Banshee strode over, her presence commanding as always as the Harlot’s Prez. Winter admired her confidence, the way she carried herself like a queen among warriors. “About damn time,” Banshee said, clapping Jace on the shoulder. “You look like you’ve been locked in a bunker. Loosen up, Agent. Tonight, you’re one of us. We’ve got this place well-guarded, and you’ll all be safe here. I’m going to borrow your woman for a while,” she said to Jace, taking Winter’s hand into her own. Winter’s smile widened as Banshee dragged her toward the dance floor. She didn’t miss the way that Jace stayed close, his eyes scanning the room, but even he couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. He needed this as much as she did, and tonight, they were going to make the most of their time out of their self-imposed prison.
The night seemed to fly by around them. Time went too fast as she laughed and danced with her friends. But by the time things started to wind down, she was ready to get off her swollen feet. Winter hadn’t thought about the baby slowing her down, but he had. She wasn’t the same party girl that she used to be,not that she’d change a thing about being pregnant with Jace’s baby. She couldn’t wait to be his mom or watch Jace with him. He was going to be a fantastic father, even if he protested every time she told him that.
Later, Winter leaned against Jace at the edge of the bar, her belly pressing into him as she sipped ginger ale. The music thumped around them, the laughter echoed off the walls, and for a fleeting moment, the danger outside of the clubhouse didn’t matter.
“This,” she murmured, her voice soft but certain, “is what I needed. Thank you.”
Jace kissed the top of her head, his palm steady against hers. “Then it was worth the risk.” She wasn’t sure if he believed that or not, but she was grateful to him for saying as much. She wanted to believe him, even as she caught the flicker of his eyes toward the door, always watching, always waiting, she knew that a part of him didn’t mean it. The storm hadn’t passed, but for tonight, they had found shelter in family at their clubhouse, and Winter, for the first time in weeks, felt alive.
JACE
Jace’s eyes locked on the man lingering near the door. He had been standing there most of the night, watching them. He wasn’t drinking, and Jace was pretty sure that he wasn’t part of the Bastards or with one of the Harlots. He was just watching—focused on him and his woman, and Jace’s instincts screamed at him to pay attention.
Winter leaned against him, smiling faintly as Rebel tugged her toward the dance floor again, but Jace’s grip tightened on her hand. “Stay close,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. He scanned the room. Savage was at the bar, Banshee was laughing with Dallas, and Rebel was already halfway across the floor. The Bastards and Harlots were everywhere, but none of them had noticed the stranger standing at the door yet. How had they all missed him?
Jace’s pulse hammered in his own ears. He had two choices: confront the man now or slip Winter out quietly before anyone else caught on that they were being watched. He quickly made his decision. He wasn’t about to run—not here, not with his family and friends having his back. He walked across the dance floor and grabbed Winter’s hand, squeezing it once to get herattention, then released it. “Stay with Banshee,” he said firmly. She opened her mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes seemed to silence her.
He moved through the crowd, his body tense and ready for a fight. The man at the door shifted slightly, as if realizing Jace was coming for him. Their eyes met, and he noticed that the guy’s eyes were cold and calculating.
“Do we have a problem?” Jace asked, his voice low but edged with steel.
The man smirked but didn’t bother to answer him. That was all Jace needed. He stepped closer, brushing the edge of his jacket where his weapon rested to give the guy an eyeful of his gun. Savage appeared at his side like a shadow, his presence sudden and solid, and Jace was damn thankful that his club’s Prez was paying attention.
“Do we have trouble over here?” Savage muttered.
“Yeah,” Jace said. “He’s not here for the drinks, and I’m pretty sure that he’s not a Royal Bastard.”
Savage’s jaw tightened. “Dead Rabbits then?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jace replied. “I was just about to ask our new friend here that question. So, you here for the Christmas cheer or to spy on my girl and me?”
