’re not supposed to be involved with me. And now they’re going to make me pay.”

“Who are they?” Kev demanded, although he was pretty damned sure he already knew.

She swallowed hard and admitted, “Nomads. And the best thing you can do to help is to listen to me. Please. If for no other reason than for the fact that I saved your goddamned life the first time we met.”

*

Siobhan

KEV FINALLY LISTENED to her about getting underground. He was no doubt pissed that she locked him down in the tube, but it was the safest place for him. No way the Nomads missed him walking through the woods.

No way had the Nomads not seen her going to Keller’s.

She didn’t ask Sashi if any of that was true, though. Not yet, anyway, and when she finished securing Kev’s safety—as best she could, from both the living and the dead—Sashi was gone.

“Shit. No.” She ran to the window, ducked down and looked between the bottom of the curtain and the windowsill that was warped just enough for her to have a clear view outside without moving the cloth and alerting people she was inside.

The sun had begun to come out about fifteen minutes ago, just in time for her to get the full, chilling view of her sister surrounded by Nomads—several living and one dead.

Malachi.

“Sashi, get out of there,” she murmured.

Sashi moved her gaze to stare at the window, and Siobhan heard No, as clearly as if Sashi had spoken it out loud. Sashi had already circled Malachi in with salt and he was slowly fading.

But that wouldn’t do anything to the flesh-and-blood men. One of them grabbed Sashi, held the knife to her throat.

Everything after that happened in a flash. She flew outside, stood in front of the Nomads, saying, “Let her go.”

One of the men she recognized as a grade-school classmate shook his head and said, mock sadly, “You never did realize you don’t run the world, Siobhan. Maybe this will help.”

Without further discussion, he slid the knife across her sister’s throat, held her there, gaping helplessly at Siobhan. Holding out her hands…

And then the Nomad let her drop to the ground, gracelessly, and Siobhan stood stock-still, grief and surprise stiffening her spine. Behind them, Malachi smiled and his form faded.

“Sashi was always unstable,” the Nomad told her. “Lose the MC member, Siobhan, and we’ll call it a draw.”

He stepped over her body and they disappeared into the woods. Siobhan walked stiffly over to her sister’s body, then doubled over. She pressed her fist to her mouth so she didn’t cry out and possibly alert Kev—or anyone—to what had happened.

She would get rid of him. Bury Sashi.

What were the other choices? After what Sashi sacrificed, Siobhan couldn’t simply go on with her life happily.

“No way to keep them off the property,” she whispered. She swore she felt Sashi touch her hair, the way she always did to comfort Siobhan and then…nothing.

At least she’d gone peacefully. Because nothing else in Siobhan’s life from here on in ever would be again.

*

REBEL BROKE RECORDS getting to Keller’s compound, and Keller must’ve known he was coming because the guards were already holding the heavy wrought iron open before he could ram it. Which would’ve been damned satisfying.

He tore through the compound and was being waved into Keller’s private lot. He stopped the truck, blocking the pathway, and left it running as he headed into Keller’s. Because he had no idea if, after he told Keller what he thought, he was getting out of here alive.

Without Declan, he didn’t really fucking care.

“No appointment necessary,” Kammy told him as he clomped through the outer office and pushed against Keller’s heavy interior door.

Keller was sitting behind his desk, waiting. “Close the door, Rebel.”

Rebel did, as hard as he could, but Keller didn’t flinch. He walked over to the desk, placed his palms on it and leaned in. “I know everything. Tell me why I shouldn’t tell Caspar who Declan is?”

Keller sat back in his chair, surveying Rebel calmly. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want a reason you could believe in,” he said finally. “Because you love my son.” Rebel raised his chin and Keller continued, “I knew he would tell you that sooner than later.”

“You should be pissed. He can’t just go around and do that because he might get…”

Keller shook his head slowly as Rebel’s unspoken ‘hurt’ echoed in his mind. “He loves you, and that’s not something he gives away easily…if at all.”

