"All right. Fucking talk. And it better be something I want to hear."

"You will," Shades assured him. "It'll benefit both our clubs."

"Don't much give a shit if anything benefits your club."

A slight grin pulled at the corner of Shades' mouth. "Understood."

"Well?" Growler's brow lifted. "You got somethin' to say, get to it."

"We've got some information for you. Information that you'll find very valuable."

"That remains to be seen," the man countered.

"In exchange for this information, you and I work out an arrangement where both our clubs make an alliance for one purpose and one purpose only. Doesn't affect anything we got now. We keep our own territories, nothing changes."

The President let out a long-suffering breath. "And what exactly is the purpose of this alliance you're askin' for?"

"To keep the Death Heads from pushing into the Gulf Coast. They want Georgia, and they want Alabama. And they've got a plan for getting both. You're up first on their list. We're next. The plan to take you down is already in motion."

He lifted a brow with a doubtful expression. "Take us down? Really? And what's this fucking plan?"

Shades lifted his chin to the members standing behind the President of the DKs. "These your most trusted guys? 'Cause you've got a rat."

His VP's arms came unfolded. "Who the hell are you to come in here and tell us our fucking business?"

Jessie studied the man. His face was hard and spoke of years of callous violence and disregard for anything that threatened his club. His long scraggly hair and beard were both solid gray. He wore small wire-rimmed glasses on his long thin nose and when he spoke, he revealed teeth yellowed with age.

The President lifted his arm, silencing his VP with no more than that single gesture.

"Tell me what the fuck you think you know, before I let Rat run his knife through you," he growled at Shades, his patience obviously dwindling.

But Shades held his ground. "We got a deal?"

After a tense moment, the man barked back, "Yeah, we got a fucking deal. Now talk!"

"Death Heads planted a man in your chapter." Shades shrugged. "Possibly a prospect. More likely one of that bunch you just patched over."

Growler's eyes narrowed. "And you know this fucking shit, how?"

"That's where the girl comes in," Shades replied.

Jessie watched as their President's eyes moved from Shades to her, sweeping up and down.

"How's she know this shit?" He addressed his question to Shades, as if his answer carried more weight than anything that would come out of her mouth.

"She was in Sturgis. Overheard Florida talking to his men."

The President's brows shot up. "Right. She just fucking overheard that, huh? What do you take me for? Do I look stupid to you?"

"She was there, Prez," one of his guys said, and Jessie's eyes moved to the man. He was a big man, six three at least and muscled. But it wasn't just his size that made him stand out; it was his demeanor. He took badass to a whole different level. Aside from the fact that he was a terrifyingly scary dude, he was also very good looking, with dark hair that hung past his jaw and brows that slashed low, giving him a stern look. But it was his piercing light eyes that caught one's attention. They practically burned a hole in you when he turned them on you. And right now they were turned on her.

Growler looked back at him. "You sure?"

The man nodded, his eyes boring into hers a long moment before they swung to Shades. "You don't know who she is, do you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Reno?" his President barked at him.

"She's Florida's."

"The hell she is," Ghost snapped taking a step forward, but Shades arm came up, holding him back with the silent reprimand.

Reno's eyes swung to Ghost, then ignored him, moving to his President. "Saw her with him. She was cuddled up on his lap all nice and cozy, his hand rubbing her ass."

"And you saw this where?" Growler snapped.

"Scooter's Bar."

Ghost twisted, his eyes swinging to her with an expression of disbelief. She could tell he wanted to ask her about what had to be a startling revelation for him, but he knew he couldn't look surprised by any of this, not in front of the DKs.

Shades covered for them all, by pretending as if he knew all this.

"Gives what she says that much more credibility. You want to hear what she has to say, or not?"

"Yeah, I want to hear what she fucking has to say," Growler snapped.

Shades' eyes swung to Ghost, and he stared him down until he stepped out of her way, and then Shades lifted his chin at her. "Tell him what happened."

She raised her chin, determined to not cower in front of these men. She met Growler's eyes. "I overheard Florida say they were going to take you down from the inside. He said they'd planted a man in your chapter. Knew your every move. They plan to take Georgia from you."

"You overheard this? How?" Growler asked.

"I was in a closet. The walls were thin, and they were in an office on the other side talking."

"And what were you doing in the closet?"

"Hiding."

"From who?"

"From the Death Heads."

"Why were you hiding if you were with Florida?"

"I wasn't with Florida."

"Bullshit," Reno snapped. "From what I saw, you were definitely with him."

