"Breaker's gonna talk to him about it, and if Smoke says no, then the plan is off, and you may not have to worry about this shit." His voice softened, "Honey, he's got shit to do that he can't focus on if you're with him. The distraction you cause him by just being in his presence could get him killed. And you have a big ass target on you that'll have fucktards trying to cash in on your bounty. But I swear, we'll keep you safe."

I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. "Son of a bitch. So I'm stuck here? Locked away while Smoke is out and about?"

"Yeah, not the best of situations, but it also gives you the opportunity to wander the club. We'll have brothers watching you at all times, so don't worry 'bout anyone hurting you. You may not see us, but we'll be there."

"Shit. Any more happy news?"

He chuckled and moved off the dresser, his big muscles shifting as he headed for the door. "You get to meet the old ladies tomorrow at Breaker's house. Cathy, his wife, is throwing a welcome party for you. Don't worry, they're excited to meet you."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're Smoke's old lady and he's the founding chapter's Master at Arms. That means he's basically the Master at Arms for all of the Iron Horse chapters. The women want to be on your good side not only because they understand what it's like to love a biker, but for their old men's sakes. Also means sluts are gonna hit on Smoke, probably right in front of you...at least they will until Smoke makes it clear that he's off limits. No one wants to piss off your old man."

My mind spun with all the information he'd dumped on me, and I rubbed my temples. "Anything else? Am I going to have to go undercover as a club slut?"

He burst out laughing. "Fuck no, not unless we want Smoke to burn some unlucky mother fucker pig roast style over a bonfire."

"What?" The gruesome image tried to gain a hold in my mind and I shuddered.

After a moment of studying me, Hulk laughed. It was a nice laugh, deep and melodic, but it was also a fake laugh. "Just fuckin' with you, girl. Smoke'll be here soon and I'll give you a chance to get settled. Lock the door, but try to get some downtime, okay? Are you hungry?"

"We had dinner on the road so I'm good."

He gestured to the corner of the room by the dresser. "You've got a stocked mini-fridge up here so take whatever you want. Lemme give you my cell phone number. You need anything you call me."

I took his number then followed him to the door and clicked the deadbolt on the thick wood door with a sigh after he left. While I might be shit at understanding people, I had a feeling that Hulk was a good guy beneath all the biker menace. In fact, I had an odd feeling we could be friends if time allowed it, but that didn't mean I trusted him. I'd wait until I talked to Smoke before I did anything or believed anyone.

After turning off the bright overhead light and turning on the brass lamp next to my side of the bed, I collapsed back onto the firm mattress with a sigh. I stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes for a bit, then pulled my backpack over and began to go through my knives. I looked them over to decide which ones I'd carry on me, and if I wanted to wear my bellyband to hold my weapons or if that might be overkill.

I tossed one of the suitcases, which had somehow made it to the room while I talked with Khan, onto the bed, eager to get out of the clothes I'd been traveling in all day. Thankfully, the weather up here was cool enough to warrant the tight, stretchy, brown pants and a cream, cashmere, long-sleeve sweater with what looked like angora around the wrists. I hadn't seen the pants or sweater before, but somehow seven outfits of the same sexy, but subdued style had been packed in a suitcase that belonged to Smoke. He said he had a bag packed for me, but I thought it meant I was going to be dressed by the hooker express again.

I was surprised there were no clothes that were blinged out, or over-the-top sexy, and I wondered who had bought them. My answer came in the form of a sealed envelope on top of the clothing and shoes. It was addressed to me, and I opened the pretty floral stationery envelope and pulled out elegant paper, surprised to find that it was from Smoke's sister, Julia. We'd met briefly back in Austin. I wasn't sure if she approved of me being in Smoke's life so I was hesitant to read the letter.

Hi Swan, Miguel mentioned to me that he was having the party girls from his clubhouse buy you clothes. I can only shudder at the thought of what kind of stripper outfits you'd end up with, and I can imagine that you would be miffed that Miguel had those whores shopping for you. I got a little heated with him because I know our parents raised him better than to pull a stunt like that. In his defense, he is absolutely clueless about how a woman's mind works. He's never paid attention to any female long enough to care, so he didn't mean any harm. He's just dumb. It also doesn't help that the only two girlfriends who meant anything to him cheated on him. I know, his life sounds like a bad Spanish soap opera, but he's really trying his best to do right by you. He's just clueless, like most men, about the opposite sex.

