Twisted Road

"It was rather ironic that Lazar "Keys" Alexeev had been undercover for three solid months and not one incident had occurred. There had been no leads to find. No criminal activity that he could sniff out, and he was excellent at that. After three months of absolutely nothing, Czar, the president of Torpedo Ink, his motorcycle club, had shut down the mission. It sure as fuck should have ended there, but like an idiot he'd returned to that little nothing town in the middle of nowhere on the pretense of getting his hair cut. Then he spent time there he shouldn't have because he was breaking every rule Torpedo Ink had. Now he was paying the consequences. There was nothing like waking up with a blinding headache in a coffin-sized box with holes drilled in it so you knew there was torture coming. Hands behind his back with idiotic cuffs he was out of in about two-point-three seconds. But the best-or worst-was he was lying on top of another body. Female for damned sure. He'd know a female body if he were half-dead. His head was pounding like a mother, so it was possible he was close. He'd been close many, many times, and he was still alive. Mistake on their part. Bashing him in the head and throwing him in a box with the intention of torturing him later was just about the fuckup of all fuckups"-- Provided by publisher.