Shades shoved her behind him. "Don't matter what she was doing there. Bottom line, you've got a rat. We've got no reason to come here and tell you this shit if it weren't true. We're up next on their list. We band together now, we save both our states. We don't, you know it's gonna be a fight to the death. And we both know the Death Heads can take us down separately. We team up, we got a shot at holding 'em off."

Growler studied Shades, obviously considering his words, and finally he nodded once.

Shades extended his hand.

Growler looked at it a moment, and then took it, shaking.

Shades nodded back as they released hands. "We need to make a coordinated plan."

"First we need to find this rat," Growler countered.

Shades nodded. "Yeah, you do. Give us a call when you find him."

"We done here?" Growler asked.

"Yeah," Shades replied.

Growler lifted his chin. "Then get the fuck out."

Shades grinned, and they all headed to their bikes.

Jessie noticed that Ghost was a little rough as he took not her hand, but her wrist and pulled her behind him. When they reached his bike, she tried to explain.

"Ghost, it wasn't-"

But he cut her off, shoving her helmet at her and snapping, "Not now."

She looked up at him as she took the helmet from him. His eyes were cold; his whole demeanor had shifted, like she was a stranger to him. She quietly put the helmet on as he threw his leg over and fired his bike up.

"Get on," he snapped, his eyes full of anger when they met hers.

She did as she was told, and it was a long ride back.

When they finally rolled through the gates of the Birmingham clubhouse, Jessie was exhausted, her nerves frayed and shot. And she knew she still had a confrontation coming with Ghost. He was pissed, but somehow she was going to have to make him understand. It wasn't what he thought. It wasn't what that man, Reno, made it sound like.

She followed him into the clubhouse, along with the rest of the men.

Boo was behind the bar, and several women were there cleaning up. Skylar was one of them; Ashley was another, as well as Tink and another girl named Sherry. They all looked up when the men trouped in, their smiles of welcome fading as they took in their expressions.

Shades looked at Ghost, lifting his chin toward the hall. "Go, I'll talk to Butcher."

Ghost obviously knew exactly what 'go' meant for a moment later he was pulling her down the hall. He flung open the door to his room and lifted his chin at her.

"Move."

She stepped past him into the room. Before she had a chance to turn around, she heard the door slam behind her, and then he was grabbing her by the upper arm to pull her around roughly.

"What the fuck were you really doing in Sturgis?"

"I told you, Ghost. I was there to find you."

"Bullshit. Tell me about Florida." His eyes searched hers. "What Reno said, is it true?"

She shook her head, "No, Ghost, I swear. Not like he made it sound-"

"Has everything you've told me been a pack of lies? Was any of it fucking true? Can I even trust anything you say?" he snapped, stepping toward her, forcing her to step back.

"Ghost, please, you have to believe me."

"I don't have to do shit."

"Please, Ghost, just listen to me."

"To what? Another pack of lies?" He shook his head. "Don't think you can fuckin' play me, Jess."

"I don't. I'm not."

"You just hung me out to dry in that meeting! I went to bat for you, stuck my neck out for you, and this is how you repay me? You tryin' to make a fool of me in front of my whole fucking club?"

She shook her head. "No, Ghost, of course not. I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you this morning, but you said there wasn't time, that it'd have to wait."

"Oh, so now you're lying is my fault?"

"I'm not lying. I didn't lie to you."

His brow shot up. "No? What would you call it then? Seems you neglected to tell me a few key facts." He stalked toward her. "You his ol' lady?"

Jessie frowned, thrown by his question. "Florida's? No, of course not. How could you even think that?"

"How could I fuckin' think that? 'Cause I just heard you had the man's hands all over your ass. An ass I hear was cuddled up on his fucking lap! Was that a lie?"

"No, Ghost. It wasn't."

"Jesus Christ. Tell me the truth, Jess. All of it!"

"Okay. I'm trying if you'd shut up a minute and let me tell you!"

He took a step toward her. "Don't push me, brat. I'm not in the mood."

That was the truth. She blew out a soft breath. "I know, Ghost. Okay? It's just, you're not going to like it."

"Tell me anyway." He gave her one of those looks she was learning he was so good at, with his head dipped down, looking at her from under his brow. It was intimidating and badass as hell. He wanted the truth, and she'd better not water it down. Okay, then, she'd give it to him.

"When I hid in that closet, I wasn't hiding from some random guy, I was hiding from the Death Heads."

He frowned. "Why?"

"I told you I got a ride with a trucker, right?"

"Yeah, so?"