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Jane Morgan.
There she was.
Only she was no longer Jane Morgan, she was now Calypso Gardner. Before that she’d been Harley Jenkins. And before that, she was Corinne Lawrence—the name she’d been given at birth.
The woman had not only changed her name, but she’d bleached her hair blonde and cut it to her shoulders. The length suited her, but her natural dark hair looked better against her pale complexion.
Either way, the woman was a knockout—but dark as she was fucking gorgeous.
A knockout sitting on a stool at a bar alone.
That made my play a no-brainer.
I made my way across the crowded tiki lounge and sat on the stool right next to hers even though there were half a dozen empties that wouldn’t put me in her space.
Her head turned, presumably to see who’d sat next to her.
I opened my mouth to say something but immediately closed it.
Spectacular green eyes full of fear locked with mine. Jane’s body swung back, and her lips parted. Lips that were undoubtedly shiny from gloss, but that would look better if they were wet from my kiss. Her now-tanned-from-the-Hawaiian-sun cheeks colored pink, taking her beauty from gorgeous to leaving a man speechless.
This woman was the sister of a man I despised.
A piece of shit I was going to help put in jail.
She was also the woman who was going to help me do just that.
That was, if I didn’t drown in those extraordinary eyes first.
Her shoulders slumped and she whispered, “You found me.”
Indeed I had.
After months of looking.
“You know who I am?” I asked.
“Yes, Mr. Wright, I know who you are.”
I took in her stylish sundress, the dangling earrings, the thin silver chain around her neck, all the way down to her sandaled feet. Nothing about her said biker bitch; not the way she dressed, not her understated makeup, not her posture, not the way she spoke. Yet her brother, Zeus was the president of the Horsemen MC.
Jane came out of her slump, squared her shoulders, and asked, “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here?” I repeated.
“Yes, Mr. Wright, that’s what I asked.”
I could get down with her calling me Mr. Wright in her sweet, prim, sexy voice while I was balls deep inside of her and she was panting my name. But right then when it was laced with condescension it pissed me off.
“Did you forget?” I returned.
“Forget what?”
“You called us,” I reminded her.
A few months back, Jane Morgan had called the Takeback office asking to speak to
my boss, Wilson McCray. We’d been in the middle of a situation, therefore unable to take the call. By the time Wilson had returned Jane’s call, her number was disconnected. I’d gone by her place to find it still fully furnished, but she was nowhere to be found. A quick check showed she hadn’t used her credit cards or bank account since she’d made the call. And with her brother being who he was, that sent up red flags.
“I don’t understand how a phone call leads to you flying across the Pacific to track me down.”
“You don’t?”
Before Jane could answer, the bartender stopped in front of us and tipped his chin.
“Nothing for me,” I told him before he could ask for my drink order. I glanced at Jane’s empty glass. “Do you need a refill?”
“No thank you. Just the check, please.”
I watched as she lifted a small purse off of her lap, unzipped the clutch, and pulled out a credit card.
I snatched the card before she could hand it to the bartender and checked the name.
Calypso Gardner.
New identity. New credit card. New bank account in her fake name. That didn’t come cheap, at least not good documentation that would hold up under heavy scrutiny. Which meant, she’d paid a fortune, something she couldn’t have afforded according to Jane Morgan’s bank accounts.
“Hey,” she snapped.
“Zeus pay for that?” I asked and placed the card on the bar.
The woman flinched, actually flinched at the mention of her brother.
What she didn’t do was answer.
“Why are you here?” She went back to her earlier question.
I waited for the bartender to place Jane’s bill in front of her, waited even longer while she looked it over, then pushed her card toward the man.
As soon as he walked away I educated her on something I’d assume she was already well-versed in but it seemed she wanted to play dumb.
“When women connected
to your brother go missing we pay attention. When that woman contacted us right before she goes missing, we not only take notice, we go looking for her. And we take notice because your brother is a morally bankrupt, piece of shit who treats women like property that can be rented out or sold.”
