The Touch We Seek (Iron Outlaws MC Colorado #6)

Prologue Wren

NEW JERSEY

“Wake up.” The sound of Saint’s voice is accompanied by a rough shake. “We need to get you out of here.”

When a member of the Iron Outlaws New Jersey chapter tells you to move, you move.

My eyes are bleary as I try to open them, but my heart rate has already accelerated to a thousand beats per minute as I toss back the covers of the bed in his spare room. My watch tells me it’s four thirty in the morning, too early for any of this to be good news.

And I know Saint wouldn’t do this to me unless he had good reason. The former FBI agent who went undercover to infiltrate the club understands my predicament perfectly. He knows just how far the FBI will go to get what they want. Especially when they have me over a barrel like they do.

“I’ll help you pack,” Briar, his partner, says.

She’s been such a source of softness and comfort since I arrived four months ago, I could weep that I’m leaving their home.

Years ago, Saint helped her escape traffickers, and she’s the first person who made me feel like I could start to unravel all the different traumas I’ve held on to for so long.

“Where am I going?” I ask. “To Niro and Catalina’s?”

That was the backup plan, since Niro and Cat moved to live out in the sticks somewhere.

Niro, one of the club’s two enforcers, has ADHD and gets easily hyper-focused on things.

He decided he wanted to build an impenetrable fortress with underground rooms. I suggested he was at risk of becoming a doomsday prepper.

He simply winked and said he was inspired by Bond villains like Dr. Kananga and Ernst Blofeld after watching every James Bond movie, in order, in a week.

Saint shakes his head. “Sadly, no. We’re taking you on Calista’s private jet to Colorado.”

What?

“Colorado? Why would I want to go three-quarters of the way across the country?”

Briar pauses shoving my clothing into a large canvas bag to listen to Saint’s answer.

“Because it’s the safest place we can think of. Someone hacked into your personnel file at Calista’s headquarters. She’d put a flag on it of some sort to indicate if anyone went looking for you. Someone did.”

It had been Calista’s idea. Set up a fake life for me. Fake job, fake home, fake everything. Just to see who came looking for the information. The cartel wants me dead for what I did. The FBI wants me for intelligence about the cartel, but I know I’m facing jail time if they find me.

“The decoy address?”

Saint sighs and tugs a hand through his hair. “Destroyed.”

That stops me in my tracks. “What do you mean, destroyed?”

“They set fire to it.”

I jump out of bed and grab the clothes I’d put out, ready for the following day. “I need a minute.”

The floor is cool as I hurry into the bathroom and slam the light on. My long hair—black with dark green ends—is in a braid. The many piercings I have in my ears, the two I have above my left eyebrow, and the two I have in my nose glint under the harsh lighting.

My gray eyes look as haunted as I feel.

After I strip out of my pajamas, I splash some water on my face and to the damp patches beneath my armpits. I guess I don’t have time for a shower or many other basic hygiene tasks. Everything else can wait.

I fight my way into my chest binder, and the squeeze gives me both relief from anxiety through its pressure around my ribs and the desired aesthetic I want to present to the world.

My ink also helps tell my story. Coordinates of the home Mom and I lived in sit on my wrist. It’s the last place I felt safe and happy, the place I held Mom when she died from medical negligence, and the place now demolished for gentrification.

When I miss her, which is often, I place my thumb over it and pretend my pulse is her heartbeat.

Above the coordinates are the words I remain. On my bicep is a smashed hourglass where the sand flows upwards. Beneath it, an origami boat.

My black T-shirt is soft beneath my hands as I tug it over my head and smooth it down. Then, I step into the cargo trousers and secure the chain from belt to pocket. Finally, I tug on my heavy boots. They add two inches to my height, which still doesn’t put me at the imposing size I wish I were.

But they help with my confidence when I walk out in the world.

I hurry to the small bedroom at the back of the house that was set up as my tech room. The cases are more like what a roadie would use to ship a musician’s equipment rather than the commercial laptop bags you can buy in the store. I’ve worked hard to be able to afford the equipment I have.

Although, I need to remember, working hard for illegal money is part of the reason I’m in the trouble I am.

Despite the time pressure, I put the main laptop in its allocated space with care. Then, I put my second device, my background engine, into its slot. It was running an attack on one of the New Jersey Outlaws’ enemies. It felt like the least I could do for all the help they have given me.

I add all the other tools into their assigned spaces and then seal the clasps on the metal carriers.

These are the tools that helped me find Rae, the person King loves most in the whole world, when she was taken ten weeks ago by an up-and-coming criminal organization.

She was gone for seven hours, and I’ve never seen a person land in the pits of hell so violently or suddenly as King did when he realized she was missing.

After Rae was home safe, I helped Vex track down every last one of her kidnappers, and they are up-and-coming no more.

“Just like you to care more about packing up your equipment than your clothes or personal items,” Saint says, stepping into the room.

Spark follows him. He’s fully dressed and armed for a long day.

The sergeant at arms of the Outlaws is fast becoming one of my favorite people.

I’ve spent time with him and his wife, Iris, as they live next door.

He’s been candid with me about the impact PTSD has played in his life and what he’s had to do to overcome it.

There’s no shame when he talks about the therapist he speaks with weekly. He’s working to be a better man for Iris and their son, Archer, both of whom he adores. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man more besotted by his wife.

I want all those things for him.

And none of them for myself.

All I want is room to breathe. A space to put my arms out wide and spin in circles if I want to. Or hide, stay in bed for days, and just rest every weary bone in my body.

