Chapter 15
Bear
I stand in the hallway outside Rick’s hospital room with my hands shoved into the pockets of my cut, staring at the door like it might bite me if I open it.
I’ve been in this hallway a dozen times since the crash, but today feels different.
Today he’s properly awake. Not drifting.
Not confused. Awake-awake and ready to ask questions.
Natalie’s been in Sacramento a week.
That fact sits heavy in my chest, like a weight I can’t shift no matter how many times I roll my shoulders. She texts when she can—just short updates—nothing that tells me she’s in danger. But nothing that tells me she’s found what she’s looking for either.
I don’t like not knowing where she is or what she’s doing. I like even less that I can’t go to her, but this is something she’s got to do alone.
I exhale through my nose and push the door open.
He’s propped up in the bed with a bunch of pillows stacked behind him. There’s color in his face now. More life than there’s been in weeks. When his eyes land on me, they sharpen immediately.
“Fuck,” he says hoarsely. “You look like shit.”
I snort. “Good to see you too, sunshine.”
His mouth twitches, then his expression sobers as he looks me over more carefully. “You still got both arms?”
“Last I checked.”
“Good.” He swallows. “I had this fucked-up dream where you were dead.”
That lands harder than I expect.
“Not dead,” I say. “Annoyingly alive.”
He huffs out a breath and shifts, wincing a little before settling again. “How long have I been out, really?”
“Couple of weeks,” I answer carefully. “You were awake some, but not… with it.”
He grimaces. “Feels like I got hit by a truck.”
“You kinda did.”
His gaze flicks to the window, then back to me. “What happened?”
Here it is.
I pull the chair closer and sit, planting my boots wide like I’m bracing for impact. “Brakes failed.”
His brow furrows instantly. “Bullshit.”
I meet his eyes. “The cops are still going over the scene report.”
“That don’t just happen, my bike got a clean fuckin’ bill of health a month ago.”
“No,” I agree evenly. “But it did.”
He studies my face like he’s trying to peel something back. Rick might act first and think later, but he’s always been good at reading people. Too good. And he’s known me since I was a kid and knows all my tells.
“You saying I fucked up maintenance?”
“Accidents happen.”
Silence stretches between us.
Finally, he leans back with a quiet groan. “The pavement was dry. I didn’t fucking lose control.”
I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Rick. You just woke up from a coma. You’ve got a head injury, multiple fractures, and a long road ahead. Whatever else is going on, you don’t need it right now. We can figure out what happened once you’re feeling better.”
His jaw tightens. “That ain’t an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
He glares at me for a long second, then exhales hard. “Fine. For now.”
I nod once.
Then his eyes narrow slightly. “Where’s Natalie?”
There it is. The question I’ve been dreading.
I had a dozen answers lined up in my head. Deliveries. Club business. Visiting friends. None of them sound plausible.
Lying outright would blow up in my face.
“She went to Sacramento,” I say.
His expression shifts instantly. “Why? Has she gone back to those assholes? Why didn’t you stop her?” His face is red and I’m half expecting his fucking heart monitor to start beeping like crazy.
“Calm the fuck down, brother!” I scrub a hand over my face. “She wanted to check on the foster kids. Make sure they landed okay after everything went down.”
His shoulders ease a fraction. “That sounds like her.”
“It is.”
“What about the deliveries?” He sits back up again. “I’m stuck here. You’re visiting me and she’s outta town. Who’s running the damn business?”
“Jesus! Do you think I’m incapable of dealing with stuff in your absence? I hired a couple of people to help us out. They’re good. Now will you lie the fuck back down or am I gonna have to get the doctors to put you under again?”
My best friend is taking this exactly how I expected. I reach into the bag I brought and dump the candy and magazines on the table, hoping that might distract the fucker.
“How long’s she gonna be gone?” he asks as he tears open a candy bar.
“Not sure,” I admit. Thankful I can at least tell the truth here. “Couple of weeks, maybe.”
Rick frowns. “She didn’t say goodbye.”
“She did. You were still out of it when she left.”
That part’s true. It just leaves out everything else.
He nods slowly, then winces as he shifts again. “Fuck. I hate being stuck in this bed.”
“You’re not stuck,” I tell him. “You’re healing.”
“Same thing.”
I crack a small smile. “You always were impatient.”
