His response comes quickly:
Come home.
It's home now, not my motel room, not ATF temporary housing. His place, where my clothes are mixed with his in the closet and my Triumph sits in the garage next to his Harley.
I pack up my tablet and head out to the parking lot. Stow everything in the Triumph's saddlebag before mounting up.
The ride from the field office to Anchor Bay clears my head. Coastal hills rise on either side of the highway, fog rolling in from the ocean as late afternoon shifts toward evening. The wind cuts cold, speed builds, and the Triumph rumbles familiar beneath me.
By the time I reach Anchor Bay, the sun is setting over the Pacific. I head straight for Cole's house. Lights glow in the windows, his truck parked in the driveway.
I pull the Triumph in beside his bike and kill the engine. Pull my go-bag from the saddlebag before heading to the door.
He opens the door before I knock. Still in jeans and a t-shirt, tattoos visible on his forearms, hair slightly damp like he recently showered. The dangerous, controlled man who beat Kline and the careful lover who made me coffee this morning.
"You're staying," he says. It's a statement, not a question.
"Portland office. I can base out of here and commute when operations require it." I step inside and he closes the door behind me. "Bauman approved the transfer."
"What about DC?"
"Turned it down." I set my bag on the floor. "Lead investigator position, supervisory track, everything I've worked toward. But it would have meant giving this up. Giving you up. I'm not doing that."
His expression shifts. Something fierce and possessive beneath the careful control he usually maintains. "You sure about this? Federal agent and MC VP isn't exactly conventional."
"Nothing about us is conventional." I move closer and wrap my arms around his neck. "I watched you beat a suspectand chose not to stop you until I needed him breathing for prosecution. You stopped because I asked, not because you couldn't finish. We're both exactly who we are, and we're choosing each other anyway."
"Yeah." He pulls me against him, hands settling on my hips. "We are."
My phone buzzes. Text from Gemma:
Gathering at Ironside tonight. Axel's vote. You should come.
I show Cole the message. "Brotherhood business?"
"Axel's been prospecting for almost a year. Tonight's his vote." Cole heads toward the garage. "You coming?"
"To a club vote?" I raise an eyebrow. "I'm not a member."
"No. But you're family." He holds out his hand. "That's different."
I take his hand and follow him to the garage.
We mount up. The Triumph roars to life beneath me, and Cole's Harley rumbles beside me. We ride together through Anchor Bay as evening settles over the town.
Ironside Bar is packed when we arrive. We park our bikes out front with the other Brothers' rides. Inside, Brothers and their families fill the space, music playing from the jukebox, pool tables occupied, the atmosphere celebratory. Will stands behind the bar with Gemma, both of them laughing at something Shaw said. Mira sits at a table with several other women, and when she sees me, she waves me over.
Cole guides me toward the bar first. Will pours two beers and slides them across the counter.
"Heard you're staying," Will says. "Good choice."
"Portland transfer," I clarify. "Not leaving ATF."
"Didn't think you would." Will glances at Cole. "She keeps her career, you handle VP duties. Both of you get what you need."
"That's the plan," Cole says.
Gemma comes around the bar and hugs me. "I'm glad you're staying. Cole's been different since you showed up. Better."
