Chapter One
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Blade
The final days of fallcling to the trees, their once-vibrant orange leaves now curling into brittle brown.The air has a bite to it, a chill that carries the first whispers of winter.I tilt my head back, feeling the icy edge of the season’s change, the promise of snow and longer nights ahead.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, yanking me out of my thoughts.I pull it out and glance at the screen.‘Betty’s Café’ flashes back at me.
“Hello?”
“Is this Blade?”Mandy’s familiar voice greets me, the warmth in her tone a contrast to the cold air around me.
“Sure is.What can I do for you, Mandy?My boys aren’t causing problems, are they?”I ask, a smile tugging at the edge of my mouth.
Being the president of the Kings of Anarchy MC Chapter in Alaska isn’t something I signed up for or wanted.King, the president of the mother chapter, banished me here.Me, along with every other misfit, fuck-ups, or loners who didn’t fit the mold.I’m the best of the worst, so he handed me the keys to this frozen kingdom and told me to make it work.I’ve got no intention of letting him down, even if it means keeping my boots firmly planted in the snow and ice of this backwater.
“No, no, nothing like that,” she answers quickly, but there’s a shift in her voice as though there’s more.“Old Charlie just came in.He says there’s a woman stuck in a ditch on the west side of town.It’s getting dark, so I thought maybe you and your tow truck could go check on her.”
“Stone Road?”
“Yeah,” Mandy confirms.“Charlie said her car’s not made for dirt roads.”
“Cheechako?”The word comes out before I can stop it, a mix of irritation and resignation.It’s the term we use for newcomers, those clueless enough to think they can survive out here in the wild without the right gear.The Tlingit, an indigenous people of the Pacific Northwest Coast, used the word first, and it’s stuck ever since.
Mandy laughs, her voice light.“Sounds like it.”
“I’m going.”
“You sure sound happy about it,” she teases, her laughter echoing in the quiet air.
“Thanks, Mandy.”I end the call, slide the phone back into my jeans pocket, and go back inside.The keys to my tow truck are on the kitchen counter, and as I walk out the door I grab my coat, not that I need it.
It’ll take me thirty minutes to reach her.The light is already fading fast.The woods come alive after dark, and not everything out here is friendly.The bears are on the move, looking for food before they hibernate for the winter.If this Cheechako is still out there in her car, she’s about to find out the hard way that Alaska doesn’t suffer fools lightly.
Charlie wasn’t kiddingwhen he said her car wasn’t made for our roads.A red and black Mini Cooper sits awkwardly in a ditch, its small tires half-buried in the mud.It’s the kind of car that screams city life, not rugged Alaskan wilderness.As I pull up, a woman steps onto the road, waving her arms like she’s hailing a cab.
It’s dark, the temperature is dropping fast, and she should be inside her car where it’s at least warm and safe.
Distracted by her, I climb out of my truck, grab a set of chains from the bed, and sling them over my shoulders.She’s frowning at me as I approach, her breath puffing in little clouds in the cold air.
“You need some help?”I ask, my voice gruff.
She gapes at me, her eyes widening.“Aren’t you cold?”
I glance down.
Dammit.
I’ve left my jacket in the truck and I’m shirtless.She’s bundled up in layers as if she is expecting a blizzard.With an annoyed grunt, I drop the chains and stalk back to my truck.The ground crunches under my boots as I grab my coat off the passenger seat.
“The heat’s on in the truck, so I didn’t realize how cold it is,” I mutter as I shrug on my leather jacket.
She’s still frowning, but then she thrusts her hand toward me, her movements brisk.“I’m Hannah Greer.”
I stare at her gloved hand for a beat too long, then reach out and shake it.Her grip is firm, a little unexpected for someone who looks like they just stepped out of a city boutique.
“Blade,” I reply simply.
