Fallen Bast*rd

Willa – 23 Years Old

The sound of my phone beeping drags me from my daydream. Blinking, I pull the burner from my pocket.

Another message from Justice or, as his birth certificate says, Justine Graves.

I'm not sure why he keeps coming to me instead of Blade or Dad. They're the ones he reports to. I'm just the one who walked into our sister chapter and accidentally set fire to the foundations.

I regret almost nothing I've done in my life.

Walking into that clubhouse was poor judgment on my part. Doesn't matter now. What's done is done.

Justice's dad is dead, and now he has to fight for the crown. A fight he could probably avoid if he pulled on his big-girl panties and spoke to the mother chapter’s Prez.

But what do I know? I'm just a girl.

Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I push myself off the park bench I've occupied for the last twenty minutes.

Why twenty minutes? Because I'm paranoid.

And why wouldn't I be? The former Prez of another club wants to meet me alone to discuss a job.

Sounds perfectly safe. Said no intelligent woman ever.

So, I've spent the time checking for anyone watching me. Other than the Bastard who follows me everywhere, of course. I never see him, but I know his there.

Walking towards the deserted children's adventure playground, I step into the sandpit and wait.

It doesn't take long before a mountain of a man around Dad's age approaches.

"Tank?" I ask, looking bored because, honestly, I am.

He eyes me suspiciously. "That's what the cut says, don't it?"

I glance at the patch, then back at him. "Glad we cleared that up. Thought it might've been decorative."

His expression doesn't change—tough crowd.

"What can I do for you?" I ask, moving farther into the sandpit.

He follows. They always do.

Tank looks over his shoulder before glaring at me. "This place secure?"

"No. The toddlers are wired."

His eyes narrow.

Smirking, I pull my iPad Pro from my backpack and show him the camera feeds. Every entrance, footpath and road surrounding the park is visible.

We're the only people here unless you count my shadow and Tank's equally inconspicuous bodyguard.

"Satisfied?" I ask, arching a brow.

Nodding, he closes the two-foot gap between us. "It's my daughter, Emilee. She was out with friends a few nights ago and never came home."

Well, this just got interesting.

"On your own turf?" I study him. "From what I hear, the Road Warriors aren't to be f****d with. So, who did you piss off?"

"We had an alliance with a crew operating up north."

He leaves out the name. Smart, but also pointless. I'll know it before breakfast.

"Emilee was meant to marry their heir. Strengthen ties. Last week, during a routine protection run, the heir got his head taken clean off."

"You think they took Emilee because your club failed to protect him?"

"Yeah."

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I should walk away. This is club business, and club business has an irritating habit of ending with me in trouble.

"That what everyone thinks?" I ask. "What about your heir, Win? What does he think?"

Shock flashes across his face before he schools it.

"How do you know I'm not Prez still?" he asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Because my dad is the ex-Prez of the Soulless Bastards. Don't act like you didn't recognise his eyes." I gesture impatiently. "Now, what does Win think?"

Tank's jaw tightens. "He thinks she's with friends and hasn't bothered checking in."

Interesting, they don't chip their women. Must be nice.

I pull a phone from my pocket and hand it to him.

"It has everything you need. My number, account details and payment terms. Have your tech guy check it. It isn't bugged."

Tank turns it over in his hand. "You'll find her?"

"I'll find out where she went. Whether she wants to be found, not that's a different story."

Turning away, I stride across the wooden plank I buried beneath the sand in case this meeting turned out to be a trap.

Paranoid? Absolutely.

Alive? Absolutely.

*

Later that night, Willa pulled on black jeans, a tank top and one of Ax's Sinner hoodies.

Keeping her hair loose, she covered the lower half of her face with a neon skeleton rider's snood. Passing the mirror, she almost laughed.

Nothing suspicious here.

She donned her black helmet and kept to the shadows as she crossed towards the clubhouse. Climbing onto her Harley, she fired up the engine and took off.

Her destination. The Runners Inn, a biker bar on the embankment.

Weaving carefully through traffic, she resisted the temptation to open the throttle. Getting stopped while carrying stolen financial information would be inconvenient.

Pulling into the car park, she removed her helmet and shook out her hair. After adjusting her skintight jeans, she walked towards the entrance with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

"I.D.," Brad, the bouncer, groaned.

Rolling her eyes, Willa produced a gold token. "Does this work?"

Brad straightened immediately. "Yeah. You know the rules?"

"No killing and always pay your tab." She slipped the token back into her pocket.

As if anyone would kill inside, the police would descend before the body hit the floor.

At the bar, Willa caught the barmaid's attention. "Tequila and Coke. And is Angel here tonight?"

The barmaid handed over the drink and pointed towards a corner crowded with bikers and scantily clad women.

"Great," Willa muttered.

She crossed the room, feeling several pairs of eyes follow her.

