Grabbing the mirrored plate from the side table, I roll to my stomach and pour out a short line. It looks a little different, darker, but I’m too desperate to care. I lick my lips and bring the powder to my nose. It takes all the strength I have left to steady my hand.

The addiction takes over and I’m helpless. Like watching myself from across the room, I stare in horror as the drug is sucked into my body. My head arches back, a moan of ecstasy pours from my lips. Relief, instant and aggressive. This is different and so much better, not the usual high, but rather a soothing low that makes me drop my forehead to the bed.

More.

Another line, then one more. Peace blankets me in warmth. This is all I’ve ever wanted. Serenity.

I lose the ability to hold up my head. Thoughts fizzle away until it’s just me and the high. I lie down, wondering what I was so upset about before. Suddenly nothing matters except the tiny vial that I have clasped between my hands.

Making amends with my past, my eyes drift closed. I pull up his face.

He’s smiling down at me with acceptance, forgiveness. “It’s okay, Gia. I forgive you.”

My heart swells and slows, unable to take the full weight of his mercy.

“I love you, Rex.” Hot tears trail from my eyes to the bed. “I never stopped loving you.”

“You can let go now, baby.”

Breathing shallow . . . pulse slower . . . the world goes black.

Peace.

~*~

Rex

“Continue on Interstate 285 toward Leadville.” The computer-generated voice from the GPS is the only person talking in the rented SUV.

Jonah, Blake, and Caleb have been silent for most of the trip. The plane ride from Vegas to Denver seems as if it were ages ago as we trek through the Colorado mountains. Adrenaline drums through my veins, ratcheting up along with our altitude. Every motorcycle that passes ignites a fire in my gut. She better be okay. Fuck! She better be better than okay. If not, I don’t know what I’ll do.

“Rex, man, you’re going almost one hundred miles an hour.” Caleb’s voice comes from the backseat, reminding me that there are more lives at stake than the one I’m racing toward.

The second Raven found the old farmhouse in Colorado among Dominick’s list of properties, I was on the phone, booking my flight. Jonah insisted on coming and calling reinforcements. I didn’t want to take him away from his family to clean up the shit-mess I made, but he grinned, grabbed my phone and booked four tickets. We took the first flight out the next morning.

I let up on the gas and try to relax. No point walking in on a motorcycle gang’s compound half lit and ready to kill. “We get there, you guys wait in the car and I’ll—”

“No fuckin’ way. We go in together,” Blake says in his no-negotiating way.

Jonah’s in the passenger seat, texting. “Agreed.”

“If we go in together, they might see us as a threat. Let me go first, see if she’s even there, if we have the right place.”

“See us as a threat?” Blake shoves the back of my seat. “Motherfucker, we are a threat.”

“Agree with that too.” Jonah tosses his phone into the center console. “Dominick’s shit is wet. It trickles all over the damn place even after the dick face is buried in the dirt. My girl’s on a mission to erase the lasting effects of that ass. I take this as an opportunity to assist in that.” He turns toward me. “Translation? Threat.”

Can’t argue with that.

“Layla’s been crying over Mac for so long I’m happy to fuck anyone up if it means drying my woman’s tears,” Blake says. “Plus, Mac’s a good girl. She deserves better than this.”

She deserves better. Could I be the better she deserves? My hands grip the steering wheel and I lie heavy on the gas. I don’t know if I can be, but fuck I want to be.

“Threat it is.” It’s not as if I have anything to lose. If I don’t get Gia back, make up for the way I treated her, then I’ll be stuck, half-way to a cure, part sick, never healed.

“Don’t worry, bro. We’ll let you walk in first if that makes you feel better,” Caleb says with a smile in his voice.

Pine trees fly by in a blur as we leave the heavier populated mountain towns and enter the barren areas. According to the GPS, we’re less than ten miles from the farmhouse.

“Check it out, dude.” Jonah points to a sign in the distance.

It’s a pig’s face with devil horns that reads The Devil’s Hog. My stomach tightens. This has got to be it. We’re in the right place.

“I seriously love your wife, dude.” If it weren’t for her, I’d still be home feeling like shit and Gia would be on her own. Suffering.

“Take the next right at north Glengrove.” The GPS blares in the silence of the car.

I follow the directions until a rustic old ranch-style house comes into view. A row of motorcycles is parked out front. I grip the steering wheel and welcome the burn in my knuckles. Hatch may be on the run, but I’m looking forward to introducing a few of the bikers inside to my fist. “It’s go-time, boys.”

