Baja (Fallen Ravens MC #3)

12. Baja

12

BAJA

The heat of Alice pressed against me when I wake, and the scent of her lavender shampoo, clinging to her hair, wrap around me like a sweet haze. Everything about this moment feels right. Her in my bed—hell, in my life.

Alice is mine , and I’ll burn the fucking world down if it or anyone in it ever hurts her again.

I shut my eyes, soaking in the steady rhythm of her breath, soft yet grounding. For the first time in years—maybe ever—I feel a surge of peace I didn’t think was possible, crashing over me like a wave, pulling me under into unknown depths.

I gently pull her closer, my hand sliding over the curve of her hip, my rough fingertips brushing against her soft skin. She trusted me enough last night to let her guard down, to let me keep her safe, and that knowledge hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest. I don’t take her trust lightly, not after the hell she’s been through and not after what I had to do to make sure she could breathe easily again.

The memory of that motherfucker—his hands on her—has my blood heating fast. Anger claws its way up my throat, but I force it down and shove it into the pit where I keep all the other ugly parts of me. She doesn’t need my rage now. She needs the calm I can offer, only for her.

Alice stirs, her body shifting, bringing us face to face. Her lashes flutter against her cheek. When her eyes open, still soft and heavy with sleep, they lock onto mine. That look—vulnerable but laced with a quiet strength—hits me harder than any punch ever could. Then she smiles, tentative but genuine, and it’s like the goddamn sun just rose in my chest, knocking the air right out of my lungs.

Yeah.

She’s mine .

And nothing—no one—is ever taking her away.

“Mornin’.”

“Morning,” she whispers back.

“How you feelin’?” I ask, brushing a stray lock from her bruised cheek.

Her hand comes up to rest against my chest. The warmth of her touch sends a jolt straight through me. “Safe,” she says softly, her eyes searching mine like she wasn’t sure she could feel that way.

“As long as there’s breath in my lungs, nobody is touchin’ you again. Ever ,” I pledge.

Her smile falters.

“I mean it,” I say, leaning in, my forehead resting against hers. “You’re mine , and I’ll tear the world apart to keep you safe.”

Her breath hitches, and I see tears pooling in her eyes. Alice looks away, but I’m not letting her hide from me. Not now.

“Look at me, baby.” I tilt her chin, returning her gaze to mine. “No more runnin’, remember? Talk to me.”

Alice sighs, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of whatever she’s been carrying is finally too heavy. “You shouldn’t want me,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m older than you, Nash. I’ve been through things… things that make me… broken.”

“You think I give a damn about a few years? You think I see you as anything less than the strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met?” She blinks at me, stunned into silence, so I press on. “You’ve been hurt, baby. I get that. But you’re not broken. You’re here, aren’t you? You’re in my bed, in my arms. You survived. That’s strength, not weakness.”

Her lip trembles, and she shakes her head. “You don’t understand. My ex, he…” Her voice cracks, and she closes her eyes, forcing herself to go on. “He made me feel like I was nothing. He tore me down piece by piece until I didn’t even recognize myself. And when he wasn’t tearing me down with words, he?—”

The fire in my gut ignites, but I keep my voice calm and steady. “The bastard is dead,” I declare. “He doesn’t get to hurt you ever again.” I lean closer, letting every ounce of conviction seep into my words. “And if you let me, I’ll love you. I’ll remind you every damn day of the powerful woman you are until you finally feel it in your bones.”

Alice locks her gaze on me. I feel her processing my words, watching them burrow into her mind, setting off an internal battle. I witness the flicker of change, the shift inside her—the moment a new crack forms in the fortress she painstakingly constructed around her heart.

“Nash.”

How my name dances on her lips sends a rush through me, like a jolt of electricity. “Say you’re mine .”

Alice hesitates, her breath catching, and then she whispers, “I’m yours.”

I pull her closer. “And I’m yours, baby. That’s how this works.”

Her lips part, and I kiss her before I can stop myself. It’s soft at first, tentative, like I’m testing the edges of something fragile. But the second she melts into me, it deepens and becomes raw and consuming. My hand tangles in her hair and her fingers grip my forearm like she’s holding on for dear life. She’s letting me in, dropping more of the wall she built, and it hits me harder than I expect. I’m about to lose myself in her completely when a knock at the door yanks me back to reality like a bucket of ice-cold water.

I groan, my forehead dropping to hers as I bite back a curse. Her breath fans against my lips, quick and uneven. Her frustration is as evident as mine.

“Breakfast is on, brother.” Mystic’s voice filters from the other side of the door, muffled but loud enough to kill the moment.

