Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
SWITCH
The security office still smells like fresh paint and new furniture. It’s not much—glass windows up front, an open layout with a couple of desks, and a conference room in the back. Simple. Functional. And most importantly, legit. A real business with our name on it.
I’m sitting at the head of the table, a thick folder of paperwork in front of me, a half-empty coffee beside it. I scrub a hand over my shaved head, trying to shake off the exhaustion that’s been dragging at me for weeks. Running this place isn’t easy. Between balancing the books, dealing with contracts, and making sure we don’t get fucked over by insurance, I’ve barely had time to breathe. And I know Bella’s starting to feel the strain of it too.
The guys file in, each dropping into their usual seats. Mason and Dagger take their spots across from me, both looking sharp and unreadable as always. Tank and Piston slump into their chairs like they’ve been busting their asses all morning—which they have. They’ve been handling the hiring side of things, making sure we’re bringing in the right kind of guys. The ones who can handle this kind of work but also won’t be a liability.
Mason leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Alright, let’s talk about where we’re at.”
Tank cracks his knuckles. “We’ve got a solid crew shaping up. Axel’s already running point on some of the jobs. Guy knows his shit.”
I nod. “Not surprised. Axel’s sharp. Clients like him.”
Piston stretches his arms behind his head. “Miles is still green, but he’s eager. Kid needs some time, but he’s got potential.”
Dagger snorts. “Potential’s just another word for liability.”
“He’ll learn,” Tank says. “Or he’ll be out.”
“We still need more bodies,” Piston adds. “We’ve got enough for the small gigs, but if we’re going to start taking corporate contracts, we need experienced guys.”
I rub my jaw, thinking it over. “We need former military or law enforcement. Guys who know what the fuck they’re doing when shit goes sideways.”
Piston scoffs. “The ex-cops might not be eager to work with us.”
“Then we find the ones who don’t give a fuck about where a paycheck comes from,” Mason says. “Long as they do their job.”
Tank nods. “I’ll put out feelers.”
Mason slaps a hand on the table. “Good. We’re finally getting this thing off the ground. Let’s not fuck it up.”
The meeting isn’t over yet. Not until Mason brings up the one thing that’s been hanging over all our heads.
“Butch.”
The second Mason says his name, the energy in the room shifts. Tension thickens the air. No one speaks, but every single one of us is thinking the same thing—this motherfucker needs to be handled.
Mason leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression hard. “We all know Butch has been running his mouth. Stirring shit up. The graffiti, the broken windows at Perdition—that was a warning.”
Dagger exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Yeah? Then let’s make sure they don’t get the chance to send another one.”
Tank cracks his knuckles. “We should’ve handled this when he walked out on us. Should’ve put him in the ground before he had a chance to come back around.”
Piston nods. “I get it, but if we go at him full force, it turns into a war. And that’s not what we’re about anymore.”
Mason holds up a hand. “Exactly. We’re not getting into a fucking back-and-forth with Butch and whatever washed-up bastards he’s got backing him. We hit him once, hard, and make sure he doesn’t have the balls to try anything else.”
I lean forward, hands clasped. “What’s the move, then?”
Mason’s eyes meet mine, steady and calculated. “We send a message. One that leaves no room for doubt.”
Dagger nods, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Something that shows him we’re not playing, but doesn’t escalate shit into a full-out war.”
Tank grins. “So, we hurt him. Just enough to make sure he remembers why we’re still standing and he’s nothing but a washed-up old man trying to relive the glory days.”
Mason taps a finger against the table. “Butch thinks we’re soft now. Thinks we’ve gone weak because we’re making the club legit. He needs to understand that just because we’re playing the game differently, doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten how to win.”
Piston looks between us. “So what are we thinking? A visit? A warning?”
Mason smirks. “Something like that. We find out where he’s holed up, remind him what happens when you come at your own brothers.”
I nod slowly. “I’ll make some calls. Find out where he’s been staying, who he’s been talking to.”
Mason’s gaze lingers on me, something unreadable behind his eyes. “Good. But keep it quiet. We do this clean. One hit. Then it’s over.”
The finality in his voice says all we need to know.
We’re not hunting Butch for revenge.
We’re shutting this shit down. Permanently.
Mason looks around the table, making sure we’re all in agreement. “This is our only play. Either we put Butch in his place, or we let him keep running his mouth until someone gets hurt.”
No one argues. Because we all know the truth. If Butch wants to make this a fight, he’s not going to like how it ends.
The guys start to filter out, but Piston lingers, tapping his fingers against the table. “Hey, Switch,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips.
