Chrissie placed my résumé on her desk and ran her shrewd eyes across the page. A recent widow, I had to assume that she was as guilty as her late husband.

But if she knew that eighteen years earlier, Hellion, the president of the Devil’s Prophets Motorcycle Club, had drugged me, raped me, kidnapped the son I bore him, and arranged my murder, she didn’t give it away.

She had brought me to an office that was just a portable building situated at the back of a massive, yet empty, workshop. The room was neat, homey, with worn furniture and photos on the walls.

Glancing up, she licked her cherry-red lips. “Well, you’re certainly qualified. Are you sure you know what you’re in for?”

“I’d be doing the accounts, booking jobs, that type of thing.” I leaned forward and placed my finger on the sheet of paper near my last position. “As you can see, I was responsible for reorganizing a client’s entire inventory and upgrading their accounting system. From what I read in your advertisement, you’re looking at a complete overhaul.”

“Yes, but you’ve never worked in a garage before.” She flipped my application over face down. “There’s a lot for you to learn. Costing out jobs, repair quotes, and the like. We do a lot of custom rebuilds here. It can get complicated.”

“I’m a fast learner.” I smiled back at her, even though she pissed me off.

Two days earlier I’d answered an ad in the Mt. Xavier Times for the office assistant vacancy, and if anything, I was overqualified. I was more accustomed to working for large corporations in slick, modern offices and the garage position would hardly be challenging. I’d even gone so far as to downplay my credentials and experience.

I needed this job.

So much so, I hadn’t been far off from getting down on my knees and begging her. Hell, I’d work for nothing, if it wouldn’t have made her and the rest of the club suspicious.

“I’m not doubting you.” She raised her perfectly filled in brows.

It had been a long time since I’d been anywhere near this close to Chrissie. Years, and it shocked me how little she’d aged. She appeared pretty, refined and delicate under her heavy makeup. But then again, most of my observations of Chrissie had been obscured by whatever I’d found to hide behind.

I hated the bitch.

“But you don’t see me here?”

She tilted her head, her platinum hair spilling over her shoulder. “Well, in a way, no.” Nodding at me, she screwed up her mouth. “I’m not sure you’re the right fit.”

I glanced down at myself. My neatly ironed pants, my crisp white shirt worn under a pale pink cardigan, hardly the clothing of a club babe. I was her polar-opposite. Chrissie’s skintight jeans and revealing top, more the kind of outfit a woman wore around a biker gang. I started to doubt my choices, but this wasn’t far from my normal attire.

“But you agree, I can perform the job. The accounts side of things.” I met her eyes, my gaze steady, while hers wavered.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But you have to understand, this isn’t a normal workplace. We have different rules here.”

“All businesses do,” I said.

She sighed. “Let me say this bluntly, Jenna. The boys are going to think you are fair game. We don’t want to open ourselves up to a lawsuit because they’ve said something offensive. They’re not going to change their behavior to suit you.”

I didn’t appreciate the reminder of my biggest fear about the MC. I knew what bikers were like all too well. But that wasn’t going to stop me working here. Nothing could. I started to reconsider her reaction to my getting down on my knees, or working for free, when she let out another huff of breath.

“To be honest, you’re our best applicant. But you’re”—she waved her hand out in front of herself—“well, you look like the before part of a porno. The scene right before the secretary rips off her glasses and shakes out her hair. Only I think you’re genuine, that it’s not an act.”

I sat back, startled, and burst out laughing. I had to admit, the last part came from nerves, but Chrissie joined in with me.

“I can assure you, that’s not what I was going for.” I swiped my damp palms down the front of my pants, hoping she didn’t notice. “I can do this job, I just need a chance.”

“I guess there’s not a lot on offer in town,” she said.

There were a few positions, actually. A couple that paid a lot more than this one. But here, if I could convince Chrissie to take me on, I’d get to see my son. All the risks I took by being around the club would be worth it. The Devil’s Prophets had done everything to me that they could, apart from killing me, but it wasn’t as if I had much of a life, anyway.

“Not a lot, no,” I said.

