Chapter 1

Stone and War threw the legs over their bikes and quickly started them. They didn’t have a lot of time, Treat’s sister was in trouble, and they were going to help, even if she didn’t want their help, which was evident a few moments ago when she grabbed the phone back out of War’s hand and snapped, “F**k off, this is not your concern.”

Yeah, they f**ked up. Two years ago, they had what they thought was a fairly good relationship with Treat. They were part of the Warriors Chapter in Nevada, so they partied together and always ended up in bed together. It was comfortable, and safe—no commitments, no hassle. At least that is what they convinced themselves of, neither wanted to admit they f**ked up so much there was no hope, that was unacceptable.

War and Stone hadn’t wanted anything steady; they had been more interested in establishing their lives. For a year it had been great, no commitment, no hassles, just the way they liked it. But one night Treat had been really drunk, both of them were sure she didn’t remember telling them that she was ‘falling in love’ with both of them and it freaked them out.

They talked about it and figured they would have to cut it off. They went and talked to Creed who told them about the opportunity in Oceanside to open a shop, and they jumped at it. But then Treat would come to Cali on road trips, or they would go back, and every time she’d assumed they were going to be together, and they had been stupid not to realize what they were feeling and allowed it to happen.

Then they totally f**ked up. One weekend they went to Nevada on a road trip. Before they went, they talked about sitting Treat down and telling her they didn’t want what she did. But when they arrived, that went out the window when they saw her. Yeah, assholes they were, grabbed her up, and went straight to her room. When they sunk into her, they both felt as if they were home. Now that scared the ever-loving sh*t out of them, causing them to act like they didn’t give a sh*t she was dancing, and they got up out of bed. But they had gone to the bar with some stupid reasoning that what they had felt was nothing. They never went to the bar; it was something they had always avoided until now. Ummm…and it worked out for them so well. Seeing the men watching Treat and holding out cash had pissed them off. Especially when she seemed to love the attention.

Jealousy drove them to grab the first woman who came onto them, which was Trick, her best friend. They had already had a lot to drink, but it was no excuse. They had to show Treat it wasn’t going to be the three of them. So into the backroom with Trick they went. It wasn’t long before the door opened and Treat stilled her facial expression, they’d both caught the pain cross her face. There they were, pants down getting ready to stick it to Trick, yeah big time assholes. What they hadn’t known, was that Trick was a devious evil bitch who wanted to hurt Treat because she was jealous. However, that was exactly what happened.

That was then, this was now, and she was finally going to let them try to make up for their complete f**k up. Even if she didn’t want to.

As if life couldn’t get crappier. Treat had decided to stay in Cali to help Bic and the other girls with the Lady Riders and getting Shady and the other’s dream of helping abused women up and running. Of course, like everything else in Treat’s life, this couldn’t go smoothly. Something had to throw a kink in the plan, and it was her past.

She got the call from her sister when she wasn’t prepared to deal with it, not that it f**king mattered, but at least she had been with the other Lady Riders. They had kept her calm.

“Brooke?” a weak woman’s voice said to her and Treat froze as her eyes went right to her friends.

“Who is this?” Treat said because no one called her Brooke anymore. And the only ones who would call her by her given name haven’t spoken to her in years.

“Brooke? It’s Jilly; I need help.” And Treat froze, her sister? Why would she call her now? Of course, they all had her number; she always sent it in letters even though they had all gone unanswered, Treat always sent it every single holiday, birthday, anniversary, whatever.

“Jilly, why do you need help?” Treat whispered fiercely and instantly Nike and Bob were at her side, both leaning in to listen into the receiver as much as they could even though they didn’t know what was going on.

“It is bad this time, Brooke,” her sister whispered.

“Honey, I am not following, what is bad, what do you need help from?” Treat said softly.

“Supper was late, and the baby was crying. Lane needed to rest so he could get to work, but I wasn’t keeping it quiet enough,” she cried into the phone, and Treat froze, what the f**k? Who was Lane? Of course, she didn’t know Jilly had gotten married, no one had told her. It was probably an edict from her father—the bastard.

“Jilly, honey, calm down and tell me where you are,” Treat said.

“Home,” Jilly groaned as she cried. “Hurts so bad, I can’t get up.”

“Where is home?” Treat said urgently.

“Guy at the tattoo place said you were here. That is why I called, same trailer park we grew up in, just three doors down. Mom and Dad are still here too, but I can’t go to them,” Jilly whispered.

