The bastard choked back a laugh. “No refunds.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” asked Forge. “Don’t tell me you’re referring to your own daughter.”

“You took the girl, so the debt is paid. That was the deal.”

“Wrong, motherfucker. I said it bought you time. The debt never goes away until it’s paid. As for your daughter, I own her now. If it makes you feel better, call her interest paid.”

Dog joined them in the room.

“What other debts do you have, Peterson?” asked Forge. “There’s been word of you talking shit about my club.”

The old man shrugged. “Have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He nodded to Dog. His VP was extremely talented when it came to making cocky bastards talk. Dog walked around the desk and used his boot to spin Peterson’s chair around. Then immediately capped him in the knee. Dog holstered his gun then sat on the edge of the desk as he watched Peterson wail and clutch his shattered knee.

The cries carried when Dog grabbed a handful of his hair and held a blade to his neck. “You talked to someone in our club. Someone who gave you privileged information that you used to pay off other debts. Don’t fucking lie to me. I have all day, and I’ll be spending it here with you—unless you start talking and naming names.”

It always amazed Forge how men gave up everything once you added a little pain. Didn’t they realize it wasn’t going to end until they were in a body bag?

“They wanted to know about Beth.”

Forge wasn’t expecting this. “What are you talking about?” asked Forge, stepping closer.

“Word got around that you’d fallen for her. Not a good idea in your world, but I’m sure you already know that. Your enemies wanted inside information so they could use her against you. Get you to bow down or something. I forget exactly what they said.”

“What information did you give our rivals? Who gave it to you?” Forge’s voice was growing louder to match the level of his fucking anxiety. This entire visit was to prove to his men that Beth hadn’t sold out the club, but it was someone in his club selling out Beth. And he didn’t even know where she was. For all he knew, this was all a trap, and they got what they wanted.

“Your guy wanted Beth gone. They gave me information to make it easy to find her in the club, her routines, and stuff like that,” said Peterson.

Dog pressed the muzzle of his gun against the old man’s shot-up knee, making him squeal like a pig. “He asked you a damn question. Who gave you the information?”

“I can’t! He’ll kill me.”

Forge laughed out loud. He leaned over the desk. “My club thought Beth was giving you inside information to sell us out. I never believed it, not for a damn second. But I won’t be leaving here tonight until I know exactly who’s backstabbing me under my own roof. Give me a name, Peterson. My patience is waning.”

He nodded to Dog.

His VP stepped back to avoid the spray and shot the other knee. “This can go on all night. What should I hit next?”

Peterson cried hysterically. “No more! Please, no more!”

“The fucking name,” said Forge.

“He calls himself Hound. That’s all I know, I swear.”

Forge froze in place. It felt like the breath had been sucked out of his lungs. An intense betrayal overwhelmed him, nearly making him sick. Hound had been his enforcer for as long as he could remember. He trusted him as much as he could trust another man.

Why? For what?

Because he didn’t like his woman, because she was a civilian? Did he want to be Prez? Nothing made sense. His shock was replaced by fury and the immediate need for justice.

“You don’t deserve to have a daughter like Beth.” There was no emotion in his voice. He pulled out his gun and put a bullet between Peterson’s eyes, finishing him.

Where was Hound? He wasn’t at Peterson’s place. Dog looked as shocked as he felt about the new revelation.

“If you knew anything about this, brother, I need to know right fucking now,” said Forge.

“This is all news to me. He betrayed you, betrayed the club. He needs to be dealt with tonight.”


Beth replayed what he’d said in her head over and over again. And she couldn’t get the hard, cold look in his eyes out of her mind. He didn’t love her. She was a possession. A baby-making machine. Everything that terrified her, all the nagging insecurities were true. Beth wasn’t special to Forge. How could she think otherwise?

The man was the president of a notorious motorcycle club. He wouldn’t know love or compassion if his life depended on it. He was just excellent at deception, and she was so starved for affection that she fell for his act.