Dear Reader,

Heller Raiders MC romance series. Bad boy bikers, dangerous drama, and lots of spice. These are gritty stories including violence, drug use and graphic language. Get ready for a wild ride. Some readers may find content disturbing.

Blue is an emotional story with childhood sexual abuse, sexual assault, drug use and addiction, murder, violence, suicidal thoughts, and dark themes. If you have concerns with these triggers, please consider your mental health before reading.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Blue

Two things drew a crowd to the Heller Raiders MC—weddings and funerals. Not that you could tell a difference between the two. Patches were always getting drunk, getting laid, or getting high.

Outside, bikes rumbled. Inside, girls danced in the center of the chapel, the main gathering room of the club. The clubhouse was a converted church. Fitting, since the MC was the closest I’d ever come to finding salvation. I’d never be saved, but, at least, with two wheels down, I wasn’t dying.

Music blared through the room, and the party bled out into the parking lot where fire crackled in the oil drum. The oil drum wasn’t my scene. I’d heard enough of the old timers talking about riding when outlaw riders could outrun the law.

Rogue, VP of the Heller Raiders, lifted his beer for a toast. Here we go.

“According to wedding tradition,” he said, “the best man’s speech should last as long as the groom can in bed. But we all know Bullet, and no one wants to listen to me talk all night. So, here’s to women and Harleys…and the Hellers who ride them.”

The toast felt like a punch to the gut. They called me Blue because it’d been a while since I’d gotten my dick wet. I’d slit my wrists, eat my gun, or jump from a fucking building before I let anyone discover the truth.

My problem wasn’t getting girls. My issues were deeper and darker. I swallowed hard and ignored the burn of memories I’d choke on before I’d fucking dredge up the cesspool of emotions festering in my gut.

Kodiak hollered. “May your wives and lovers never cross paths.” Then he laughed and wrapped his arms around Bristol who was sitting on his lap.

“Former lovers,” Lacey clarified.

“Stormy, you’re a brave woman.” Vega tossed back a shot. “Bullet, I don’t know fuck about love. But honor her by getting on her and staying on her.”

Vega, Kodiak, and Steele were the newest patches in the club. Former Night Crawlers. They’d protected Bullet while he killed the Crawler MC from the inside.

Murph lifted his glass. “May your wedding night be like fried chicken, a bit of breast, a little thigh, and finger-licking good.”

“You all are assholes, and these are terrible toasts,” Bristol said. “Stormy is my best friend.”

Bristol and Lacey were both Bullet’s former whores, otherwise known as his kittens—his way of claiming their pussies as his property. Although Bullet declared his pimping days were behind him. The guy was a legend. I wanted to be just like him. Ride, fight, and fuck like a beast.

I was one for three. I rode a black and powder-coated Nightster, but I didn’t fight for recreation. Some of the guys enjoyed going to the basement of the MC just to beat the shit out of each other. Nah, I held grudges. If you tried to get a sneak on me, I’d fucking pound your head into the curb, and kick the shit out of you. I might not be strong enough to go fist to fist, but I fought dirty.

Another cheer went around the room. Another toast. Another round of drinks. Another fucking reason to get out of here. This was the shit that pissed me off. The Heller Raiders were celebrating, as if my life hadn’t been fucked over again.

I wasn’t pissed that Bullet married his lay. I guess even a pimp could get sick of professional pussy, not that I would know. I didn’t sample the product. Bullet traded in skin. The girls worked, and I’d made sure no one damaged the merchandise.

Protecting the girls was therapy. Being around pussy was better than seeing a shrink. My head was fucked, and it had nothing to do with the concussion I’d gotten six weeks ago when Stormy’s ex beat the fuck out of me.

I didn’t blame her. I did blame Bullet. He should’ve told me to watch my back, that some mafia hitman and Stormy’s ex were looking for her. Bullet owed me that much. I never would have let Kiss stay at Indulgence, Bullet’s massage spa. I wouldn’t have promised her she’d be safe with me. I wouldn’t have spent three weeks in bed while Kiss crawled back to the streets. I wouldn’t have this knot of rage burning in my gut.

