Thank you for your continued interest and support. I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Reaper's Legacy.

SAM

Seeker had set up the meet in Spirit Lake, but I got a text halfway there sending us to Rathdrum instead.

The Black Devil waited for us in a bar that clearly stated No Colors outside the door, forcing us to take off our cuts before going inside.

What a dick. He had balls of brass, though.

Anyway, we walked in to find him sitting in the back, nursing a beer...

Plank started forward, but Sledge caught his arm, pulling him back.

"Don't," he said, his voice low. And Plank nodded tightly as Deck took the lead instead.

"Your girls are doing just fine," Seeker said as we all sat down. And I realized he wasn't nearly as relaxed as he pretended.

His eyes were like ice. And he looked almost feral.

That wildness made me damned uncomfortable. A man like that might do anything... There was no predicting his actions.

"I'm planning to keep it that way,' Seeker started. "As long as you do your part. Where are we on that, anyway? You got news for me on your boy?"

"No, we got shit," Deck said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "But here's what you need to know. Torque..."

"Torque slashed Mel with a knife," Seeker said cutting him off. "I saw the damage. He's out of control. And not just with us. Am I right?"

"How did you see that?" Plank demanded. "Why the fuck was her shirt off?"

"Shut up!" Seeker said. And Plank lurched to his feet, but Stud caught him, pushing him back down.

"Not now, Mr. President," Stud murmured. "Hold it back."

"Why was her shirt off?" Plank repeated. And I felt my own temper rise, but I kept my mouth shut and my eyes open.

"I think a better question is, why she did she get cut in the first place?" Seeker asked, his voice full of carefully leashed anger. "Or maybe, why was she meeting a strange man in a bar without any kind of backup? You fucked up, old man, and I've got her now. Looks like she needs someone new to protect her anyway."

'Fuck me!' I thought. He's got a thing for Mel. I never saw that coming.

"Let's get back on track," Deck said, his tone smooth and dangerous, which wasn't like him at all. Usually he had a big mouth and a short temper, but the crisis seemed to have brought out something more calculating in him.

"We can't give you what you want," Deck told Seeker. "Believe me, we want to. We've been looking for him all week. And this shit... This goes against our whole club. We voted on the truce and the decision was made. And he went against it. He'll answer to the national officers for that. But don't go hurting two innocent girls trying to force us to do something impossible. 'Cause I promise you, if either of them gets a scratch...your life will end. Got me?"

At that, Seeker sat back in his chair studying each man in turn...

"Do you seriously expect me to believe you can't track down one of your own men?" he asked, cocking his head. "Sounds like the Collectors has got some problems of their own."

"That may be," Stud said. "But it's a fact...we can't tell you where he is. We've had guys looking for him all week. I know I can't make you believe that. But no matter what you do to Mel and Mercedes, it doesn't change reality."

"Let me guess, his brothers in Portland?" Seeker asked sarcastically. "Because they'll cover his ass."

"Trust me,' Stud replied. "They want his ass as much as you do. This isn't just about you...he broke faith with all of us. We voted. We made a truce."

"Seriously, Seeker. We know jack shit about Torque," I said, somehow staying calm and matter-of-fact, despite the fact that I wanted to jump over the table and cut the prick's heart out. "I think you get we're lookin' at a war starting... Right here and right now. Torque's out of control and we all know it. Whatever happens to him, he brought on himself. But you takin' our girls? That's different. And when we come after you, we'll bring the whole damned club with us."

"Mel and Mercedes are safe," Seeker said. "And I promise they'll stay that way...at least for now. But you aren't getting them back."

"How 'bout giving us one?" Deck asked. "Mercedes has got a kid. Send her back."

Plank stiffened, but he kept his mouth shut. This wasn't part of the plan...

I saw where Deck was going with it, though. One was better than none. And if Seeker had a thing for Mel, he'd be motivated to protect her.

Not only that, Mel would definitely want Mercedes back with Bray.

I glanced over at Plank and saw understanding written on his face.

Hell...

I couldn't even imagine what he was going through right now. It was bad enough they had Mercedes...

But if someone tried to take Bray away... I'd lose my shit all over the place and rain goddamn hellfire on them!

"What will you give me if I let her go?" Seeker asked. "I want something to take back to my club."

"How about a hostage?" Sketcher said suddenly. "Torque's got one of your brothers... You can take one of ours and let both girls go."

Seeker gave a short laugh.

"Fuck that!" he said. "Your ugly asses aren't worth shit to me. If we want a Collector, we'll pick one up in Portland."