“He left.” He hadn’t realized how angry at that he was, not until the words spilled bitterly from his mouth.

“For you,” Keller explained gently.

“Don’t fuckin’ be nice to me.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“You think we’re enemies?” Keller laughed. “Even if I wanted to be, Declan means so much more to me than that. To you too, if I’m right. And I’m rarely not.”

Rebel couldn’t say anything.

“But you don’t know how to proceed. You want to be loyal to Defiance and to Declan, and you’re tied up in knots. And Declan would hate it if I let you continue to punish yourself.” Keller reached for his SAT phone. Rebel sat woodenly as Keller dialed, felt the panic rise as he heard Caspar answer.

Keller looked over at Rebel calmly as he spoke to Caspar. “Rebel is here—and safe.”

“Thank fuckin’ Christ. What the hell, Keller? Been askin’ to talk to you, and all I get is reports that Declan’s been kidnapped and you’re holdin’ my men hostage.”

“Declan has some business to attend to. I’m afraid he tricked Rebel, who tried his best to watch him, as per your orders. But when Declan’s determined…”

“Is he doing something else to fuck Defiance over?”

Keller stared at Rebel. “Actually, quite the opposite.”

Caspar growled, “Send Kev back. Take Bishop off house arrest—now.”

“Of course.”

“And Declan?”

“That might take some time.”

“We had a deal.”

“We did,” Keller agreed, then cut the line. “Storm’s coming. You’ll need to stay. Bishop and Luna are expecting you.”

Rebel exploded out of his seat and had Keller by the throat, leaning him back in his chair. “Where is he?”

“Bishop?”

“Don’t fuck with me now, Keller. I don’t have the fondness for you Declan does.”

“And you’d make a name for yourself by killing me?” Keller managed to inquire, his voice choked. Rebel eased up, but only enough for Keller to spit out, “Declan’s taking care of business years in the making.”

“He’s in danger.”

“He is.”

“And you don’t give a shit.”

“You know you’re wrong about that, Rebel.”

“Then get him. Or tell me where he is.”

“I’ve done both, several times before. It won’t stop him, not this time,” Keller said. Rebel released the hold on him, slamming the man’s chair back. “And I promised him I wouldn’t.”

“Break it.”

Keller shook his head hard. “Never. Not to my son.”

“What made you think Declan could take on the Nomads alone?” Rebel demanded.

“He’s not. And I didn’t,” Keller said tightly. “But it’s what Declan wanted. He’s been planning this. I support him. I trained him. Forced him to wait until he felt he was ready. I was actually hoping you’d find a way to convince him to stay.”

“So now I didn’t try hard enough.” After he spoke, Keller stared at him, his gaze more accusing than Rebel could’ve imagined. Instead of telling Keller he was wrong—arguing—he turned away. Because the guilt was overwhelming. “I didn’t see the signs…didn’t understand how much he wanted revenge.”

“Revenge?” Keller laughed without any humor behind it. “Rebel, this is about so much more than revenge.”

“Then what?” Rebel managed, turning his head in time to see Keller’s look of disbelief.

“You really don’t get it.”

“I don’t—so fucking tell me.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Keller was explaining to Bishop what he’d told Rebel—and to Caspar, who’d driven here after Hammer confirmed pinpointing where Goose’s sons were.

Rebel sat numbly, listening to Keller, could repeat it with Keller word for word if need be…

“Declan’s mother was an escaped Nomad. She never wanted to go back—never wanted that life for her children. He’d been training for years for this. He’s killed Malachi—one of the main leaders, and about six other men. They want him back—and he wants them dead. They’ve set their sights on Defiance. Trying to hurt my compound was a distraction. So Declan’s planning on disappearing, using the Nomads’ own tactics against them.” Keller took a deep breath. “I know he can do it. I don’t want him to…but if he needs to…”

“He’s going up against the Nomads by himself? That’s suicide,” Bishop breathed as he sat with Rebel and Keller.

Rebel could still barely get air in—it was like sucking through a pinhole. His chest was heavy and he couldn’t place any of the emotions running through him.

