“And you promised to follow the rules,” Oz says as if he’s implying something else.

Emily shrugs like she doesn’t care and pivots away from him. “Fine. Then I’ll show her where the bathroom is in the clubhouse and then you should go home or stay in the clubhouse or do whatever you want, since that rule means you can’t come in the cabin, either. And according to the rules, I’ve been ordered back to the cabin after eight, so have fun without me.”

Oz’s head falls back as Emily snatches my hand and weaves us through the throngs of men.

“You don’t mean that,” Oz calls out, and I know he doesn’t see Emily’s smirk. Oh my God, she’s a little devil playing him like a violin.

“Yes, I do,” she yells back, then spins in his direction, smirk completely gone. “Have fun being by yourself tonight.”

The men around us laugh and I blush when someone suggests something about Oz becoming good friends with his right hand. I expect Oz to be angry, but he chuckles as he and Chevy stand. Emily pulls on my hand again and sweeps me into the clubhouse. I don’t understand any of these people or how they interact with each other.

Oz and Chevy track us. It’s weird yet chivalrous and it’s then I understand what Razor was asking them to do—to protect me.

We enter a hallway adjacent to the kitchen and there’s a deep line for the woman’s bathroom. Most of the women don’t have cuts like Rebecca’s and there’s more skin than there is clothing.

“It must be getting seriously close to eight,” Emily mumbles, then shouts, “Eli’s daughter coming through.”

“Emily!” Oz yells, and I wish I could own the flirtatious yet angry expression Emily throws Oz.

“What?”

“She can use the bathroom in the cabin.”

Emily places a patronizing hand to her chest. “Why, thank you, Oz, what would we ever do without you?”

She lets go of me when Oz invades her space. Every part of them touches. “I have a few ideas of what we can do together.”

Emily smiles wickedly up at him, winks, then grabs my hand again. It’s a blur as we slink past bands of men and eventually we trot up the stairs to the log cabin. Once we’re in and she checks to see that Oz and Chevy have chosen to stay on the front porch, she whispers, “You have questions, don’t you?”

“Yes.” It’s total disorientation. The clubhouse was so...beyond normal and this...this is like a modern-day storybook cottage. I’m shocked. In a good way. The walls are made of massive tree trunks, but everything about it is straight out of one of my mother’s home magazines. Nice but comfortable furniture, a television, bright lighting and pictures. A ton of framed pictures hang out on tables and bookcases.

“Breanna,” Emily urges. “We don’t have much time. What do you want to know?”

I jerk back to reality. Questions. Razor. “What is the RMC?”

“I had a feeling you were going to ask that,” Emily says as a curse, then peers outside. At the foot of the stairs, two huge men with cuts that say Prospect stand as if they are sentries to a kingdom. “We can’t have ears for this conversation.”

Emily drags me down the hallway, we take a sharp left and she shuts the door to the bedroom. On the bed, Lars lifts his head and wags his tail.

Emily peeks out the window as if someone might be eavesdropping. “We have maybe five minutes, so let’s get to the point. You can’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, okay? Because the reason I’m doing it is that they stupidly tried to keep it from me and it backfired and you’re dating Razor now, so you should know.”

“Okay.”

Emily tugs on the ends of her long hair. “The RMC is a rival motorcycle club in Louisville. The Terror and the Riot hate each other. In the past, it was bad, but they have a peace treaty now, but it seems to be on the edge of falling apart. I’m telling you this because if you see anyone from the Riot, you need to get out quick, especially if they know you’re the girlfriend of one of the Terror.”

The click in my head is so audible that I’m surprised Emily didn’t hear it. I unlocked part of a threat and that threat was from the Riot Motorcycle Club.

“Eli and the club are freaking out. The Riot ran through on their bikes a couple of weeks ago and then Razor went after them on his own. If Cyrus hadn’t caught up to him, there is no telling if Razor would have been hurt. Because of that Eli has been stonewalling me on visiting.”

My mouth is completely dropped open. “Razor what?”

“Went after them,” she repeats.

“Is that who shot Razor?” It’s like I can’t draw enough air into my body.

Emily goes completely still as if she’s a statue. “Say that again?”

Secrets. Violet told me that this is a life of secrets. “Razor was shot. It’s part of the reason why they’re throwing this party.”

Emily’s eyes dart to the thoughts in her head. “I was told it was for me, but this makes more sense. But we’re off track. Look, I like you. You’re funny and nice and everyone in the club is seriously praying you two work because, to be honest, Razor’s freaking suicidal.”

I blink several times and Emily’s expression falls. “I don’t mean, like, he’s tried it or he’s vlogging his last words or anything. I mean he does these stupid things like that fight you talked about or chasing after the Riot or...”

Teetering on the ledge of a bridge over a rushing river. “I understand.” I try to force myself out of the long tunnel of shock. “Then it’s safe now? You’re here in Kentucky, so the Riot is no longer a problem?”