He leaned forward, his eyes intense.

"I want peace," he continued. "Even with all this, I still want peace. Nothing in our situation has changed. And if you're telling me Torque has gone rogue, give me something to take to my club and maybe we can still save the truce."

At that, he pulled out his phone and glanced down at it.

"Back in five," he said. Then he stood and walked away, holding it to his ear.

"This is a waste of time," Plank said. "There's no point making peace with these fuckwads."

I nodded, even as I heard my brothers murmur in agreement. The entire club needed to reevaluate their decision, no question.

It didn't excuse Torque going rogue, but I understood his motivations.

Seeker hung up his phone and turned back towards us. Almost immediately it rang again and he answered, studying our table the entire time.

While his face stayed carefully blank, I caught a hint of something wild in his eyes.

Then the he hung up the phone once more and walked towards us.

"Good news and bad," he said slowly. And I tensed.

"What's that?" Deck asked.

"Grip is alive," he said. "At least for now. We don't have much information on him yet. But they took him to the hospital. That's the good."

"And the bad?" said Plank.

"It was cops that found him and Torque," Seeker replied. "Someone heard something and called it in. And they caught Torque hiding in a hotel with our guy chained up in the bathroom. The girls who were in our house when he attacked are cooperating, so the cops have witnesses. They'll put Torque in protective custody...out of our reach, for now. But the brothers won't be happy about that."

"You gonna give us back Mercedes and Mel?" I asked.

The question hung heavy between us as Seeker leaned back and took another drink, his face blank.

"Yes," he said. "I'm doin' it to prove we're serious about the truce. Torque's situation still isn't resolved. But I'm willing to accept he wasn't acting on behalf of the Collectors. That's out of the equation."

I felt the band around my chest loosen for the first time since I'd gotten that panicked call from Mercedes.

"When?" Plank asked.

"Soon," Seeker replied. "But I'm getting out of here alive first, I think. I'm sure you all see my concern."

Deck snorted, almost a laugh.

"Yeah, I'd be concerned in your place, too," he said. "We won't forget this. And I'm not sure that truce is gonna last after this little adventure."

"Me neither," Seeker admitted. "But I'll do my best. I hope you will, too. Crash will let the girls go once I give him the word. But it won't happen until I'm sure I'm safe. So if you start trailing me, your girls stay locked up longer."

"Understood," Plank said. "Make it fast."

"One more thing," Deck said. "The Torque situation...you got any pull with those witnesses? We'd like to handle this within the club as much as possible. He'll keep his mouth shut and I'm sure your boys will, too."

Seeker shrugged.

"We'll see what happens."

"Right," Deck said. "Keep Mel and Mercedes safe, got me? Otherwise I'll personally skin you and use it to make lamp shades for the Armory."

MERCEDES

Sometimes your brain tells you to do something and you know it's wrong...

My brain told me to run faster when I heard Crash's gun go off... To follow Mel's plan like a good little girl.

I was supposed to get out and get help. No turning back.

My son needed me...

We agreed on it.

Not only that, saving Mel was Plank and Collectors' job.

This wasn't my fight...

But somehow, I knew in my gut and in my soul that if I kept running, Crash would kill Mel.

Maybe he already had.

But I couldn't leave her behind.

So I stopped running and turned back towards the house, creeping up on it as quickly as I could, taking cover underneath a window on the living-room side.

I listened for a second, hearing the muffled sound of Crash's voice... Mel answered him, her tone pleading...

I figured that meant he was distracted, so I popped up for a quick peek...

Mel lay on the floor, pressing against the outside of her left thigh with both hands, even as bright red blood seeped between her fingers.

Crash stood over her, gun pointed and ready... And the look on his face wasn't friendly. This guy would only be too happy to kill her.

Hell!

I looked around frantically, trying to think of a plan. I needed to stop him, and I needed to do it in a way that wouldn't end with someone dead...

With that, I crawled quickly around the side of the house, where the open front porch held two wooden chairs and a small table.

I tried peeking in the front window to see what was happening, but shades covered it.

Then I heard Mel scream...

Time for action...

I grabbed one of the chairs, pleased to find that it was solid wood and had a nice heft. Then I rang the doorbell and waited, holding my chair ready...

"Who's out there?" Crash called.

I stayed quiet... I mean, what the hell was I supposed to say?

Please come out so I can hit you?

Using my elbow, I rang the bell again...

My muscles started to burn from holding the chair.

'Hurry up, asshole!'

"Fuck off!" Crash yelled.