F**k no she couldn’t. Her mother was a weak woman who let her husband beat their kids daily for stupid sh*t. Dammit, she was going to have to go back and face that sh*t, but there was no way she was leaving her sister with some asshole who beat her. They’d had too much of that.

“I am coming, honey. Just gimme a few, and I will be there, if anyone comes home don’t say I am coming, we will get you out,” Treat whispered.

“My son?” she cried.

“Him too, honey. If your husband…” Treat said.

“Not married, Lane is one of dad’s drinking buddies,” Jilly said, and Treat closed her eyes, yeah, she knew how that had gone down. F**king dick.

“Lady Riders?” Nike said and Treat nodded absently, but she was keeping her sister on the phone as long as possible.

Nike yelled at Casey who was already cuddling up to her man. “Bic, need you now.”

The woman was nothing if not perceptive. She jumped off Freebyrd’s lap and called to the other women who were still milling around and then came to them quickly.

“What is up?” she whispered.

“If you are serious about setting up a Chapter here, now is the time. You remember I told you we were going to work with women who are abused or recovered from trafficking?” Bob said, and Casey nodded. “Looks like we have our first woman in need.”

Casey snapped her fingers and began barking orders to the women. The guys who were paying attention as well went on alert. Freebyrd and his Vice, Stone, stepped forward to Casey who began explaining what was going on.

Treat was calmly talking into the phone to her sister when Stone saw her go still. He looked at War who was watching Treat as well and saw the change. He motioned, and both moved to Treat who had moved to the corner.

“Jilly? Don’t say anything, just put the phone down, don’t hang it up, just put it down so I can hear. I am with you, honey,” Treat whispered.

War grabbed the phone and listened for a moment, his face turning grim as he heard a man in the background yelling.

“You stupid worthless woman, get your ass up and make me a sandwich,” the man yelled, and he heard a grunt as if someone had been kicked again.

Now here they were standing in a place Treat had vowed never to be caught again, so since that vow was broken, she’d be damned if she was going to let two assholes that f**ked her overtake this over. It was her family, and she was going to deal with it.

Treat shoved War out of the way and kicked in the door, her gun c*cked, loaded, and aimed at the half-drunk slob that stood over the battered and bloodied Jilly. “You son-of-a-bitch!” She yelled, her finger already squeezing down on the trigger. One more millimeter and his head would have been splattered all over the narrow trailer walls. Not that it would do any injustice to the horrible trashy wallpaper that lined the older than dirt white trash home.

“No!” Jilly gasped, her words gurgling blood. Hearing Jilly’s voice made her hesitate just long enough War was able to grab the gun out of her hand, and flip the safety on before she could get the shot off. Her head snapped around, and she lost focus on her target, aiming her rage at the man who towered over her.

“What the f**k!” she screamed, her body shaking with rage. “Kill that motherf**ker!”

“That’s too easy for a piece of sh*t like him, baby. Go check Jilly. We’ve got this.” Stone’s hands firmly gripped her upper arms and moved her inside, leading her to the girl that lay in the fetal position, barely alive. Treat was beyond pissed and full-on hated Stone and War for stopping her from killing the sick f**k who’d done this to her sister, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. She had more important things to tend to right now. Later she’d make sure they got what they deserved.

“Oh, Jillybean,” she gasped. Jilly’s blond hair was bright red with blood. The cuts on her face and head showed repetitive beatings and pain. Some were scabbed over, only knocked loose by new wounds inflicted atop them. Others were fresh and draining her blood into a puddle on the floor. Treat glanced around for something to stop the bleeding with, but there wasn’t anything in reach. Without hesitating, she yanked her t-shirt off over her head and wadded it up on a huge gash that sliced across Jilly’s forehead down the side of her face. It wasn’t a clean-cut, which meant he’d either bashed her head open with something or she’d been thrown into something that did it. Either way, it was bad.

“I need to know where all it hurts, baby,” she whispered. Jilly tried to sit up, but Treat stopped her. “Hold still. Just point, honey.” Her soft voice eased some of the worry lines out of Jilly’s features, and she mustered up her strength and began pointing. Her ribs, which by the way she was gasping for breath had not only been broken but also punctured a lung, stomach, shoulder—that looked to be dislocated, not broken—head, and lastly her private areas that was no doubt both areas was the main focus as she tried her best to communicate. With each area Jilly had pointed to, Treat’s stomach got sicker.