Except maybe distraught.

Helpless.

Fucking pissed.

He drew in a deep breath.

Better.

Screw panic. “We’ll bring him back.”

“He doesn’t want that,” Keller said firmly. “He won’t put you all at risk.”

“Not only his choice,” Rebel reminded him quietly.

At his words, Keller stilled. Rebel gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and Keller asked, “What makes it yours, Rebel?”

Rebel swallowed through the lump in his throat—there more about worry for Declan than for what he was about to do—and stared at Keller. “Because he’s mine.”

He turned his gaze to Bishop, who nodded. No disapproval there. And finally, Rebel faced Caspar.

“You claiming him?” Caspar asked calmly.

“Yes.”

“That means we protect him.”

Rebel narrowed his eyes. “You knew. How the fuck—”

“Because I fucking know everything!” Caspar roared. God, the guy was goddamned scary. “Hear?”

“Yeah,” Rebel agreed.

“Go get him.”

“The danger to Defiance—”

“Before I change my fuckin’ mind,” Caspar ground out. “We’ve already got a war ready to happen between the Nomads against us and Keller. Can’t be one man’s fight. Not when he’s doing it for all of us. That deserves respect—and back-up.”

“Caspar, I can stay here with him,” Rebel offered.

“You don’t want to stay in Defiance?”

“It’s my home,” Rebel told him. “But it’s not that simple.”

“Nothing worth it ever is,” Caspar said. “Bring him home.” And then he looked at Keller. “I’d be keeping him with us either way—know that.”

“I do,” Keller agreed quietly. “But this changes things.”

Caspar nodded. “Change always comes with spilled blood.”

“Now it’s time to spill some Nomad blood,” Bishop added.

Rebel finished it with, “Together.”

*

DECLAN HAD MADE a mistake bringing Rebel here weeks ago, really, by letting him know about the safe house behind the restaurant at all, but only realized it when he came out of the shower—weapon drawn on the man in black leather who sat calmly in the chair in the corner of the bedroom.

Rebel scanned Declan’s still dripping wet, naked body approvingly…slowly, like they had all the goddamned time in the world.

As if.

And still Rebel said nothing.

It was only when Declan broke the gaze, looked toward the bed to see his suitcase packed for him and a single set of clothing laid out, that Rebel spoke. “Get dressed.”

“Get fucked,” Declan muttered, jerked his thumb irritably toward the door, hoping to cover up the fact that his heart was beating a crazy tattoo. All he wanted to do was go to Rebel, follow his directions… Impossible. “Get fucked.”

“Maybe once we leave,” Rebel said agreeably. Way too much so.

That wouldn’t last. Declan had played this game too many times not to know what the results of pushing Rebel would be.

Clean break, Declan, he reminded himself. The only way this will work.

And that wasn’t working at fucking all. “Rebel, you need to get out. Or I will—alone.”

“Together,” Rebel said firmly. “We’re going back to Defiance.”

“It’s not safe for you to be with me, never mind your MC. Beyond that—”

In the middle of his protests, Rebel’s big body rose, along with Declan’s traitorous dick…and of course, Rebel noticed. Smirked and asked, “How’s that forgetting thing going?”

“Simple biology,” he managed coolly. “Otherwise, it’s out of sight, out of mind.”

“Right.”

“Do you fucking get what I’ve done?” he asked with the dangerous edge in his voice that he recognized…the one that happened right before he tended to go ballistic. “I mean, you’ve got to have a death wish to even show up here.”

“Maybe. But then why aren’t you agreeing to leave with me and keep me safe? You said I was under your protection—isn’t that what this is all about?” Rebel asked.

“Oh fuck you for turning that around on me. There is no safe with me. Those two things aren’t even in the same universe. Never will be again. You have no idea—” He stopped abruptly before he said too much.

“I know enough. So does Caspar, which is why he sent me to get you.”

“Caspar sent you?”

“I was coming anyway. Just nice to have his backing. All of Defiance’s, actually.”

