My mouth drops open. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” Sage grins. “I passed by earlier. Big, grumpy biker in a tiny coffee truck trying to figure out where the oat milk goes.”
I press both hands to my face. “Oh my God.”
“You should’ve seen the glare he gave some poor guy asking for extra whip,” she says. “Looked like he was two seconds from throwing down over it.”
A laugh slips out. Full. Unfiltered.
I forgot what that feels like.
Havoc lifts his chin slightly. “You want to go back to work, we’ll make sure it’s safe. Prospects posted. No one gets close.”
I look at him. “You’d do that for me?”
“If you matter to Viper,” he says simply, “you matter to the club.”
The words land like something more than a promise.
I glance at Sage.
She leans closer. “Or... you could come see for yourself.”
I nod, a smile tugging at my mouth. “Yeah. I’d love to see that.”
Chapter 5
Viper
Thesun’sbarelyup,and I’m already questioning my life choices.
Coffee. That’s what started this.
A girl with freckles and tired eyes. A hoodie two sizes too big. A smile she hides behind steam and routine.
Now I’m in her truck, behind her counter, facing a line of caffeine-deprived strangers like I didn’t just threaten someone yesterday.
“Next,” I bark.
The guy flinches. “Uh... large caramel latte. Oat milk. Extra whip?”
I stare at him. “You sure?”
He nods like his life depends on it.
I turn to the machine, jaw tight. It’s old, loud, and looks like it belongs in a mechanic's garage more than anyplace that servesfood. Half the buttons are worn to hell, the labels scratched out or smeared beyond saving.
I press one. Steam hisses back, shooting out the side like a warning. The whole damn thing shudders. I brace my hand on the counter, narrow my eyes, try again—slower this time.
Still makes no damn sense.
Just heat. Noise. Buttons that mock me.
The cup ends up mostly full. Doesn’t smell burned. I’ll take the win.
I slap a lid on and shove it across the counter. “Tip jar’s right there. Don’t be greedy.”
He throws in a dollar and bolts like I growled at his soul.