“There’s other things, too.” She flipped my résumé back over, giving me some hope. “When shit gets out, not that there’s shit. But people just assume, you know? It’s citizens we think of first.”

I nod. “Of course. I could sign a confidentiality agreement if you’d like.”

I smiled at her shocked expression. Assuming I did talk out of school, the club would definitely have a way of dealing with me. I doubted anyone bothered with contracts here. Not unless they were the type that you set upon someone you wanted gone.

“Ah, we don’t have to go that far. Jenna, if it were up to me, I’d hire you in a flash. I think we’d get along, and it would be nice to have another woman around here to work with. But…”

“Thank you for your time,” I said, rising and putting my hand out. “I won’t waste any more of it.”

Calling her bluff could have had me dismissed, but I had nothing to lose in risking doing just that. Of course, I would have to find another way into the club. The obvious method needed to accomplish that made my stomach twist.

“Wait,” she said, glancing around her office, her hand fluttering about. “I’ll give you a two-week trial. Can you start tomorrow?”

I gave her a practiced smile as she shook my hand. “Thank you.”

We’d been alone when I’d first arrived, but as we exited the office, that had changed. The heavy thump of tools being used and discarded assaulted my ears. Some kind of air-powered device hissed and whirred, drowning out all the other sounds.

“Noisy, right?” Chrissie said. “Lucky for us, the office is soundproofed.”

There had been a window covered with a Venetian blind, but I had to assume double glazing had been responsible for the near silence, and not the flimsy bit of cheap plastic.

“It’s fine. I don’t distract easily.”

“We’ll see.”

Skirting the wall, we made our way outside. No one bothered us, and I tried to ignore the men who worked on the bikes and occasional car. All of them were bikers as well as mechanics. Every man there a member of the Devil’s Prophets. A brief, cold prickle slid up my spine, threatening to snap it in two. I shook it off. I couldn’t afford to show fear.

Despite the overcast weather, typical for Mt. Xavier, a town that sheltered behind a massive mountain range, Chrissie slid on a pair of designer sunglasses. She seemed to think I needed escorting to my car. I wished she’d leave me alone, bad enough we’d be working together.

When I spotted my vehicle, I hurried over to the parking lot. I had little doubt that my car had been searched. Not that I had anything incriminating inside it, they were the criminals. Everyone knew that the Devil’s Prophets operated outside of the law.

“Thank you for the interview,” I said, as we loitered. “I appreciate your time and the opportunity. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

But Chrissie’s attention had gone to the double gate that I’d earlier driven through, allowed access only after I’d shown my driver’s license to a camera.

She twisted her hands together at her chest. “What the hell?”

Following her direction, I watched as two thunderous motorbikes roared into the compound, coming to a synchronized park fifty or so feet from us.

The engines cut at the same time, both riders removing helmets and the bandannas that covered the lower half of their faces as they dismounted.

“Ali,” Chrissie said, a warning tone in her voice as she shot off over to them. “Where is he? He’s meant to be with you.”

Ali, as she called him, pronouncing the name like the boxer, had to be six and a half feet tall. Built huge with dark hair that fell over his forehead. Even from where I stood he looked good. Young, too, he had to be only in his mid-twenties.

Despite his size, he put up his hands as if deflecting the five-foot-eight Chrissie. “Stop your worrying, Mama Bear, Jack made a new friend.”

Oh, my God, he talked of my son. If I read this right, Jack was supposed to be with them.

I hurried over, even though I wanted to leave. Luckily, I pulled up short and tamped down my demand to know why my son wasn’t there.

“He did?” Chrissie’s mouth twisted. “I’m guessing a female friend.”

“Yeah, unless shit changed after I left. He’ll be home when he’s ready.”

The other rider gave a quick nod in Chrissie’s direction and rushed off toward the second largest building situated on the opposite side of the compound.

Chrissie let out a sigh. “Great, I’d planned dinner.” She whipped a pink, sparkled iPhone from her pocket and started dialing. I guessed I’d been forgotten. As she headed away from us, handset jammed to her ear, she looked back over her shoulder. “Ali, can you see her out?”