Once I calmed down and explained to him how he'd fucked up by asking some woman he might have had random sex with in the distant past to buy anything for a woman he clearly loves, he saw the error of his ways. Needless to say, he felt like an asshole, and it will never happen again.

I've been in the MC life for ten years now, and I know it's hard to adjust to at first. Getting used to a world where women are second-class citizens isn't easy, but your relationship can be anything you and your man want it to be. Just because some of his brothers may treat their women like shit and fuck anything that spreads its legs it doesn't mean Miguel will. For myself, I'd rather not be exposed to the skanks at the clubhouse, but that's not all the Iron Horse MC is. We're a family, and we love and take care of each other. The clubhouse isn't just used as a fuck pad. There are lots of parties there where the kids get to play together while the adults hang out. Those are the special times when everyone is together and you realize just how blessed you are to know these amazing people. I hope you realize that Smoke comes with a big group of people who love him and are delighted to see someone who makes him so obviously happy. You have no idea how long I've prayed for Smoke to find a woman who would love him for who he is. The way he talks about you, it's clear he is head over heels, and I hope you realize what a good man he is beneath all his bullshit.

I've rambled on enough, I'm doing an overnight shift at the clinic with some sick puppies, and I'm really wired on caffeine after shopping for you all day-which was totally fun, by the way. So, if you need a personal shopper in the future, let me know. My girls picked out some of your clothes, so I'm sorry about the bright red and orange floral sweater. They insisted it was beautiful. Smoke bought clothes for my daughters in exchange for their help, so they took their job very seriously. ;) You have no idea how grateful I am to you for bringing out the absolute best in Smoke. It's been years since he's expressed interest in a woman of any character or worth, let alone falling head over heels in love with her. I'm sorry I was so harsh with you when we met. I let my fear overrule my compassion. I hope that when we get to see each other again we'll go out for drinks. Stay safe and keep my idiot brother alive for me.

Welcome to the family.

Julia I reread the note at least a dozen times, my eyes seeing the words while an unfamiliar feeling tightened deep in my chest when I finally accepted the fact that she had done something not only very nice for me, but true to my style. The clothes were comfortable for the most part-cute jeans paired with tops that showed a bit of skin, but managed to be conservative. There were also two of what I considered were 'club dresses', meaning they were short and ultra-sexy, but there was no risk of my tits popping out or my skirt riding up over my ass.

I placed the note on top of the clothing, determined to remember this moment of acceptance. A part of me had wondered if Smoke's sister would ever warm up to me. The thought of possible rejection hurt, but I'd tried to ignore it because I realized that just being around me was dangerous. Right now, I had a ton of baggage, and I couldn't blame her for being worried about Smoke's safety, even if I wished she'd give me a chance. I know his sister was all that he had left and that he loved her very much. The last thing I wanted to do was harm their relationship, so her note lifted one of many burdens from my shoulders.

As I closed the suitcase, there was a brisk knock on my door. Conscious that someone would be watching my room and would have stopped anyone they deemed dangerous from getting near me, I only hid a couple knives on me, feeling Mimi's blessing as my fingers touched the cool surface of the blades. She'd had a perfectly balanced set made for me as a high school graduation present-along with a pearl bracelet. The brisk knock came again, as if the person outside was pissed at having to wait. I moved quickly to the door and took a breath to steady myself, praying it was Smoke.

I opened it and was greeted by the sight of three topless women who seemed surprised to see me. They were brunettes and each wore a Band-Aid-size skirt in different loud colors. I immediately dubbed them Slut #1, Slut #2, and Slut #3. In an odd way, they reminded me of the Three Musketeers. They all sneered at me, but I kept my face calm, laughing on the inside. If they thought the sight of some nipples was going to freak me out, they were way wrong. I leaned against the doorframe and raised a brow.

