The younger officer hesitated.A glance passed between the two men, some silent exchange.When the senior cop moved toward the door with Atilla at his side, the younger one lagged behind, hovering near the bar.Nervous energy rolled off him.
He stepped closer.Ace shifted, muscles bunching, putting a little more of his bulk between me and the badge.The officer kept his hands visible and empty, eyes flicking toward the front to make sure his partner remained occupied.
“Listen,” he murmured.“This conversation never happened.”He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.“Detective Mercer out of Oakridge has been ringing our station.Repeatedly.He has a line to our captain and keeps pushing for extra attention here.Surveillance, surprise checks, the works.He keeps talking about organized crime, drugs, reasons for warrants.”
My stomach dropped.The room seemed to tilt.Beside me, Ace went utterly still, predatory calm settling over him.
“What exactly has he claimed?”Ace asked.The question sounded gentle.The tone carried steel.
“Nothing solid.Nothing we can move on yet.He keeps spinning a story, calls the whole thing a favor to our captain.Claims he’s hunting someone dangerous, someone who might have ties to this club.”The officer’s gaze landed straight on me, no hesitation.Recognition lived there, sharp and certain.“He has a personal motive.Anyone paying attention sees the pattern.He wants pressure on this place, and he doesn’t care who gets crushed in the process.”
“Why tell me?”I forced the words out, voice rough around the edges.
He glanced toward the front again, checking distance and line of sight before answering.“I grew up watching dirty cops tear good people apart.Took the badge because I refused to be one of them.So when a detective starts throwing weight around for personal reasons, alarms go off fast.You and he clearly have history.Whatever story he’s selling, he isn’t honoring the spirit of the rules here.You deserve to understand the size of the storm coming.”
He stepped away before either of us could speak again, gone as quickly as he’d opened his mouth.A moment later he joined his partner near the entrance.The older officer gave Atilla a short nod and stepped outside.Patrol car engines turned over, lights shut off, and the cruisers rolled away.The silence they left felt heavier than the flashing reds and blues.
Brothers filed out soon after, reading the situation without needing orders.Less traffic around the bar meant fewer excuses for more “inspections.”Maui clapped Ace’s shoulder as he passed.Casey sent me a look full of questions and promise, a silentwe’ll talk later.Atilla paused last at the door.
“Lock everything down,” he said.“You call, we come.”
Then he disappeared, and the bar fell quiet around us.Even the walls felt tense under the officer’s warning.James had moved beyond stalking.Every time he found me, it was the same.He’d move slow at first, then it would escalate until he’d turned the system itself against anyone who sheltered me.
“We leave.”Ace began moving through closing checks.Lights.Windows.Doors.“House will be tighter.”
I nodded and pulled the auxiliary jacket closer, as if leather could shield me from institutional power.We worked through closing, silent and efficient, both of our minds stuck on the same problem.One man holding a badge suddenly controlled an entire department as a weapon.Pushing against power this large rarely ended in victory.
I had just turned the lock on the front door when an engine purred in the lot.Smooth, expensive sound.Headlights cut across the windows, and every nerve in my body snapped tight.
Recognition came in a rush.The slightly crooked passenger mirror.The small dent in the bumper.
The black sedan rolled to a stop parallel to the entrance.Distance between car and door shrank to nothing.I saw him clearly behind the glass.Hands on the wheel.Face lit by the dashboard.Eyes fixed on me.
Behind me, Ace crossed the room fast, footsteps purposeful, presence wrapping around my back like another shield.I still could not break my stare from the man behind the windshield.
James climbed out.
Dark hair cut regulation short.Clean-shaven.Jeans and a casual button-down designed to disappear in any crowd.A stranger would see a friendly neighbor heading out for a drive.I recognized the truth behind the packaging.Those hands.That mind.
He approached in measured confidence, every step controlled.Years of holding power had carved that gait into muscle memory.He stopped just far enough away to remain technically nonthreatening.His face shifted into an expression someone else might mistake for concern -- anyone who had never witnessed him break.It didn’t fool me for a second, and I was determined to keep the door between us, even if the glass window could easily be broken.
“Marci.”The way he said my name felt like nails raking down my nerve endings.“Sweetheart.Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t track you down?”
The pet name turned my stomach.Instinct screamedrun, hide, vanish!My muscles twitched with the urge to bolt for the storage room.Ace’s hand pressed warm and steady at the small of my back, grounding me, reminding me I no longer faced this man alone.
“You need to leave,” Ace said.“Right now.”
James shifted his attention to him, eyes sharpening.His gaze traveled over Ace, or what he could see of him through the glass, over the cut, over the protective stance.The smile he offered held no warmth.
“You must be the biker boyfriend.Ace, correct?I’ve spent time learning about you.About this little organization.About all the colorful adventures your members enjoy.”James drew his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen as if scrolling through notes.“The Savage Raptors present a fascinating history.Some records on paper.More in rumors.Smoke everywhere.Fire usually follows.”
“This qualifies as harassment.”I forced the words past my dry throat.“Walk away and leave us alone.”
“Harassment?”A short laugh escaped him, devoid of humor.“I’m checking on my fiancée.Making sure she stays safe.Making sure no one around here takes advantage of a vulnerable woman.”His gaze cut back to Ace, voice turning colder.“You and your little biker club stepped into a game you don’t understand.I’ve spent many years on the force and have commendations and contacts in three states.You pour drinks and collect assault charges.”
Tension gathered in Ace like a storm front.I felt the shift in his body, the impulse to close the distance and swing.Before he could give James the excuse he wanted, I reached back to place my hand against him.Hold.Not yet.
James saw the gesture and smiled again, satisfied.“Good sense.At least someone here can think clearly.”He slipped his phone away and adjusted his collar, casual movement hiding steel.“I’ll see you around, Marci.This fantasy you’re clinging to, this idea some motorcycle club can keep you sheltered?It’s nothing more than a story you tell yourself before reality shows up.”
