The club's attorney is locked in a chapel with three murder suspects. One of them is lying. All three of them want her.
Odette Marigny writes the Vipers of Perdition's contracts, reads their minutes, and knows where every dollar in their slush account went. When the vice president is shot in a church meeting and the doors lock, she's the only person in the room with a lawyer's head on her shoulders.
Ridge signed the slush papers and can't explain why. Nomad's alibi out of state has one witness, and she won't name her. Trask has a missing round in his pistol and a decade of unspoken want in his eyes.
Odette runs the room like a deposition: ledger, alibi, brand, bullet. The killer is the one man in the club with the authority to walk out the door-and the money to sell their own turf to a syndicate.
By morning she's the reason the club still exists, and the reason three men share one address.
A why-choose MC romance with a legal spine and a body count in the single digits.