I close my eyes, exhaling sharply. “Fuck off!” I let out a frustrated growl, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

There’s a thud—probably a boot against the doorframe—and Mystic adds, “Ma’s famous cinnamon rolls are disappearing fast, brother. She made them specifically with you in mind. Move it or miss out.”

My stomach growls loudly, causing Alice to laugh softly. “Jesus,” I mutter. Alice’s lips twitch into a small smile, the kind that makes my chest tighten in ways I’m not used to. “You hungry?” I ask, brushing my thumb along her jaw, carefully avoiding the bruise darkening her cheekbone. She winces slightly, and it brings everything crashing back to reality.

The bruises, the ribs—what she’s been through.

“Stop,” she says in a harsh tone as if she can read my thoughts.

The flush on her cheeks and the way her lips are still slightly swollen from the kiss are sights I can get used to.

I lean in and hover my mouth over hers.

Another thud hits the door.

“Fuck off!” I shout, followed by fading laughter and heavy footsteps. I shake my head, a low growl rumbling in my chest.

The bedroom door cracks open a little. I’m about to lose my shit on Mystic when Ozzy’s big, fluffy ass slinks in. Just as quickly, the door closes, followed by the fading sounds of Mystic’s laughter.

Ozzy jumps onto the bed, stretching and letting out a long, drawn-out meow.

“Oz, man.” I smooth my hand over his head.

“And who is this handsome guy?” Alice scratches behind Ozzy’s ear.

“This big furball? This is Ozzy, my ride-or-die partner in crime and master of mischief,” I declare. “I shot a text to Ophelia last night, askin’ if she could swing by my pad and check on him this mornin’. Guess she figured he needed to hit the road and hang out at the clubhouse for a bit.”

Alice continues to pour affection on Ozzy. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a cat guy.”

I chuckle. “I found him four years ago, hanging around a parking lot while the club was on a run down in Louisiana. He jumped right up in my lap as I was sittin’ on my bike, durin’ a smoke break. I picked him up. The moment the little fucker rubbed his fuzzy face against mine and turned his motor on, I was a goner. The little mastermind has owned me since.” Having his fill, Ozzy jumps to the floor. He strolls to the bedroom door and stretches, reaching for the knob, wanting to get out.

“We should move,” I say, though the words taste bitter. If I had my way, I would stay in bed with my woman all damn day.

Alice nods. “A cinnamon roll does sound good,” she adds but doesn’t move either. Her stomach growls, and I chuckle.

“Come on.” Reluctantly, I ease out of bed and move to her side. “Let me help you,” I say, holding out my hand. Her hesitation is instant, and pride flickers in her eyes.

“I can manage to get out of bed by myself,” she insists, her eyes sparking with determination. Her breath hitches when she moves too quickly. Alice sighs but finally gives in and slides her hand into mine. I ease her upright, one arm steadying her as she shifts her weight gingerly.

“I got you, baby. Take your time,” I murmur, guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. I cross the room to grab a clean shirt from the dresser drawer. Upon turning around and returning to Alice, I find her already removing the shirt she slept in, slipping it over her head, exposing her tits. Fuck . I try to tell my dick to calm the fuck down, but he’s not listening.

Alice locks eyes with me. Her heated gaze pierces through me with an intensity that makes my dick throb. Her fingers fidget with the shirt now resting on her lap. She’s nervous. Hell, she should be. Because the things I’m thinking right now are nowhere near decent. No amount of holy water can cleanse my thoughts right now. She continues to stare at me like this moment is a goddamn challenge. Maybe more so for herself than me.

Alice’s gaze casually drops to my cock, and my pulse quickens. The effect this woman has on me is like nothing I have experienced before. Ignoring my raging hard-on, I hold the Iron Man graphic tee shirt open. “Arms up, baby,” I say softly, and Alice’s demeanor instantly changes, and she attempts to cover herself, turning her face from me.

Shit . She thinks I’m rejecting her. That’s far from the truth.

“Don’t.” My tone is harsher than intended. “Never hide from me, baby.” I reach down and tilt her chin. “Look at me,” I demand, our gazes locking with an intensity that ignites the air. “There’s no hiding it. I crave you, babe. But let me tell you, the moment I let my hands touch you, there’s no turning back. I won’t stop. Not until I’ve tasted your pussy and fucked you until you’re comin’ and screamin’ my name. When it happens, and make no mistake, babe…” I lean down, brushing my lips across hers, “… it will happen,” I confess. “It will be somewhere other than the clubhouse.”

Alice gazes at me, her eyes wide with longing, lips slightly parted as if holding back a wave of emotion.

“Let me hear it, babe.”

“I belong to you, Nash,” she softly whispers, the sound of my name a sweet caress on her lips.

