Home turf.
For Saint, it meant club, family, and responsibilities. For Beth, it hopefully represented safety, love, and healing, but she feared it also meant facing hard truths.
He felt the tension humming through her body the closer they got. Every time he slowed for a town or a light, her fingers flexed slightly at his waist, like she was bracing for impact.
They stopped once more at a small station on the outskirts of town so Beth could duck into the bathroom. When she returned, her makeup was heavy on her throat and cheeks. She looped a scarf loosely around her neck despite the warm weather. It wouldn’t fool Copper or Shell for long, if at all, but he didn’t call her on it.
He’d already sealed his fate by keeping information from his president.
By the time the familiar road to the clubhouse appeared, Saint’s chest felt tight. He rode in slowly with gravel crunching under his tires and the low rumble of his bike carrying over the quiet of the late afternoon.
The compound was its usual controlled chaos with bikes parked in a line, a few brothers milling about, smoke curling from the grill out back, and the faint thump of music coming from inside the clubhouse.
Out front, at one of the heavy wooden picnic tables that had seen more than their fair share of beer, laughter, and threats, sat Copper and Shell.
Copper’s massive frame was kicked back on the bench, one forearm resting on the table, a bottle of beer in hand. Shell sat tucked into his side, their shoulders touching, her legs crossed, her blonde hair up in a messy knot.
They both looked up at the sound of Saint’s bike.
His stomach gave a slow, uneasy roll.
He cut the engine. The sudden silence rang in his ears louder than the screech of skidding tires. Beth’s arms loosened from around his waist, hesitating for a fraction of a second before she pulled away.
She slid off the bike, boots hitting the gravel, and lifted her helmet with shaking hands. Her scarf shifted, and Saint watched Copper’s gaze zero in on that tiny movement like a laser sight.
For half a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Copper set his beer down with deliberate care and rose to his full, imposing height. Beth let out a small squeak and then ran to her father at full speed. She threw herself into his massive arms, burrowing her face into his chest.
Beside him, a few tears escaped Shell’s eyes. Her gaze met Saint’s, and she smiled.Thank you, she mouthed.
He nodded.
He’d done his job.
Beth was home.
There wasn’t any reason for him to stick around and torture himself staring at her all night.
Beth glanced over her father’s shoulder and caught his eye. Something passed between them—gratitude, maybe, or the weight of shared secrets. Like her mother, she mouthedthank you, and he gave her a small nod.
Copper’s gaze found his next, sharp and knowing. Saint held it, gave his president a respectful chin lift, then climbed back on his bike. Time to find someone to fuck so he could stop fantasizing about his president’s gorgeous daughter.
CHAPTER SIX
I’M HOME.
When Beth launched herself at her father, he caught her with ease, as he did when she was a small child. His strong arms closed around her in the familiar and comforting hug she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed. He smelled of leather and sandalwood with a hint of the tobacco he still thought Shell didn’t know he indulged in occasionally.
She knew. Of course, she knew. The man couldn’t hide anything from his ol’ lady.
For one moment, everything in the world made sense. The stress, fear, and pain stayed back in Texas as Copper’s embrace transported her back to a time when life was simple, when her father’s hug could cure every manner of ail and heartache.
“’Bout time you came home to us.” His deep, gruff voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket, chasing away the chill that had settled in her heart months ago.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his massive chest. “Sorry I’ve stayed away so long.”
He grunted. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
