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exception of the wooden, clubhouse table that was affixed into the middle of the large rectangular room, was all contemporary IKEA living – couches, large flat-screen TV, bathroom, and kitchenette. It was utterly absurd that several grown men roamed the country-side while living their whole lives in a big rig, but it also encapsulated what the full extent of freedom could be. It was incredibly impressive in it's own way.

“The hell is she doing here?” Dunk asked with annoyance that was quickly boiling over into anger as he rose from the table. Mac, the oldest member and apparently the driver of this rolling clubhouse, had been sitting with Dunk. He snorted into a frown, shaking his head at my presence, then left the trailer.

“You said it was urgent, besides, after tonight—” Wreck started in with the same defense he used on Buck when the president stopped him with a raised hand and firm pat against the air.

“Are you out of your fucking mind! You pull that shit that got Yoga shot, now this? If she tells anyone about this rig...” Dunk fumed, trailing off. After an extremely uncomfortable minute of silence he eventually got himself under control enough to form words.

Seeing Wreck's home with my own eyes made me understand why Wreck was always elusive when talking about it, and why Dunk was so furious now. These kinds of vehicles were everywhere and most people never thought twice about them. It was perfect for hiding in plain sight, but it also made them incredibly vulnerable to attack. For all the armored walls and modifications they made at the end of the day it was still just a large truck. Disable the tires, sabotage the engine, or just plain crash it and the MC's biggest advantage was now their most dangerous liability. If any of their many enemies knew the truth about their rolling clubhouse Wreck's whole chapter was screwed.

Dunk walked up to Wreck, pushed a finger into his chest and in a low growl he said, “Search her. If she has a phone, take it and turn it off. If anything happens tonight because of her I'm holding you personally responsible, and after this is all over you and me are going to have a serious fucking talk.”

Wreck didn't drop his gaze in submission, but he certainly didn't attempt to argue any further. This was his president and the man who had probably gotten them through countless trying times. It was easy to tell that Wreck respected the man greatly, despite being scolded in front of everyone. I didn't know the group dynamics intimately but it didn't take much to tell that Wreck bringing me here broke one of the MC's most important rules.

Why'd he do it, I wondered as Wreck led me away from the rest of the guys to search me as instructed. Why risk so much for me, especially when so much was on the line for them already?

Did Wreck actually care about me that much?

Confusion, worry and the warmth of acceptance from a man who risked so much for a girl who didn't deserve it were but a few of the torrent of mixed emotions that whirled in me. Protecting me from gangsters and shitheads was one thing but to go against his own club's rules, that was truly crazy! This nomad chapter of the Devil Kings was all he had, all any of them had really and to risk that just to help me... I was awed, humbled, thankful and incredibly guilty.

“Sorry for all this,” Wreck said in a low voice as he began to pat me down.

“It's all right, really,” I signed back.

“Where's your phone? Did you leave it at the bar?” he asked.

“I threw it off the back of your motorcycle on the way here.” My hands moved deliberately and with more confidence than they ever had before. Witnessing what Wreck had gone through with the people he cared most about in the world bolstered my own pride at making the right decision of ditching that phone. I felt a swelling of renewed defiance. If Wreck had the courage to accept the repercussions in the pursuit of what he thought was right, then so did I.

Fuck Patrick.

“Why the hell would you—”

“I'm also the one who needs to apologize.” I interrupted him with quick signing, needing to capitalize on my fragile courage. Wreck's head pulled back to look fully at me, totally at a loss as to what I could need to apologize for. “I overheard Billy Bones last night talking on the phone with Patrick. They're planning to double cross your MC tonight and wipe you out! I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.”

“And you're sure about this?” Wreck's eyes widened.

I nodded, my lips pressed into a tight line. The seriousness of it all written across my face. I wanted to tell him everything – Patrick's offer to me, the phone spying, and why I betrayed his trust, but it all happened so fast. In a blink he was gone, rushed over to the rest of the guys now gathered around the wooden table. The news was obviously too important to wait.

I tried not to shrink too much at all the attention suddenly turned my way from the animated conversation that erupted with the new revelation. The men were angry but not at all disbelieving of the news. The conversation had an air of inevitability to it. The betrayal was inevitable, it was the timing of it all that was surprising to them.

“I know, goddammit!” Dunk slapped a hand down on the table quieting the rest of the club. Despite being easily the shortest and smallest person in the room, Dunk's steely eyes and authoritative posture, that could only be from ex-military service, demanded attention. “Why the hell do you think I called you all here early? I already worked it out with Patrick. The double-cross is all part of the plan to take out Billy Bones and his top guys. The fact

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