“Blue, why so blue?” Levi maneuvered into the chair next to me, not an easy task with her belly the size of a beachball.

I had to admit, I loved the girl. Everyone loved her. She was like an alpha-hole whisperer when it came to Hellers. When she was around, we all seemed to find our manners. Everyone except Romeo, treasurer and pretty boy of the MC. Not that he was an asshole to her. The opposite was true. According to the girls, Romeo did her dirty. And she loved it. He couldn’t keep his hands off her or, apparently, his dick out of her.

I had an unhealthy preoccupation with sex. Maybe because I had a fucked up history with it.

Jazzy smirked and sat across from me.

“Don’t say shit,” I said to her. Although I was grateful for the distraction. Anything to keep my focus off fucking. Jazzy was a boner killer for me. Good thing because she was Rogue’s old lady, the only patched female in the MC, and she could kick my ass.

“I think your concussion affected your personality,” she said. “You’re no fun anymore.”

Jazzy and I had a tumultuous relationship. I’d say she was like a sister, but I’d never say the shit I said to Jazzy to my sister. Although I didn’t say anything to my sister. Not anymore. We hadn’t spoken in six years, and I was good with that. She could fuck off along with the rest of my family. I was better off without them.

Hana and Jazzy were like a professional tag team when it came to ball busting. Only Hana was dynamite. She came in a small package, wore a property of Blade cut, and she was brutally honest.

“Look at them,” Hana said as she watched the dance floor. “It’s the ballet version of beauty and the beast.”

Stormy stood on her tiptoes, balanced on top of Bullet’s boots as he danced with her. I was glad he was able to save his girl, glad he married her, and had his happily ever after. Good for him.

My life was still fucked.

“I need a drink.” I pushed away from the table and crossed the room to the Altar, the club’s bar.

Cruz stepped up next to me. “There’s a party tonight.”

My pulse spiked. Just what I needed, something to get me out of the MC for the rest of the night. Another opportunity to find Kiss.

In the last six weeks, Cruz and I had become friends while I’d been laid up in Blade’s room. Cruz rented the next room over. Our president hadn’t said anything yet, but my time squatting was about up.

I needed fast cash and a new place to live. Before I’d been clocked by the mafia hitman, I’d been renting a room above a hair salon downtown. By now, those locks would have been changed. Thankfully, Jazzy had grabbed a lot of my things while I’d been in bed. Who knew where the rest of my stuff was now, not that I had much to lose.

Since Bullet had closed down Indulgence, I’d become an entrepreneur. Romeo had hooked me up with his source. Parting out eighths was giving me a bit of scratch, and an in to find Kiss.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Cruz followed me to Blade’s room. I grabbed a half dozen baggies of weed and stuffed them into the inside pocket of my cut. Because we were dealing, I carried a pocket pistol.

“How long did it take for you to get your patch?”

Still prospecting for the MC, Cruz wore a cut but without the colors. I’d earned my patch the hard way, not through time, but through service. Hellers and Crawlers had gone to war. I’d proven my loyalty.

“Don’t worry,” I said to Cruz as we stopped in his room. “Nothing changes until your mom puts you up for a vote.” I didn’t know how long it would take for Dozer, Cruz’s sponsor, or mom as we called him, to patch him in. “Dozer is going to make you work for it. Know your club history. Fuck, dude, hang out at the oil drum, get the stories from the old timers.” I slapped his back. “When it happens, you know I’m a yes.”

“You fucking owe me for tonight,” he said with a laugh. “The party is at a trailer on the west side. Bruh, a lot of traffic runs through my friend Kane’s place. He’s chill, but lately I’ve had to ditch his scene.”

“What’s the issue?”

“His sister, Hayley. We hook up occasionally, but it’s nothing serious. We partied a couple weeks ago. She passed out, and I ended up having a threesome with one of her friends and her boyfriend.” He checked his weapon and slid it into his pocket along with his cigarettes. “Hayley’s pissed.” He chuckled. “I never pretended we were anything but friends, and we were barely that, but I guess I was a bit more serious for her.”