I raise a brow. “What?”
“You ever think about how much shit’s changed for you?” He jerks his chin toward Mason and Dagger, who are deep in conversation by the door. “You used to be just Jax. Now you’re Switch, running a fucking security business.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help the small smirk tugging at my lips. “Yeah, yeah. Fuck off.”
They laugh as they head out, leaving me alone with my paperwork. I stare at the numbers, trying to focus, but my mind drifts to Bella. I’ve been pulling long hours, coming home late, crashing hard. She hasn’t complained, but I know she’s feeling it.
I grab my phone and pull up her contact.
Me: You on lunch?
A few minutes later, my phone buzzes.
Bella: Yeah, just sat down. You okay?
I smirk, shaking my head. She worries even when she doesn’t say it outright.
Me: Yeah. Just thinking about you.
A pause.
Bella: Thinking about me? Or thinking about how you haven’t taken me on a date in weeks?
Shit.
She’s not wrong.
Me: That obvious?
Bella: Painfully.
I run a hand over my face, guilt gnawing at me.
Me: I’ll make it up to you, baby.
Bella: Damn right you will. But I gotta get back to work. Call me later?
Me: Always.
I toss my phone onto the desk and lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly.
I need to fix this before it becomes a bigger problem.
Because the last thing I want is to lose the best damn thing in my life.
After leaving the clubhouse, I make a stop at Bella’s favorite pizza place, grabbing a large, loaded with everything she likes—extra cheese, mushrooms, and those little crispy pepperonis she swears taste better than regular ones. I grab a bottle of that red wine she loves, the one she always gets when we go out, even though I don’t have a damn clue what it’s called.
By the time I get home, the place feels too damn quiet. Too empty. Bella’s been working late shifts, and I’ve been tied up at the security office and the clubhouse, barely seeing her. It’s been wearing on me, wearing on us.
I set up in the living room, spreading out pillows and blankets on the floor, making it as comfortable as I can. A fire crackles on the TV screen, and I turn on some low 90s rock—just background noise, something easy, something familiar.
When I hear her key in the lock, I glance up from uncorking the wine. The second she steps inside, her tired eyes soften, lips parting in surprise as she takes in the setup.
She smiles. “What’s all this?”
I set the bottle down, walking over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Just figured you could use a night to relax. Grab a shower, baby. Take your time. Come out when you’re ready.”
She tilts her head at me, eyes warm. “You trying to butter me up?”
I smirk. “Maybe.”
She laughs softly, rising on her toes to kiss my cheek. “Alright. Give me ten minutes.”
She disappears down the hall, and I finish getting everything set up. By the time she steps back out, wrapped in a pair of soft leggings and one of my hoodies, her damp hair piled up in a bun, she looks soft. Relaxed. Like my girl again.
I pat the spot beside me on the floor. “C’mere, baby.”
She settles in next to me, pulling a blanket over her lap. “You know, this is exactly what I needed.”
I hand her a glass of wine, then grab a slice of pizza, handing it to her. “I figured.”
She takes a bite, closing her eyes with a satisfied moan. “God, I forgot how hungry I was.”
I laugh, grabbing my own slice. “Guess you’ve been busy.”
She nods, chewing. “Work’s been insane. We had a patient come in last week who insisted WebMD was more qualified than the actual doctor.”
I groan. “Let me guess—thought they were dying?”
“Obviously,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Turned out they had gas. ”
I snort, shaking my head. “People are idiots.”
She grins, sipping her wine. “Tell me about it.”
I settle back, watching her as she picks another slice. “How’s bowling been?”
She groans. “Oh my god, so we had league night, right? And Brooke completely lost her shit because Bri wouldn’t stop talking trash to the team next to us. She was this close to throwing a ball at some guy’s head.”
I raise a brow. “Bri? Really?”
“She takes it so seriously,” Bella laughs, shaking her head. “I swear, if she ever gets banned from the bowling alley, I’m not going to be surprised.”
I grin, taking a swig of my beer. “Damn, I gotta see this. I didn’t realize your family got so into it.”
She shrugs. “We’re competitive .”
I shake my head, amused. “And work? Besides the WebMD genius, anything else going on?”
She exhales, stretching her legs out. “Same old, really. Amelia’s been nosy as hell, though. Keeps asking about you.”
I smirk. “Oh yeah? What’s she wanna know?”
She shrugs. “The usual. If you’re treating me right. If you’re actually my boyfriend or if you’re just some hot biker I let take me home one night.”
I let out a short laugh. “And what’d you tell her?”
She side-eyes me. “I told her you were definitely my hot biker.”
