They joined the others at the railing. The Pacific Ocean stretched endlessly before them, sunlight dancing across the water like scattered diamonds, the Golden Gate Bridge small in the distance. Morgan leaned against the metal barrier, lifting her face to the warm sun and breathing in the refreshing salt air.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Hawk, his watchful eyes seeming to miss nothing.
“Breathtaking,” she agreed.
“Worth the numb butt?” Diesel grinned, offering her an open bag of trail mix.
“Absolutely,” Morgan laughed, accepting a handful. “I didn’t even notice until we stopped.”
“You’ll feel it tomorrow,” Viper commented, fiddling with a compact camera. His hands remained encased in thin black leather gloves, which Morgan found curious—she hadn’t seen him remove them even once.
As if sensing her curiosity, Viper glanced down at his hands. “In my line of work, hands are tools,” he explained. “I protect them.”
“Bullet said you were in fashion, and thank you again for the gear. What exactly do you do to have such pieces on hand?” Morgan asked, seizing the opening and gesturing to her outfit.
“Fashion design,” Viper answered, adjusting his gloves with meticulous care. “I work in the industry.” He nodded at her clothes, “Those are from a smaller line that I created a few years back. One of my associates, Beckett LaGrange, purchased the rights to the pieces. He has a local shop here in the bay area and he keeps them in stock for clients. Archer arranged for pickup and delivery, I just gave him Beckett’s info to arrange it and what I thought your size probably was. Glad it all worked out.”
Morgan appreciated his explanation, “So, are the gloves part of your signature look?”
“You could say that,” he replied with the hint of a smile.
“What about you?” Morgan asked, turning to Diesel, the friendly bearded giant who’d been making her laugh like they were buddies already.
He grinned broadly. “I make things go fast. Customize vehicles, mainly. Motorcycles, cars, that sort of thing.”
“That sounds rewarding. Seeing your creations in-action,” Morgan said, genuinely interested. She’d barely managed to change her flat tire years ago when she hit a curb wrong, and ever since then she’d owned a membership so she’d never have to experience the frustration again. Let alone knowing what was under the hood of her own car. “Do you have your own shop?”
“Something like that,” Diesel answered vaguely, though his pride was evident. “Been at it for a while now.”
Hawk, who had been quietly observing the conversation, straightened his posture slightly. “Security and Technology,” he offered before Morgan could ask, his precise manner evident even in casual conversation.
Morgan looked between the three men with new appreciation. These weren’t just weekend warriors playing at being bikers—they were professionals, each successful enough to afford the high-end motorcycles they rode and the obvious quality of their gear.
“So you’re all... quite successful,” she observed, trying not to sound too impressed.
“We do alright,” Diesel said with barely-concealed modesty.
“We had a good teacher,” Viper added, nodding toward Bullet with a meaningful look.
“Teacher?” Morgan asked, turning to Bullet curiously.
“Figure of speech,” he replied smoothly. “We all learned from each other.”
“Some more than others,” Diesel muttered, earning a sharp glance from Hawk.
A moment of silence fell over the group, heavy with shared history that went deeper than words could express.
“Stand over there,” Viper suddenly instructed, pointing toward the cliff edge. “The light’s perfect.”
Before Morgan could protest, she found herself being photographed against the backdrop of sea and sky, the red leather jacket vivid against the blue expanse.
“I feel ridiculous,” she laughed, but posed anyway.
“You look beautiful,” Bullet said just loud enough for her to hear. The simple compliment warmed her more than the afternoon sun.
“We should head to Shelly’s before they give away our table,” Hawk announced, checking his watch.
“Shelly’s?” Morgan asked as they walked back to the motorcycles and she twisted a hasty braid with her waves and tucked the end into the back of her jacket.