I stalled, but not on the threesome, and not that Cruz would split a chick with another guy. If I’d learned anything about Cruz, it was that he didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought. Apparently, even his fucking girlfriend.

“Fuck, dude, you’re with McKelle. Does she know?” The walls in the MC weren’t soundproof. For Cruz and McKelle, a good fucking either followed a good fight between them or caused one.

I knew because most nights I stayed up with a hard dick and listened to them fuck.

“Yeah, we fought about it. McKelle is fucking psycho, but she’s mine.”

We slipped out the side door, climbed onto our bikes, and rode out of the MC. Should I feel like shit leaving Bullet’s wedding reception? Maybe, probably, but fuck it.

With the wind in my face, and the roar of the pipes of my bike, I should’ve been flying high. But I couldn’t shake the mental playout of what I would do when I finally found Kiss. I was pissed at her for running from me.

I understood she had a volatile history with the MC, and a lot of it was shit. She’d overdosed on heroin in the bathroom. And she had a fucked up relationship with Levi and Romeo. I got it. She hated seeing her ex best friend with her ex bad habit boyfriend, but Levi and Romeo were solid. Levi had a bean in her belly due to pop any day. Romeo was all in with her. From what Jazzy had told me, he always had been.

Another reason it had to hurt Kiss to see them together.

She still owed me more than a fuck off because she was uncomfortable with her former friends. Six weeks of being left on read. I’d broken the dating rule of repeat texting, and I’d tried calling a couple times.

Nothing. If she wasn’t coming to me, she was depending on someone else. Sobriety was a fragile thing. Kiss had been in bed with black for a long time. Black, as in black tar heroin. Before the situation with Bullet and Stormy, she’d been hitting the methadone clinic and trying to find ways of staying clean. Three trips to rehab hadn’t helped, and I wasn’t much of a sober sponsor.

Maybe because I had fucked up issues of my own.

Cruz and I rode to a shit part of town. The roads were rough, and the neighborhood was rougher. Some of the homes had boarded-up windows. Graffiti tagged street signs. Following Cruz, we turned into the Shady Valley mobile home park. Dogs barked as we rode through the old trailer court. The stench of rottenness saturated the air.

Residents loitered on their porches. This used to be Crawler territory. The club was dismantled, but there were still patches lying low. My Heller cut was going to be noticed.

Cars lined the narrow street. Cruz stopped and parked in a gap between two trailers. He nodded toward the older trailer with faded paint on the right. A couple of guys leaned against the rail of a weathered, wooden porch. A blond flipped his hair from his eyes, waved to Cruz, and separated from the group.

Cruz dropped his kickstand. I did the same, stripping off my riding gloves and resting them on my fuel tank.

“You made it,” the guy said and fist bumped Cruz. “I should’ve mentioned Hayley’s inside.”

“Is she still pissed?”

The guy laughed at Cruz’s question. “She still won’t talk to Piper.”

Cruz climbed off his bike. “Then Piper owes me. I’ll take a blow in the bathroom.”

“You’re a dick.” He laughed. “Don’t worry. Dax dried Hayley’s tears. What’s up?” he said to me.

“Kane, this is my friend Blue,” Cruz said.

I stepped closer and shook Kane’s hand.

“I hear you’ve got something for me.”

“Papaya Kush.”

“Sweet.”

If I was going to sell to his friends, I was going to have to get him high. We entered the trailer. I kept one hand in my pocket, but adrenaline was firing through me. The house reeked of weed, and the stale stench of filth.

Dishes filled the sink, and the counters were cluttered with open bags of chips and twelve pack boxes of cheap beer. Stains marred the threadbare carpet. Cigarette butts floated in half-full beer bottles, and a mangy tabby cat stretched along the back of a worn couch.

Typical of the parties and trap houses we’d been crashing, people gathered in the kitchen. More people mingled in the living room. A blonde girl sat on a guy’s lap and toked on a joint. Not Kiss. If she wasn’t here, at least, I could make a little money.

When we walked into the living room, those on the couch moved off and gave space to us. I pulled a baggie and my pipe from my pocket and handed them to Kane. He loaded the bowl, brought the pipe to his lips, and inhaled long and deep.