"Angel?" I ask, stopping in front of him.

He looks me over as though I'm the evening special. Gross.

"Yeah. Who's asking?"

His gaze drops to my hoodie. Recognition sharpens his smile.

"Willa Reeves." I straighten. "You contacted me, remember? Though I can always leave if you have better things to do?"

I turn as though to leave, and a hand clamps around my wrist.

Smiling sweetly, I turn to face the arsehole and press my concealed Blade against his groin.

"Yes?" I ask, fluttering my lashes.

He releases me and raises both hands. Smart man.

"Take a seat, Willa," Angel says with a smirk as a woman wearing what I can only assume is underwear slides onto his lap. "Dom's just gonna vet you."

Of course he is. I should've worn my Soulless hoodie.

"Go right ahead." I smile, praying Ax is in a good mood.

Considering I've treated him like a ghost since coming home, the odds aren't great.

Dom makes the call.

"Yeah?" Ax answers, his voice rough through the speaker.

"This Ax, Fallen Sinners Prez?"

"Yeah. Who wants to know?"

"Runner's nomad. Dom. Need you to vouch for someone."

A pause follows.

"Who?"

Dom takes a photo and sends it.

"She yours?" he asks, his gaze lingering somewhere below my waist.

"Depends what day of the week it is?" Another pause. "Yeah, she's mine."

The line goes dead.

Dom nods towards Angel. "She's his ol' lady."

"Can we do business now?" I ask.

Angel pushes the woman from his lap and gestures towards the empty seat.

"Did you get it?"

Rolling my eyes, I reach into my bag, retrieve a fob and slide it across the table.

"You paid me to locate the accounts, retrieve the passwords and secure them."

Angel hands the fob to the man standing behind him. "Check it. If it's good, pay the woman."

His attention returns to me.

"You know, if you were mine, you wouldn't be riding anything but me."

I rise and pull on my backpack. "Good job I ain't yours, then."

His smile drops slightly.

"Oh, and you have two hours from the moment that fob is opened to pay me. After that, everything goes bye-bye."

I give him a cheerful wave and walk out before anyone decides to test whether I'm bluffing. I'm not.

*

Arriving back at the Soulless compound, I'm greeted by Blade and Ax.

Blade looks amused.

Ax looks like he's deciding whether to strangle me or kiss me.

"Gentlemen," I greet, swinging off my bike.

I remove my helmet and place it on the handlebars.

“You wanna tell me why Ax is getting calls from nomads?" Blade asks, crossing his arms.

I almost laugh at the intimidation tactic. Almost.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Ax smirks. "Wanna try that again, Wills?"

I cross my arms and mirror Blade. "No."

"I believe," he says, turning towards Blade, "they wanted me to confirm she was my ol' lady."

He frowns theatrically, as though the entire thing has left him deeply confused. Smug bastard.

"Oh, that." I wave dismissively. "I was dropping off intel and needed club affiliation. Ol' lady carries more weight than club princess."

Blade looks at Ax. Ax looks at Blade.

They exchange a quiet word before laughing like they've just discovered comedy.

"I'm going to regret asking, but what are you two lunatics laughing at?"

Blade volunteers to speak. "You see, Willa, actions have consequences. Every time you wear that hoodie or drop his name, it means something."

He reclines against his bike, looking far too pleased with himself.

He can't be saying what I think he's saying. "I'm fairly certain that isn't how a claim works."

I’m fairly certain. Just not completely.

"It isn't for non-club-born women," Blade explains. "But you're a club princess. The former Prez's daughter and the current Prez's sister."

My eyes widen. Double f**k.

Ax folds his arms, struggling to hide a grin. "I came over to hear what your intentions are. Don't wanna give my virtue to the wrong woman."

"Your virtue?" I stare at him. "That thing's had more owners than a second-hand Harley."

Blade chokes on a laugh.

Ax presses a hand to his chest. "That's hurtful. I've been saving myself."

"For what? The damned?"

"For you, apparently."

I narrow my eyes. "Careful, Ax. People might think you don't enjoy breathing."

Blade pushes away from his bike. "So, are we planning a ceremony, or?"

"No," I snap.

Ax nods thoughtfully. "Small wedding. Got it."

"No wedding."

"Probably best," Blade agrees. "She'd hack the registrar and list herself as single before the reception."

"I love a woman with initiative," Ax says.

"Go f**k yourself, Ax." I turn towards Blade. "And you can get me a hoodie with 'Prez's sister' patched across the back. I'll wear it proudly."

"Not how it works," Blade calls after me.

"Make it work. You're the Prez."

I make it three steps before a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist.

"Ax?" He hoists me off the ground and throws me over his shoulder.

"Put me down!"

"Can't," he says cheerfully. "Gotta protect my virtue."

Blade laughs behind us.

"You don't have any virtue!"

"Then you'd better help me find it."

Fuck.