Declan narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“I plan on fucking protecting you. Taking you off this one-man cruise for vengeance.” Rebel moved toward him like a man on a mission. Declan backed up until he hit a literal wall. He put his hands out to stop Rebel, but before he could say anything, Rebel was on him, literally pinning him to the wall, grinding with a slow thrust of his pelvis against Dec’s.

The man was hot and cold, but when he was hot Dec had no restraint, no will to resist him. And he didn’t see a reason to bother—most of the time. He sensed Rebel’s agitation, his need ringing out clearly, saturating Dec’s senses…ramping up the urge to let Rebel take him, any way he wanted.

The kiss was hot and fierce. Dec bit Rebel’s bottom lip as he pulled away, making Rebel growl with pure pleasure. The gleam in his eyes had Declan ready to come…but Rebel wouldn’t make it quite that easy on him.

“Can’t do this unless you agree to the terms.”

Declan narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? What are those?”

“Have to be comfortable with Defiance knowing all about us.”

Declan felt like the air was knocked out of him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“They know,” Rebel said simply.

‘They know’ could mean so many things… “Know what, exactly?” Declan asked cautiously.

“What cereal I like. What the fuck do you think I’m talking about?” Rebel demanded.

“Spell it out for me.”

Rebel smiled, like he knew he had Declan—and Declan couldn’t deny it. “I told Caspar I was with you.”

“And?”

“He knew. Now Mathias does too. And Hammer. I claimed you, which means all of Defiance will know soon enough. And anyone who’s got a problem with it? They’ll deal with me, dammit. And that includes you.”

“Claimed? What the fuck?” Declan breathed.

“Claiming you means I’m in charge of keeping you safe.” Rebel tilted his head. “Means you have to let me help you take down the Nomads.”

“Does Caspar—Defiance—know about this?” Declan rubbed his hip.

“You’re a Keller, right?”

Declan nodded. “I’m a Keller. And I’m in fucking love with you.”

“Then there’s no problem at all.” Rebel ducked his head into Declan’s neck, sucked hard enough to leave a mark, then pulled back. “I love you, Dec. Have for a long time. So come home with me…and we’ll figure out how to put your plan in place while both our compounds are still secured and our people are safe. We can take down the Nomads with Defiance and Keller working together. That’s the only way this can work—the only way I want it to work…together.”

Epilogue

Kev

IT WAS DARK as fuck. His entire body hurt from the beatings he’d endured. More were promised, but Kev had simply spit blood then bared his teeth.

The men surrounding him had smiled. Almost approvingly. And then they’d beat him unconscious.

He was lying prone. He tried to shift, ignoring the brutal pain that shot through him with every movement. He tried to sit up and hit his head on something.

He rubbed his head—hit his elbow. He reached out to the side and touched…walls.

Fear froze him for a second, and then he put a tentative hand upward in the dark…and touched another solid surface. He slid down, letting his feet touch another wall.

It was only then he heard the sounds of shoveling above him…the sound he thought was rain was really dirt, hitting the top of…

The coffin.

Look for Defiance Book 5 in 2016…and catch up on the first three books in the Defiance series by Stephanie Tyler:

Defiance

Book One of The Defiance Series

Rebelling against her legacy as the MC’s princess, Tru Tennyson escaped the ruthless, male-dominated culture of the Defiance motorcycle club. Three years later, her newfound freedom is ripped away, thanks to a massive hybrid storm that killed millions. Now, in the post-Chaos world of semi-darkness and near-total anarchy where gangs rule, she discovers the dangerous world of Defiance may be the one thing that can keep her safe.

Tru is at the MC’s mercy when she’s dragged back to her former home…and to the only man she’s ever pictured a future with. Caspar is the bastard son of the club’s leader, her safe haven when life got rough—and her onetime lover the night she left. When Tru refuses to trade sex for power and be claimed by a rival club leader, she also dares to announce she wants Caspar instead, throwing the MC into turmoil.

