Page 116 of Ridin’ Dirty

“It was stupid,” she whispered as her first tears fell. “I was stupid. But—I thought—I thought he loved me.”

“Say that again?” grumbled Nighthawk.

“We—we met on neutral ground. At first, I don’t think he knew who I was. But after he found out, he was still so sweet to me. I didn’t know. I didn’t know I was being played. I thought—he told me we could be together. He said we could bring real peace between the clubs.”

“Oh, Max…”

“That,” she cried, pointing at her mother. “That look right there is exactly why I never told you. I didn’t need anyone telling me how naïve I was.”

“Naïve? You were worried about us thinkin’ you were naïve? Oh, baby girl, I gotta believe I raised you to be smarter than that,” said Nighthawk, his temper barely contained. “So, what? You walk out of there, one of mine gets locked up, and you think it’s none of my damn business you’re roamin’ around with a fuckin’ target on your back the last three years?”

Max wiped her tears away with the palms of her hands as she argued, “Obviously, we broke up. I mean, whatever—things were over after that night.”

“How long were you involved with him?” asked Viv, her patient tone somehow just as intimidating as Nighthawk’s fury.

“Three months,” confessed Max. “At first, I refused to meet him in King territory. But then he convinced me I’d be safe, that he had my back.”

Nighthawk scoffed.

“When it was over, I never went back. Not even to the places where we met up in neutral territory. I never spoke to him again—I mean, not until Pistol came home.”

My heart was racing, my brain whirling, piecing together things I didn’t understand until now. That night at the diner, when Max came in anxious right before closing time. The way she always defended Riley.

“Motherfucker,” roared Nighthawk, slamming his fist against the table before standing to his feet. “You want to talk about bein’ naïve? You haven’t learned shit if you’re gonna stand there and defend yourself right now. Don’t you see, they’ve had your number this whole time. You could have been gone.”

“Nighthawk,” muttered Pistol, clearly trying to calm the man down.

This, of course, did not work.

“I haven’t even begun with you. She’s my only daughter. What the hell were you gonna do behind bars, huh? You thought you were protecting her?”

“Daddy, he was keepin’ a promise. I made him swear! And I promised in return that if I thought they were coming after me, I’d tell you. But I was careful. I’ve been nothing but careful.”

“You don’t get to decide what careful looks like. I do.” Turning to address Pistol, he added, “And I shouldn’t have to tell you, your first allegiance is to the club. You left all of us out here blind with our dicks swingin’ in the wind. I can’t think of anything more fuckin’ selfish.”

I looked up at Pistol then, expecting him to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. I could tell by the tense set of his face it pained him to do so, but he was yielding to his leader.

“Look—tempers are high, and I get it,” began Nomad, “But we gotta deal with the situation at hand.”

“Agreed,” piped in Cobra. “Connection she’s got with Fang means we don’t know what they’re after. Answers. Money. Revenge. She could be bait, or she could be money in their pockets. I’m sure I speak for the room when I say none of us want to find out which.”

“Yeah.” Nighthawk pressed the knuckles of his fists against the table, staring down at it as he took a moment to think. He didn’t look up right away as he began to speak, doling out orders.

“Fact that we’re here means they showed their hand tonight. Until we get this sorted, Max is on house arrest.”

“Dad!”

He was quick to aim his gaze her direction. “Don’t even start with me,” he demanded. “You’re to be under constant surveillance. We’ll work out a schedule that doesn’t conflict with the patrols we already got. I want only men in this room on Max.”

“I’ll take first⁠—”

Nighthawk didn’t let Pistol finish, his eyes dark with his still simmering anger as he spat, “Not you. You’ve done enough.”

Pistol raised his chin, and I watched his nostrils flare as he let out a breath. “Right,” he all but growled.

Then he turned on his heel and started for the door.

“Ly.”