The biker pressed his lips together in a firm line, narrowed his eyes and clenched his fist. “Right, sure.”

With that, he turned and headed for the gate.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I said under my breath.

Not that it should have concerned me, but the rudeness from Chrissie not introducing us, and the look the biker had given me, irritated beyond measure. I was going to be working with a bunch of people who didn’t even have common decency. Not that I expected much more from them.

As I pulled open my car door, I became aware of a presence behind me. Ali’s body cast a shadow that had me spinning back to him.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, his words slow and clear. “Is that better?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Getting on the wrong side of these people wasn’t going to secure my job with them. Better to play nice. I was good at that.

“I’m happy to meet you too, Ali.”

“And you are?”

“Oh, sorry, Jenna. Jenna Mitchell.” I stuck my hand out. If he recognized my name, he didn’t give anything away. “Chrissie just hired me to work in the office.”

He waited a beat before reaching out and capturing my fingers, not overly hard, but firm. His palm was warm, dry and calloused. We shook, and his eyes pinned me in place. When I went to pull back, he held for a second too long before releasing me, still staring.

I broke the eye contact and glanced back at the garage. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. If you work in there, I mean.”

“Sometimes,” he said.

That would be right. Likely he spent his days selling drugs and beating people up, his job as a mechanic, just a front. He looked handsome, with his blue eyes and silky dark hair. But I had always been a realist. This was a bad man.

“Okay, see you then.” I slid into my seat, but Ali’s hands gripped the edge of the door, preventing me from closing it.

When I tugged again, he let me shut myself in. It wasn’t until I found myself in the relative safety of my car that I started to breathe normally.

I’d survived.

The interview, anyway.

When Jenna drove away in her little hatchback piece of shit car, my closest brother, Cage, approached me from the side.

“Are you going to hit that?”

“Nah, she’s not going to last out tomorrow.” Jenna Mitchell may be hot—no doubt there—but she appeared fragile as fuck.

“So, you’re not bothering.” At that, I saw Cage’s interest jack up.

“Maybe,” I said.

He snorted. “Crushing on the secretary.”

“Careful, fucker. I’ve had an uneventful few days, could do with pussy or a fight. You’re closer, and I don’t find you attractive.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he said, his top teeth working his lower lip piercings. “So, how was Melbourne?”

“Usual bullshit. How’s it been around here?”

“Usual bullshit.” Cage looked over toward the clubhouse. “Speaking of which, Wraith wants to see us.”

Frowning, I pulled my phone from my cut. Seeing the president hadn’t messaged me, I wondered if I’d be able to get out of it.

“Don’t even think about it,” Cage said. “I told him I’d drag your ass in with me.”

“Thanks for that.” Seeing I’d been off on a run for the club, I’d hoped I’d be repaid with a moment’s peace. Guess that shit wasn’t happening for me.

I fell into step with Cage as we crossed the packed dirt of the compound. My thoughts were drifting to Jenna as we lapsed into companionable silence. She had unusual-colored eyes. Not green, not blue, aqua maybe? She wasn’t tall, a foot shorter than I. That’s normally a turn off, logistics mainly. But she had nice tits under the conservative clothes, and a curvy little body that I’d bet was soft as all hell in all the right places.

She was still on my mind when I took a chair in front of Wraith’s desk. Our president seemed to be making us wait. Not his normal style, him not being a total asshole and all, so I assumed something had come up.

“Damn woman.” The meeting room door flew open and Wraith stomped in. At just under six foot and built like a bull, he wasn’t someone most people messed with. His fiery Italian temper was something he normally kept under wraps. He tended more to the quiet, menacing type of behavior.

Cage crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, keeping his voice low. “Which one? Wife or girlfriend?”

I chuckled, only to have Wraith glance my way. “Something funny, Ali? Tell you what, seeing you think my problem is a barrel of laughs, you can go and talk to the new secretary in the morning and scope her out.”  

I sat up straight. “Huh? Are we looking at her being an issue?” I couldn’t see how, the little blonde was no cop, and I doubted the Diamonds had planted her in the club.