Tru’s brazen revolt could start a gang war and destroy the club from within. Now both Tru and the MC must wait for Caspar’s response…and the inevitable fallout.

Redemption

Book Two of The Defiance Series

Mathias Robichaud is looking for an alliance. The Defiance motorcycle club is a stronghold in the dangerous world that’s become the new norm and he’s driven to prove he’s tough enough to be sworn in as a full member. But when he sees a beautiful, spirited girl abducted by a rival MC, rescuing her jeopardizes all he’s worked for.

Politician’s daughter Jessa Everson knows what’s expected of her—obedience, loyalty and silence—but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t fight when she’s kidnapped by the Lords of Vengeance. Having Mathias save her is like gaining an avenging angel in leather and tattoos. But Defiance is known for brutal justice, and she may have just traded one bad situation for another.

Mathias’s urge to protect is too strong to ignore, no matter how much trouble Jessa brings to Defiance’s gates. There’s no room in the post-Chaos world for weakness so if Mathias and Jessa have any chance of surviving, they’ll need to put their full strength behind the MC…and hope that the MC will do the same for them.

Salvation

Book three of The Defiance Series

Luna is headed for trouble. She knows exactly what the men who run motorcycle clubs are capable of—the ruthless violence, the grabs for power, the brutal treatment of women. The one bright spot in her dark world is being held against his will by a rival gang after sacrificing himself for the sake of the club—without saying goodbye first. She needs to bring Bishop home to Defiance, both for the good of the MC and for herself.

Keller’s mafia has thrived in the fallout from the Chaos and their compound is a city of sin, a world of depraved excess where people live in fear with nowhere else to go. When Luna is taken prisoner, Bishop has no choice but to lie. As far as the enemy knows, she’s his. It’s the one thing that will keep her safe.

Caught off guard, Luna follows Bishop’s lead. And that’s where the lines begin to blur, because what’s been building between them for real is undeniable. But what Keller’s protecting is something he’ll kill to keep under wraps and with Defiance unable to come to their rescue, and only each other to turn to, Luna and Bishop may be facing their final goodbye.

About the Author

Stephanie Tyler is the New York Times Bestselling author of romance novels spanning multiple genres, including Romantic Suspense, New Adult, Paranormal Romance and Contemporary Romance. She’s a hybrid author who writes for multiple publishers, including Random House, NAL/Penguin, Harlequin, Carina Press, Mammoth Books, Belle Books and Samhain Publishing, as well as Riptide (under SE Jakes) and Indie publishing. Her books have been translated into half a dozen languages, nominated for an RT Reader’s choice award and garnered top picks from RT Magazine as well as starred reviews from Publishers Weekly. She’s a frequent workshop presenter and has contributed stories for anthologies for charities, including SEAL of My Dreams, which has raised over 150K for the Veterans Medical Association.

SE Jakes is the pen name for New York Times Bestselling author Stephanie Tyler, and half the co-write team of Sydney Croft. First published in 2011, SE Jakes has quickly risen to be a bestselling author in the LGBT romance genre, as well as a fan favorite. Her books are frequently highlighted in USA Today and her books have been reviewed by Library Journal and RT Books Magazine. She’s been nominated by several sites for Favorite M/M author of 2013 and finaling in the Goodreads MM Romance Readers Choice Awards in 7 categories. She’s a hybrid author writes for Riptide Publishing and Samhain Publishing, and she Indie publishes as well.

Sydney Croft is the alter-ego of Stephanie Tyler and Larissa Ione, two New York Times bestselling authors who blend their very different writing interests into adventurous tales of erotic paranormal fiction. Together, they developed a world where people with extraordinary abilities, like the power to control storms, could live and work with others like them. The series has been described as “Erotica meets the X-Men,” and is unique in its own “erotic super hero romance” niche. Larissa and Stephanie live in different states and communicate almost entirely through email, though they often get together for conferences and book signings.

OJW Conversion -

About the Book

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also by Stephanie Tyler

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Epilogue

More Books by Stephanie Tyler

About the Author