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  “I was seeing this guy.”

  Morris grunts, probably thinking he knows where this is going, but he is about to be thrown for a big fucking loop. “Go on.”

  “He hit me a few times…”

  Morris’s back straightens as his body stiffens.

  Hearing the words a second time doesn’t make it any easier for me either. The very thought of someone laying their hands on my mother…he’s going to wish for another blow from a sledgehammer instead of what I have planned for him.

  “No man should ever hit a woman,” Morris tells her with his arm lying across his propped-up knee, staying relaxed and calm. “That’s unacceptable, Ms. Saint. Whatever you did, I’m sure you were one hundred percent justified.”

  “I may have gone to the extreme.” She smiles softly.

  “Sometimes the only way to fight violence is with violence. Did you shoot him?”

  Mom shakes her head. “Oh God, no. I don’t even own a gun.”

  That is something we are going to fix. I am going to buy her one and teach her how to shoot it. She needs protection, especially living alone. And if some asshole ever decides to lay his hands on her again, she can quickly put an end to it.

  “Well.” He tilts his head, studying her. “I don’t see you packing that much of a punch.”

  I lean forward, waiting for the moment she tells him what she did because I know he’s about to have his mind freaking blown.

  “I used a sledgehammer on him.”

  Morris rocks backward at that little revelation. “Well, shit, sugar. That takes some balls.” He laughs, and my mom’s serious face breaks for a moment.

  “I didn’t know what else to do, but it wasn’t right of me.”

  He touches her leg, and I force myself to stay seated. “I hope you broke more than a few bones,” he says, shaking his head. “The man deserved as much and worse.”

  “There was so much blood,” she whispers. “I think there was definitely more than one bone broken.”

  “Sounds like a damn good swing you have.” He laughs.

  Mom laughs too. “It’ll be a long time before he can throw another right hook.”

  Morris sobers, and the burn in my belly deepens, growing molten. “He punched you?”

  Mom nods as her eyes drop down, and her smile dies. “First, he slapped me, but the next few times, it was a closed fist.”

  Morris sucks in a breath as I shoot out of my chair, ready to find the guy and murder him on the spot. Don’t give two shits if I spend a lifetime behind bars; the asshole deserves a very slow and painful death.

  “Sit,” Morris barks, talking to me but not glancing my way.

  Mom’s eyes meet mine, and I can see the shame and sadness behind the blue. Something I’ve never seen grace her face in all my years of breathing.

  “Ms. Saint, we’ll protect you, and we’ll handle the asshole and make sure you never have to worry about him or the cops again.”

  “You are very kind,” she whispers. “This isn’t your problem, though. I made this mess. I should just turn myself in.”

  He lifts his hand, silencing her. “Mammoth is our family, and now, so are you. We take care of family. We look out for one another. We keep one another safe. You’re one of us now. There’s no other place in the world you should be except here.”

  “But…”

  “Want a drink?” he asks her, stopping whatever she was going to say.

  She nods. “I could really use some whiskey.”

  “You got it.” He smiles at her as he stands. “I’ll clear the clubhouse, and we’ll drink.”

  “Oh, don’t go to all that trouble. It looked like everyone was having a nice time. I hate to be the reason to ruin everyone’s night.”

  “Ma’am, family always comes before pussy.”

  Mom blanches at his frank statement, but it’s always been the truth, however crude the words. “Well, okay,” she says softly, eyes moving to me as I nod.

  Morris marches toward me. “Give me five, and bring her out.”

  “You sure? I can keep her…”

  Morris shakes his head. “Five and then at the bar. Both of you need a fucking drink, and we need a goddamn plan.”

  8

  Tamara

  “Princess,” Mammoth says, finally calling me hours after I sent him a text message.

  “Babe. What the fuck?” I ask.

  “What the fuck?” he repeats.

  “Yeah. What the actual fuck? I texted you hours ago. How hard is it to text back and say you’re busy?”