That got me another flinch.
What the fuck?
She had to know what her brother was into or at the bare minimum what he was capable of.
When she didn’t say anything I prompted, “Does that answer your question?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Now are you going to explain why you called then disappeared?”
“I’d rather not.”
That wasn’t the response I was looking for but it was at least honest.
The bartender was back, sliding her fake-name credit card and receipt in front of her. She took her time spelling out Calypso Gardner is pretty, scrolling letters and I wondered if that was to buy her time or if she was concentrating on remembering not to sign Jane Morgan—which was not the name she was born with but the name she’d used the longest.
Why so many name changes?
Who was she hiding from?
I waited for her to put her card back into the ridiculously small purse before I pushed for an answer knowing my next move wouldn’t win me any favors.
“You know protecting him makes you just as guilty as he is.”
“Protecting who?”
I felt my jaw clench.
“Zeus,” I bit out.
“I’m not protecting Trevor. I have nothing to do with his business.”
I didn’t believe that.
“When you called you told Mia that Zeus told you to call us.”
“I did.”
Christ, this was like pulling teeth. If I didn’t know any better I’d think the woman worked in law but I knew she’d been an office manager for a fence company for the last few years.
“Why did he tell you to call us?”
“He thought Takeback would help me but after I made the call, I thought about it, and realized there was no way Wilson would help the sister of the man who he’s trying to put down.”
Interesting.
“So you know Takeback’s actively investigating your brother but you’re not involved in his business.”
Jane’s eyes went from alert and darting around the mostly empty bar area to narrowed on me in a flash.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You can’t live in Coeur d’Alene and not know Wilson McCray has made it his personal mission to dismantle the Horsemen and with that take down my brother.”
That might be true but I wasn’t buying it.
“Yet he thought a man who thinks he’s a piece of shit would help his sister, why’s that?”
“Because Trevor thinks that Wilson’s a good man who would help a woman whose father has promised her as payment, despite the issues between them,” she hissed, and I tucked away that information.
Now it was my turn to flinch.
“What the fuck?” I raged. “Your father promised you as payment? Not that it matters but what the hell are you supposed to be payment for?”
“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. None of it does. I’m here and he hasn’t found me yet so it’s all good.”
That was naïve as shit. If I could find her, someone else could as well.
“Hate to break it you, Jane, but your man in Oregon gave you up and all it cost me was five grand.”
Her lips parted and brows pinched.
“Asshole,” she breathed.
She got that right.
“So, it matters—all of it. And as much as it pains me—and I mean my gut is turning as I say this—but your brother’s right. Wilson is a good man, and if you’d waited a day for him to call you back you could’ve saved yourself a fuckton of cash on that new identity that’s now worthless and we would’ve gotten you someplace safe.”
Her gaze slid away and her posture slumped back to defeated.
“Actually, nothing matters anymore,” she rasped and stood. “This was always going to end this way.”
Everything about Jane Morgan screamed beaten down and dejected. She was a complex riddle; nothing about her made sense. What was worse, everything about the woman called to me—the sister of a man I was going to help put in prison.
I wasn’t sure who I hated more, my father or my brother. No, that wasn’t true, I hated my father more but only because I remembered when my brother wasn’t the ruthless motorcycle club president. Though over the years it had become harder and harder to remember Trevor when he was my loving brother and protector. Now, he was damn near unrecognizable, but I saw a glimpse of him return when I went to his clubhouse to tell him about our father’s threats. For a split second he reverted back to the big brother I loved. But, again, that had only lasted a second then he went back to being Zeus.
Ugh.
I hated that name.
Trevor was not the king of the gods. He was a broken boy who’d grown up to be a broken man who instead of seeking help turned into our father—a criminal, an abuser, a despicable human who valued nothing.
There had been times when I wondered if Trevor was so far gone he’d turn on me.
“Where are you going?” Davis asked from behind me.
Another reason to hate Trevor—Davis Wright.