Mel must've done something to mess with him because I heard a crashing noise... Then I rang the bell five or six times in a row with my elbow like an annoying kid.

Crash threw the door open...

And I clocked him hard in the face with the chair.

He staggered and the gun went off, thankfully missing me. I ignored the ringing in my ears and swung the chair around and hit him again...

He shuddered, then lunged towards me, blood running down his face from his smashed nose.

I screamed as he grabbed the chair by its legs, jerking it away and raising it high.

Then Mel was on him from behind...

She attacked like a rabid ferret, arms tightening around his neck as she bit and scratched and kicked.

He lurched forward and I joined in, grabbing the second chair and swinging it at his knees...

He gave a high scream as he pitched forward off the porch, Mel riding him down into the dirt.

I didn't wait...

I jumped after them, landing between his legs and kicking him in the crotch over and over again...

Hopefully, there wouldn't be any little Crashlets in his future to carry on the family legacy...

Crash screamed like a baby the whole time.

And Mel?

I couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying.

But ten minutes later, we had his bruised, bleeding body handcuffed to a porch pillar. He'd passed out from the pain, which was probably a good thing.

Because, I didn't want to look into his evil eyes or listen to whatever bullshit he might spew.

Now, I sat in one of the porch chairs, his confiscated gun carefully braced against my leg, cocked and ready to shoot.

I didn't want to kill him, but I'd do it if I had to. I didn't doubt that for a second.

Mel hobbled out of the house, her leg bandaged in strips of sheet from the bedroom. Thankfully, the bullet had just lightly grazed her thigh.

Still, her face was white and drawn from the pain.

Despite it all, she managed a small smile, holding up a cell phone in triumph.

"Dumbass has Google maps installed," she said. "I know exactly where we are. I'm calling Dad to come and get us."

She dialed...

"Hey, Dad? It's me. We're okay. Could use a ride, though."

Her eyes flickered towards Crash as Plank's muffled voice burst out of the phone.

"No, it's all good," she answered. "But you might want to bring the van. We may need some cargo space."

She gave them directions and hung up.

"They'll be here in about twenty minutes," she told me. "They sounded pretty happy to hear from us."

"Was Seeker with them?" I asked. And as soon as the question left my mouth, I regretted it.

Did I really want the answer?

Mel swallowed and looked away...

"No," she said. "The meet was already over. I guess we missed him by maybe five minutes. He's got good luck."

I raised a brow, but kept my mouth shut.

She dropped the phone to the ground, then stomped on it, and I heard the crunch of glass and plastic.

"What the hell?" I asked, startled. "Why'd you do that?"

"GPS," she said shortly. "I don't want the Black Devils tracing us with it. And we can't leave it here."

"What if we need it again?"

"We won't," she said. "Dad and Wringer will find us. Don't worry. By tomorrow it'll be like this never happened. In fact, I don't want to talk about it and I don't want to think about it. Got me?"

"Got you," I said, narrowing my eyes.

Mel grabbed the second chair and dragged it over towards me, sitting down.

"Want me to take the gun for a while?"

"Thanks," I said, handing it over. It was surprisingly heavy, and after the first few minutes my hand had started cramping.

I stretched my fingers, looking out across the long gravel driveway into the trees...

"No offense," I said slowly. "But that was the shittiest girls' night out ever."

She gave a short, startled snort of laughter.

"Ya think?"

SAM

We crested the small rise overlooking the house and Plank slowed, raising a hand for the others to stop.

I pulled up next to him.

Holy fuck!

"That's my girl," Plank said, his voice full of pride. "Goddamn, did something right with her."

"Both our girls," I muttered, and felt my chest unclenching, letting go a ball of tension I hadn't even realized was there. "Shit! I didn't even know she had it in her."

Mel and Mercedes sat on the front porch like two neighbors visiting over sweet tea, except Mel held a gun trained steady on Crash...

His mangled, bloody form lay in the dirt, arms stretched up behind him and wrapped around the porch pole.

"Think she killed him?" I asked.

"Hope not," Plank replied. "It's bad enough already, without her having to live with that. Not to mention, messy as fuck for us to clean up."

"That's the truth," I replied.

"It's Dad, we're here for you!" Plank yelled down, waving at her. But Mel kept her eyes on Crash and her gun didn't waver.

"Glad you came," she called back. "I could really use some help."

"He the only one?" Plank asked.

"Seeker left a couple hours ago," she shouted. "It was only the two of them."

We rode slowly down the hill towards the house. And I studied Mercedes carefully as I parked my bike, but I couldn't see any signs of serious harm.