  “Well, I—”

  “No. I don’t want to hear another excuse,” I cut him off from telling me some bullshit. “It takes two seconds to type ‘I’m busy,’ so I know you’re not dead somewhere, no longer breathing.”

  “Tam.”

  “Mammoth, I’m dead fucking serious. I’ve been here, pacing the floors like a wild animal and thinking the absolute worst. I was about to drive back to the compound.”

  “I’m sorry, princess.”

  “I never used to worry, but ever since…” I draw in a deep breath, hearing his growl on the other end. “Just take a few seconds so I don’t prematurely age from stress. Got it? Because right now, I’m so pissed…”

  “My mom’s here,” he blurts out in the middle of my chewing him a new asshole.

  I stop moving and scrunch my face. “Your mom?”

  “She just showed up out of nowhere and knocked on the door. At first, I thought you were back, being all cute, not following directions.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time I just showed up at the massive steel doors of the Disciples, looking for someone. But I’m trying to be better and more in control of my actions and my mind, not letting myself assume the worst every moment of every day.

  “But then I saw her, and it was like someone sucker-punched me right in the gut.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She is now, but she wasn’t. She’s in some shit, and if anyone shows up asking for her, you don’t know where she is.”

  “Whatever you want and need me to say, sparky.”

  “You know nothing.”

  I nod to myself. “What am I supposed to know?”

  “Good. I won’t be heading back tomorrow. I need to stay here and sort shit out with her. She got into some trouble, and she’s hiding from the cops.”

  Well, okay. Those aren’t the words I thought he was going to tell me. From everything I know about her, she doesn’t seem like the criminal type. “Bring her here. I can hide her,” I offer.

  “No. She has to stay at the compound with the guys until I get shit straightened out.”

  Oh boy. From what Mammoth has told me, she isn’t much of a party girl and likes to attend church regularly. I’m pretty damn sure being surrounded by a bunch of dirty-ass bikers will be a bit of a culture shock.

  “Want me to come back and keep her company?” I ask, hating that he pushed me out the door.

  “Let me sleep on it. It’s been a long day, and I’ll be thinking more clearly in the morning, yeah? Just go to class and at least see what you missed.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “I can do that.”

  “She’s pretty upset right now, and she’s not sure about the guys. I’m sure she’d rather spend time with you, but I need to get my head straight and figure out what we’re going to do before I make any decisions.”

  “She shouldn’t be sure about them,” I say, laughing on the other end, picturing her meeting Morris, Tiny, and the guys covered in tattoos, facial hair, and leather. Totally isn’t Jessica’s scene, and she probably feels like a fish out of water right now.

  “You know what. Can you come after class tomorrow? I wouldn’t feel right leaving her at the compound without me.”

  “Someone have their eye on her already?” I tease him.

  “Morris was a little too sweet.”

  “Ah. You don’t trust him around her?”

  “He trusted me with you, and look how that turned
out.”

  I bite my lip, trying to stop myself from laughing. “Point taken. I’ll head your way tomorrow after my last class.”

  “Bring some shit for a few days if you can.”

  “Done. I’ll see what I’m going to miss on Friday, so I don’t fall further behind.”

  “Also, can you grab some clothes and whatever women use for my mom? She showed up with nothing except the clothes on her back.”

  “Sure. What does she like to wear?”

  “She likes sundresses, and she’s a size small. Maybe a robe and a pair of pajamas. You know, the ugly kind with the matching pants.”

  I roll my eyes. “I got it. I’ll bring her some toiletries too.”

  “I hate asking you to do all this, but I don’t want to ask the—”

  “Don’t you dare ask those skanky bitches.”

  He laughs for the first time during our conversation. “They’re not all bad.”

  “You’re right, but they’re not trustworthy,” I concede, even though it almost kills me. “But I’ll take care of your mom. No one else. Got it?”

  “Got it. I gotta go. Sleep well, princess, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too,” he says before disconnecting.

