"Good morning, gentlemen." Now that was fucking funny. There wasn't one gentle man in our group. "I pray you had no difficulty finding us?" Polly asked with a small bow. I was eager to move on, not stand around making small talk, so I kept my mouth shut.

He shook Rock's hand but ignored the rest of us. Fine by me.

"I'll give you a quick tour. Then you can wander around. We're very motivated. Most of our members have already relocated, so the place is ready for you to take over now." By "relocated" I think the guy meant "fled the country."

Rock nodded but kept his bored expression in place.

Our lack of enthusiasm seemed to alarm Polly. I guess he expected us to be more eager. We were but would never show it.

The conference center was massive. Huge entertaining area. Polly called it the reception area. There was a front desk that would make a fantastic bar. A fireplace. Two conference rooms on the right. One would be perfect for our war room where we'd have weekly church. The other we'd use as office space. On the first floor, there were dorm-style bathrooms, a fucking yoga studio, a bedroom suite, laundry room, gym, kitchen, and large dining area. It was enormous, and would allow the club lots of room to conduct both business and our degenerate parties.

Upstairs contained enough bedrooms for each member and then some. At least half had their own bathrooms attached. A huge suite was at one end of the hall. More dorm-style bathrooms and another smaller laundry room. Beautiful hardwood floors throughout the place and lots of open woodwork. It was almost too nice for a pack of biker thugs.

As nice as the place was, our real interest lay in what was downstairs. We asked to see the basement.

Polly shrugged. "It's unfinished. We've only used it for storage."

"I'd still like to inspect it," Rock answered using a hint of biker impatience.

Polly sighed as he opened the basement door. The dude must have had a fear of basements, because instead of leading us downstairs, he went outside. We filed down the stairs. Everything was sturdy, clean, and well lit. No creepy-horror-movie-type basement. Nope.

Sparky finally perked the fuck up.

"Fuck, boss! This is it. This is perfect!" He ran through the open space like a little fucking kid.

Whoever built the place must have planned to use it for something. The ceilings were at least ten feet high, which considering my size, I appreciated. At least I wouldn't give myself a concussion if I had to spend a lot of time down here. The basement contained drainage and thick beams. But the walls were unfinished. That suited us fine since we had a serious construction project planned for the space.

Sparky whipped out a measuring tape, little notebook, and started jotting down notes.

"How much are we talking, Sparky?" Rock asked.

"A lot. Almost everything we got. But I swear we'll make it back within two years."

Two years. Long damn time to be out so much cash. Especially since the way we earned had been severely limited.

Rock glanced at Z and me with a raised eyebrow.

"Only active members get a vote on it," Z said.

True. No way would the retired guys have voted yea for this. But it wasn't them risking their fucking necks anymore. Sparky and Rock had a solid idea.

"How strong is CB?" I asked Rock.

He nodded and thought it over before answering. "Club Salvatore is the last competition we got, and they won't be around much longer. Earnings are better and better. Getting quality talent in there since we've cleaned shit up."

"Can we live off it for the next two years?" Z asked.

Rock shrugged. "I'll talk to the accountant. We gotta figure out the treasurer position soon. But yeah, I think so."

"That one prospect studied accounting," Z said.

We both stared at him. "What?"

"Marcel. Not sure if he ever finished or not. He's good with numbers though."

Rock glanced at me. "Why didn't we know this?"

What he meant was why didn't I know this, because it was my job to know shit like that. I was supposed to vet any prospects after Z gave them his seal of approval. I tried to think over all the stuff I'd learned about Marcel Whelan over the last couple years. Knew a fuck lot about bikes. Had a little sister he was super protective of. His best friend, Blake Irish-name-I-can't-bother-to-remember, was also a prospect. Marcel was close to being patched in. Two years younger than his buddy, Blake would have to wait a bit longer before being patched in. For young guys, they were both loyal, hard workers. Came from questionable families just like the rest of us.

"You can't patch a brother in and immediately make him an officer," I pointed out.

