Chapter 26
JOSIE
My days become a blur of FBI debriefs and recovery.
Agent Pilkin is thorough—hours of questions about what I saw, what I heard, what Caruso and Ivan said during their “questioning.” I give her everything, every detail I catalogued during those terrifying hours, and watch her expression sharpen as she realizes how much intel I managed to gather.
“You’re remarkable,” she tells me at the end of the last session. “Most people in your situation would have been too terrified to think clearly. You turned your captivity into an intelligence-gathering operation.”
“I’m a lawyer,” I say with a shrug. “We’re trained to observe.”
What I don’t tell her is that focusing on those details was the only thing that kept me sane. Cataloguing information gave me something to do other than imagine all the ways I might die.
Stone insists on being present for every debrief, sitting in the corner with his arms crossed and his eyes never leaving me. He doesn’t say much—this is federal business, not club business—but his presence grounds me.
He’s been hovering lately, making sure I eat, making sure I sleep, making sure I don’t overdo it. It’s sweet. It’s also driving me slowly insane.
“I can shower by myself,” I tell him when he follows me toward the bathroom.
“I know.”
“Then why are you—”
“I can’t help it.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself. “You’re gonna have to give me a few more days. Every time you’re out of my sight, I start thinking about—”
My irritation fades as quickly as it came.
“Boone.” I close the distance between us, taking his face in my hands.
“I let you out of my sight for a second, and they took you. If I’d followed you in—if I’d been faster—”
“Then they would have waited for another opportunity. This isn’t your fault.”
“It feels like my fault.”
I rise on my toes and kiss him—soft, gentle, trying to pour all my reassurance into the contact. “The only people responsible are Caruso and his men. And they’re dead or in federal custody. It’s over.”
“I’m trying to give you space. But after everything—”
“I know, and I appreciate it.” I smile at him. “But I really can shower alone. I promise not to drown.”
His mouth curves reluctantly. “I make no promises about not checking on you.”
“One check. After five minutes. Deal?”
“Two minutes.”
“Four.”
“Fine. Four.” He kisses me again, harder this time, then steps back. “Go. Before I change my mind.”
“Promises, promises.”
I’m laughing as I close the bathroom door behind me.
STONE
Church convenes a little before 9AM.
Every brother is present—a full table for the first time in weeks. The air is different today. Lighter. The shadow that’s been hanging over us since Summit first appeared in our lives has finally lifted.
We won. Against all odds, against a cartel with connections stretching across the Eastern Seaboard, against everything they threw at us—we won.
But that’s not why I called this meeting.
“Before we get to regular business,” I say, standing at the head of the table, “we’ve got an important issue to discuss.”
The brothers exchange glances. They know what’s coming.
“Steel.” He jerks upright from where he was leaning against the wall at the back of the room. As a prospect, he can be invited to observe, but only full members have earned the honor to sit at the table. I gesture at the empty chair at the far end. “Take a seat.”
He looks confused, but he sits. He’s young, but he’s proved he can handle himself, and do what needs to be done for the club.
It’s time.
“You all know what happened,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the emotion threatening to crack it. “My woman was taken. Kidnapped by a cartel boss who intended to use her as leverage against this club. Against all of us.”
The room goes silent. Every man here knows the story, but hearing it laid out in Church gives it weight.
“We planned a rescue operation in coordination with the FBI. Tactical teams, coordinated assault, the works. But when we breached that building, Caruso had Josie at gunpoint. There was no clear shot for anyone.”
I look around the table, meeting each brother’s eyes in turn.
I turn back to Steel. “Except Steel took the shot.”
Hawk whistles low. He’s seen the aftermath. He knows what that shot required.
“Two hundred yards,” I continue. “Through a broken window. At a moving target partially obscured by a hostage. One chance. One bullet. And this prospect—” My chuckle, correcting myself. “This brother put that bullet exactly where it needed to go. He saved Josie’s life. Saved mine too, probably.”
Steel is sitting straighter now, his shoulders back, his jaw set. But I can see the hope in his eyes.
“There are a lot of things that make a man worthy of wearing our colors,” I say.
“Loyalty. Courage. The willingness to do whatever it takes to protect this family. But more than any of that, what makes a brother is simple. When the moment comes, when everything’s on the line, you show up. You do what needs to be done.”
I walk around the table until I’m standing in front of Steel. He lumbers to his feet, bracing himself.