A place to just be me.

A place where I can make peace with the fact I am meant to be alone because anyone I have ever loved has been taken from me.

Spark has accepted me as I am from day one. Even now, some of the other bikers step in to hug me like I’m fragile. Spark is the only one who reads me. Today, he gets it right, as usual, grabbing my hand in that way he and his brothers do before slapping me on the shoulder.

“We’re gonna miss having you around,” he says.

I swallow deeply. “Yeah.”

It’s all I can manage.

“Let’s get you to the airfield,” Saint says.

“I grabbed your toiletries from the bathroom,” Briar says, dropping the two bags by the door.

I nod, even as tears sting the bridge of my nose. These people were the closest thing I’ve felt to having family since my mom died.

“Thank you for letting me stay here with you guys,” I say.

Initially, I hoped to stay with Calista and her partner, Vex, the club’s tech wizard, but we all concluded that would be too obvious.

Calista and I go way back, a link that is impossible to erase given how young we were when we forged our friendship.

When I step outside, I realize there are three trucks. There’s too much December snow on the ground for bikes to move at speed safely.

Despite the early hour, Iris is by the door, wrapped in a thick coat that almost hits the ground, baby monitor in one hand. When she sees me, she hugs me tightly. “Be safe,” she whispers in my ear.

I glance over to their home, to the nursery window. “Hug Archer for me.”

She smiles softly at the mention of her baby. “I will.”

Saint and Spark drag all my belongings to the truck. Sure, maybe this time I’m running in a nice four-wheel-drive vehicle, headed to a private jet. But I’m still running, even if it’s a bit more luxurious an escape than I’m used to.

My belongings are loaded into Vex’s truck. He’s outside talking to Niro, who is holding a container.

“You’re gonna go straight to the house, right?” I overhear Vex say to Niro.

“Me and Cat have got Calista,” Niro says. “You get Wren out of here safely.”

“Hey,” I say as I approach them. It feels like there’s a foot on my chest. I can barely breathe, and it’s not just the freezing temperatures.

“Ready?” Vex asks.

“Do I really have to go all the way to Colorado?” I ask. The tone in my voice sounds whiny and so very feminine that I question my decision to not go on testosterone for a moment.

But I don’t trust the medical profession. Perhaps if my mom’s death hadn’t been a result of medical negligence, I would. Or if the doctor she took me to at thirteen hadn’t dismissed us both out of hand, telling me that being non-binary is just a phase.

I take a breath to modulate my pitch.

A hand squeezes my shoulder, and King, the president of the whole Outlaw organization, appears from behind me. “The brothers out there are good and solid. And we need you a long way from here.”

“Because I bring trouble,” I say, admitting that I am, indeed, the drama.

Niro shakes his head with a wry smile. “Dude, do we look like we mind trouble?”

“Safest place for you is a long way from here,” King says. “We can protect you, but it would be better if they couldn’t attack you in the first place because they couldn’t find you. Rae told me to give you her love, and to tell you that you can call her anytime.”

“I’m scared. I don’t know any of them.” The admission is hard.

King taps a cigarette out of its box. “You know what Shakespeare would say?”

I shake my head, not surprised he brought Shakespeare into it. Niro told me the Bard is how Rae won King over; by comparing the path he was on to all of Shakespeare’s vengeful kings who died in the end. “I don’t.”

He smiles. “Screw your courage to the sticking place, and you’ll not fail.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Plus, they could benefit from your help. Turns out, they were hacked yesterday. Lost a shit ton of cash. You help them find that, and you’ll win them over in less than a heartbeat.”

I nod, because I’m out of everything…words, breath, composure.

King smiles softly. “You saved Rae’s life, Wren. I’ll always be in your debt. Call me when you need me.”

“And remember, it’s not permanent,” Vex says as he opens the door to his truck.

A waft of warm air hits me as he does. Vex hates the cold as much as I do.

“It’s just until we understand who hacked Calista’s systems to find you.

They’d have to be good to get through them.

So, we know we’re dealing with someone technically brilliant. ”

The world starts to feel like it’s closing in on me. Not panic. Just a sense of overwhelm. Like the world is spinning too fast, and my center of gravity can’t keep up with it.

“Brought you these for the ride,” Niro says, handing me the container. It’s filled with his famous cinnamon buns that taste so good, they’re all I ever crave now.

“Take care, Wren,” Bates says, raising his hand in a wave from across the street where he’s keeping watch. Bates and Niro are a matched pair. Two enforcers who regulate each other. “Avery’ll miss you, so be sure to check in, yeah?”

I fight to find my voice. I’m going to miss so much of what is happening in their lives. “I will.”

A truck pulls up, and in it are Clutch, Halo, and Switch. I guess all the Outlaws are showing up for this move. The vice president, road captain, and medic all stay inside but raise a hand in my direction.

There are too many people, and too much noise for my half-asleep system. I reach for Niro’s hand, and he takes it without question. “Tell them all I said goodbye,” I say.

He nods. “You get stuck, you call me. I’ll come get you.”

I swallow again, trying to keep the choking wave of overwhelm down.

I climb into the truck, and the door is slammed behind me.

I don’t know what I’m headed to, but my range of experiences of new places says New Jersey was the anomaly. I’m headed to a horror show where I’ll have to explain who I am all over again. Where I’ll have to learn who to trust all over again.

But I won’t forget the peace I found with the New Jersey Outlaws as long as I live.

Even if that isn’t for too much longer.