"We can do whatever the fuck we want," Rock answered.

True enough. It was time to update our by-laws.

Sparky moved farther into the basement. The space was so big we could barely see him. He was busy muttering and measuring, not paying any attention to us.

"Sparky! Let's go. We still got shit to see," Rock called out.

Sparky jogged back to where we were waiting. "Boss, this is it. This is the place. I'm telling you," he said between harsh, panting breaths. Brother smoked way too much weed. He had the lung capacity of a two-year-old.

"Okay, calm down. I hear you. Let's go see the outside."

John patiently waited outside on a low stone bench against the building.

He stood as we stepped outside and walked us to the garage. Each of us probably got a boner over the size of it. Lots of space inside for working on our bikes during the winter months. There was also a big diesel plow truck John said the cult-I mean spiritual group-would throw in with the sale of the property. The garage even had its own dedicated generator. The center had two.

We hiked through the woods. John pointed out a large stone amphitheater-type area to us. Looked exactly like the kind of place a cult would use to sacrifice virgins, but I kept that thought to myself. We kept hiking, finally reaching a clearing with four windmills. Motherfucking windmills. Unreal. John explained the setup to Rock and Sparky while I wandered around and took in the views. The setup couldn't be more spectacular. For someone like me, who hated cramped spaces, it was perfect.

Was it weird to have an MC out in the middle of nowhere? Yeah, probably. But living off the grid, how we wanted, with no one sticking their nose in our business? That was about as free as one could ask for in this life.

On the way back, we spotted the solar panels lining the roof. Sparky almost came in his pants over the second alternate energy source. John explained they were installed only a year ago and should be good for another eight to ten years. He warned us it would be a big expense when we had to replace or upgrade them.

He led us into the kitchen and handed over the paperwork about the solar panels, generators, warranties, info about their deal with the power company for the windmills-crap that fell under Rock's job description. Next, John handed over a contract. While Rock looked it over, I wandered through the kitchen. Appliances were all new, top-of-the-line shit.

It hit me hard how much I wanted this to work out.

In the truck on the way back, Rock asked Zero and me what we thought. Z was as pumped as me. Sparky was so busy going over his notes, none of us bothered him. We all knew how he'd vote.

"Let's call Glassman and drop the contract off to him. We have forty-eight hours before they go to the next buyer."

Wrath hunkered down at the end of the bar around eight o'clock. He came in alone. Even though he went to the trouble of programming his number into my phone and texting me to explain why he skipped out early, I was surprised to see him again. He didn't strike me as a guy who'd be interested in a repeat performance. Especially since I'd been a bit of a bitch.

Without a word, I made my way to him and set a bottle of Jack and a glass on the bar. His eyes met mine and I winked, then returned to my other customers. The next free moment I had, I brought him a glass of water and took the bottle of Jack away. A corner of his mouth lifted.

As I turned to wait on a customer, he reached out and caught my hand. "What time are you done?"

Shivers worked through me. His voice was such a damn turn-on. "Ten."

A slow grin spread over his face. "Want to go for a ride? Or are you tired tonight?"

Was that some sort of hint that I might be exhausted after our hot night of wild monkey sex?

"A ride sounds good. Any place special in mind?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No."

It didn't matter. We already established last night I'd do whatever Wrath wanted. Someone called me. Well, actually, they yelled out, "Hey, bar wench." Wrath growled and leaned over the bar to catch who said it. I placed my hand over his and shook my head. "I got it."

Storm showed up at ten after ten. Immediately, she headed for Wrath instead of putting on her apron and asking me what needed to be done. You know, her fucking job. They spoke for a second before Wrath pointed at me. Her face screwed into a scowl, but she finally ran over.

"Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay. I'm heading out. Crowd isn't too bad tonight." I ran over everything she needed to do for the night. At the last minute, I remembered to ask how her hand was. She held it up in front of my face. It was bandaged but not bad enough to get in the way.

"I'm surprised you came in."