The man finally spoke, his voice calm, almost amused. “You don’t belong here, agent. Thought you were smarter than this, I guess I was wrong. You really took a chance bringing your girl and unborn baby out for a night on the town. You do know that if you had just stayed away, we might have never found you? Hell, we were about to fucking give up even looking for you.”
Jace’s blood ran cold. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you. If you had just minded your fucking business and stayed out of our club, you might still be safe—but now, all bets are off.”
Savage stepped forward, his cut catching the neon light. “You’ve got about three seconds to explain yourself before this whole bar decides you’re a problem,” he growled.
The man’s smirk faltered, but only slightly. He glanced past Jace, toward Winter, and that was enough to ignite the storm inside Jace. His hand closed around the grip of his weapon, ready to defend her and his unborn son. Winter’s laughter had faded, and he knew that she was watching from across the room. He turned to find her face pale, and her hand pressed protectively against her belly. Jace met her eyes for a heartbeat, silently promising he wouldn’t let anything touch her, and she nodded as though reading his thoughts.
The man at the door shifted again, and the Bastards began to close in, circling like wolves. The tension snapped tight, the air charged with the promise of violence. Jace’s voice was steady and lethal. “You picked the wrong night to show up here, asshole.” And with that, Savage Hell was ready for a fight.
The man at the door shifted again, his smirk widening as if he knew exactly how to needle Jace. That look toward Winter had been the final straw, and the guy knew it. Jace’s hand tightened on his weapon, but before he could draw, Savage stepped forward, his voice booming across the bar. “You have three seconds to tell me why you are here, fucker,” he warned.
The man sneered. “You think you scare me? You’re all just noise.” That was it. It was all he could take, and Jace lunged at the guy. Jace slammed the man against the doorframe, his forearm pressed hard into his throat. The stranger fought back, swinging wildly, but Jace’s grip was like iron around the guy. Savage was pulling the man’s arm behind his back, twisting until bone threatened to snap.
Banshee shoved Winter behind her, shielding her with a ferocity that made Jace’s chest tighten even as adrenalinesurged. His sister, Rebel, flanked Banshee’s side, giving Winter extra protection.
The man managed to break free, shoving Jace back a step. He swung a fist, connecting with Jace’s jaw. Pain flared through his jaw, but Jace didn’t let it stop him. He drove forward, tackling the man to the ground. The fight spilled into the center of the bar. Jace pinned the man, fists hammered down around him, each strike fueled by weeks of tension and the sight of Winter’s scared face across the room. Savage barked orders as the Bastards formed a circle to keep the crowd back. Banshee stepped in, her boot catching the man’s ribs with a crack that made him howl.
“Dead Rabbit,” she spat. “Knew it the second I saw him.”
The man snarled, blood on his lips. “You can’t hide forever. They’re coming for all of you, and they certainly haven’t forgotten about you, Banshee.” She and her brother were the reasons why the Dead Rabbits were mixed up with the Bastards and Harlots in the first place. They had followed them to America from Ireland, wanting their pound of flesh from each of them for wronging the Rabbits somehow.
Jace’s fist silenced him, the words cut short by the crunch of bone. The man lay broken on the floor, groaning, his threat hanging heavy in the air. Savage hauled him up by the collar, dragging him toward the back of the bar. “We’ll deal with him,” he growled.
Jace stood there, chest heaving, knuckles raw. His eyes found Winter across the room. She was safe—Rebel’s arm still around her, her hand pressed protectively to her belly. Relief hit him like a wave, but it was laced with fury. They weren’t safe, not really. The Rabbits knew it too. He worried that they might never be safe if they stayed in Huntsville. Hell, they might never be safe no matter where they landed, but that was something he’d have to worry about later because right now, he needed to get Winterout of Savage Hell and back to the safehouse before any more of the Dead Rabbits decided to show up at the clubhouse.
Jace wiped the blood from his jaw, his storm burning hotter than ever. “This was just the beginning,” he muttered, voice low, meant only for Winter. She nodded and took his offered hand, and in that moment, he knew that there would be no more safe places to hide.
