Chapter Three
Brick sat alone in the clubhouse common area, the low thrum of music and scattered conversations fading into a distant hum he barely registered. He’d claimed a far-off table under a flickering neon sign, the perfect spot to see every entry point, every shadow, every brother moving through the room.
In front of him, the Glock lay disassembled on a rag. Cleaning it was second nature. Swipe, check, and reassemble. It was a mechanical ritual that kept his hands busy and his brain quiet.
Or it usually did. Tonight, no matter how many times he polished the slide, his mind kept drifting back to dark eyes and a soft braid falling over a bright cardigan. He’d spent the whole damn night before listening to the faint echo of her laugh in his head.
It was ridiculous. He was a grown man, a Sergeant-at-Arms who’d lived through shootouts, raids, betrayals. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything that resembled longing. He scowled at himself and snapped the magazine into place.
The phone in his pocket buzzed.
He expected it to be King or one of the prospects. However, when he pulled it out and saw ‘Tessa Hart’ lighting up the screen, something sharp punched his chest. Brick answered immediately.
“Tessa?”
Her voice came out tight. Breathy. On the edge. “Brick? I need—” Her breath broke. “Something’s wrong.”
Brick was already on his feet, gun holstered, jacket grabbed, before she finished the sentence.
“Talk to me. What happened?” Brick demanded
“My—my car,” she gasped. “I think it was the Serpents. Brick, someone vandalized it. I didn’t see them. I don’t know when it happened. I just got home and it’s bad.”
He was halfway to the door when King stepped out of his office, eyebrows rising. “Problem?”
Brick didn’t stop moving. “Tessa. I’m going.”
King didn’t question it. He stepped aside. “Keep me updated.”
Brick mounted his Harley in the parking lot, the engine roaring to life beneath him like it felt his fury. He didn’t even bother with his helmet, he just tore out of the lot, speed limits be damned. The night blurred around him, streetlights streaking past as the wind clawed at his jacket.
Tessa lived on the quiet edge of town. One-story home, cracked walkway, a lonely little porch light glowing against the dark. A neighborhood where kids rode their bikes in circles on the weekends, where neighbors waved from their lawns, where nothing bad should happen.
And yet trouble always sniffed out the innocent.
When he turned onto her street, he saw her immediately, and something inside him went cold. Tessa stood frozen beside her car, her arms wrapped tight around her cardigan like she was trying to hold herself together.
Her braid had come half undone, dark hair spilling around her face. Her eyes were too wide, too shiny. She looked small in a way he’d never seen, like someone who’d just had their safe world cracked open.
The porch light above her gave off a soft golden glow, catching the frightened curve of her mouth, the tremble in her hands. A gut punch of protectiveness slammed through him so hard he actually jerked in the seat.
She looked so vulnerable, and he hated it. Brick didn’t like seeing her this way, and he hated knowing fear had touched her. Then he saw the car. Black spray paint sliced across the windshield in jagged, hateful strokes.
Rat
MC whore
Stay out of Serpent business
Brick’s grip tightened on the handlebars until the leather creaked in protest. A low, murderous heat crawled up his spine. If any of the Serpents had put their hands on her, if one of those filthy bastards had stood close enough for her to smell their breath...
If they had watched her or waited for her—
Brick’s vision went red around the edges. He shoved the fury down, but it fought him. Teeth and claws scraping for release. If he let it out now, he’d be hunting bodies before sunrise.
He forced a breath in, slow and controlled. Then he kicked down the stand, got off the Harley, and strode toward her.
Tessa turned toward him, relief and fear mixing in her eyes and Brick knew with a certainty that rooted itself in his bones that whoever had done this was already living on borrowed time.
Tessa’s breath hitched when she saw him. “Brick...”
The panic in her voice hit him harder than any blow.
He closed the distance and gently took her hands. “You’re not hurt?”
She shook her head quickly. “No. I wasn’t even driving today. My friend Erica dropped me off after dinner. This was already here. I didn’t know who else to call.”
Good. She had called him.
“You did the right thing,” he said, voice low and certain. He scanned the street, every shadow, every parked car, every window. No immediate danger, but his instincts were snarling.
“Come on. You’re not staying here tonight,” he told her.
Her eyes widened. “But my place...” Tessa began.
“Not up for debate.” His tone left no room for argument. “Pack a bag. I’ll handle the car later.”
Tessa hesitated only a second before nodding. “Okay.”
Damn if that tiny show of trust didn’t settle something deep inside him. She returned with a small overnight bag.
Brick took it from her without a word and guided her to the bike. She had never ridden on a motorcycle before, so she clung tighter to him. Her fingers dug into his jacket, and every tremble shivered straight down into his bones.
By the time they pulled into the Devil’s Crown clubhouse, Brick was vibrating with a cold, focused fury. Inside, brothers paused, curious gazes flicking to the woman at his side.
Brick ignored them all. He brought her straight to King’s office. King had been waiting, arms crossed, expression already dark.