  9

  Mammoth

  I’m barely awake as I grab a cup of coffee from the kitchen and stalk toward the bar area to have a seat. But when I walk into the main room, I’m not alone…and neither is my mother.

  Morris is next to her, body turned, knee touching the side of her thigh. They’re talking, and he’s full of smiles, while she watches him in sheer fascination.

  “Fucking bullshit,” I mutter into my mug as a growl climbs up my throat, escaping before I take my first sip.

  I catch Morris’s eye, and he quickly shifts his body into a new position.

  Smart.

  “Mornin’,” Morris says, acting like I didn’t just see what I saw. Words will be had, but not until we’re alone so I don’t embarrass my mother.

  Ma turns to face me with a small smile still on her lips. “Morning, baby,” she says as she slides off the stool and walks toward me. “Sleep well?”

  “Ma,” I tell her, shaking my head. “You can’t call me baby here.”

  She looks around the empty room, no one but her and Morris there with me because everyone else is either busy working or not awake. “Why?” She looks so innocent when she asks the question.

  “It’s just not cool.”

  She laughs, her blue eyes sparkling. “You mean it’s not manly?”

  I nod. “Something like that.”

  She turns back toward Morris, who’s laughing his ass off behind his hand. “Morris, can I call you baby?”

  “Sugar, you can call me anything you like, but I have a feeling your boy wouldn’t like it too much.”

  I can’t stop myself from glaring at Morris, but I quickly wipe the look off my face when Ma glances at me again.

  “Would you care if I called him baby?”

  “It’s different, and I sure as fuck would care,” I tell her, careful to control the volume of my voice. No matter how old I am, she’s still my mom and will not hesitate to put my ass in place.

  “Language,” she warns me like I’m ten again.

  I glance up to the ceiling, muttering a slew of curse words under my breath.

  “Josiah,” Ma whispers, touching my chest. “I didn’t even know you knew all those words, and the fact that you’d say them in front of me is even more shocking.”

  I tip my face down to the tiny woman who gave me life. “I’m sorry. This is just so awkward, Ma. I’m used to just being me when I’m here. I can’t act like a church boy just because you’re around.”

  “Hold up.” Morris lifts his hand, shifting his body in our direction. “You were an altar boy?”

  I give him the middle finger, careful so my mother doesn’t see. “Ma, this is my home. These are my people. They swear. They don’t hold back. They don’t attend mass. And they never refer to me as Josiah or baby. I don’t think Morris even knew that was my first name. Here, I’m Mammoth.”

  “I knew about Josiah,” he interjects, holding up a finger. “Background check.”

  I roll my eyes. “Whatever, Morris.”

  “Be nice, Josiah,” Ma says, tapping her finger against my chest, my name sounding so foreign coming off her tongue. “Morris has been a complete gentleman, and you’ve done nothing but throw him attitude this morning.”

  I stare down at her, holding the cup of coffee in my hand as it cools with each passing second. “Can I drink this?”

  Her eyes move from the cup to her side. “Come and sit with us.”

  “Yes.” Morris pats the stool next to him. “We have a lot to talk about with Jessica.”

  As Ma starts to walk away, I notice she’s no longer in the sundress from last night, but a big T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that I didn’t give her. “Where did you get those clothes?”

  “Morris gave them to me,” she says without turning around.

  My gaze moves to him, and he shrugs. “I found them in my room, buried in a drawer. She couldn’t wear the same clothes two days in a row.” His words are code for: one of the bitches he fucked in the past left them behind.

  I slide onto the stool next to Morris where my mother had been and move her coffee to my left, away from him. “Tamara’s bringing you some dresses later today. You won’t have to stay in that ridiculous outfit for long.”

  “I was sitting there,” she says to my back as she stands behind me, not sitting in the spot I’ve made for her.

  “Well, now you’re sitting there.” I point to her coffee, making sure she knows I’m not moving. “So, sit there.”