She looked exhausted, her eyes darkened with smudged makeup, but that was all.

Mel seemed worse off... Her face was pale and a bruise was starting to form on her cheek. And white, bloodied strips of fabric had been tied around her leg.

"Stay where you are, girls," Plank said shortly as he dismounted his ride. I did the same, following him over to the man on the ground.

Crash was in rough shape... He wasn't moving. And I saw trickles of blood seeping from his nose and mouth.

More soaked the dirt, although I couldn't see where it was coming from.

However, I approached him carefully, kneeling down to check his pulse.

He was still alive... The beat was faint but steady.

"He's not dead," I said. "What's the plan?"

Plank rolled Crash with a foot. Now I saw the wound... He had a gaping gash on the back of his head.

"He's been bleeding, but not too bad," Mel said. "Don't know if he's passed out from a head injury or from shock. But Mercedes kicked his nuts to hell and back."

At that, I felt an instinctive shrinking in my own nether region and glanced up at Mercedes. She was gazing down at us, her face as smooth as a sphinx's.

Perfectly calm... Way too calm...

She had to be in shock.

Plank stepped up to his daughter and held out his hand for the gun. She gave it to him, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close.

I looked to Mercedes again and she turned away. Message received...

Then I heard the crunch of footsteps in the driveway behind me...

It was Sledge.

"How we gonna play this?" he asked, eyeing Crash.

I glanced over at my president, wondering the same thing. Would we put the bastard in the ground or not?

"Not in front of the girls," Plank said, squeezing Mel tight. "Wringer, you and Sketcher take them, get them safe. Call the medic. He can meet you at the clubhouse. We'll clean up here."

Mel shook her head, growing tense.

"Don't kill him," she said. "If you do that, there's going to be even more fighting."

"This is about the club, Mel," Plank replied softly.

But she glanced down at Crash, then leaned up on her toes and whispered into her father's ear.

Plank stiffened.

And she pulled away, her eyes clearly pleading.

He shook his head at her and she crossed her arms, taking a step back.

Interesting...

Plank, however, narrowed his eyes, and the two stared at each other for long seconds.

Then he sighed.

"Okay, we'll take him with us and dump him somewhere he'll be found," he said. "See if you can find something to bandage him up with, Sledge."

I looked down at Crash. Intellectually, I knew letting him live was probably a good idea. All other issues aside, Mel and Mercedes didn't need that kind of baggage.

I still wanted the fucker dead, though.

Hmm...we could always take him out later. And if we did it right, the girls would never know.

MERCEDES

I didn't know how to feel as I rode home with Sam, exhausted and drained from the adrenaline.

We'd separated from the rest of the club, which broke into different groups going different places.

He'd wanted me to get checked out by a friend of the club who was an EMT, but I insisted I was fine.

Which I was. Physically.

But now that it was over, I was so furious with him that I wanted to scream and hit and kick his big, dumb ass for getting me into this shit.

I also wanted him to hold me and make me feel safe again, which was ridiculous.

Because I'd never be safe around him.

More than anything, though, I wanted to get back to Bray...

I wanted to hold him tight and make sure we never, ever had to worry about something like this happening again.

Different plans kept running through my head, including changing my name and moving to a different state entirely.

But I had a good job now, one that might actually let us get ahead.

I just needed to put a wall between me and Sam... I needed to draw the line... Him on his side and me on mine, with no crossover.

If I did that, we'd be fine.

But even angry with him, it felt right and safe to lean against his back as we rode, my arms wrapped tight around his stomach.

A stomach made of hard muscle that rippled under my fingers every time he leaned to take a curve.

Every inch of him was strong and solid. The leather of his cut lay under my cheek, broken by the embroidered fabric of his Collectors patches.

For now...just for the next few hours...I'd let myself touch him and savor his presence.

Then we'd go our separate ways...

When we finally pulled around the back of Emma's barn to the little gravel parking area in front of my new apartment, I dropped my arms and let Sam go.

I didn't let myself feel sad.

Actually, I tried not to let myself feel anything.

He swung off the bike and took my hand, leading me over to the door, which was a good thing. Because I felt like I was trapped in a dream, everything distant and surreal.

"Crap!" I muttered, looking at the lock. "I don't have my keys. They're in my purse, and I have no idea what happened to it, or my phone."

"They might find your purse at the house," Sam said. "Your phone is gone. I'll get you a new one tomorrow."

He let me go and turned back to his bike, digging through one of the saddlebags to pull out a small black leather pouch. When he came back and opened it, I saw a collection of strange little tools.