“We’ve got to get her to a hospital,” Treat gasped as she reached for her cell to dial 911.

“Wait.” War’s command sent her hackles up in the air.

“No dammit, she needs help!” Treat snapped.

“And she’s gonna get it. After we take care of this piece of sh*t,” Stone added as his fist made contact with Lane’s nose. The telltale cracking sound racketed through the air as his nose jammed to the left. He let out a slew of cuss words and screamed like the little bitch he was.

“I am not Lane, sh*t, man, you broke my nose,” the man whimpered.

“Treat?” War snapped.

“Never seen him,” Treat admitted and looked down at her sister who was trying to open her eyes. “Jilly, this the man who beat you?”

Her sister turned her head and tried to focus; it took a few minutes before she mumbled. “Not Lane.”

“Sh*t,” Treat said and looked up. “We gotta find out where he is.”

“You gonna tell us everything you f**kin’ know you piece of sh*t!” Stone c*cked back and landed another punch in the same spot, no doubt causing permanent damage. Good. The son-of-a-bitch deserved a hell of a lot more than that; he hadn’t even been helping her when they showed up, making him just as guilty as Lane. She was close to voicing that opinion when War stepped up. He plastered the barrel of the gun in the man’s temple and gritted his teeth.

“One wrong move, motherf**ker. Just one.” He reared back and kicked him in the dick, grinning as the man went down holding his crotch. As soon as he was on his knees, Stone’s foot kicked him full force in the face, knocking him backwards, and out.

“Get him out of here. Treat, as soon as we’re gone, call the ambulance. Tell them she called you, you came, she was alone when you got here. Got it?” War grabbed the lifeless body and dragged him to the door, smiling when the sound of a truck skidded to a stop in front of the small rickety stairs that dropped from the front door. “Moon, you take the baby back to the clubhouse.”

“I need to pack up formula and sh*t, give me a few minutes,” she said, holding the baby close to her chest.

“No. Send the Prospects out for whatever you need. Get her out of here now,” he growled.

“On it,” she said, not questioning him. Moon grabbed the infant carrier from beside the television and buckled the baby in, relieved that a pacifier was sitting on the table beside them. She gave it to the baby, and the crying stopped. “There we go, big man. Let’s get you out of here,” she cooed.

“Time to go, gentlemen,” he said as Stone and Freebyrd loaded the unconscious body into the back seat. The other guys hopped on their bikes as Stone tossed his keys to Casey.

“Drive it home for me. Nike, you’re on Bic’s bike.” They’d intentionally told Nike to ride bitch with Bob, and now it made sense. Where the girls had more intent on killing the bastard and leaving his body to rot, the guys had put together a plan to keep their asses all out of hot water when the authorities showed up. F**k! That was one more thing Treat would have to remedy if she wanted to prove to these guys she had what it took to lead the Lady Riders here. She couldn’t help but feel her temper shoot through the f**kin’ roof. She knew this—yet when it became personal for her, she’d thrown protocol out the damn window. As much as it ate her ass, right now her attention needed to be on her sister.

Treat kept her sister talking, mumbling words of encouragement to keep her conscious until she could make the rescue call and get her to a hospital. When they finally rolled her away on a stretcher and got her loaded, the cops swarmed over to get statements.

“Was the guy still here when you arrived?” The officer questioning was young, probably straight out of the academy, and she could tell his nerves were getting the best of him. Casey in point number eight thousand twenty-four as to how fugitives can slip through the system. This is reason el numero uno why the Lady Riders joined forces. This time, there was no way in hell another piece of sh*t would be let loose on the streets to terrorize and continue the vile, nauseating behavior toward helpless women. Women like her sister.

“Nope. She was on the floor when I found her barely alive. I’ve been trying to get the details out of her and a description, but she’s too out of it,” she lied.

“Okay. Thank you. We’ll be in contact if we find anything out. Here’s my card, if you think of anything that will be helpful with our investigation, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you, officer,” Treat cooed in her best ‘Happy Birthday Mr. President’ voice. He seemed delighted she’d referred to him as officer if his puffed-out chest and c*cky expression were anything to go off.

