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voice when he'd inferred she had a problem with them.
     
    She had the biggest problem—a crazy-ass, murderous, over-protective brother with half the resources of underworld LA at his fingertips.
     
    And now... fuck...
     
    It was his problem, too.
     
    He'd just fucked the most unfuckable woman in the entire city—and if it was ever discovered, he would lose his head.
     

CHAPTER NINE
     
    “Jesus, I must be crazy.” Later that afternoon, after contemplating his own sanity and the dire situation he found himself in, Liam found himself on his new bike with new plates. He drove through Larchmont, searching for the address on Victoria Platt's license.
     
    He was utterly out of his mind.
     
    The woman was the much-talked-about and extremely forbidden sister of Darren Platt—the one man in LA who was the most likely to kill you as soon as he looked at you. How was he ever going to prospect to the Dark Saints when he could hardly fathom the idea of looking the man in the eye?
     
    His entire life Liam was forced to be tough. His mother had fled when he'd barely been out of diapers, and his father beat him—often to within an inch of his life. It was only by the grace of his aunt—who had worried about her nephew and come to visit him often—that he'd made it to his tenth birthday.
     
    Then, he merely avoided his old man until he was old enough to fight back.
     
    In school, he'd gotten decent grades; but, he'd refrained from hanging out with any one group of kids so they wouldn’t start asking questions about the numerous bruises and scars that peppered his skin. His teachers had called numerous family meetings, but his father had only shown up to one—completely drunk, and he’d hit on Liam’s poor geography instructor.
     
    Somehow, Liam made it to high school, and one night when his dad had gotten it into his mind that his son deserved a beating, Liam fought back. He'd ruptured the man's appendix, blinded him in one eye, broken several ribs, and taken a decade of frustration, fear, and anger out at his father in about an hour.
     
    Then, he'd left the house and never looked back.
     
    In high school, he'd been teased about his lack of a stable home. He'd only ignored the taunts to graduate with honors and start college under his own steam. It was there that he'd fallen in with the Black Eagles and their ambiguous world of drugs, whoring, and weapons dealing.
     
    And he'd been in deep.
     
    But he'd escaped from that, too.
     
    However, in his entire twenty-seven years, he'd never felt the trepidation that he felt now. He'd be a fool if he wasn't worried about his own ass—as would any man with any sense.
     
    Yet, here he was, still seeking out Victoria Platt like some forlorn, blind idiot.
     
    Unfortunately, he couldn't help it. The entire morning he'd told himself that he'd just roll up to the police station and drop the wallet off. Let them do the dirty work. Then, he remembered how delicious Vicky had looked in her scarlet dress, how she'd matched him drink for drink, and how she effortlessly traded banter with him for hours. The result was that he hadn't been able to convince himself to simply walk away.
     
    The woman was practically hidden from the world by her brother. Although it was obvious that she got out and roamed, the stark fear on her face when she'd realized who must have been calling her in the morning spoke volumes of her situation.
     
    So, like a dumbass, he was seeking her out, again.
     
    Silently, Liam cursed his cock as he rode through the neighborhood at cruising speed. Was any ass worth this much? He was supposed to be prospecting the Saints tonight. What if they were following him right now?
     
    He'd be dead. Six feet under.
     

CHAPTER TEN
     
    For a moment, Liam allowed himself to just appreciate the sweet ride that thrummed between his thighs instead of the fiery woman he pursued. She was a beauty—normally a sixty-thousand-dollar-bike, and he'd gotten her for practically