As he held his breath, he passed the pipe back to me, but I nodded to Cruz. Once he’d taken a hit, he gave the pipe to me.

Kane blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “Fuck, dude.” He leaned his head back, reached an arm behind him, and sank his fingers into the cat’s fur. “This is my favorite pussy.”

A hallway stretched to the back of the trailer to bedrooms and a bathroom. While Kane and Cruz smoked my weed, I kept my head down, but I was fucking marking every blonde in the room.

A girl came from the hall and paused. “Did you know he would be here?” she asked Kane. This must be the pissed sister.

“You’re looking good, Hayley.” Cruz blew a stream of smoke in her direction.

“Fuck off.” She glared at him. “You’re both assholes. I’m out of here.” She stormed across the room, banged the door open, and flipped them off as she left.

While they smoked the bowl, I sold a couple of baggies. A guy with his hair in a ponytail, wearing a leather jacket, stumbled out of the back room. His eyes were blown as he slumped into the ratty recliner next to the couch.

“This is Sam,” Kane said to me.

I nodded. “Blue.”

Sam smiled at Cruz. “I haven’t seen you around in a while. What’ve you been up to?”

Cruz knew everyone. The Mr. Rogers of the neighborhood. “Not much.”

Kane took another hit off the pipe. “Where’s your girl?” he asked Sam while holding his breath.

“Having a chocolate bar in the bedroom.”

Hair on the back of my neck prickled. Kiss had confessed to me that chocolate bars, a dangerous combination of heroin and Xanax, were her weakness. My gut clenched as I thought of her in the other room, potentially taking her last breath.

Kane wasn’t aware that I’d stopped smoking to pay attention to the discussions happening around me.

“She wanted to smoke a bowl earlier,” Kane said to Sam. “Blue has eighths. Take a hit off of this shit.” He passed the bowl.

Sam blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “Fuck, that’s good. How much?”

My attention was on the hallway, willing a petite blonde to come striding into the room. I didn’t care if she was high. I fucking needed Kiss back in my orbit.

“Blue?”

I turned to Kane and cocked a brow.

“Do you have a bag for my friend?”

I reached into my pocket and tossed a baggie onto the table. Sam inspected the buds, opened the baggie, and sniffed the weed.

Cruz stared at the doorway. Two girls came into the trailer. One had curly red hair hanging to her juicy ass. A tight T-shirt had been altered with a pair of scissors to make room for her tits. The other had short, dark hair, and she clung to a guy with a shaved head and a face full of tatts. The guy’s gaze lingered for a moment on Cruz, then went to Sam. The redhead smiled and waved at Cruz. Maybe I’d been idolizing the wrong Heller.

“Anyone you know?” I asked with a smirk on my face.

Cruz’s only reply was a barely discernable nod.

“I’ll take another bag.” Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of balloons mixed in with his money. “Cash or trade?”

“Cash.” Fuck heroin. I owned my truths. One hit, and I’d be hooked. Maybe that’s why I understood Kiss and the appeal of just saying fuck it and letting addiction have me. I stuffed the money into my pocket.

Cruz casually stood, but his hand tapped against his thigh. “Time to go.”

Not yet. I needed in the back bedroom where a girl was fucked up on heroin and Xanax.

Before I could speak, Cruz draped an arm over my shoulder. “Through the bedroom.” We weaved through the short, crowded hall.

“Is there a problem?” Kane asked, following us into the bedroom.

“Not with you and me,” Cruz said to Kane. “But I don’t like your friends.”

Bile rose into my throat. Needles covered the top of the dresser. Blood splatter from junkies dotted the walls. Kiss and another girl sat on the bed with a couple of guys. She looked like shit. Dark bruises circled her eyes. How long had she been binging?

Her gaze connected with mine, and tears filled her eyes. She whispered, “Blue,” and shook her head. “Why are you here?”

I rushed to her side, and she curled into herself.

“Why the fuck are you here?” I asked. “Fuck, Kiss. Why are you doing this?”

“I’m sorry,” she almost didn’t speak the words, but her lips moved.