“Still am,” he mutters. Then his eyes flick up again, sharper. “You been stayin’ busy?”
Here we go.
“Trying.”
“With what?” His mouth quirks. “Don’t tell me you been sittin’ around jerk—”
“Finish that sentence and I’m leaving,” I warn.
He grins despite himself. “Alright, alright.”
Then, casually, like he’s tossing a grenade just to see what happens, he adds, “You still hangin’ out with Jewel?”
My stomach drops.
“No.”
That’s it. One word.
Rick snorts. “Bullshit.”
I glare at him. “I said no.”
“You always say no,” he says. “Then I see you walkin’ outta the clubhouse with her six hours later.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?” he asks as he chews.
Before Natalie. Before everything changed and I fell in love with his sister. “My life’s complicated enough without club girls right now,” I mutter.
Rick raises an eyebrow. “That so?”
“Yeah.”
“Since when?”
I shrug. “Since I decided peace and quiet was underrated.”
He studies me again, suspicion flickering. “You sound like an old married bastard.”
I don’t respond.
“You got that look,” he says.
“What look?”
“The one that says you ain’t sleepin’ around anymore and you’re cranky about it ‘cause your old lady ain’t puttin’ out.”
I shake my head. “You’re delirious.”
He grins. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re hidin’ somethin’.”
I stand abruptly, needing distance before I say something I can’t take back. “You need rest.”
He scoffs. “You always do that. Change the subject when you don’t wanna answer.”
“Because you don’t always need the answers.”
He watches me for a moment, then sighs. “You been here every day.”
“Of course.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I did.”
That seems to settle something in him. His expression softens, just a notch. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
“Been hearin’ that my whole life.”
He chuckles, then winces again. “Fuck. Everything hurts.”
“It’ll get better,” I say.
“When?” he asks. He starts flicking through one of the bike magazines I brought, and I realize that might have been a huge fucking mistake because it’s gonna be months before he’ll be ridin’.
“Soon.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
After a moment, he says quietly, “I thought I was dead.”
I freeze.
“In the crash,” he continues. “I remember sliding. Sound of metal. Then nothin’. Just black.”
I turn back to him. “You’re here.”
“Yeah.” His gaze drifts to the ceiling. “Feels weird.”
“Give it time.”
He nods slowly.
I check the clock. Visiting hours are almost up. “I should go,” I say.
He looks annoyed. “Already?”
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“You better.”
“I will.”
As I turn towards the door, he calls out, “Bear.”
I stop.
“If you’re in trouble,” he says, voice rougher now, more serious. “You tell me.”
I look back at him.
“I ain’t helpless,” he adds. “Not forever.”
I nod once. “I know.”
I step out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind me.
***
There’s barely any room in Zen’s office. There are monitors everywhere—stacked, wall-mounted, jury-rigged on shelves that bow under the weight of hardware Zen keeps swearing he’ll organize someday. Right now, every screen is dark except one laptop glowing faintly on his desk.
That’s where we’re gathered.
Siege is leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Rider sits half on the edge of the desk, half standing, like he’s ready to move the second someone gives the word.
A few other brothers—Tank, Dutch, Rigs—are scattered around the room, making the already crowded space even more so.
I’m sitting on the roll-out stool, my shoulders tight, my jaw tighter.
“Nat checked in this morning,” I say, breaking the silence. “She’s still not found anything, but they buy her story.”
Siege nods once. “That’s good.”
“Doesn’t mean I like it,” I mutter.
No one argues with me on that.
My hands curl into fists without me meaning to.
I hate her being there. I hate that I can’t see what she’s seeing.
Can’t hear what she hears. Can’t smell the danger when it creeps close.
Natalie says she knows how to move in that place, how to make herself small, invisible when she needs to.
I believe her. She had ten fucking years of living with those assholes.
Doesn’t mean I’m okay with it.
Zen finally spins his chair around to face us. “I’ve been digging nonstop.”
“And?” I ask.
He grimaces. “And the Elliot brothers are clean. Too clean.”
That makes my stomach drop.
“Bank accounts are boring. No sudden withdrawals. No travel. No burner phones tied directly to them. No pings outside their usual locations. We got the footage of Jeremiah lurking outside your apartment, but no indication he tampered with Rick’s bike.”
