“I’m already addicted,” Morgan admitted, his energy was contagious. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.”
“Oh, we’ve got a convert,” Diesel laughed.
Hawk’s handshake was brief but sincere. “Nice to see you again under better circumstances,”he said quietly.
There was something about these men—a shared quality beneath their different exteriors. A watchfulness, a controlled strength, a deep loyalty to each other. Morgan could see why Bullet valued their friendship.
“Coffee and snacks before we hit the road?” Diesel suggested.
As the group moved toward the café entrance, Bullet reappeared beside her. His helmet off, but face once again concealed behind the mask and sunglasses.
Bullet touched her elbow, “It’s my turn to order, faster for us to take turns each week instead of all of us going up and ordering separately. Go ahead and sit and I’ll be back with stuff for everyone.”
As Bullet approached the counter, she followed the men towards a corner table away from other patrons, a little nervous to be left alone with his friends so quickly. Morgan noted how Hawk and Diesel positioned themselves—backs to walls, clear sightlines to exits. Must be their military habits.
She took a seat next to Diesel, and Viper slid into the seat across from her.
“So,” he said, giving her a onceover and an easy smirk, “You survived your first ride. Not bad.”
“I think I loved it,” Morgan admitted. “Once I got past the part where I thought I might fly off the back.”
Diesel chuckled beside her, making his crows feet prominent on his tanned face. “That’s how you know you’re doing it right.”
“She didn’t go running for the hills when they stopped," Hawk added with mock seriousness.
A flicker of doubt crept in. Was this their move? Take a girl for a ride, pull her into the circle, make her feel special—just long enough to get her hooked then drop her like a bad habit once they’d gotten what they wanted?
Before the thought could take root, Viper leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him.
“Weird, right?” he said casually. “It’s always just us guys on Sundays. You’re the first lady we’ve let crash the party.”
He didn’t say it like a warning. More like a quiet reassurance. A truth.
Morgan exhaled, tension she hadn’t realized was building easing from her shoulders.
“Good to know,” she said, offering a small smile. “I was starting to wonder if this was your usual recruiting tactic.”
Diesel snorted. “If that was our move, we’d all be off the market by now.”
Morgan smiled, but something in her chest shifted. Bullet had invited her—not just into his space, but into his life. His circle.
She glanced toward him, still in line, the back of his head clearly visible without the helmet, but still a mystery.
He brought me here.
She turned back to the guys. “Well, thanks for letting me tag along. I promise not to ask for matching jackets. Unless Viper has these in mens.” She gestured to her red jacket Bullet had arranged for her.
Diesel grinned. “Damn. And here I was hoping you’d start a trend.” He nudged Viper with his foot under the table. “When was the last time you got us anything?”
“When was the last time you asked?” Viper shot back with a grin.
Diesel’s eye roll and long suffering sigh brought out a laugh that Morgan quickly disguised as a cough.
“No one loves me around here.” Diesel whined to her.
She chuckled at the clear familiarity they had with one another.
Bullet returned with a tray of coffees and pastries. Morgan noticed he’d ordered her a vanilla latte—exactly what she would have chosen for herself. He must have been paying attention last night when she mentioned her coffee preferences.