"Marky said he'd cover the hospital bill if I didn't call in," she said, as if that made him some sort of hero "Uh, he should cover it anyway since it happened on the job."

"We get paid under the table, Trin. Not like we have workers' comp."

Good point. I patted her shoulder and took off with only a small twinge of guilt.

Wrath waited for me at the end of the bar. As I approached, he held out a sweatshirt to me.

"What's this?"

"So you're not chilly tonight."

Stunned, I stared at him like a moron for a few seconds before accepting it. "Thanks," I said softly as I slipped into it.

He held the door open and fixed my hood when we stepped out onto the sidewalk.

We took the quickest route out of the city. Within twenty minutes, we were cruising through backcountry roads. The cool night air rushed over me. Aside from last night, I felt more alive than I had in a long time.

The bike climbed through the mountain roads with ease. As the road evened out, he let off the throttle and we cruised through an area with sparsely scattered houses. After a while, the houses disappeared and he slowed to a crawl. We seemed to have entered some sort of park.

We coasted over some grass and stopped in the middle of a grove of trees. Slipping both our helmets off, he placed his finger against his lips.

"Where are we?" I whispered.

"It's a surprise. Be quiet though."

He grabbed a few things from his saddlebag and took my hand. "Watch where you step," he cautioned.

We trudged through the woods I guessed. Crunching over leaves and twigs, ducking under branches. I didn't think we were being very quiet. Finally, our feet touched something more solid and less noisy. Pavement?

"Look up, Trin."

Before me was the most beautiful nighttime view. We had to be looking over the tri-county area. I spotted the city of Empire straight ahead and a little to the right. Ironworks had to be to the left, and much farther right must be Slater City. Hundreds of lights from tiny villages and towns twinkled in between.

"We're at Fletcher Park at night? How beautiful." I sighed.

"The park is closed and does have a patrol person, so we have to be quiet."

"Okay," I whispered back. On instinct, I rocked to my tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw. The gesture seemed to take him by surprise, and he glanced down, cupping my cheek and holding me for a full kiss. He dropped whatever he was carrying and wrapped me in his arms, lifting me off the ground. Our kisses escalated until our tongues were licking and stroking. I pulled away, dazed and out of breath.

He brushed his fingers through my hair. "Follow me."

We stepped up and over the low stone wall designed to keep people from falling off the edge of the cliff. Wrath assured me there was a wide ledge and took out his cell phone to shine the light and prove it. Reassured I wouldn't go flying off into the night, I watched as he spread a blanket right up along the wall.

He sat with his back to the wall and pulled me down between his legs. We both faced the breathtaking view.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked, while snaking his arms around my waist, holding me tight to him.

I leaned against his chest and stared up at him. "Yes."

He rustled around in his bag and handed me one of those clear, plastic takeout food containers. "Chocolate or strawberry?"

"What?"

"Cake. I thought most girls like chocolate, but I wasn't sure. There's a piece of triple chocolate cake or strawberry shortcake."

"Oooh, chocolate, definitely."

It was so dark neither of us could tell which was which, so I popped open one of the tops. Inhaling the rich, chocolate scent, I knew I had the right one. He pushed a plastic fork into my hand, and we ate our cake, looking out over the view.

The cake was so rich I could only eat half of it, so I passed it back to Wrath. I'm pretty sure he finished mine off before stuffing the empty boxes back in his pack.

"Milk or water? My drink options were kind of limited," he asked.

"Milk. I hear it does a body good."

"Your body's already good, baby," he teased in his low, sensual voice that made my brain fuzz. He pressed a small, cool bottle of milk into my hand. I uncapped it and took a sip. "Oh, this is whole milk. Can I have the water instead?"

We swapped bottles. "Sorry, babe."

"No, that's okay. Thank you."

One of his arms was still wrapped around me, his hand restlessly moving over my leg. "Did you have a good night at work?" he asked after a while.

"Eh. It was okay. Nothing exciting until around eight thirty when this really hot guy came in."

"Oh yeah?"