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    RIDE TO FIGHT
     
    Kat smiled at Solomon, looking into his piercing blue eyes as the cry came from inside the group. Blood trickled from Solomon’s forehead, dripping onto his navy shirt, but he never stopped looking at Kat.
     
    “You got spared, Parker,” Kat holstered her gun and turned to the voice that had issued the cry.
     
    Billy, the new hire from the bar, was pushed toward Kat. Watching as Billy stumbled and shook, Kat didn’t feel an ounce of pity for the kid. He’d had plenty of time to come to Solomon’s rescue and say that Solomon didn’t kill the old president, but he waited until the last possible moment to do so.
     
    Luckily for both men, Kat was a fantastic shot and she’d flicked her wrist at the same moment the gun had fired, grazing Solomon’s forehead.
     
    “You got some nerve, kid,” a member sneered as Billy looked Kat in the eyes.
     
    Kat stared into his brown eyes, wondering why he of all people had stepped forward and held off Solomon’s execution. It wasn’t that Kat wasn’t grateful for the kid. She was.
     
    Taking a life was something she’d never thought she’d have to do, but being the president of the Free Guns meant that sometimes she needed to bloody her hands a bit for the good of the club. She’d seen Jamison do it and Kat knew that if she wanted to fill his shoes, she’d have to do it too. So she’d put aside her own budding feelings about the ruggedly handsome biker Solomon Parker, and done her duty.
     
    ... or would have, if it weren't for the kid.
     
    “What is it, Billy?” Kat turned toward the kid and gave him her undivided attention.
     
    “Don’t say a fucking word,” Solomon growled from his place on the forest floor, and was met with a swift kick in the side.
     
    Kat turned to the member who had kicked Solomon–the same one who’d kicked him before. Voice deadly calm, Kat stared at the young man. “Do it again, Ryan, and you’re going to lose something.”
     
    Ryan took a step away from Solomon. Kat smiled internally, reveling in the authority she’d just wielded. It was yet another sign of her place in the club, her position. She had it, no one wanted it, so she wielded it any way she wanted.
     
    “Answer my question, Billy, or I put one right between his eyes,” Kat warned as she touched her gun meaningfully. She wouldn’t do it though; Solomon Parker had already faced death once today, she wasn’t going to put him through it again. Kat might have been willing to be a murderer two seconds ago, but times changed, and one adapted.
     
    “He didn’t do it,” Billy whispered, his hands shaking so badly it pained Kat to watch.
     
    Peering closely at the kid, who looked like he was barely out of high school and far too pure to be working at a biker bar, Kat took her time. There was something about the kid that didn’t sit right with her, something that gave her pause.
     
    Kat watched Billy’s chest expand as he sucked in a breath, noted the shaking hand he used to push back his black hair as he exhaled, “I did it. I killed Jamison.”
     
    ***
     
    The clearing grew deadly silent, as every member turned and looked at the young bartender. Billy didn’t flinch away from everyone’s gaze or take a step back; he stood his ground and stared at Kat defiantly.
     
    “You,” Kat drew out the word as she crossed her arms and cocked her hip in disbelief, “killed Jamison St. John?”
     
    Kat eyed the kid up and down, trying to see the murderer beneath the scrawny arms and legs, those innocent eyes. The kid didn’t have the mark of a killer, didn’t give off any strange vibe. In fact, the only vibe Kat got from him was a protective one.
     
    Billy nodded his head vigorously as his eyes darted to the still-kneeling Solomon Parker, “Yes, I—”
     
    “Shut your mouth!” Solomon barked angrily at the kid, surprising everyone. Kat turned her head to look at the dark-haired rider, taking careful note of his features. The man looked