“And I am yours, completely.”

“You are mine,” Alice whispers to herself.

I kiss her forehead and then her lips before pulling away.

“Arms up, baby.” I hold the shirt out again. She listens, lifting her arms enough for me to slide the fabric over her head. I’m careful and slow, ensuring I don’t touch the sore spots on her ribs. She exhales sharply when the hem brushes her side but doesn’t complain.

Next is a pair of sweatpants, something loose and easy to move in. I kneel before her, helping to slip her feet through one leg and then the other. She snorts softly, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “I didn’t exactly peg you as a nurse, either.”

I shrug, gently adjusting the waistband around her hips. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.

She laughs. “I’m sure you do.” Alice smiles, her face lighting up.

Once she’s dressed, I grab the brush from the nightstand and settle back in front of her.

Her eyebrows lift. “What are you doing?”

“Your hair,” I reply like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She shakes her head, but she doesn’t stop me. I start brushing through the tangles. Once I’m done, I toss the brush aside. Alice’s eyes track me like a hawk as I throw on a pair of jeans and a superhero tee, then slip on my socks and stomp into my boots. I shrug into my cut, letting it drape over my shoulders. “You ready?”

Her eyes linger on mine, something unspoken passing between us. Then she nods, slipping her hand into mine again. I help her to her feet, keeping her steady as we walk slowly to the door. Her grip tightens when she hears the low murmur of voices and the clatter of dishes spilling into the hallway.

My brothers gather around the sprawling table, their plates towering with golden eggs, fluffy pancakes, and crispy bacon. The air vibrates with laughter and quick-witted jabs, ricocheting off the arched ceiling, adding an energetic pulse to the room. It’s chaos in the best way.

I wrap an arm around my woman’s waist and pull her close, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her lips. It’s not rushed or casual, it is a statement—she is mine . When I finally pull back, the room’s gone quiet.

“About damn time!” Mystic shouts, grinning from his spot at the table. He has a plate in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, looking too pleased with himself.

I flip him off without missing a beat and guide Alice toward two empty seats at the end of the table. She lowers herself carefully, her wince so slight most wouldn’t notice. But I do. I slide into the chair beside her and drape an arm across her back. She leans into me, her body soft and warm against mine, and I let the room’s noise wash over us.

“Uncle Nash, Daddy says the birdie finger is mean!” Beside me, Mystic’s daughter looks up at me, her big eyes sparkling with innocence.

I kiss the top of her head. “Sorry, pumpkin.” Then I look at Alice, and she’s staring at me like I’ve grown two heads. “What?”

“Nothing.” She smiles.

Sukie is sitting beside Harlem, whose arm is slung protectively around her shoulders. “Mom, how are you feeling this morning?” Her voice is full of concern.

“I’m fine.” Alice’s voice is soft but steady. “Just… sore and tired.”

Sukie’s gaze flicks to me, sharp and assessing. She doesn’t say it, but I know what she’s thinking— is she telling the truth? I meet her eyes and give her a slight nod, easing her worry.

Ophelia enters the room with a plate of her famous cinnamon rolls and a spatula in one hand. She’s this place’s backbone, ensuring everyone is fed and cared for. She spots me and my woman and gives me a warm smile before hollering, “Hungry? They’re still warm.” She bustles over, setting it in front of us. “Eat up.” Ophelia looks at Alice. “You look like you could use some coffee.”

“Coffee sounds wonderful.” Alice sighs. Just as she rises from her seat, Ophelia gently presses her hand on Alice’s shoulder, urging her to stay put. “Eat first. I’ll fetch the coffee,” she says reassuringly before gliding to the kitchen. Moments later, she returns, carrying two steaming mugs. She sits them down in front of us, then slips back into her chair, ready to enjoy breakfast with the rest of us.

I pile a plate with bacon, eggs, toast, and a cinnamon roll, then place it in front of Alice. “Dig in, beautiful.” I wait for my woman to pick up her fork and take a bite before sinking my teeth into the gooey cinnamon roll in front of me and taking a swig of rich coffee to wash it all down. “Damn,” I exclaim, savoring the moment, and without hesitation, I dive in for another bite.

Breakfast is loud and lively. The gathering reminds me why this club isn’t just about the bikes or the runs—it’s family.

Across the table, Salem calls out, “Baja. Your family making it to the charity event this year?”

I nod, finishing off my coffee. “Yeah, they’ll be here. My mom wouldn’t miss it, and Dad’s already talking about trout fishin’ while he’s here.”

“Charity event?” my woman asks, glancing at me as she reaches for her coffee.

Sukie smiles. “You know the big fundraiser held every year at Salem Hospital? The club organizes to raise money for cancer research and the children’s wing. I’m so excited to be part of it this year.”

