do a lot of good for your MC when you’re behind bars.”
Swallowing, I dipped my head in understanding. He didn’t need to say another word for me to know that he’d dealt with ‘problems’ for the club while in jail. He’d have gotten paid per hit, and respect for him would have risen each time he got away with it—not just because he’d dealt with a problem, but because he’d been clever enough not to get caught.
That he’d told me so much—to anyone else, it might have seemed like nothing, but bikers shared nothing with their womenfolk—told me he was trying to impress me.
It wasn’t working.
If anything, I was more confused than ever.
“I did it so when I got out, I’d have my ducks in a row to wear this patch. Why?” He reached out and touched my jaw. I flinched back, and he let his hand drop, but I saw his irritation and knew I had to be careful.
Though he was presenting himself as friendly, these fuckers could turn in a flash.
“Because I wanted Bomber’s head on a spike.” He bared his teeth. “I got out, followed you around, kept my ears open for whispers. Heard shit about Bomber that had me antsy for you, and next thing I knew you were being exiled.”
“What shit? What had Bomber done?” I demanded.
“You don’t have to worry about that now—”
“I fucking do,” I growled. “That bastard destroyed my life. I deserve to know what he was into.”
My father shrugged. “Was skimming coke from his shipments. The Guerreras were starting to sniff around, wondering why their deliveries were always running just that little bit short. Next thing I knew, you had a target on your back. I couldn’t let that slide so I had you followed and tried to make sure you were okay. You and that Ryan boy led us on a fucking song and dance.”
We’d been followed by the Guerreras and Satan’s Knights?
Jesus Christ.
Not for the first time I found myself impressed with Ryan’s abilities to keep me safe. Where the hell was he to protect me now?
I’m here, honey. I’ll always be here.
I clenched my eyes shut at his voice. It was both terrifying and comforting that he could do this to me.
Reaching up, I rubbed at my eyelids where an ache had gathered.
“What’s your name?” I asked softly.
He cleared his throat. “Martin Graves. My road name’s Lucifer.”
I stared at him. “She named me after you, didn’t she?”
His mouth tightened. “I figure as much.”
It was stupid, pathetic, but somehow, that floored me more than anything. I took a step back from him then dropped to the ground. Considering the move I’d pulled earlier, I wasn’t surprised when some of the bikers surged forward, but I wasn’t aiming for a knife—I was unarmed. Instead, I just plunked down on the gravel, uncaring that it was biting into my ass, uncaring that the sun was burning hot, and that my hair felt like it was on fire with the heat of the Texas sun.
I pressed my elbows to my knees and leaned forward, just trying to compose myself.
Bomber had sold me down the line to save his ass, and my father, Martin, Lucifer, had started a campaign to take him down.
“You’re at war with the Rebels because of me, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
There was no doubt, nothing that could make me question his intent.
Fuck.
The unfairness of it all hit me. I’d been raised by a bastard who had killed my mother, who’d treated me like shit, neglecting me until he could use me to save his own ass.
Then, my own father had shored up his power to become Prez, all so he could go to war with my adoptive father.
He’d even gone to these crazy fucking lengths to bring me to safety.
“You’re dedicated, that’s for sure,” I muttered to the gravel rather than him.
Martin squatted down in front of me. “We can go inside,” he told me. “I have a place set up for you in there.” I cut the warehouse a look and he grimaced. “Temporary residence while we fucked around with the Rebels. Our clubhouse is up in Fort Hancock.”
My mouth worked. “Didn’t your MC—”
“Were they pissed at me riding the Rebels hard?” He shook his head. “No. I used the intel I had on them because of Bomber to our advantage. When the Guerreras cut off the Rebels, I was there to take over their distribution lines. It’s made us a lot of money over the years.”
“Can’t you talk