"Can I help you?"

The words were perfectly polite, but the tone was not, and the three topless women exchanged confused looks. The one in the lead, a brunette with layered bangs and a neon green skirt, narrowed her gaze. "We're here to see Smoke."

"And you are...?"

Her smirk turned mean. "They call me Cyclone. Smoke knows me real well...we're special friends. I always come visit with him when he's here. Every. Time. And he comes up here a lot. Who the fuck are you?"

"His girlfriend."

"Sure you are, honey. You're his little submissive bitch just like the rest of them. They all think they're special wearin' his collar, but they're nothing more than his fuck toys."

I would not kill her. I really wouldn't.

It was a struggle not to rise and take the bait, but my jealousy was burning, and I narrowed my eyes, still struggling to maintain my calm. "And what does that have to do with you stinking up the hallway with your dollar store perfume?"

Okay, sort of calm.

"Oh sweetheart"-she hissed the word-"you better get used to the smell of our perfume because Smoke's gonna be covered in it and in the smell of my pussy. When you kiss him you're gonna taste my come in his mouth."

I was so shocked, so angered at the mental image she shoved at me that I stood there, silent and assessing how quickly I could snap her neck even as I tried to ignore the pain radiating through my chest.

If I killed her, there would be a mess I didn't want to clean up.

Still, I was tempted.

This bitch knew she'd scored a direct hit because her smirk widened. "Better get used to it 'cause you'll never be able to satisfy him. I don't know if Smoke clued you in, but he's gonna fuck who he wants when he wants, and as his girl, you don't have shit to say about it. Now, we left work early to get here, and I'm done fuckin' waitin' so move your big ass. If you're nice I may allow you to suck the taste of my pussy off his cock when I'm done fuckin' him."

She tried to push her way past me, obviously thinking I would just step back and let her say that shit to my face.

How very wrong she was.

Territorial instinct overwhelmed me, and the thought of having her in my space, however temporary, was unacceptable. My training kicked in, and in one swift move, I had her slammed up against the wall, her tits cushioning her. I jerked on her arm, applying pressure in a most painful manner. She squealed and thrashed beneath me before I yanked up again not quite dislocating her shoulder. This time her cry of pain was real.

Her high voice drilled through my head. "What the fuck are you doing you stupid bitch? Let me go!"

The first thing that came to mind was one of Sarah's favorite sayings right before she got in a fight. "I'm gonna beat you like your daddy should've until you learn some fucking manners."

Slut #1 and Slut #2 looked at the chick I had pressed against the wall-it's all in the leverage-then back at me.

Slut #2 gasped. "Holy fuck, it's Sarah!"

It made me proud to hear the fear in her voice as she said that. "Try again, bitch. I'm Swan, her twin sister."

"Yeah," Slut #1 added in a high-pitched voice. "Sarah has bigger tits."

Beneath me, Slut #3, Cyclone, was making whining, whimpering noises while still calling me such filthy names that, on some level, I was impressed. Next time I saw Sarah I'd have some new phrases to insult her with. I pushed against Cyclone and whispered into her ear while gagging on her super sweet perfume, "Let me clue you in on something. You do not want to fuck with me. Ever. And fucking with me over my old man is sure suicide."

"He made you his old lady?" Slut #1 gasped with obvious hurt in her voice.

"Yes, but that doesn't matter. What you should be concerned about is how much I love him and how I will destroy anyone who tries to take what's mine." Unable to help it, I found myself growling out one of Smoke's favorite phrases. Damn, I was just borrowing badass sayings left and right tonight. Next thing you know, I'd be quoting Chuck Norris.

I could almost hear Smoke purring the words into my ear when I snarled, "Got me?"

"G-got you," Cyclone stuttered out.

I shoved her away and turned to head back into my room when Cyclone tried to hit me. Too bad for her I grew up with a sister who would try to sneak up and sucker-punch me on a regular basis. I have to admit that I had fun stalking Sarah in return then sweeping her feet out from under her before she even knew I was there. We sparred, a lot, and all that practice taught me the signs the slut was about to throw a punch.