Of all the men who worked for Takeback it had to be Davis who came looking for me. If the men thought they were flying under the radar they were wrong. As soon as the eight men had hit Idaho they were the topic of gossip. Eight hot newcomers who were all build like fitness models turned heads, even in a town such as Coeur d’Alene where there was no shortage of good-looking men.
So, I’d noticed all eight. I’d seen them at Smutties hanging out and at the bakery two doors down. Not that I’d be welcomed into either of those places again now that my secret was out and they all knew I was Zeus’s—insert gagging—little sister. But it was Davis Wright who’d captured my attention with his brown hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders. I’d never seen him clean shaven, just like now he always had what looked like a few days’ worth of stumble. Not a full beard, not a five o’clock shadow, but just enough facial hair to make him look rugged and manly instead of like Grizzly Adams.
“Jane,” he snapped when I kept walking.
“Calypso,” I corrected.
I was Calypso Gardner now. Not that I’d be her for long seeing as my guy in Oregon had given me up. Which meant if Davis found me, so could my father.
“To pack,” I told him without looking back.
Pack and go where?
Back to Idaho?
My feet hadn’t even hit the hot sand when Davis’s hand wrapped around my bicep and spun me around.
“Where are you going?” he asked again.
“I told you, to pack.”
He shook his head and followed up the gesture with the same question, “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know, somewhere not here.”
“Tell me about your
father.”
Oh, no. Hell, no. I’d stupidly listened to my brother once and called Wilson for help. I’d known better then to ask Trevor’s mortal enemy for anything, yet I’d been so freaked out I’d made the call. Now I had Davis poking around in family business.
Family business that would give him and Takeback more ammunition to use against my brother. Not that I made it a habit of covering for Trevor or his club. But I didn’t want any part of Takeback’s dealings with the Horsemen. I’d done everything I could to keep my distance and my connection to Trevor a secret. And Trevor had kept my existence a secret from his club. No one knew he had a sister. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if anyone in the club knew who our father was.
“I don’t want to talk about my father.”
That was the understatement of the century.
There were stretches of time when I could forget I had a father, a brother, or a mother for that matter and live the fake life I had created for myself. Part of that life was pretending I’d been born to regular, nice, loving parents.
“So let me get this straight,” Davis spat. “You’d rather your father use you as payment than explain to me what’s going on and let me help you.”
Damn, I can’t believe I let that slip.
And when he put it like that, it made me sound like I was a twit.
“No, I don’t want my father to use me as payment,” I returned with the same sarcasm. “I don’t even want to remember I have a father. I want to go about my life, living in my bubble. I don’t want Trevor’s help—”
“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said,” he cut me off.
Asshole.
“I see you think I’m stupid, Mr. Wright, but I assure you I’m not. I know who my brother is.”
“Yet, you waltz your ass into his clubhouse, in your tight skirt and high heels, and when you did that you drew attention. A lot of attention, the kind a smart woman wouldn’t want.”
I didn’t need to be reminded of my foolish moment of weakness. No, it wasn’t weakness, it was desperation. But in my defense, what’s a woman to do when her father sends one of his lackeys to retrieve her? The only place I could go was the Horseman compound. The one place my father’s minion would never step foot in.
“Because the better opinion would’ve been to allow myself to be taken back to my father. Right, I see. How stupid of me. I should’ve just gone back to Montana and offered myself up for a life of misery.”
“Who’s your father?”
That was easy.
“The devil.”
Davis did a slow blink and dropped his hand from my arm.
“Name,” he demanded.
“Satan.”
I could see the frustration mounting in Davis’s expression and for some reason that frustration gave me a momentary thrill. Good, I was glad he felt this exchange was just as irritating as I did.
“Jane—”
“My father’s name is Satan,” I cut in.
“Come again?”
“Satan,” I said slowly. “His name is Satan and I assure you it fits. The man is the devil. There’s a reason Trevor is the way he is and it’s because of our father.”
That was another understatement.
Trevor wasn't who he was because of our father. ...