“You should be. Are you smoking or shooting?” Both were a death sentence for this girl. I flung her paraphernalia, a straw and foils, across the room. “You’re fucking better than this.”

“Stop,” she whimpered.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” one of the guys on the bed asked as he tightened a tourniquet on his arm.

Cruz crossed to the window, pried it open, and shoved out the screen. “I’m not fucking around,” he said to me. “We need to go, now.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Kane raked his fingers through his hair.

“Do you know him?” Sam asked Kiss.

“She does, and she’s coming with me.” I grabbed her hand, pulled her to me, and lifted her into my arms.

“I need my backpack.”

“We need to go,” I said.

“Blue, it’s all I have.”

Cruz jumped out of the window. I carried her to the ledge, slipped her legs through, and handed her to Cruz. He grabbed onto her and carefully lowered her.

“Don’t jump,” one of the guys said and laughed.

“What the fuck is wrong with using the front door?” Sam asked.

“Fuck if I know,” Kane said. “But I’ve known Cruz long enough to trust his spider senses.”

I grabbed her pink backpack off the floor and jumped out the window. Kiss reached for me. Cruz handed her over and took the backpack. Her thin arms clung to my neck.

Kane and Sam followed us out, dropping into the weeds surrounding the trailer.

“Give her to me,” Sam said and reached for Kiss.

I ignored his request, and Cruz held a finger up to his lips.

Sticks and dead grass crunched beneath our feet as we approached the neighbor’s trailer. Late-night news blared through the screens. Staying out of the swath of light from the window, we rounded the rear of the trailer.

Cruz gripped my shoulder. Two unmarked police cars rolled slowly down the street, passed in front of us, and stopped. Another vehicle approached from the cross street, shutting down their headlights as they neared the trailers.

A large box vehicle rolled to a stop. S.W.A.T. was on the scene.

“We need some distance between us and them.” Cruz crouched and pointed to the next trailer down.

Branches snapped in the distance. Cruz flattened out on the ground. Sam and Kane dropped and did the same. I ducked next to a pickup truck tire and, holding Kiss close to my chest, leaned against the front panel of the vehicle.

In the past few weeks, she’d lost weight and lost her color. She was fragile in my arms, a butterfly with broken wings.

I stilled. She heard it, too. Her hands balled into fists and clutched my shirt.

“Shh.” I slowed my breathing but still drank in the scent of her. Not the vile stench of drugs, but the underneath softness of the insecure girl. Contrary to what Bullet thought, Kiss and I had never been anything more than friends. I’d never fucked her, never kissed her. I’d hardly touched her.

Not that I hadn’t wanted more. Not that I hadn’t fucked my fist to thoughts of having her under me. I had her in my arms now, but this girl was a fucked up beautiful disaster.

A small group of guys in S.W.A.T. gear skirted the rear of the property. Focused on their target, they moved with stealth toward Kane’s trailer.

Sweat trickled down my temples, and my heart slammed against my ribs to the point I couldn’t quell the adrenaline firing through my veins. My fluctuating breaths left me lightheaded and amped as fuck.

As soon as they cleared the adjacent trailer, I released an exhale. Cruz, Sam, and Kane crawled to my hiding spot. We huddled together.

“That was fucking close,” I said.

“Our bikes aren’t an option.” Cruz chewed his thumbnail. Cops waited up and down the street. S.W.A.T. was moving into position.

“We need to get farther away, blend in with the neighbors, and wait it out.” I raised up enough to peer over the top of the vehicle.

Kiss tapped my shoulder. “I can walk.”

She slid down my body but clung to my cut.

“Stay close to me.” My voice was just above a whisper.

“Why do you keep trying to save me?”

Because I wanted to be her savior, even if it meant becoming her tormentor. I’d find a way to get through to her. Everyone had given up on her. I wouldn’t.

“Later,” Cruz said.

“There’s a trailer for rent next to the vacant lot.” Kane pointed to the left.

As quietly as possible, we crept along the back of the trailers. More police cars approached.

We scurried past two more trailers. Officers holding K9 units gathered on the corner, pointing in the direction of Kane’s trailer.