My reaction was pure muscle memory as I smacked her hand away with my forearm. She gave a sharp scream as I yelled at her to never try to touch me again, that I'd cunt punch her, rip her eyes out, shove them down her throat, and a bunch of other crazy shit stuff I'd heard my dad say when he was on a tear. Sluts #1 and #2 fled as heavy boots thundered down the hall, drawing closer. Cyclone tried to flee as well, but I booted her on her ass then smirked.

"Uh uh, you're staying here." If this woman was the one who was the rat, I wanted Hulk to get a good look at her.

Moments later, Smoke came around the corner and took in the woman cowering at my feet as she held her hand, then swore loud in his scary, deadly tone. Oh, shit, this was bad. When his gaze cut to me, anger snapped in his eyes, sending a shiver of apprehension down my spine. I knew he'd never hurt me, but fucking hell, he was pissed. It screamed from every line in his tense body and his powerful, irate gaze.

When he was sure he had my complete attention, he ground out in a low, scary voice, "What in the ever lovin' fuck is going on here?"

The first words that came out of my mouth did not help the situation.

At all.

"Did you fuck her?"

"Did I what?"

Without looking away I pointed at the skank on the ground. "Did. You. Fuck. Her?"

Hulk gaped at me while I squared off with Smoke, my fists clenched at my side.

"Jesus Christ, I do not have time for this shit." He grabbed me by the bicep and pulled me away from Hulk, who was now crouched over Cyclone and was checking her wrist that I may or may not have broken while she sobbed pitifully.

I jerked my arm away, unable to get the thought of Smoke having sex with her out of my mind. "Oh, I'm sorry to inconvenience you. See, your trash turned up at my door, and I had to deal with it while you and your boys were having your secret Pow Wow."

His jaw twitched and I thought he was going to explode, but he managed to control himself. "Get in the fucking room."

"What?"

"Get in our goddamn room, shut and lock the fucking door, and for the love of Christ, just do what I say for once. I don't have time to clean up your messes right now."

"My mess? My mess?" The last word came out in a screech.

"Enough!" I wasn't used to Smoke yelling at me and I froze. "Shit, just get in our damn room. And this time, don't be fuckin' stupid and open the door for strangers. Christ, woman, help me keep you alive."

At that moment I became aware that there were now around a dozen people in the hall watching us with interest, including a crying Cyclone. Stung at being chastised like a child in front of all these people, and hurt that he'd called me stupid, I flipped Smoke the bird while Hulk looked on with an unreadable expression in his frosty green eyes. My breathing abruptly hitched and with a burning nose I went into the room like I'd been told and slammed the door behind me, hopefully in time to cut off the scream of rage that escaped me.

What a complete and total fucking asshole.

A knock came from the door, interrupting my totally melodramatic self-pity fest. I shouted, "Fuck off!"

The knocking came again.

"Leave me the fuck alone. First person who comes in here is gonna lose a kneecap."

I knew it wasn't Smoke. He'd have barged right in, but I was not in the mood to listen to anyone's bullshit at the moment.

A moment later I heard a man's muffled voice. "Swan, it's Hulk. He didn't mean what he said, he was just pissed and worried."

"Hulk, I could really use some alone time. Please." I shouted and bit back my anger so I wouldn't yell hurtful shit at him.

"Swan, just give him a chance to explain. He may dig himself deeper into trouble with you, but you have to give the man a chance to learn from his mistakes."

At that point, I was totally over listening to anyone telling me what to do, especially when they were sounding rational. I was overwhelmed by everything, and a sick dread began to fill me. This was one of the things I hated about being me, my inability to handle too much at once. When I was a kid and things got too intense, I'd always flee to the wilderness, hiking and clearing my mind. That wasn't an option here, but claustrophobia was sinking its claws into me. I had some issues with feeling trapped after my dad buried me in a coffin when I was fifteen. That'll give you issues, trust me. My therapist almost cried when I'd told her about it, and that memory wasn't helping me center myself, either.

I had to get out, but there was no way I would make it out that door. No doubt there was someone out there now, but I wondered where everyone had been when the three wicked bitches were banging on it. My palms ached as I dug my nails into my skin, needing the pain to help clear my head.

