“Swan—”
“I’m serious, Bones. Why risk pissing off Stone? Why ride fifteen hours for me? Why do any of this?” She leans forward. “When you patched into the MC, you swore to hold the club above everything else—that includes me.”
The last place I want to have this conversation is a knockoff Starbucks off I-85, with toddlers wailing and parents mainlining caffeine. But there’s never a good time for talks like this.And Emma’s eyes cut right through the noise—sharp, alert, all that road-weariness stripped away by curiosity and something darker under it.
I rest my elbows on the table and consider how honest I want to be. I could give her the normal MC answer—loyalty, brotherhood, code—but she’s heard all that before. Hell, she grew up in it. I could tell her the truth, that even brotherhood has its limits, and mine is the woman across from me.
“My patch is everything to me,” I say, because it’s still true. “But I swore to keep you safe first. I made that promise before I ever put on this cut, and I’m not about to break it now.”
She frowns like she thinks it’s a dodge, but I hold her gaze and let her see I mean it.
“The club is family. But so are you. And if I have to piss off Stone to take care of you, I will. Every time.”
I brace for the retort, the sass, the deflection she always uses when things get too real.
Instead, she just looks at me a long moment—eyes wet and alive despite the exhaustion—then nods.
“Fine. But the next time you stick a tracker in me without asking, I’m drawing dicks on your face while you’re sleeping.”
I smirk. “So you’re expecting we’ll be sleeping together again, huh?”
She wads up a napkin and throws it at me. “In your dreams, asshole.”
“Why dream when we both know reality’s way better?”
She flips me off, but her mouth twitches. For a second she looks almost like herself—the Emma who cracks wise, takes no shit, and refuses to let fear steer her. The girl who used to kiss random boys just to piss off her dad—and me—while treating curfew like a competitive sport.
I’m about to say something else when my phone buzzes.
Tank:
Boss is on the warpath. Whatever you did, fix it.
I don’t respond.
Another buzz.
Duck:
Heard you took the princess to NY. You’re either brave or stupid.
Me:
Both
As soon as I hit send, I shove my phone back into my pocket.
“We should get back on the road.”
“OK.” Emma downs the last of her terrible coffee and stands, stretching. “How much longer?”
“Another nine, maybe ten hours. Depending on traffic once we hit the northeast.”
“Jesus.” She looks exhausted just thinking about it.
“We’ll stop every few hours to refuel and rest. Without rushing, I can still have you home by tonight.”
“Not sure I’ll be able to feel my ass by then, but let’s go,” she groans, and I try not to smile as she grabs her helmet from the table and shoves it on her head. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
