"Reaper's intense, but he's fair. We tell him everything, he'll help us figure this out." He holds out his hand. "The watch."
I reach into my pocket, pulling out the sleek case. "You realize I'm going to lose my client, my payment, and probably my reputation over this."
"Better than losing your life." He doesn't lower his hand. "Your call, but that thing's not coming to the clubhouse without Reaper knowing about it."
I hesitate. The watch represents a significant payday, but he's right. It's more liability than asset now. And whoever set me up clearly has resources and information I don't.
"Fine." I hand it over. "But I want answers. Someone set me up, and I need to know who."
"We'll get them." He tucks the watch into his jacket. "The club has connections, resources. If anyone can find out who these people are, it's them."
"And what if they decide I'm not worth the trouble?" It's a real concern. I'm nobody to these men.
"You're James's family," Dice says simply. "That makes you mine. And the Outlaw Order protects its own."
There's that word again. Family. He always says it like it means something unbreakable, like it's not just blood or circumstance but choice.
"Your brother..." A thought occurs to me. "James's release is in five days. These people know about him. What if they target him?"
Dice's expression hardens. "All the more reason to get the club involved. They won't get near him. I'll make sure of it."
The fierce protectiveness in his voice reminds me of why James always spoke so highly of his little brother, despite the constant worry. Beneath the recklessness and charm, there's a loyalty that runs bone-deep.
"Okay," I concede, surprising myself. "The clubhouse it is."
He looks surprised too, clearly having expected more resistance. "Just like that?"
"Don't get used to it." I push off from the wall. "But those men knew too much, and I don't like being the hunted one. If your club can help figure out who's behind this, I'm willing to face the music."
As we mount the bike again, I'm aware of how quickly everything has changed. Twenty-four hours ago, I was manipulating Dice Thompson, seeing him as a useful pawn in my game. Now, I'm trusting him with my life, and worse, trusting his judgment.
Control. I've always needed it, craved it, used it as armor against a world that showed me its cruelest face when I was just a child.But tonight, when those men grabbed me, when my laid plans shattered around me, it wasn't control that saved me.
It was Dice. Reckless, impulsive Dice, who leapt without looking and somehow landed exactly where he needed to be.
As we tear through the night, his body solid and warm against mine, I realize I'm in dangerous territory. Not just because unknown enemies are hunting us, but because for the first time in years, I'm not the one in control.
And the most terrifying part? I'm not sure I want to be.
Chapter 6 - Dice
The road back to Pine Haven stretches dark and empty before us, the Dyna's headlight cutting through the night like a blade. Maddie's arms are wrapped tightly around my waist, her body pressed against my back. I can feel her heartbeat, still too fast. Mine isn't much better.
My shoulder throbs where one of those bastards got in a lucky hit, and my knuckles are raw from the fight. But I'm alive. We're both alive. That's what matters.
The adrenaline is fading now, replaced by a cold, calculating anger. Someone set Maddie up. Someone who knows about me, about James. Someone who was willing to kidnap her, or worse, to send a message.
This isn't some random job gone wrong. This is personal.
I take the long way back to town, sticking to back roads and watching constantly for headlights behind us. Paranoid, maybe, but after what just happened, paranoid feels like the smart play for once.
"You okay back there?" I call over my shoulder, feeling Maddie shift her position slightly.
"Fine," she shouts back, but her grip on me tightens.
I don't believe her for a second, but now isn't the time to push it. We need to get to the clubhouse, to safety. Then we can figure out what the hell is happening.
The clubhouse comes into view, its neon sign a beacon in the darkness. Even at this late hour, the parking lot is half-full. Club business never really stops.
