He closed the distance halfway, his hand lifting to cradle my jaw as his mouth met mine.The first brush of lips felt tentative, careful, tasting of coffee and patience and stubborn hope.My palm pressed to his chest, feeling the steady drum of his heart, and I answered the kiss with everything I had locked down.
His other hand settled at my waist and drew me closer.The kiss deepened, moved from question to answer, from caution to certainty.Heat unfurled through my bones, a full-body awareness of the exact moment this stopped revolving around protection and shifted into something we both needed.
When we finally parted, our breath came rough and uneven.He rested his forehead against mine, thumb stroking along my cheekbone, a small tremor running through his hand.
“Marci.”
“I know.”The words slipped out on a whisper.I understood without more explanation.Lines had moved.We no longer stood only as protector and protected.A fight for something bigger had begun, one where my dream of a garden and his hunger for belonging wove together into a future neither of us had ever believed possible.
The fire burned low, shadows stretching across the porch.Ace’s hand stayed on my face, his thumb tracing lazy shapes on my skin.For the first time in two years, thoughts of tomorrow didn’t come wrapped in flight.
They came wrapped in the possibility of staying.
* * *
Ace
The parking lot atThe Broken Spokeoverflowed when we pulled in, bikes lined in a neat row, chrome catching late-afternoon light.I recognized every one on sight -- Wildcard’s custom Fat Boy, Ravager’s Softail running long forks, Maui’s rebuilt Dyna.Brothers had gathered, judging by the lineup.I cut the engine and looked toward Marci, watching her read the scene through careful eyes that scanned for danger even on calm days.
“What’s going on?”she asked.
I already had a solid guess, but I only shook my head.“We’ll find out.”
Three days at Atilla’s cabin had taken the edge off both of us.Some of the tension had bled from Marci’s shoulders, and I had managed something close to real sleep without snapping awake at every small noise.The space and quiet had helped.Still, hiding never counted as a permanent option.The bar needed running, and real life kept rolling forward even while a cop carrying a grudge stalked your woman.
I climbed out, rounded the hood, and rested my hand at the small of Marci’s back as we walked toward the door.The touch had turned into routine -- quiet claim and warning in a single motion.Before we reached the entrance, the door swung open and Knuckles filled the frame.
“About damn time,” he said.“We’ve been waiting on you two.”
The main room looked normal.Chairs rested stacked on tables from morning cleanup.No customers yet, nothing obviously out of place.Voices drifted from the back, low music underneath, and a rough rumble signaling the brothers had taken over the rear space.Marci hesitated for a heartbeat before stepping inside, and I kept my hand on her as we moved toward the back room.
The door stood open.Cigarette smoke curled through the air.Inside, tables had been shoved together into a long banquet-style covered in bottles and glasses.Most of the Savage Raptors had arrived.Atilla in his usual spot, back to the wall.General near the jukebox holding a beer.Spade and Rebel arguing softly by the pool table.Leather and smoke lingered, heavy, familiar and oddly comforting.
Every head turned when we stepped inside.Marci edged closer, fingers wrapping around my arm.I scanned the faces quickly.No hostility.Just curiosity and something warmer.
“There they are,” Maui called, flashing that easy grin.Casey sat beside him, her hand resting on his thigh like it belonged there, which it did.“Thought you decided to move into the cabin for good.”
“Tempting.”My hand stayed at Marci’s back.“Then you idiots would burn this place down for sure.”
Laughter rolled through the room, cutting tension.General nudged the volume on the jukebox a little higher, some old song about open roads playing soft under the noise.Casey rose from her chair, smoothing her jeans, and shared a look with Maui, a silent exchange telling me they had planned something.
She carried a package wrapped in plain brown paper, roughly the size of a folded jacket.Stopping in front of Marci, she offered the bundle through a smile warmer than I usually saw from her.Casey never extended her trust easily, which made this gesture even louder.
“For you,” she said.
Marci flicked a glance at me, uncertainty in her eyes.I gave a small nod.Her fingers worked at the paper, careful rather than ripping, and I watched her face more than the package.
Black leather appeared first, soft but sturdy, shaped for a woman’s frame.The Savage Raptors insignia covered the back, smaller than the patches on the brothers’ cuts but unmistakable.Auxiliary jacket.The kind reserved for women the club claimed and protected.
She turned the back toward herself and froze.I saw the exact second she read the words stitched in white.
Property of Ace.
Pressure gathered in my chest.I approved the patch when Atilla called a couple days ago, but seeing the words on real leather in her hands still hit hard.Deep.Right.
“Property of…” she started, voice trailing off as she looked up at me, blue eyes wide.
“Means you fall under my protection.”I kept my tone even.“Anyone who wants to hurt you walks through me first.Means I claim responsibility for you.”