I stood quickly and scanned the room for the best escape route. There were bars on the windows, but they had a safety latch so the person inside could open them and escape in case of fire. I grabbed the notepad and pen out of the drawer and wrote down in big, bold letters for Smoke that I was fine and to leave me alone, then threw it on the bed. If Smoke thought he was going to come back in here and yell at me he had another think coming. My mind was fragile at the moment, easily wounded. I needed to shore up my emotional defenses and let myself zone out, or have a good crying fit.

Moving swiftly, not sure how much time I had, I went to the bathroom to get a towel and slung it around my neck, then went back and opened the window. The iron bars unlatched easily, and I took a quick look around outside. The side of the building we were on faced the dense forest, and I couldn't see much beyond the dim arc of a sodium light two stories below me. When I looked up, I could see a brick overhang that would make it easy to get up on the roof.

Thanking good genetics for my height and my love of rock climbing for my strength, I swiftly stood on the windowsill and hauled myself up, trying my best to not mess up my clothes. I took a glance around and saw the door for the roof access. I dangled over the edge and used my foot to close the iron bars. As soon as that was done I cursed the fact that I was wearing a white shirt that stood out like a beacon. My paranoia kicked in and I wrapped the deep burgundy towel around me, making me blend in a little more. I knew I'd be found eventually, but for right now, I just wanted to be alone and wallow in my misery.

Movement at the edge of the forest caught my eye and I scooted back, crouching down and watching the spot where I thought I saw something bigger than an animal moving. Staying as still as possible, I waited for any further movement, but whatever it was had either gone into the forest or was staying still and watching me. My spidey senses weren't tingling, so after a few minutes, I shifted back to my perch on the edge of the roof and wiped away a stray tear. Distant voices and the occasional growl of a bike engine came from the front side of the building.

Damn, this really sucked.

I sat up on the roof and watched the moon inch across the sky, my mind blessedly numb. The past few hours kept trying to intrude, but I refused to think about it. Even the briefest hint of how pissed off Smoke had been sent me into a downward spiral until I was sobbing into my towel. Sometimes a good pity party can get rid of a lot of stress, and if I didn't blow off some steam, I was gonna crack. The air had chilled, and I pulled the towel tightly around me. I was considering going back for the comforter, when a man's voice yelled, "Swan?"

A second later another male voice roared, "Where is she?"

Uh-oh, Smoke was back.

I had to fight the urge to yell that I was up here, but I didn't. Fuck him. He'd called me stupid, didn't even give me time to explain, just freaked out on me. I know I messed up but he had no right to hurt me like that. I wanted him to suffer a little bit for that epic bullshit. For fuck's sake, it was his past nasty ass booty call who started it. He had no room to try and take the high road.

In fact, he could kiss my round ass.

Below me Smoke was in a full on panic, shouting my name then yelling at whoever else was in there with him. They found my note on my bed and the rest of the men subdued a bit, but Smoke continued to rant and rave. I probably would have continued to hide up here if I hadn't heard the desperation behind his anger, the fear. The time I spent zoning out had relaxed me enough that I had let go of some of my anger. Enough that I felt a pang of guilt at how worried he sounded.

Stupid, fucking, soft-hearted me couldn't stand the sound of his distress so I yelled out, "I'm up here."

There was silence, then Smoke said in a rough, loud voice, "Swan?"

I sighed, wishing I'd never said anything. "I'm on the roof."

"What the fuck?" an unfamiliar man laughed out. "On the roof? I take it back. That beautiful pussy is way too high maintenance for me. You and Beach have my prayers."

The thud of something being hit reached me, even on the roof, as a man grunted. Then Smoke said in a low, really cold voice, "Do not disrespect my woman. Ever. That means you don't refer to her pussy, ever. That is my pussy. I own it, all of it, and you will respect my old lady if you want to continue to live without some not-so-pretty scars. Hear me?"

"Yeah...yeah I hear you. Shit, you hit like a fucking wrecking ball. Wife's gonna be pissed you gave me a bruise."