When Deacon cursed under his breath, I knew I had finally gotten through to him. “You’re a stubborn motherfucker,” he grumbled.

With a laugh, I replied, “I learned from the best, brother.”

Deacon snorted. “Yeah, well, just be careful.”

Since I knew Deacon wasn’t an overly emotional guy, I couldn’t help feeling a little touched at his concern. “I will. But at the end of the day, this is something I have to do.”

“Trust me, I get it. I don’t have to like it, but I sure as hell get it.”

“We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Call me the minute you have her.”

“I will.”

After Deacon hung up without a good-bye, which was so his style, I went to get dressed. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of dread crisscrossing its way over my skin. Although I would never have admitted my fears to him, I knew Deacon was right. Getting Sarah back was going to have blowback on the club.

At the time, I had no idea how severe.

Bishop returned with breakfast, and we were back on the road within half an hour. After a quick stop for lunch and gas, we pulled into the outskirts of El Paso a little before seven. We had been asked to meet our Texas brothers at a gentleman’s club they owned, which was located in one of the seedier areas of town.

When I pushed down the kickstand and eased off my bike, every muscle in my body screamed in agony. It had been a long time since I had done such an extensive run. The distance, coupled with the stress hanging over me, made me feel positively decrepit. I wanted nothing more than a hot meal and a cold beer. But as I gazed up at the blinking, half-naked woman on the Rising Phoenix sign, I realized I would be short on the hot meal, and in its place would be a lot of hot ass.

“Man, are we fucking lucky or what?” Bishop questioned as he slipped off his helmet.

I chuckled. “Only you, little brother, would find any luck in this situation.”

“Oh, come on. We’ve been on the road for three days. What better way to unwind than to have a lap dance and a cold one?”

“Do I have to remind you that we’re here on serious business?”

Bishop rolled his eyes. “Jesus, you’re always such a hard-ass.”

Ignoring him, I started across the gravel of the parking lot to the building. Two muscular men outfitted in Raiders cuts stood guard at the front door. At the sight of Bishop and me, smiles stretched across their hardened faces. The taller one stepped forward. “Prez said to be on the lookout for you guys.”

Returning his smile, I threw out my hand. “I’m Reverend Malloy, and this is my brother Bishop.”

“Snake, and that’s Weasel,” he replied, motioning to the other guy. “Great to meet you guys. Ya know, I slept over at your clubhouse a few years back after a run.” He winked at me. “You Georgia boys sure know how to show your brothers a good time.”

With a chuckle, I replied, “We sure as hell do.”

Stepping in front of us, Snake pushed the door open. “Let me take you to Prez.”

“Thanks, man.”

As we entered the club, it reminded me of the Lounge—the strip club the Raiders owned back home. While it had once been a favorite hangout of Deacon’s and it still remained one of Bishop’s, I had never been overly fond of it. Maybe it was because it harbored bad memories for me. When I should have been old enough to know better, I had gone there searching for love and companionship. What I found was a girl who didn’t just break my heart but shredded it with her claws. She saw me as her one-way ticket out of the stripping life and played me like a fool. It’s one thing to be told your girl is cheating on you, but to walk in on her being hammered by one of your brothers is a whole other level of fucked-up. She got fired from the club and fled town, the brother got sent to another chapter after I worked him over good, and I got left with a whole lot of pain. Almost three years had passed, but I still wondered if I would remain alone forever.

There was only so much that could be done to an already broken and battered sense of trust.

Among the other patrons sitting at the bar were three men in Raiders cuts. At the sight of us, they rose off their barstools and started our way. One man, not much older than myself but with a head of white hair, stepped away from the others. “This is our president, Ghost Phillips,” Snake said by way of introduction.

“Rev Malloy,” I replied.

Ghost pumped my hand up and down. “Good to see you, man. I sure as hell wish it was under better circumstances.”

“So do I.”

Jerking his thumb behind him, Ghost said, “That’s Undertaker and Chulo, our vice president and sergeant at arms.”

I nodded at them. Ghost motioned to a table. “Have a seat. Let me get you two set up with some drinks.”

Before I could argue that we didn’t have time for drinks, Ghost had waved over a waitress. Reluctantly, I eased down into one of the chairs. Within seconds, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up as a leggy blonde dropped onto my lap, pressing her ample cleavage into my cut. When she began to grind her core against my crotch, my breath involuntarily caught in my chest. She flashed a smile at me. “Hey, baby, you look good enough to eat,” she mused.

I jerked my gaze from her back up to Ghost. He winked at me. “We wanted to show you boys a little El Paso Raiders hospitality, so the girls are on the house. Besides, I figured you guys could use some unwinding after being on the road so long.”

“Hell yeah,” Bishop replied as he appreciatively took in the attention of the brunette girl rubbing against him.