“You did what needed to be done. I trust you with my life—with any of our lives—without hesitation.”
I pull the patch from my pocket.I’ve been carrying it since yesterday, waiting for this moment. The full colors of the Stoneheart MC, ready to replace the prospect patch on his cut.
“You’ve earned this,” I tell him. “Not just for that shot—but for everything. For the surveillance work that cracked Caruso’s operation.
For the evidence that brought the FBI on board.
For standing watch over this club through every threat we’ve faced.
” I hold out the patch. “Welcome to the brotherhood, Steel.”
He takes it with trembling fingers, his throat working.
The brothers are on their feet, crowding around, slapping Steel’s back, pulling him into rough embraces. Bones is grinning ear to ear. Tank looks like a proud parent. Even Duck is nodding with respect.
Steel takes the patch with hands that aren’t quite steady. When he looks at me, his eyes are bright.
“Thank you, Prez,” he says. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.” I grip his shoulder. “You’re one of us now. That means when you’re in trouble, every man in this room will ride for you. It means when you need help, you’ve got the full weight of the brotherhood ready to drop everything for you. We got your back, kid. Welcome to the Club.”
I let that sink in, then turn to address the table.
“That’s what this club is about. Not the bikes, not the leather, not the reputation. It’s about family. About having people in your corner no matter what. About knowing that whatever comes, you don’t face it alone.”
I think about Josie upstairs, still recovering from her ordeal. About Isabel and Lily, finding safety within our walls after years of abuse. About every person this club has protected, every battle we’ve fought, every sacrifice we’ve made.
“We’ve been through hell these past few months,” I continue. “Summit tried to buy our town out from under us. The cartel tried to break us. And we’re still standing because of the men in this room, and the women out there.”
I meet each of their gazes again—Hawk and Tank, Lee, Bones, Cash, Duck, Axel, and the rest—every single one of them has bled for this club.
“I don’t say this enough,” I admit. “Probably because I’m a stubborn bastard who doesn’t know how to express emotions properly.”
A ripple of laughter goes around the table.
“But I want you all to know—I’m proud of you. Every single one of you. There’s no one I’d rather have watching my back. No one I’d rather call brother.”
The room goes quiet. It’s not often I get sentimental in Church. Not often I let them see beneath the president’s mask.
Hawk breaks the silence first. “Getting soft in your old age, Prez?”
“Fuck off,” I say, but I’m smiling. “You assholes will only be hearing this once. Don’t get used to it.”
“We love you too, Stone,” Tank says, making kissing sounds in my direction.
“Alright, alright.” I wave them off, settling back into my chair. “Enough feelings. Let’s get to business. We’ve got an election to win and a town to rebuild. Steel—” I nod at him. “First order of business as a full patch, you’re leading the surveillance rotation for Duck’s security detail.”
Steel’s eyes widen. “Me?”
“You’ve got the skills. Time to use them.” I lean back. “Anyone have a problem with that?”
No one does.
We spend the next hour going over details—security for today’s election, the ongoing federal investigation, the steps needed to ensure the cartel’s remaining allies don’t try anything stupid.
By the time we adjourn, the mid-morning sun is streaming through the windows and the clubhouse is filling with the sounds of life.
“Alright, go vote for Duck. Dismissed.”
Steel hangs back as the others file out.
“Prez? Can I have a minute?”
“Of course.”
He waits until we’re alone, then takes a breath. “I wanted to thank you. Not just for the patch—for everything.”
“You earned it,” I tell him. “I didn’t do shit.”
“Still.” He looks down at the patch in his hands, running his thumb over the embroidered colors. “This means more than I can say. I never had... I mean, before the club, I didn’t really have people. A family. You know?”
I do know. Group homes, foster care, a military stint that gave him skills but not community. He came to us hungry for something he couldn’t name.
But I knew. He needed to belong.
Now he has his place, his family, his club.
Now he belongs.
I clap him on the back. “Go on,” I tell him. “Put that patch on. The women are planning some kind of celebration tonight—there was talk of a banner and confetti. You might want to brace yourself.”
Steel groans. “Ginger?”
“Who else?”
“She’s going to make it embarrassing, isn’t she?”
“Almost certainly.” I clip him over the ear, playfully. “Welcome to the family, brother. For better or worse.”
He’s laughing as he heads for the door, the patch clutched in his hand.
We’ve still got a long road ahead—for Josie, for the club, for all of us, but we’re going to walk it together.