Cruz held his hand up, signaling for us to hold back. He strode to the front of the trailer and tugged the For Rent sign from the ground. Then he waved us toward the rickety porch. I sat next to him on the top step and pulled Kiss onto my lap.

Kane and Sam sat on the bottom step.

“How did you know?” Kane asked Cruz.

“Because he’s a fucking narc.” Sam seethed with his accusation. “And his friend came for Kiss. What was the plan? To let the rest of us take the hit?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kane snapped. “I’ve known Cruz too long.” But his gaze hardened on me. “I don’t know you. Are you dealing for the cops?”

“He’s with me,” Cruz said. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Have you looked at his cut? Blue’s a Heller Raider.” Kiss leaned her head on my shoulder. She could scarcely keep her eyes open, and her words slurred. “He’d never work with the cops.”

I wiped drool from her mouth. “Stay with me, Kiss.”

“I just need to sleep for a minute.”

Boom! A concussion grenade blasted the neighborhood. Car alarms blared, and dogs barked. The cops shouted orders, and neighbors began to filter out of their trailers to watch the entertainment.

“Fuck, Kane, they brought in the big guns for you.” Sam pulled out his cigarettes.

“Not for me,” Kane said. “Maybe for me, but I’m not dealing. Do they usually bring in S.W.A.T. for a party?”

“Nah.” Cruz spoke with the cigarette bouncing between his lips. “This is a no-knock warrant.” He nodded toward Sam. “Watch your back. I think the warrant is for you.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Sam leaned against the wooden slats of the porch.

Cruz leaned forward and spoke to Sam. “Because you’re pushing black, and the skinhead with the face full of ink sold scripts to an undercover a couple weeks ago. As soon as he saw you, he pulled out his phone, sent a text that couldn’t have been more than one word.”

Sam’s forehead pinched, and his gaze narrowed on Cruz. “Who the fuck are you, Sherlock Home?”

The cop cars were now flashing their lights and warning residents closest to Kane’s trailer to stay in their homes.

“It’s Sherlock Holmes, and no, I’m observant.”

Kane snorted. “He’s a fucking savant with spider senses.”

Sam stared down the street at the commotion of the bust. “If they’re looking for me, I need to get off the street.” He crushed his cigarette beneath his boot, climbed the few porch steps, and checked the door of the trailer. “I’ll find a way in.” He jumped off the backside of the porch, checking windows as he moved to the rear of the trailer.

Neighbors loitered in their driveways, on the street, and kicked back on their porches to watch the raid happening at Kane’s trailer.

Two minutes later, the door popped open. We filtered into the trailer and bolted the door.

Cruz and Kane opened the curtains in the living room and the blinds in the kitchen.

“Stay out of sight in the bedrooms,” Cruz said. “Cops will do a window search before forcing their way in. Don’t give them anything to see.”

Sam sagged against the wall and glanced to Cruz. “I owe you.”

“I wasn’t trying to save your ass,” he said with a serious note. “But understand, I have a favor from you on tap when I need it.”

He nodded.

I led Kiss to the rear of the trailer and into one of the back bedrooms. There wasn’t any furniture, but the place seemed clean. It didn’t stink, and the carpets had vacuum cleaner tracks. She dropped to the floor, lay on her side, and pillowed her hands beneath her cheek.

I sat underneath the window, leaned against the wall, bent my knees, and draped my hands over them. She rolled and faced me.

“Why haven’t you answered any of my texts?” I asked.

Red and blue lights cut through the blinds and illuminated the room. Blonde hair that reminded me of pale sunsets tumbled around her face, but her blue eyes clouded with a drug induced inkiness.

“I didn’t get the messages.” She shifted her gaze away from me.

“Don’t bullshit me, Kiss. I’ve been texting you for six weeks. I’ve been hitting up parties and trap houses with Cruz since I’ve been able to sit on my bike. I was out of my fucking head worried about you. You didn’t say shit to anyone. You just left. Fuck. Kiss, at Indulgence—” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I didn’t know if they hurt you.”