"Lock picks," he said shortly.

"So this is just another part of your life?" I asked, numb. "You just go around, ready and waiting to break into places?"

He glanced up at me and opened his mouth to speak. But something in my face must've caught his attention, because his expression softened.

"Babe, I'm a locksmith, remember? It used to be my job," he said, his voice gentle. "Locksmith and gunsmith. If it's made of metal and has tiny little parts, I like working with it. When I was a kid I built shit out of Legos; now I have big-boy toys. And for a while I worked full-time doing lockout calls. Sometimes it's not about scary stuff, okay?"

I nodded, but I wasn't sure if I believed him.

"Whatever," I murmured.

The door clicked open and I walked in, looking around. Everything was just like I'd left it the day before...

Normal...

All normal... It could almost have been a dream.

"You need to get cleaned up," Sam said. "I'll call Marley and tell her to bring Bray home in an hour or so. I don't want him freaking out."

"Was he worried about me?" I asked, walking over to get a drink of water.

I considered offering him one, and then didn't, because fuck Sam! The little surge of anger was good. It made me feel less numb.

"I'm sure he was," he replied. "Marley's been with him the whole time, though. They've been watching movies and shit. I talked to him for about five minutes this morning but I haven't seen him. I was focused on getting you back."

I turned to look at him, so big he seemed to fill my tiny living room.

"Merce, we need to talk," he said slowly, looking almost nervous. "I need you to tell me everything that happened. Did they...hurt you?"

I snorted.

"Um, yeah, they hurt me," I said, reaching up to touch my bruised cheek. "They threw me in a van, tied me up, and held me prisoner while threatening to kill me because of some bullshit with your club that I don't understand or care about. So yeah, that part kind of sucked. Thanks for asking."

"Did they rape you?" he asked bluntly. I shook my head. And his face softened with relief. Then he walked towards me. But I held my hand up flat, halting him.

Limits...

Time to set them.

"Sam, we've been playing around, and it's over," I said, focusing my eyes on his chest. His 1% patch taunted me, reminding me exactly why this had to happen. "I know I've said that before, but everything's changed now. It doesn't matter how you make me feel or how nice you are. Your club is dangerous, and I don't want anything to do with any of you. Bray and I, we can't afford that."

He stilled.

"I can see why you might feel that way..." he started to say, but I cut him off.

"No, you really can't," I said. "You didn't spend the night handcuffed to a bed, wondering if you'd get raped or murdered. You didn't hear your friend screaming in the dark, or hear a gunshot when you tried to escape. We could've died, Sam... So here's the way it's going to be from now on. I'll let you see Bray once a week. And we'll make the plans in advance. You will keep him away from your club and you won't talk to him about motorcycles. You won't wear your damned colors around him and you won't do anything that could ever lead to any kind of danger. You will call me to make arrangements and you will pick him up and drop him off when and where I tell you."

Sam's green eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. I felt his anger and frustration in the air around me like a tangible thing, which was actually kind of funny because I didn't give a flying fuck what he thought of my plans.

Not anymore.

"You will follow my rules, Sam," I continued. "Or I'll never let Bray see you again. Believe me, I'll do it. In fact, I'd like to do it right now, but I know how much he loves you and it would be devastating to him. So we will try this out, and if it works, great. But if it doesn't work or I feel like he's in danger... You're gone."

"You can't do that," he said. He started towards me again. But I stood my ground as he closed in, doing that domination thing, getting into my space.

I stared up at him, his chest about three inches from my chin, and I didn't care how big and scary he was.

I didn't care about anything...

"I'm his mother. You have no rights. None. I let you see him because I'm a nice person, and I can stop being nice at any time. Do not fuck with me, Sam!"

He didn't say anything for a while, he just reached up and touched my face lightly, running his finger across my cheek.

It sent shivers down my back, and just like that I wanted him...

"I won't fuck around," he said. "Just so you know. I nearly lost you. And I won't risk that again. I told you before I'd never be a one-woman man, but I was wrong..."

I looked into his face, studying his eyes...

He meant it.

And then I thought about lying in bed with him...

I wanted to give in. I wanted him.

But it didn't matter.

"Too late," I said, and I meant it. "I'm done with you, and I'm fucking serious. Get. Out. Of. My. House."

He held my gaze, then a miracle happened.

Sam listened...

He backed away, turned, and walked out of the house.

Seconds later, I heard his bike roar to life outside and then the sound of him riding away.

I'd done it.

I'd finally managed to put Sam in his place...

Unfortunately, I was too tired to enjoy it.

Stay safe!