Jackson nods in agreement. “Exactly. He’s just trying to play us for money, but if he’s on our side, he’ll do something for us first. We need him to show his hand. It’s not about trusting him right now; it’s about making sure he can keep his mouth shut until we decide what to do.”
I swallow hard, my mind racing. “And if he doesn’t keep his word?”
Beau’s eyes flick to the door, as if considering the possibilities. “We've handled worse than crooked cops. And they don't talk anymore. But right now… he might be useful. We just need to keep him on a short leash. If he has done this before, he knows that no one like us just instantly trusts him. I mean, hell, he’s a cop, and that’s all we know for sure.”
Jackson crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing. “The real trick is making sure he stays quiet. If he’s willing to do this for the right price, then we’ll play his game…our game. But the moment he slips, we’ll handle it.”
I glance between the two of them, unsure how I feel about all of this. Their current attitude lets me know they’ve been here before. They’re used to these kinds of games.
“Fine,” I finally say, my voice firm despite the storm brewing inside me. “We’ll deal with him for now.”
Jackson adds, Aria's tone more serious than I expected, “But we keep him close. We don’t trust him, not yet.”
The air is thick with the weight of decisions. One thing is clear: we’re going to have to dance with this dirty cop, at least for a while. But the moment he crosses us, he’s out. And I have a feeling, with Jackson and Beau by my side, we won’t be the ones getting played.
Chapter 8
Aria
I watch as Jackson sweeps the last pile of glass into the dustpan. His movements are careful, deliberate. I know he’s doing it because he doesn’t want me to get cut. Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded taking care of it. Cleaning up would have given me something to focus on instead of the storm around us right now.
Beau, on the other hand, is finishing up with the tarp that he ran a few stores down to pick up. He’s securing the last piece over the shattered window. His broad shoulders flex with every movement, his face a mask of concentration.
Dayla left right after the detective did. She was shaken up, but she insisted she’d be back tomorrow for her shift. Before she left, she mentioned that she’d be hitting the bottle to calm her nerves. I couldn’t blame her, honestly. She’s been through more on her first day than most employees would handle in a month. I told her again not toworry, that none of this was her fault. Still, I can tell by the way she looked at me when she left that she’s feeling guilty.
I lean against the counter as I watch the guys work. With every task they finish around the shop, it feels like we’re inching closer to normal.
Jackson's phone starts to ring, shattering the momentary peace. He pulls it out of his pocket without hesitation and looks at the screen. His expression flickers, then sharpens as he looks up at me. “It’s Nolan,” he says, his voice casual. He steps away from the counter and answers the call. I can’t hear what Nolan’s saying, but Jackson’s body language gives away everything. I watch his jaw tighten, his brows furrow, and his fingers tap against the side of the phone as he listens.
His gaze flicks to Beau briefly, and starts speaking in clipped sentences, his tone businesslike. “Yeah, that’s fine. Yeah, our place.” He rattles off our home address.
When he hangs up, he looks at both of us, “They’re here,” he says, his voice calm. “Nolan and Liam. We should probably start heading back to the house. It’ll be nice to see them both again.”
Beau doesn’t even hesitate. He nods and begins gathering the last of the supplies he used to cover the window. There’s something in his eyes. Something distant. Clearly,he's already moving into a different mode. A mode where he knows things are getting serious.
“Alright. Let’s go. I guess it’s time for me to officially meet your biker friends,” I say, taking a deep breath.
I’m sitting on the couch, legs tucked underneath me, watching Jackson and Beau move around the living room. Jackson’s cleaning up remnants of the mess we left behind this morning. Beau, on the other hand, is vacuuming the floor, picking up stuff as he goes.
“Nolan and Liam will be staying in a hotel while they are here.” Jackson says, voice steady as he works. “There’s only our bedroom, and the other room doesn’t have a bed. Plus, I think they might be too big to fit on the couch together.”
Beau stops vacuuming for a moment and tosses a glance over his shoulder. “Well, we’re not cramming them into our bed, that’s for sure.”
I laugh, the sound light. I pull one of the throw blankets next to me over my lap. “Yeah, I had to get used to sleeping with two men. I don’t think I could handle four.”
I feel the vibrations from bikes before the roar of the engines hit my ears. My heart pounds with anticipation of what's about to arrive at my front door. I have alwayslived a quiet life, and I can almost guarantee tonight will be anything except quiet. Jackson and Beau exchange a look. They have a way of communicating with each other where no words are needed. A quiet understanding passing between them. Beau's expression shifts to one that’s all fire and excitement. While Jackson’s expression softens just a touch. The faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. Before I can say anything, there’s a knock at the door.
Beau’s moving before I can even blink. He moves fast, his long legs eating up the distance. He slams open the door, and there they are. Liam and Nolan, filling up the doorway. The air crackles with a familiar tension, the kind that only comes from a reunion between brothers. This is between men who’ve seen things together, things that bond them in ways nothing else can.
“Alright, boys,” he says, giving me a quick glance before turning back to Liam and Nolan. “This is Aria, our girl.”
I slowly rise from the couch, my eyes immediately drawn to them as they take their place in the living room.
The first man steps up and shakes my hand, “This is Liam.” Beau says. He offers me a smile that’s equal parts charming and mischievous. He looks to be in his late twenties, probably around my age, with a clean-shaven head that makes the tattoos covering his neck and arms evenmore striking. His dark beard is full and tame. His eyes are the same sharp blue as Beau's, and they immediately assess me. His body’s lean, but you can tell he’s no stranger to strength. His muscles are defined, but not bulky like Jackson or Beau. He looks to be the shortest man in the room standing about six feet, but he still towers over me by several inches.
Next, Beau gestures to Nolan. My breath hitches a little when my gaze shifts to him. Somehow he's both intimidating and undeniably magnetic. His blonde hair is shaved on the sides with just enough length on top to give it some texture. The beard framing his jawline is the same color blonde matching his appearance perfectly. The next thing I'm drawn to is his eyes…wow. They’re the color of molten silver. Truthfully they are almost unnerving in their intensity.
He’s built like a wall of muscle. There’s no mistaking the power in his frame. He’s easily as tall as Jackson, maybe a little more, standing around six and a half feet. His presence is enough to make the room feel even smaller, and I can’t help but notice the way his body moves. Just like Jackson, he’s always on alert, ready for anything.
