Grimdarke James has got problems. As Vice Prez of the Maw of Mayhem MC, he needs to keep his shit together, but between the constant threat of his inner cat going feral, and Nikki, one of the motorcycle club’s mollys, blackmailing him, it’s a fine line some days.

When an arms deal goes bad, everything goes to hell with it. All fingers point to an old club enemy, a man Grim has reason to both fear and loathe, but the facts don’t add up, and everyone is a suspect… including Grim. Faced with the constant threat of Nikki revealing his past and his need to prove himself to the MC, the fragile peace he’s made with his cat is threatened.

Out of options and running out of time, Grim sets a bold plan into motion, and the consequences are far more dire than he could have imagined…

---

He stumbled to the door, eyeing Nikki through the crack as he unlatched the chain. Her eyes swept up his body, arousal tinging the air. Woman was in permanent heat, though given her age, that wasn’t surprising. Around thirty shifter women got desperate to breed, but Jesus, he didn’t want that stank in his room. He blocked her entry.

“I’m sorry, okay?” She glanced away as a door opened and shut farther down the hall. “Do we have to do this out here?”

“Yeah.”

She huffed her bangs from her eyes. Her brow furrowed, walking her fingers up his abs to the ink below his right pec and tracing the line of script. “When’d you get this one?”

“Don’t fucking touch me. If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

Her hand fell. “Look, you’re right. I was out of line down there. Disrespected you. Made you lose face in front of the club. I was just… it’s different for the women here. Harder.”

“Might be easier if you minded your place and stop pissing the ol’ ladies off.”

The rage that flashed over her face proved his cat right. This was damage control, her trying to manipulate his emotions and suck him back into her lies. He snorted, and she blinked at him, crocodile innocent again.

“We had a deal, Nikki. But all the shit you’ve been pulling is making that null and void. I’m not the only one with a past. I gave you my word, but keep it up, and I’ll have nothing to lose handing your ass over to Hellspawn.”

Her eyes narrowed at the mention of the MC down south she’d run riot through before landing here. “You wouldn’t.”

“Keep pushing and find out.”

---

Grim’s fingers ghosted over the butt of his gun, eyes on the long sinuous shadow of a lynx stalking from one patch of darkness to another. It was one of their crew, but Christ, this deal, just east of butt-fuck, had the nape of his neck prickling. Goddamned hills surrounding the warehouse were too quiet, and the fact that the rest of their men were skulking around out there in cat form had nothing to do with it.

Drop shouldn’t be taking this long.

His inner cat paced, tail flicking, and damn if he didn’t feel like doing the same.

“Something’s off,” he murmured.

“Clay has it handled,” the brother at his right replied, glancing at his phone, too bright in the moonlight. “Vans just cleared the bridge. Some shit about a flat. ETA five minutes.”

A fucking flat? Since when did an entire convoy stop for one downed vehicle? Grim flicked his eyes from the road below to MK. The MC’s road captain was too damned calm.

“I don’t like it.”

MK snorted. “You don’t like anything.”

He had a point, but fuck him. Grim kicked at an outcropping of stone, sending scree rattling down the hillside. Fuck that, too. MK wasn’t worried, why should he be? Down in the valley, headlights sparked into view on the winding road, flickering through the trees. Five sets, following ass to nose.

“That’d be them,” MK said, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Tell that cunt cat of yours to calm down. This deal’s too big for him to fuck up.”

Yeah, but he’s not wrong, and you’ve been a miserable prick lately. Fuck, maybe that’s why he was so on edge. With all the shit going sideways with their supply routes the past few weeks, Grim couldn’t remember the last time he’d let the furry fucker out.

Oh wait, yeah he could. He was still picking bits of blood off his bike.

It’s your own damned fault. His cat’s impulse control was for shit on a good day, and this wasn’t one of them. “He won’t be an issue.”

MK shot him a look that said he’d believe it when he’d seen it. And that was the problem right there. Too many of the brothers didn’t trust him to keep his shit together.

Neither did he.

Grim took a deep breath, fingers raking through his shaggy blond hair. Jesus Fuck, it shouldn’t be this goddamned hard. Clay believed in him, had made him his VP for a reason, despite all the pushback from the club—

Whatever. He sighed, staring up at the moon and wishing— Fuck what he was wishing. Shit never worked anyway. He had to take tonight for what it was; another chance to prove he deserved his patch.

And he’d be damned if he let Clay down.

Especially with the problems the last two shipments of arms had run into. They couldn’t afford to have this one go off the rails because of Grim’s cat or anything else, which is why they had a full crew out here. Their supplier was getting nervous, and word on the street was they were looking into other distributors. That meant one of two things; either the cartel was gonna run the risk of transporting over Niagara, or they were gonna back Satan’s Vengeance MC to take over their territory.

Grim knew where his money was. The Niagara route was way too fucking dicey, and the cartel’s backing was exactly the opportunity those SV bastards had been praying for to push the Maw of Mayhem out of St. Lawrence County. Assholes had a hard on for them even before they’d gotten SV’s piece of shit alpha locked up.

Gravel crunched and high beams swung across the warehouse’s bay doors, dust and detritus swirling through the sudden shock of light. Grim looked away, trying to preserve his night vision.

Which is when he saw it.

The quick pulse of LED red, deep in the third van’s rear wheel well as it humped over a rut. The fuck? Grim started forward, and MK clotheslined him, blocking his progress.

“Didn’t you see that?” Grim hissed.

“See what? You about to blow our position?” MK spat back with a sneer. “Yeah. Why do you think Clay’s got me babysitting your ass out here on the fringe? You’re a fucking liability—”

“No, asswipe, the tech mounted to the third van,” he gritted out past his hurt. “They got some shit rigged—

“Why the fuck would Cantone mess with his own shipment? Man’s already paid a mint for what’s in those crates. Probably just one of them gangbangers pimpin’ out his cage.”

Grim ran a hand over his jaw, shaking his head. MK was right about Cantone, but the rest of it? Who the fuck tricked out a laundry truck? Nah. Shit wasn’t sittin’ right.

The vans came to a halt and the warehouse’s bay door rumbled upwards. More men than they’d expected exited the vehicles, engines still running. Clay walked out to meet them, hands in his pockets. He paused, then pulled out a toothpick and rolled it to the side of his mouth.

Grim smacked MK’s arm away, jerking his head at their alpha’s signal for impending fuckery. “See asswipe?” Clay knew something was off, too. MK’s lips tightened.

“Thought Espada was on this run,” Clay said like he didn’t give a fuck.

A burly man in a skullcap shrugged. “You got me instead. Where’s our shit?”

“Depends. Where’s the rest of my money?”

The breeze picked up, redolent with exhaust and motor oil. Grim’s brow furrowed, his lip curling, canines extending. Scenting the air he drew into his mouth… Fuck. He spat the taste from his mouth, eyeing the vans. Make that a shit ton of motor oil with a side of nasty-ass BO. The kind humans put out when they were shitting themselves about something…