Greyson turns toLivie.“You should’vecome to me.”
“This wasn’t club business,”Liviefiresback.“Itwas family business.Woman business.”
“Xavier is under Zach’s protection,”Greysoncounters.“That makes it our priority.”
Iwatchthemsquareoff,tensioncracklinglikestatic.
Finally,Ithrowbackmyheadandlaugh a rough,humorless sound.“Jesus Christ, you women are terrifying.Remind me never to piss any of you off.”
Greyson’slipstwitch.Thefightdrainsoutofhim, andheglancesat Tiana.“What exactlywereyou planning if we hadn’t shown up?”
“Exactly what we did,” Tiana replies,shoulders back.“Deliver a message she wouldn’t forget.”
Greyson raises an eyebrow.“And if she’d called the cops?”
Meadowstepsforward.“Not after what she did to Xavier.Herword againsthis, with herrecordof homophobic comments?Sheknowsshe’dlose.”
Inodslowly.Respectforthesewomenwarmsmychest.Ipulloutmyphoneandcheck the time.“Xavier’s waiting for me.He can’t know about this.Not yet.”
“He won’t hear it from us,”Tiana promises.“As far as we’re concerned, this never happened.”
I hesitate, thenwrapTianainaone-armedhugso tight she squeaks.“Thank you,”Imurmurintoher hair.“For having his back.”
* * *
Xavier
I had to swing by my apartment to grab some extra clothes since we’re all still camped out at the clubhouse.The bulletproof vest Zach insists I wear chafes slightly against my skin as I climb into Demon’s truck, the weight of it a constant reminder of the danger that hasn’t fully passed.
Demon, Techy’s son, is my assigned bodyguard for the day.He’s a few years younger than me, but what he lacks in age he makes up for in the intimidation factor.Tattoos crawl up his neck and across his jawline, disappearing beneath the collar of his cut and only to reappear on his hands.Despite the menacing appearance, there’s something of his mother in his eyes, a gentleness that contradicts the hard exterior.
“Is everything going okay out there?”I ask, buckling my seat belt.“Has the MC attacked again?”
Demon starts the engine, the truck rumbling to life beneath us.He glances at me, one tattooed hand resting casually on the steering wheel.“I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say,” he starts, then his mouth curls into a wicked grin that reminds me of his father.“But if they were, then they’re dead.”
The casual way he references potential violence should probably disturb me more than it does.Instead, I find myself nodding, a strange sense of comfort settling over me at the thought of the club’s protection.It’s a world I’m still getting used to, this blend of danger and family, violence and loyalty.
We pull up to the clubhouse, the familiar building now feeling more like a second home than the intimidating structure it was just days ago.The parking lot is packed with motorcycles and a few cars, evidence of the continued lockdown.Outside the gate, a group of girls in their early twenties hover like moths around a flame, clearly hoping to be let inside.The prospect in the guard shack, Cash, I realize as we get closer, watches them with a mixture of wariness and appreciation.
I wave as we pass, and Cash returns the gesture with a lazy salute, his attention immediately returning to the women.The truck hasn’t even fully stopped when I hear it, the distinctive rumble of a motorcycle approaching from behind, a sound I’ve come to recognize as easily as my own heartbeat.
My pulse quickens, a smile spreading across my face before I can even think to contain it.I know without looking who it is.
“Damn, you got it bad for our enforcer, don’t you?”Demon teases, putting the truck in park.
Heat rises to my face, but I don’t bother denying it.“Is it that obvious?”
“Bro, your whole face just lit up like the fucking Christmas tree my mom insists on putting up every year.”He laughs, shaking his head.“It’s almost embarrassing to watch.”
I should probably be offended, but there’s no real malice in his words, just the good-natured ribbing I’m starting to recognize as the club’s way of showing acceptance.Before I can respond, the motorcycle pulls up alongside us, engine cutting off with a final rumble.
Zach swings his leg over the bike with that fluid grace that still catches me off guard.He removes his helmet, running a hand through his hair to smooth it back, and my mouth goes dry at the sight.Three days into whatever this is between us, and he still affects me like a teenager with their first crush.
“Hey,” he says, approaching my side of the truck.His eyes scan me quickly, a habit I’ve noticed, checking for injuries or threats, making sure I’m whole and safe.
“Hey yourself,” I reply, stepping out of the truck.The urge to touch him is almost overwhelming, but I’m still learning the protocols here, still figuring out what’s acceptable in front of others.
Zach has no such hesitation.His hand settles on the small of my back, a casual claim that sends warmth spreading through me.“Everything go okay at the apartment?”
