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still couldn’t stop. When her eyelids started to droop, she carried the handgun into her bedroom.
    The Python stayed on her bedside table that night. Before she drifted to sleep, she gave a humorless smile. Some little girls had teddy bears. Growing up, she’d learned to find her comfort in weapons.
    A psychologist would have a field day with her.

Chapter 2
    Rory narrowed her eyes at Billy. Despite his MC president’s patch and the scar that spread like a sunburst over his left eyebrow, the guy looked a lot like Santa. His hair and full beard were white, and his middle had settled into a definite gut. He should’ve appeared harmless…but he didn’t. There was nothing harmless about Billy.
    â€œAny idea who was lurking around my place last night?” Rory asked, watching carefully for his reaction. Her hands were sweating, but she was happy that none of her nerves about confronting Billy were evident in her voice.
    Billy’s face showed nothing except for irritation. “No.”
    â€œHow about you?” Her gaze turned to Zup, who was standing just behind and to the side of his father.
    â€œNo.” He sounded sulky, but Rory didn’t see any signs of guilt or evasion.
    â€œWhat the fuck are you talking about?” the third man, Rave, demanded. “ You’re the princess bitch, jerking Zup around, telling him you’ll sell him the rifle, and then deciding you won’t. Now you’re accusing us of stalking you or some shit—” He broke off when Billy lifted his hand without looking at Rave.
    â€œShe asked, and we answered. It’s done.” Billy raised his bushy white eyebrows, but the stiff scar tissue on the left side didn’t allow his skin to wrinkle. It looked as if he’d had Botox injections in only half his forehead. The flatness this lent to his expressions added to the feeling of menace radiating from him. “What’s not done is the situation with the rifle.”
    Rory crossed her arms and propped a hip on her stool, feigning confidence. She’d dealt with the MC long enough to know it was best not to let them know they could get to her. “I gave Zup a considerable amount of time to make up his mind on whether he wanted the Kel-Tec or not. When he couldn’t decide on his own, I made an executive decision.”
    Turning his frown on his son, Billy demanded, “What was the problem? I told you to come here, take a look at the SUB 2000, and then buy it if it was in decent shape. Kel-Tec guns are a pain in the ass to find—plus this one is a ghost. Was it defective? Did Rory ask too much for it? What kind of fucking decisions did you have to make?”
    Zup flushed and lowered his gaze, appearing to drop a decade in age as he muttered at the floor. “It’s just…fuckin’ ugly.”
    The irreverent part of Rory’s brain, the part that wasn’t occupied with the almost unbearable tension that came from being trapped in a room with three pissed-off Liverton Riders, waited for him to mention how the pipe wasn’t comfortable on his cheek. He must’ve had a tiny bit of sense, though, since he stayed quiet after that.
    â€œWhat the hell?” Billy reached up and smacked Zup across the back of the head, ignoring the fact that his son had four inches and fifty pounds on him. “Ugly? Since when do we give a shit if something is pretty? If we did, your ass wouldn’t be in the club, would it?”
    Casting his son a final glower, Billy turned to Rory. “Well, show me this ‘ugly’ rifle, then.”
    With a tip of her head, indicating that they should follow her, she led the way into the back room. The back of her neck prickled as her instincts screamed for her to never turn her back on those men, but she had to do it to show them they didn’t intimidate her.
    Since she’d been expecting Billy and company to show that morning, she’d already taken the