“Chrissie failed to run hiring her by me,” he said, landing heavily in his chair behind his desk. “She forgets her place. If she’s not too careful, I’ll put her ass on the other side of the gate.”

Seeing that Chrissie had only been widowed for a few months, I got that she might not have been firing on all cylinders. Wraith wasn’t what anyone would call a soft touch, but this was harsh, even for him.

Cage raised a brow at me before giving Wraith his attention. “We’re talking Chrissie, Prez.”

“Yeah, I realize that.” He shook his head.

“Then ease up,” I said.

Wraith’s eyes widened and he reached for his laptop, spinning it to us. “What do you see there?”

I leaned forward. “February’s books.”

“Right,” he said. “And what do you see afterward?”

“Ah, nothing.” I took my eyes off the screen. “You can’t just blame Chrissie. Where’s Jarrah on all this? And with Kitty taking off again, shit is bound to be behind.” I referred to both our treasurer and the brother who was supposed to be running the garage.

“Don’t worry, I’m on their asses, too. Well, Kitty’s, if I can reach him. He appears to be off the grid. As soon as I hear back from him, he can come in and sort this mess out. As for Jarrah, he’s been working on our other project.” Wraith snapped the computer shut. “Thing is, when I asked Chrissie if she’s on top of things, she says, yeah, she needed the distraction of work to help her deal. God knows what the fuck she does all day, but the books aren’t it.”

“Bank balances seem healthy,” Cage said. “Not like we’re struggling.”

“No, we’re not. But we’re in the midst of a deal concerning the truck company. Having shit fall down like this isn’t gonna look good. The bastard of the situation is, Chrissie’s hire is necessary. Despite the bullshit application she gave us, she’s in. Well, at least until we get things up to speed.”

“Bullshit?” I said.

“Yeah, I scanned her background check. She’s downplayed shit. She’s no bookkeeper, she’s an accountant, she even has a master’s in fucking marketing. Gotta wonder why she’d want to work here.”

I took the sheet of paper that he handed to me. I ran my eyes down the dossier. Single leaped out first. Never married, second. No kids, third. There wasn’t a great deal there, education and work history mainly. She was thirty-two, almost thirty-three. I handed it back to Wraith.

“Maybe we shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth?” I said.

Before Wraith could take the information back, Cage snatched it out of his hand. Quick fucker, he grinned as he read it. “Not bad,” he said.

“You”—Wraith pointed a finger at my brother—“keep the fuck away. She’s got more to do around here than suck your dick.”

“Not my dick you need to worry about,” Cage said, cutting a glance to me. “Ali’s already called dibs.”

“What about creditors?” I asked, ignoring the comment, as did Wraith.

“All paid. We’ve got a few outstanding accounts, but nothing a few phone calls won’t hurry up.” At that he smirked. People didn’t normally take too long to pay us their debts. But if they hadn’t been billed, I guessed it wasn’t their fault, but ours.

“Wonder why she never married?” Cage asked, making me wish he’d shut the fuck up talking about Jenna. “Reckon she bats for the other team?”

Wraith shrugged. “Couldn’t give a fuck. Either way, Ali, get on her in the morning. Find out why she applied here in the first place. If you don’t like what she has to say, toss her ass out. I don’t want shit at the moment.”

“On it,” I said, and Cage snickered. I loved the man, but there were times when there was nothing more satisfying than smacking him in the mouth. Nothing. “What are you, ten?”

“Sensitive, brother?” Cage said.

“With Hellion up and dying on us,” Wraith said, a slight crack of worry entering his voice, “we’re in a fucking vulnerable position as it is.”

“I get that,” I said. “I’m surprised that Geezer and the Diamonds haven’t made a move on our territory already.”

Seeing as Geezer, the president of the Diamonds, was basically a nut job, surprise didn’t even cover what I was thinking.

“Exactly,” Wraith said.

Cage cut me a look and I shrugged back at him. I couldn’t see Jenna as being a problem. At least I hoped she wasn’t.