Her breath came faster, and adrenaline hit her system. She was in Dark Raiders territory. Anyone could spot her hair and recognize her. Sure, she could disguise herself, but she might eventually need her looks to infiltrate the club walls. Maybe she still had a friend there. Namely, the one who helped her fake her death. She slowed the car and stared at the gates of the compound ahead. All these clubs were the same. They set up illegal business dealings and had high security as a result. The Hell’s Sons were dealing in bad shit too, but as far as she could tell, they hid it better. Ever’s mind was still in bed with Jamison. She hadn’t wanted to leave, and that couldn’t happen. Fucking him was one thing—the sex was mind-blowing. But staying the night? She pulled up to the curb a block from the Raiders club and used everything she knew about observation. Pretending she was looking something up on her cell, she employed her peripheral vision. Two guys at the gate, leaning back in folding chairs, passing something between them.
