Dedication
To Sharon, Rana, Adele and Tarick.
For listening to my stories and believing in me, no matter what path I choose to follow.
Chapter One
In a dimly lit back alley, a hulking man stalked through the shadows. The chains looped over his thick leather boots clanked with the thud of his feet on the cobblestones. The six glowing eyes of Cerberus, the three-headed guardian hound of Hades, glared into the darkness from the center of the patch on the back of his worn leather jacket.
As far as bikers went, he was pretty scary.
Lana Parker wondered what he would do if he caught her following him. The last private investigator his wife, Angel, had hired was still in the hospital. And after seeing the biker’s picture, Lana had almost refused the case. It had taken her four years to escape her ex, bad-boy biker Levi Sullivan. The last thing she wanted was to get anywhere near another biker gang.
But Angel had changed Lana’s mind. Determined to escape from the biker world, Angel had convinced Lana to take a case she ordinarily wouldn’t have touched with a ten-foot pole. Having once been in the same position as Angel, Lana couldn’t refuse.
She picked up her pace, trying to match the biker’s long strides. The alley smelled of diesel, the crisp, sharp scent of the ocean and a faint whiff of piss and stale beer. For an instant, the smells triggered a memory. Another case. Another alley. Or was it this one? Two and a half years ago, she had been new to Vancouver and all the Gastown alleys had looked the same.
Her foot slid on the cobblestones. Loose gravel bounced off a nearby dumpster and clattered across the alley, the sound ringing in the quiet space. The biker stopped midstep. Lana froze.
For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then his head jerked to the side, his long, blond ponytail brushing over the three noses of Cerberus. Not one of them sneezed. No doubt he was packing a couple of weapons inside that heavy leather jacket—weapons he could pull out and fire in a heartbeat at a young, financially strapped private investigator. The breadth of his body could not be solely attributable to the fast food and gourmet cookie addiction she had noted over the last week of surveillance.
His head swiveled, owl-like, over his shoulder. Even in profile, his face made her shudder. Long, sharp beak of a nose, thick lips, unforgiving chin. But it was the multitude of knife scars crisscrossing his broad face that bore testament to his violent life. Even Angel—who had promised Lana a 15 percent bonus for a picture of her husband in flagrante delicto—admitted her man was dangerous with a capital D.
Not just a man. Rex Morgan. Leader of Hades, British Columbia’s most infamous motorcycle club. Murderer. Arsonist. Drug dealer. Thief. Litterbug.
Suspected adulterer.
And soon to be single…if Lana got the pictures Angel needed to secure custody of her daughter.
Lana plastered her body against the rough brick wall and breathed in soft, shallow pants. Kind of like sex. Not that she remembered much about sex, at least good sex. It had been two years since she’d been dumped by James Hunter, ruggedly handsome homicide cop, sex god and heartless bastard. The few guys she’d slept with since then had left her cold.
She shook her head to clear her mind. Why the hell was she thinking about sex now? And why did she have Heartless Bastard on the brain? Her subconscious seemed to have its own agenda tonight, and one that could get her killed if she didn’t rein it in.
After one last sweep of his ponytail, Rex resumed his march down the alley, his long legs eating up the cobblestones until he reached a black metal door inset in the brick wall. He pulled a card from his pocket and ran it through the card reader. The door buzzed open and he disappeared inside.
Damn.
Lana bolted down the alley and grabbed the handle just before the door snapped shut. Her eyes swept over the entrance and she caught a flash of gold. She leaned in to examine the small, discreet plaque affixed to the wall.
Carpe Noctem.
Her heart sank. No wonder she had Heartless Bastard on the brain. They had met in this club during her first-ever investigation. Moonlighting as Carpe Noctem’s head of security, the mouthwateringly sexy cop had caught her with her finger on the shutter release. He’d liked her sass. She’d liked his over-the-top, crusty-cop style. After the case was solved and the bad guys were in jail, they’d had a few drinks and night after night of hot, kinky, mind-blowing sex. Then—poof!—he was gone. Never to be seen or heard from again.
Heartless Bastard.
What if he was here tonight?
She hesitated for only a second before she stepped through the door. She couldn’t let Angel down. And with a good disguise, no one would recognize her.