I grab her waist, pulling her closer. “Damn right I am.”
She grins, resting her forehead against mine. “You know, I missed this.”
I tuck a piece of damp hair behind her ear. “Yeah?”
She nods. “You. This. Us talking. Feels like we haven’t had a second to breathe lately.”
I run a hand down her back, feeling her sink into me. “I know, baby. I’ve been buried at the club, and you’ve been working late shifts. It’s been too much.”
She sighs. “I get it. I just don’t want us to lose this, you know?”
I tilt her chin up so she has to look at me. “We won’t. I promise you, Bella.”
She smiles, soft and sweet, before settling against my chest.
I put the food away, then pull the blankets tighter around us. The fire flickers on the screen, casting a soft glow through the room. The music hums low, and for the first time in weeks, I feel like myself again.
No club business. No bullshit. Just me and my girl. And damn, if that doesn’t feel like everything.
Bella’s warm against me, her body curled into mine, her breath soft and steady against my chest. The fire crackles low on the TV screen, blankets tangled around us on the floor. She fell asleep not long ago, still wrapped up in the comfort of tonight—just me and her, no stress, no bullshit, just us .
But I’m not ready to let her go.
I slide an arm under her legs and lift her, holding her close as I carry her to our room. She stirs when I lay her down, stretching out, eyes barely opening. I start to pull away to let her sleep, but her fingers curl around my wrist.
"Jax?" Her voice is husky, sleep-heavy.
"I'm here, baby."
She tugs me closer, and fuck, I don’t even try to fight it. I lower myself over her, caging her in with my arms, pressing my forehead against hers.
"Stay," she whispers.
I smirk. "Wasn't planning on going anywhere."
She smiles, soft and slow, and then her hands are sliding up my arms, pulling me down. Our mouths meet, lazy at first, a slow drag of lips, but it doesn’t take long before it shifts into something deeper.
Her fingers trail down my back, nails scratching lightly, making me groan into her mouth. My body tightens instantly, heat pooling low, but I hold back. This isn't about getting lost in her—it’s about feeling her. Every damn inch.
I take my time kissing her, mapping out her body with my hands. Sliding them under her hoodie, feeling her skin warm under my touch before I push it up and over her head.
She exhales, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes as she runs her hands over my chest, fingertips brushing over my tattoos. I let her take her time, watching as she traces every line of ink before she tugs at my shirt, silently telling me she wants it gone. I strip it off, tossing it aside.
I settle back between her legs, pressing my weight against her, feeling every soft curve mold against me.
"You're so damn beautiful," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her jaw, down the side of her neck, taking my time exploring every inch of her.
She shivers beneath me, her breath hitching when I slide my hands lower, pushing her leggings down. I take them off slowly, my fingers dragging along her thighs as I go, watching the way her body reacts, how her muscles tense, how her lips part as she waits for me to touch her again.
When she’s finally bare beneath me, I just look .
Her dark brown hair is a mess against the pillow, her skin flushed, and her chest rising and falling as she watches me like she already knows I’m about to wreck her in the best way.
She reaches for me, her fingers hooking into the waistband of my sweats, and I let her. I kick them off, then settle back down, pressing against her, skin to skin, nothing between us.
She gasps as I press inside her, her body arching to meet mine.
"Fuck," I groan, my forehead pressing against hers. "You feel so good, baby."
Her nails dig into my shoulders, her legs tightening around my waist.
"Jax," she breathes, voice wrecked.
I move slow, deep, wanting to drag out every second of this. It’s not just sex—not just getting lost in the heat of the moment. It’s more . Every touch, every kiss, every movement means something.
I grip her hips, rolling into her, watching the way she falls apart beneath me, the way her lips part on a broken moan, how her hands grip onto me like she’s afraid I’ll slip away.
"Baby, I’ve got you," I murmur against her lips.
She nods, her breathing ragged as she clings to me, and I swear, nothing has ever felt more right than this moment.
Her body tightens around me, and I can feel her getting closer, feel the way she trembles beneath me.
"Let go," I whisper, kissing her slow and deep, dragging my hand up to lace my fingers through hers.
She does, her body tensing, her breath catching as she falls apart, and fuck, I follow right after, burying myself inside her, groaning against her mouth.
I don’t pull away.
I stay right there, pressed against her, her skin damp with sweat, her heartbeat hammering against mine.
Her fingers slide over the back of my head, gentle, slow, like she’s memorizing the feel of me.
She whispers, "I love you."
I press a kiss to her jaw, then her lips.
"Love you too, baby," I murmur.