She kept her eyes lowered. A couple moments of silence followed. She wasn’t going to explain, maybe ask how the fuck I coped with my injuries. She was able to walk away from that night.

“At least, fucking look at me.”

“Fine.” Her gaze snapped back at me.

“Don’t fucking try to guilt me on this.” I’d been her 911 for weeks before shit went down at Indulgence. I’d bought her food, hotels, and paid her fucking cell phone bill for the last few months, so she wouldn’t have to go to her source and pay with pussy.

“I’m not.” She sat up and crossed her legs. “I wanted to call.”

“You should’ve been at the MC, then you wouldn’t have had to worry about calling. But you gave zero fucks about me.”

“Now, who is dealing in guilt?”

I sighed and plucked a stray string from the threadbare patch at the knee of my jeans. “I guess I am. I was down for three weeks, Kiss.” Apathy was worse than rejection. I’d nearly lost everything trying to protect her. I betrayed my friendship with Bullet. I’d lied to my mentor, to a man who’d shown me nothing but respect—for her. “You could’ve told me to my face to fuck off.”

“It wasn’t about you.”

I growled, and my teeth clenched. It was never about me. Only it was always about me. “That’s the problem, Kiss. It should’ve been about me.”

“I couldn’t stay at the MC. I didn’t mean to stay away from you.” Her voice quieted. “I couldn’t call or text.” She released a shaky exhale. “I sold my phone.”

“For black?”

She nodded.

I dropped my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. “Make me understand, Kiss. Because I’m trying to figure out why I give a fuck when you don’t. I’m talking about everything. You don’t give a fuck about me. You clearly don’t care about yourself or about staying clean.”

“I’m not worth caring about. I told you I’d eventually fuck you over, but you wouldn’t believe me. Don’t make this my fault. What do you want from me?”

Before I could reply, Cruz stood in the hallway, read the room, and spoke to the other guys.

“In here.” Cruz indicated the room across the hall. “They need a bit of privacy.”

“I don’t know who the fuck he is to her,” Sam said. “But I’ve been feeding her habit. We deal in trade, and she owes me.”

Tears slipped onto Kiss’s cheeks, and her eyes slowly closed. This was how she fucked me up.

I jumped to my feet and crossed the room. “You stick another fucking needle in her and the next hit you put in your veins will be drain cleaner.”

Cruz stepped between us. “Step back, Sam. Make sure you want this kind of trouble. She’s a fucking Heller, and that makes her ours.”

“Calm the fuck out,” Kane said. “We’ve got bigger problems. The whole fucking police department is in my crib.” He glared at Sam. “I’m not blaming you, but this might all be your fault. You need to sit the fuck down.”

Sam stared past me to Kiss. Then he glared at Cruz. “Consider the favor repaid.”

“Doesn’t work that way,” Cruz said. “I’ll decide when we’re square.” He turned to me. “You good?”

I nodded. “I swear, if he comes near her again, it’s on sight.” No warning. No words. I’d fucking take him out.

“I got your back, bruh.” Cruz stepped into the room across the hall. I returned to Kiss and sat in the same position as before. This time, she crawled across the carpet, sat next to me, and leaned against the wall. We were both silent as dogs barked outside the trailer. Blue lights continued to cut through the darkness.

“I don’t know what to do for you,” I said to her. “You need help. What I’m doing isn’t working.”

“I don’t want to go to rehab again.” She leaned her head against my shoulder. “You don’t know how hard it is to stay clean.”

“Yes, I do.” I lived it every fucking day. Memories were my demons. Had I thought of sticking a needle in my arm to turn my pain into pleasure? I did, as many times as I thought about swallowing my gun to blow the fucking images I couldn’t forget out of my head.

Like the moon, I had a dark side. A monster lurked inside me. Drugs promised an escape, but I had a greater fear of what could be unleashed. Suffering was penance for a fucked up life.

“We all have demons, Kiss. Every time you shoot up, you’re letting your fears control you.”

Tears slipped onto her cheeks. “In treatment, the first step is admitting we’re powerless over our addictions. Nailed it.”

“Fuck twelve steps. You have to make a choice. Decide if you want to live or die.”

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