“King first came to me through a contact who needed a vehicle rebuilt, modified, and made untraceable. But not illegal on paper. I handled it flawlessly and kept my mouth shut. He kept sending work my way, watching how I operated. Eventually, he saw I had what he wanted in a Hound—a code and loyalty, but I wasn’t greedy and didn’t panic under pressure. That’s when he asked me to prospect.”
“And found brothers who have your back instead of trying to plunge a knife in it,” I whispered.
“Exactly.” Griffin’s hand stroked up and down my arm as he continued. “The Hounds run several legitimate businesses, but our main source of income is giving people completely new, untraceable identities so they can disappear and start over when they’re in real trouble.”
“Wow,” I breathed, my eyes going wide.
“I saw what the club truly was—a brotherhood built on loyalty and a code I respected,” he explained. “They weren’t criminals for the sake of it. They protected their own and used controlled violence against the right people. It spoke to something in me. So I sold my shop, left Atlanta, and patched in. Found a purpose and a family.”
I nodded, getting where he was coming from with all I’d seen from his club since I’d been in Riverstone. “And a place where your skills matter beyond profit.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, his blue eyes searching mine. “Outside the club, my name still carries weight in the custom automotive world and in quieter circles where discretion matters. But the full extent of what I’m capable of isn’t widely known. The ones who’re aware don’t talk about it.”
Griffin was so much more than I’d realized—talented, dangerous in the best way, and fiercely protective. It turned me on more than I wanted to admit.
“You’re kind of a badass,” I whispered, a smile tugging at my lips. “And it’s ridiculously hot.”
Griffin’s eyes darkened with heat as I leaned in to kiss him, the rest of the world fading away while we lost ourselves in each other.
14
CROSS
Two days later, I was elbow-deep in the engine of a battered ’69 Camaro, grease coating my fingers as I tightened a stubborn bolt. My muscles flexed under the strain, but I welcomed the feeling—it helped clear my mind, grounding me when everything else seemed unsettled lately.
My phone vibrated in my back pocket, the insistent buzz breaking my focus. Grumbling under my breath, I straightened, wiped my filthy hands on a rag, and pulled it out. King’s name flashed on the screen, and a jolt of alertness replaced my annoyance.
“Yeah?” My voice was tight, tension already threading through my muscles as I waited for King to speak.
“Compound. Now. Bring Hannah and Isa with you.”
He hung up without another word, leaving me staring at the silent phone for half a beat. Then I was in motion, immediately tossing my tools aside and making my way to the small office to wash the worst of the grease from my hands. Something was clearly wrong, and King’s clipped, demanding tone told me he wasn’t messing around.
In less than fifteen minutes, I was home. Hannah had just finished feeding Isa and was putting away dishes in the kitchen, her golden hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She wore simple jeans and a soft, fitted sweater that hugged every one of her irresistible curves, reminding me again how hard it was to keep my damn hands off her.
I couldn’t help but linger in the doorway for a second, drinking her in, my gaze dropping to her ass as she bent slightly to grab a cup from the dishwasher. Just that simple motion had heat pooling low in my gut, stirring my cock to attention. It was a fucking testament to my self-control that I didn’t drag her off to the bedroom every five minutes during the day. Although it certainly happened frequently enough.
She glanced up, startled by my sudden appearance, her eyes immediately narrowing with concern as she took in my tense posture. “Griffin? What’s wrong?”
“We need to go.” My voice came out harsher than I meant it to be. I took a breath, forcing myself to ease my tone. “King wants us at the clubhouse. Grab Isa’s things.”
She didn’t hesitate, swiftly gathering what Isa would need while I put our girl in her carrier. My stomach tightened when I saw the slight tremble of her hands. I moved to her side, laying my palm gently on her lower back as I picked up Isa and we headed out the door. Neither of us spoke, the tension palpable in the confined space of my SUV as I drove to the compound.
King was already waiting outside when we pulled through the gates, his posture rigid and expression grim. I got out, rounded the SUV, and helped Hannah climb down before opening the back to unbuckle Isa’s car seat. I pulled it from the SUV, and Hannah quickly scooped her out of it, holding her close to her body.
Stella stood beside King, and when we walked toward them, he gestured toward Hannah and Isa. Stella immediately moved forward, her eyes kind and reassuring.
“Why don’t you come with me?” she suggested to Hannah, giving her a gentle smile as she reached for the diaper bag. “You and Isa can hang out at our place while the guys talk.”
Hannah hesitated, glancing up at me, confusion and worry swimming in her deep brown eyes. I gave her a small nod, squeezing her hand gently. “Go with Stella. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
She bit her bottom lip, clearly sensing my tension despite my attempt at reassurance, but nodded. The sight of my daughter in Hannah’s arms stirred my protectiveness, but I knew they were safe there. King and Stella lived in a big house that had been built off the back of the clubhouse. It was removed from the main areas, but it was every bit as secure.
I wanted to inquire as to why King seemed to want my girls sheltered beyond the clubhouse, but as soon as they disappeared, his gaze locked onto mine, his eyes steel-hard and unreadable. “Office.”
I followed him inside, my skin prickling as I noted the unusually high number of enforcers casually gathered in the common room. They hung out at the bar drinking, playing pool, or were sprawled on one of the couches watching a race on the big TV. Their relaxed postures were deceptive, though. Beneath the easy demeanor, each man radiated a heightened, focused alertness that screamed trouble.
King’s office door shut behind me with a heavy click, and I immediately took in the scene. Blaze leaned against King’s desk, absently stroking Cerberus’s massive head. The Cane Corso leaned heavily against his leg, demanding affection in a moment of puppy-like behavior. Blaze rolled his eyes in mildexasperation but continued to scratch Cerberus’s ears, clearly resigned to being the dog’s personal attention dispenser.