A series of fuck-yeahs and lets-do-this and we’re out of the car. The cold mountain temps do nothing to slow my feet from eating up the dirt drive until I’m at the door. I don’t see the guys, but I can feel their tension at my back.

I bring my fist to the door and pound out three knocks.

“You think they’re even up yet? It’s only eight a.m.,” Caleb says.

“Well let’s wake ’em up.” Blake pushes past me and kicks the door hard, once and then twice. “Wake up, biker bitches!” He steps back enough to slam the flat of his boot into the door.

It finally swings open. “What the fuck, asshole?” The long barrel of a shotgun is pointed at Blake’s forehead.

I shove him aside and stand in his place. “You’ve got something of ours. We’re here to pick her up.”

The biker narrows his sleep-puffed eyes. “You banging my shit down for a bitch?”

A growl erupts from my throat. “Call her that again and I’ll shove that shotgun up your ass.”

Jonah steps up, and the biker’s chin tilts up, eyes wide. A grin of satisfaction slides across my face in a snarl.

“You pigs?” He says, his gaze bouncing between us.

“Do I look like a fucking pig to you?” My muscles are coiled. I’m ready to bulldoze this guy, knowing that Gia’s back there somewhere. She has to be.

He studies my face from my lip ring to my eyebrow piercing. “So what? You’re after your ex old lady and you think she’s here?” He scratches his bearded cheek. “’Lotta chicks come and go; no guarantee the one you’re looking for is here. And if she is, no guarantee you’re gonna like what you see when you find her.”

“We’ll take our chances,” Blake says. “Step aside.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you guys in here.” He moves a few paces toward us, stepping outside. “Who’re you looking for? I’ll see if I can drag her out. One thing we don’t need is bitch complications.”

My arm jerks to sucker punch this fuck, but Caleb holds me back.

“Her name’s Mac. Black hair, light skin.” Jonah crosses his arms at his chest as if he’s struggling to keep his hands off this guy’s neck too. “She hangs with Hatch.”

“Hatch ain’t here. He’s got an old lady, but it’s not the same girl. His bitch has red hair.”

A wave of fury slams through my veins. I push past the biker and into the farmhouse. An arm wraps around my throat. I twist free and shove. Biker down. I ignore the sound of the short-lived scuffle that goes on behind me, confident that the guys can hold back one biker.

I storm through what looks like the main living space to a hallway. Bedrooms. On fire to find her, I start at the first door. It’s locked. I rock back, slamming my heel into the door. The cheap wood splinters and pops open.

A big guy jumps out of bed. “What the fuck?” I scan the room and find two chicks huddled at the headboard. No red hair. He barely gets his pants up and charges me.

“Easy, fuckwad.” Blake’s there. He shoves the guy hard, sending him to the floor. He turns toward me. “I got this. Go get your girl.”

I move to the next door. Locked again. I kick, the door flies open. The guy sleeping in there doesn’t budge. I stalk up to his bed. He’s alone.

Next door. I jiggle the handle. “Gia! You in there?” I rock back and throw my weight behind a heel-slam that sends the door swinging. This room is darker than the others. The windows are covered. I blink and try to focus.

On the bed, covered from the waist down in a thin sheet, lies a woman with ghostly pale skin and fiery red hair.

“Gia!” I race to her; she’s not moving. Fuck, she looks dead.

My hands move to touch her but stop just shy of her perfect skin. Dried-up vomit is crusted to her mouth and the pillow. “Shit, Gia!”

I run my hand up her arm and rest it against her cheek. Her skin is clammy, but warm. Alive, but just barely. There’s nothing left. Her bones protrude from her joints, her cheeks sunken.

A small glass vial lies near her open hand. I snag it. Empty. She’s OD’ing.

“Call 911!”

God, please. Don’t let me be too late.

My throat swells with all I need to say, all I have to apologize for. “Baby, wake up.”

I scoop my hand beneath her neck and shoulders, pulling her into my lap. Her frail body, naked and vulnerable, lies limp in my arms. I hold her to my chest, burying my nose into her hair. The hint of tropical fruit and coconut fills my nose. “I did this. I’m so sorry, Gia.”

I rock her back and forth, whispering, praying, and pleading. “Don’t leave me. Please, baby, I can’t live without you.” Tears burn the backs of my eyes. “Don’t make me live another day without you.”