“So he didn’t do it,” Tank says.
Zen snorts. “I didn’t say that.”
Siege’s voice is calm, measured. “What are you saying?”
“It’s like we thought, they didn’t do it themselves,” Zen replies. “No way. From what Natalie described, these guys don’t get their hands dirty. They lean on people. Convince. Manipulate. Pay. Threaten. That kind of thing doesn’t leave a clean digital trail.”
Rider rubs a hand over his beard. “Middlemen.”
“Exactly,” Zen says. “And middlemen are harder to trace unless you know where to look.”
My jaw tightens. “So what are we missing?”
Zen swivels back to his screens, taps a few keys, then looks over his shoulder at me. “Access.”
I don’t like the way he says it.
“Access to what?” Siege asks.
“David or Jeremiah’s PCs,” Zen answers. “Either their personal computers, or maybe the church office systems. External drives. Anything they think is safe because it’s local.”
My chest tightens immediately. “That puts her in more danger.”
Zen winces. “I know.”
“No,” I growl. “You don’t fucking know. You know it intellectually. I know it in my fuckin’ bones.”
The room goes quiet.
I take a breath, force my hands open. “She’s already walking a razor’s edge just being in that house. If she goes snooping on their computers—”
“She doesn’t have to be obvious,” Zen cuts in gently. “And I wouldn’t need much. Even ten minutes alone with a machine could give me something. Metadata. File remnants. Logs they didn’t think to wipe. Nobody’s that perfect.”
“Some people are careful,” Rider says.
“Careful isn’t flawless,” Zen shoots back. “Nobody deletes everything. Not long-term. Not without slipping.”
Siege watches me closely. “Bear.”
I look at him.
“You knew this wasn’t gonna be clean,” he says. “You knew she might have to take risks.”
“Yeah,” I snap. “Doesn’t mean I gotta like it.”
“No,” Siege agrees. “It doesn’t.”
I rake a hand through my hair, frustration buzzing under my skin. “She’s my old lady. Every instinct I have says go get her and burn that fuckin’ house to the ground.”
Rigs mutters, “Wouldn’t be the worst plan.”
Zen sighs. “Look, I’m not saying she should go poking around blindly. I’m saying if the opportunity presents itself—”
“They watch her twenty-four-seven,” I cut in.
Zen nods slowly. “Fair.”
Rider straightens. “Any sign they’re onto her?”
“No,” Zen says. “At least not that I’ve found.”
That doesn’t reassure me, if anything, it makes it worse. Predators don’t panic when they think they’re in control.
“What about the bike?” I ask. “Anything on parts, tools, shops? Rick was askin’ questions earlier. I gave him a bunch of bullshit because he doesn’t need to know someone tried to kill him.”
Zen shakes his head. “If the brake line was cut, whoever did it knew what they were doing.”
Tank cracks his knuckles. “So we’re sittin’ on our hands.”
“For now,” Siege says. “Which I hate as much as you do.”
I glance around the room, at the men who’ve bled with me, fought beside me. “If this was any other situation—”
“We’d already be movin’,” Rider finishes.
“Yeah,” I say. “But this one’s different.”
Because Natalie isn’t just collateral. She’s the center of the damn blast radius.
Zen folds his hands. “I’ll keep digging. I always do.”
“You find anything, anything at all,” I tell him, “you call me. Day or night.”
“I know.”
“And if she texts about an opening—”
“I’ll be ready,” he says. “I promise.”
The meeting winds down slowly. No one’s satisfied. No one pretends otherwise. When I finally leave Zen’s office, the clubhouse feels louder than usual. Bikes rumble outside. Laughter drifts up from the bar. Life going on like nothing’s wrong.
I pull my phone out and stare at the screen.
No new messages.
I sigh and start typing the text I really don’t want to. The one that if she’s not already in danger, could put her in the crosshairs.
Me: We still haven’t got anything. Zen thinks they might have evidence on their PCs.
Me: You reckon you could get access?
A few seconds pass.
Then—
Natalie: They’re at the church on Sunday and I’ll be left alone. I can try then?
My chest tightens. The thought of my woman having to sneak around, and the risky position she’s putting herself into scares me, and I don’t like being scared.
Me: Be careful. I love you.
This has got to end soon. And when it does, nobody’s ever putting her in a cage again.