Prez’s woman, Sage, chimes in, her voice soft but full of admiration, “It’s a beautiful way to celebrate and honor your brother’s memory, Baja.”

My woman’s hand slides to my thigh, her touch grounding me. She looks up, her eyes searching mine. “You do this for your brother?”

I take a breath, the ache of the memory settling in my chest like it always does. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “It started because of him. I do whatever I can to keep his memory alive and make a difference for the kids still fighting.”

Her eyes soften. “Tell me about him. How old was he?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, and everyone at the table falls silent.

I lean back, letting the memories take over. “Elliot was the best little brother anyone could ask for. He was smart, funny as hell, and he loved superheroes. He could talk your ear off about ’em… Iron Man, Spider-Man, you name it.”

She glances down at the faded superhero logo on her shirt—one of mine. “That’s why you’re always in these shirts.”

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. “Yeah, babe. It’s my way of keeping him with me, always.” I rub my neck. “He fought like hell when he got sick, but…” The words stick in my throat, and for a moment, I can’t go on. Her hand tightens on my thigh, giving her silent support. “He’s why we do this,” I finally say. “The charity runs, the fundraisers. It’s all for kids like him, to give them a chance he didn’t have.”

“He’d be proud of you, Nash,” Alice says, her voice layered with unspoken emotions. I nod, the weight of her words anchoring themselves deep within my chest. “I want to help however I can. I may not have much money, but I have my time to offer,” she declares, her gaze steady and sincere, as if her essence is pouring into the space between us.

I tug her chair closer. “You wanna help, baby?”

“Of course.” She studies me for a second. “That’s how this works, right? Us?”

I can’t help but fucking smile.

My woman is perfect.

It feels like we are the only two people in the room. I lean into her and whisper, “Elliot would have liked you, ya know. You have that never-quit spirit he had.”

Alice smiles, and for a beat, the ache I get in my chest whenever I talk about my brother isn’t so heavy.

A soft giggle dances through the air, and a tug on my cut jolts me from my haze. “Are you going to kiss her like the prince kisses the princess?” Lorelei’s laughter bubbles up again, and I turn to meet her sparkling eyes.

“What do you think? Should I go for it?” I play along, and Lorelei beams at me, her smile wide and contagious.

“Yes, silly!” she chirps, bursting into giggles that brighten the moment even more.

With a playful grin, I pivot back to face Alice, wrapping my arm gently around her waist.

“You’re incorrigible.” Alice smiles at me.

“Damn right, I am, baby.” With a swift yet tender motion, I press my lips against hers, drawing approving cheers from those around us.

After breakfast, my brothers filter out the clubhouse door one by one. I turn to Alice. “I’m steppin’ out for a beat. You good?”

“Yeah. I’m going to help clean up.”

I draw her close, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. “Don’t go overboard.”

“I’ll be fine, Nash. I need things to return to normal as if none of this ever happened.”

“Somethin’ did happen.” I don’t hide the sharp edges of my tone. I get Alice wants to move forward, but I’m unwilling to let go of what she went through so quickly.

Alice rests her palm against my chest, grounding me like before. “And because of you and the club, I’m safe. Ricky is no longer a threat to me.” She searches my eyes, and I can tell without her asking that she already knows the bastard is dead.

“Let me hear the words again.”

Alice rises on her toes, closing the distance between us. “I’m yours,” she whispers, pressing her lips to mine.

Sage saunters over. “We got it from here, loverboy. She needs some TLC from us women.” She waves her hand, shooing me away.

With one last kiss, I leave Alice with Sage and step outside. I pull out my pack of cigarettes and light one. The burn of the first drag settles deep in my chest as I look at the white stick between my fingers. I should quit . Salem steps up beside me, smelling of weed. “Everything handled with the cop?” I exhale a stream of smoke.

“That’s why I motioned for us to convene outside. Figured you’d want to know somethin’.” He takes another hit from the roach between his fingers and holds it in for a beat. “Vehicle is at the bottom of a lake,” he informs me.

“And his body?” I ask.

Harlem claps me on the shoulder. “What motherfuckin’ body?”

I smirk at his statement and gaze at the jagged headstones across the churchyard, knowing the old stones silently witness every sin the club has buried here. Harlem’s words hang heavy as I stare at the moss-covered graves a beat longer. They churn something dark inside me. It’s not guilt but a deep resolve. I did what needed to be done, and so did the club.

The cop crossed the line, and he paid for it—with his life.

I flick the ash off the end of my cigarette, then take another deep drag, feeling the smoke curl in my lungs.

I’d do it all over again with no hesitation.