  She grunts, but a moment later, she’s next to me just like I told her. “I’m not sure I like this side of you.”

  “I only have one side.”

  “Jessica, sugar,” Morris says, leaning forward to see her and ignoring me again. “Let’s talk about the man and what happened. Do you feel comfortable telling us more? I need names, dates, details.”

  I grind my teeth together, keeping the burning in my stomach from roaring out of my throat and saying something I know I’ll regret.

  Mom nods, tucking a lock of her brown hair behind her ear. “His name is Boyd Weaver. We had mutual friends and all, so I figured he was a good guy. One night, he saw me out at a festival and asked me to dinner.” She pauses, staring down at her half-empty coffee.

  “Okay.” Morris nods. “Then what?”

  “We dated for a few months. Everything was great. He seemed like the perfect man. Kind, caring, and considerate. He was so attentive.”

  “They always seem like the greatest guys,” Morris replies, and I sip my coffee, trying to keep myself busy to divert the rage building in me toward Boyd Weaver.

  “Around the fourth month, I sold my house and moved in with him.”

  I snap my head to the side, and my eyes widen. “You sold the house?”

  “You know, bab…Mammoth—” she places her hand on my arm “—I never get attached to places. They are always temporary.”

  “But you sank everything you had into that place and said you’d spend the rest of your life watching the sunsets from the back porch.”

  She shrugs with a frown. “I thought I’d found a different future.”

  Her words are like a punch to the gut. A gutless bastard not only laid his hands on my mother, but he convinced her to sell her dream. If he isn’t dying by bleeding out from the sledgehammer, he is going to by my hand.

  “Keep going, Jessica,” Morris tells her as he lifts his hand, placing it on my shoulder and squeezing.

  I turn my head, glaring at Morris, and he gives me a nod and a look I know far too well. It’s a situation we’re going to handle. Why does he have any skin in the game? I don’t know. Maybe it’s out of loyalty to me, even in a time when I want nothing more to do with the club. Either way, I know
I’m no longer on my own.

  “I don’t want to get into all the details. I told you enough last night. Finally, I had enough and took it upon myself to make sure he could never use that hand on me again. I got in my car and drove, leaving everything behind.”

  “I can run a background check on Boyd, but it would be faster if you tell us what you know about him. Where he’s from, where he lives, the work he’s done in the past or still does. Anything you can tell us to understand the man before we head up north.”

  Her eyes grow wide. “You can’t go north.”

  “Like hell, we can’t,” Morris says, not giving me a chance.

  “You show up, scared and shaking. You bet your ass, your son and I are going to take a little trip and make sure this asshole gets what he deserves.”

  I curl my hand into a fist against the wood of the bar top. “We’ll make sure you’re cleared of the charges too, Ma.” I know that’s what is really on her mind. She’s worried about the law coming after her and not Boyd, but men who abuse women are rarely so quick to let them go.

  She slides her hand over my fist. “I only care about the charges.”

  “We’ll make that happen,” I promise her.

  “It’s not that easy. Boyd used to be a cop. He has connections, and he’s on the city council. You two aren’t going to be able to make a few calls and get this swept under the rug.”

  Morris laughs. “Sugar,” he says, pausing before he clears his throat, so he doesn’t look like the asshole he is. “I don’t care if he has all the connections in the world. We have our own. A man who hits women doesn’t get to hide behind his connections or his old badge either.”

  “Boyd has a small arsenal inside his home. It’s too dangerous for you two to go after him. I wanted to get away, and I did that. I took him by surprise and had my keys ready. The last thing I want is to invite him back in by having you going up there, stirring up more trouble.”

  I side-eye Morris, and he nods.

  “We won’t do anything unless it’s necessary,” he tells her.

  In the Disciples, revenge is always necessary. An eye for an eye is woven into the fabric of this club. Making peace, while it can be useful, doesn’t come without someone paying a price first.