“Just doing’ my duty, ma’am.” It was the first time it physically hurt to grin, but she did it knowing that son-of-a-bitch wouldn’t be bothering them again. As soon as he left, she ran to the ambulance and hopped in the back, ignoring the EMTs telling her not too. “She’s my f**king sister,” she growled, daring them to protest again. Both men threw up their hands in a defensive posture.

“Just stay out of the way,” one grumbled, pointing over to a corner seat. She moved and sat out of the way, but made sure to watch every damn move they made and asked questions about every medication they were pumping in her veins. With an IV already in her arm and fluids draining in to dilute the morphine, Jilly faded off to sleep.

Casey, Bob, and Nike rounded up the other Lady Riders and got them following. They needed to be there for their sister, especially if something went wrong. Her sister looked bad and if something happened, holding her back would be next to impossible.

When they reached the hospital, Treat was in the waiting room filling out forms and yelling at the desk nurse. Bob walked right up to her, wrapped an arm around her stomach, and yanked her away from the desk quickly. Someone needed to take her in hand, she was out of control, of course, they all understood, but that didn’t mean they wanted the police to show up here and take her to jail.

“Treat,” Bob whispered into her ear quietly. “We all know this is difficult, but pull your sh*t together, woman. We need to get information and make sure everything she needs she has. Take a deep breath, and fill out the forms. Do you need me to call Shady?”

Treat felt the tears in her eyes; she was having a hard time controlling it. She had to, she thought and took a deep breath and then nodded slightly to Bob.

Nike stepped in front of her and said, “Together.”

Treat closed her eyes. These were her sisters too dammit. Her family history sucked, like big time. When she was born, apparently someone missed the message to bestow her with any luck. Because her mom was a drunk, who didn’t give two sh*ts about anything but staying on her father’s good side when he was sober and not at the casino. This was impossible since he was drunk and there most of the time. Treat knew it because she had often tried as well to be the dutiful daughter. She was the oldest, and truthfully, she had no idea why the hell her parents had anymore. They didn’t want her, so when Jilly was born, Treat was five, and became the caregiver, protector, and stopped being a child.

They lived in the same dirty ratty trailer growing up as they did now. When she was twelve, her father told her she would be pregnant and married by fifteen, she wasn’t, which was apparently a disappointment. Treat tried to protect her sister; she sent her money to a PO Box every chance she got. She tried to convince her to leave with her when she was eighteen, but her sister hadn’t wanted to leave their mom, who for some reason when Jilly was ten decided she was a mom and tried to make an effort to take care of Jilly. It had been pathetic and sad to watch, but Jilly had sucked up the attention and was convinced her mother was worthy of her effort.

Treat had felt guilty about leaving her, but she had to get out. For a few years, she wandered, moving from place to place as she tried to look for something, anything to show her a better life. She lost touch with her sister, basically because she stopped replying to her letters. Of course, Treat should have known something was up, but she hadn’t tried to find out, she was too busy trying to keep her head above water and not become a hooker to pay her bills. She had worked hard, but as per her life, she didn’t find that life. Instead, she found out she was attracted to losers like her father. She had a string of them, and each one worse than the last. The sad part was she fell for their bullsh*t every time. They promised the moon and the stars and gave her cuts and bruises. She lucked out by stumbling into Trick, she thought. Finally, someone who understood her, someone she felt a connection with that wasn’t sexual. But even that turned out to be all a lie.

Treat discovered a year ago that everything she had invested in over the last five years was a lie. She had been devastated when her best friend, her sister, had betrayed her. She trusted the other Lady Riders, but if she were honest with herself, she held something back, something important, and that was who she really was. They all saw Treat, the bubbly once blond now dark redhead who was one half of a whole. Trick and Treat, the two besties who were practically inseparable. Yeah, so not true if Treat actually thought about it, which she didn’t right now because she couldn’t go through that as well at this second, especially when she heard someone say her name, her real name. F**k, apparently she didn’t have a guardian angel who watched over her, protected her from evil, she already knew this, but she had been hoping for something.

“Brooke Louise Duffy, what the f**k are you doing here?” a man roared, yes roared in a loud unmistakable angry, and often frightening to small children voice. Bob froze, the Lady Riders froze, because they had been focused on her, and if Treat had been focused she would have seen all the women, including herself, turn as a unit to see the huge, long-haired, pot-bellied, red-nosed—because of drinking—dirty man and a small woman with a bruise on her chin, looking anywhere but at Treat.

“Long time no see, Daddy,” Treat said sarcastically.