Buck met that stare for a moment, then sighed, rubbing his jaw. “You mean to her or to us?”
That answer didn’t come, and Buck didn’t need it to. He moved on, pragmatic as always. “About that SUV, we found new tracks on the back trail just before sunrise. Whoever’s looking for her is circling.” That was exactly what Gorgon expected from Cole.
He finished his coffee and set the mug down carefully. “Fortify the east fence. Rotate the night runs. And—keep eyes off Kimi unless she asks for help.”
That earned him a look. “What’s the reason?”
“Because I said so,” Gorgon grumbled.
Buck smirked, a low huff that sounded too tired to be real amusement. “You keep running the club on mysticism and scowls, one of these days somebody’s gonna ask what’s really eating you.”
Gorgon rose without answering. “Then they should learn better than to question me.”
Outside, the air stung like a match struck too close to his skin. Snow dust flared in the sunlight, soft and dangerous. The compound woke around him—engines firing into life, hounds barking in the distance, the rhythm of another day pretending it wasn’t one wrong step from going sideways.
He walked toward the tree line out of reflex. When he needed space, this was where the noise of his head could breathe again. He caught himself tugging the cigarette from behind his ear, thumb striking the lighter before he realized he didn’t even want it. He shoved both back into his cut pocket because all he could think about was her. The way she looked that morning when he woke—the half-tangle of hair falling over one eye, the way fire and disbelief danced across her expression as she realized he’d been beside her all night. He hadn’t seen that much fury wrapped around that much grace in a long time. And if there was a god, it had a cruel sense of humor, because for the first time in months, he’d slept straight through the night, unbroken and oblivious, breathing in the scent of someone who wasn’t a ghost. For one night, he wasn’t in charge of anyone or anything. He was just a man whose body remembered what peace felt like, and that’s what bothered him the most.
“Prez.” Trudi’s voice cut through the wind before she appeared beside him. She handed him a mug of something dark, her expression half amusement, half warning.
“You look worse than the coffee tastes,” she said. He didn’t argue—he felt like shit, so she was probably correct in her assessment of him. She sipped her own drink, following his gaze toward the tree line. “Word travels fast in small towns. You want to tell me why everyone’s whispering about you kicking down the wrong door last night?”
His mouth ticked. “I didn’t kick anything. I walked in.”
“And fell into her bed,” Trudi said. She didn’t sound like she was accusing him of anything, but it still felt like an interrogation.
“Wasn’t intentional,” he insisted.
“Oh, I believe that,” Trudi said, eyes glinting with what looked like mischief. “But the rest of the club is convinced the frost broke clean off hell when they found out that our Prez made himself comfortable in the new girl’s room.”
“She’s not—” He stopped himself before saying what was on the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.” There, that was the simple truth, and Trudi could just take that bit of information back to his nosey brothers.
“Sure,” Trudi said softly. He could tell that she wasn’t finished questioning him, though. He stared at the snow until silence settled between them again. After a moment, she reached out, touched his arm lightly—the smallest gesture, but one heavy with years of loyalty.
“I’ve known you a long time,” she said. “You don’t stumble into anyone’s room by accident, Gorgon. And you sure as hell don’t let anyone near enough to breathe your air while you’re asleep. So if you ended up in her bed, maybe that means something you don’t want to see yet.”
He kept his response simple. “Things that mean something to someone usually come at a cost.”
She smiled, sad but knowing. “Everything costs something, just make sure she’s worth the price that you’ll have to pay.” He didn’t say anything, and Trudi stood there next to him in silence for what felt like hours, not just minutes. When she seemed satisfied with his answers, she nodded and then turned to leave, and he appreciated her for that. The one thing he knew Trudi would give him was the truth, and he always liked her for being a straight shooter. She was right about one thing—he’d pay a price to be with Kimi, but for some reason, he just didn’t care.
Gorgon spent the next few hours in the garage, working on an old, half-dead Harley just for the sake of doing some honest work. He’d always loved working with his hands, and the best part was that the engine didn’t talk back, the wrench didn’t ask why he looked so damn tired, and the smell of oil drowned the thoughts he couldn’t cage.
Still, every time he closed his eyes, she crept back into his head. The way that Kimi’s voice sounded when she said his name, and the tremor in her tone when she told him about taking that envelope, made him want to protect her with all his might. But what cost would his club pay if he did that for her? He couldn’t let Cole get his hands on her again—he was sure of that. The part of him that had learned long ago to stay away from broken things wanted nothing more than to shield her from everything chasing them both—past or future.
By the time afternoon rolled in, he’d rebuilt the carburetor, replaced a valve, and run out of excuses for staying inside. He stepped out into the pale daylight and saw her near the shop door, hair pulled back, Trudi’s spare coat hanging heavy on her small frame. The fur collar brushed her cheeks when the wind caught it, and for a heartbeat, he thought about how easily she’d fit against him again if he just reached out and pulled her close. But he didn’t move.
She noticed him before he could step back into the shop—of course, she did. Even fear couldn’t dull instincts that sharp. Her chin lifted like she was bracing for another rule, another command from him as he walked up to her.
Her breath clouded in front of her as she said, “What now, Gorgon? You here to assign me guard duty or bring coffee as a peace offering?”
He stopped a few feet away, his voice low. “I came to apologize.”
Her brows rose, surprise on her beautiful face. “I didn’t think you did that kind of thing.”
“I don’t,” he grumbled.
“And yet here you are,” she teased, wearing a sassy smirk on her lips that he wanted to kiss away.
He let out a slow breath. “I thought I was walking into my own room last night after my shift was over. I didn’t mean to lie down beside you, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to stay. That’s on me. I should have paid more attention.”
