Page 10 of Dangerous Attraction

"He's a high-ranking member of the club, and so is his best friend, Milo."

"The man you called asking for a favor?" I ask, slowly connecting the dots.

"Yes. He's the Sergeant at Arms for The Steel Devils, and he's also the President's son."

I frown and let out an almost silent laugh.

"I have no idea what any of that means, Liam."

He shrugs. "That's not important right now. All you need to know is that Reeve and Milo have always said if I needed help to ask them. Reeve didn't answer my calls, which isn't unusual, so that's why I called Milo."

"Sounds ominous," I mutter. "I'm still confused though."

"By what?"

Rolling my eyes, I turn to look out the window.

"You've always told me you hadn't spoken to your brother since your father disowned him, but that's obviously a lie."

He turns off from the road onto a smaller, more narrow lane I hadn't noticed was here.

"We did go years without speaking, and it was meant to stay that way, but it didn't. I won't get into all the details, but I've been back in contact with him for the past two years. I haven't told anyone because it needs to stay quiet. If it becomes common knowledge, I know my dad will give me an ultimatum, just as he did with Reeve," he says.

My eyes scan our surroundings, the setting sun casting a beautiful orange glow over the open fields around us.

"I can't put myself in that position because I don't want to lose my brother. I know he'll make the decision for me and cut all communication."

"Why?"

"Because unlike Reeve, I don't have something else to fall back on if my father cuts me off completely. Besides, Reeve doesn't believe he's worth choosing."

"That's sad, but also kind of sweet. It shows he cares about you," I mumble, distracted by the sight of a large wooden house that appears in the distance ahead of us.

Liam chuckles and shakes his head.

"Sweet isn't a word I'd choose to describe my brother. Especially not since we spent years apart and he joined the MC. He's changed."

We get closer to the house and my eyes roam over every inch, surprised by what I'm seeing.

When I imagined a clubhouse, I thought it'd be some dingy, unkempt bar or warehouse. I didn't expect an old, rustic farmhouse.

The road ahead opens up to a large patch of gravel where multiple menacing-looking, souped-up motorcycles are parked.

Liam pulls the car to the side and turns the engine off. A peaceful silence fills the car as we both stare at the large structure.

"I understand if you don't want to work here with everything you've probably heard around town about the club. But I promise, they're nothing like they're made out to be," he says. "They're people, just like us. They just have a different way of life."

"I'm the last person you need to explain that to," I tell him, placing my hand on his arm. "Thank you for trying to help me."

"Don't thank me yet. You haven't officially got the job."

Laughing, he opens his door and climbs out. I follow after him, smooth my hands over the cropped white T-shirt I have on, then tug the hem of my denim shorts down.

He starts toward the steps leading up the porch and the two wooden doors with a bright bar sign above it, but I remain rooted to the spot.

The windows on the lower level are spilling with light, casting shadows on the small deck outside, but the windows above bathe the roof below them in darkness. Flicking my gaze over to the right side of the large structure, there's another door with windows on either side and no sign above to specify where the door leads.

"You coming?" Liam asks as he stands at the top of the steps waiting for me.