“What happened?” King asked.
Brick kept his voice level. “Serpents tagged her car. Threats.”
Tessa swallowed hard. “I didn’t see anyone. I’m sorry if this causes problems.”
King cut her off with a shake of his head. “You didn’t cause anything, sweetheart. We’ll handle the Serpents.”
Brick stepped forward. “She’s not going home.”
“No,” King agreed. “She’s staying here. We’ll rotate watchers.”
Brick’s jaw tightened. “I’ll take first shift.”
King’s eyebrow arched, amused. “Thought you’d say that.” He pointed toward the hallway. “Set her up in the room across from yours.”
Brick stiffened.
Across from his? God help him, but he didn’t argue.
Brick led her down the hall, aware of every step she took.
The room wasn’t fancy as clubhouse rooms rarely were, but it was clean, quiet, and safe. That last part mattered most. Tessa stepped inside and let out a shaky exhale.”
“Thank you. For coming to get me. For everything,” she told him.
Brick stood in the doorway, fingers curled around the frame like he needed to brace himself. “Serpents won’t lay a hand on you. Not while you’re under this roof,” he said.
Her eyes softened. Too soft. Warm enough to melt concrete.
“Does this happen often?” she asked quietly.
“No.” His voice came out rougher than intended. “They’re pushing their luck.”
“And because I’m working with Dillon...”
Brick’s jaw flexed. “Dillon was family. His dad was one of ours. That kid deserved better.” He paused. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She looked down, toe tracing the edge of the floor tile. “I know you’re only helping because of your job but it means a lot.”
Brick swallowed hard. Only helping because of his job? He wished that were true.
“You should get some rest,” he said, voice tight. “I’ll be right across the hall.”
Tessa bit her lip, and Brick’s stomach dropped.
“Brick, are you mad at me?”
The question gutted him clean.
“No,” he said instantly. “Of course not. Not even close.”
She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. “But you’re...” She made a little gesture toward his whole body, frustrated and adorable. “You’re very ... stern.”
Brick blinked. Stern?
That was the nicest possible way to describe the slow, simmering fury he’d been choking back since he’d seen her car. He pulled his brows tight.
“I’m not mad at you,” he repeated. “I’m trying not to crowd you. Trying to give you space.”
She gazed up at him, eyes dark and soft and devastating.
“You don’t have to,” she murmured. “I feel safe with you.”
That did something to him, something sharp and warm that twisted deep in his chest and settled there like it belonged.
Brick swallowed hard. “Tessa...”
She waited, hopeful and patient.
She’s too trusting.
He forced the words out past the thick knot in his throat. “If anything happens, or if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”
Her smile bloomed, small and sincere. “All right,” she said.
Silence stretched between them, charged and fragile. A wire pulled too tight. Brick stepped back first, retreating because if he didn’t, he’d do something reckless.
“Goodnight, Brick,” Tessa whispered.
“Night,” he managed.
He didn’t turn away however and neither did she. She took a tiny step forward, hesitated, then rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. She tasted soft and warm. Sweet enough to tear open a man’s ribs.
Brick went absolutely still.
“Tessa,” he rasped, but it came out like a warning and a plea all at once.
“It’s a thank-you,” she whispered, breath brushing his skin. “For coming for me. For being here.”
He exhaled shakily, the restraint in his body wound tight enough to snap. Every instinct screamed to pull her closer, to kiss her properly, to wipe the fear of tonight from her mind with something better, something real.
But she’d already been scared once today. She didn’t need a man like him pushing boundaries, even if both of them seemed to want more.
Brick forced himself to step back, barely an inch, but it felt like tearing himself out of quicksand.
“Tessa,” he said again, quieter this time. “Not tonight.”
She didn’t look embarrassed. Hell, she didn’t apologize. She just looked at him like she understood.
“Okay,” she said softly.
He nodded, jaw tight, turning away before the look in her eyes made him lose every bit of discipline he had. “Get inside. Lock the door,” Brick ordered.
She obeyed, slipping into the guest room King had set up for her. Brick stood there in the hallway for a long moment, breathing slowly, fighting the urge to go after her.
Finally, he forced himself to move, retreating into his own room before his expression betrayed him. He closed the door behind him and leaned his forehead against the wood, hands braced on either side.
“Christ, she’s gonna break me,” Brick muttered to himself.
Brick took a cold shower, cold enough to make his skin prickle and his pulse ease from a dangerous roar to something he could halfway control. It didn’t help much. Nothing would’ve, not after the way Tessa had looked at him and kissed him.
He dried off, threw on a pair of sweats, and plopped down hard on his bed. Exhaustion dragged at every bone, but sleep? Nowhere close. His mind was a war zone, and she was the cause of every detonation.
Then he heard her. She wasn’t crying or pacing, she was humming.
A soft, wandering melody floated through the thin walls, barely there, almost shy. But to Brick, it may as well have been sung directly into his damn bloodstream. The sound brushed along the edges of his control, gentle but persistent, unraveling knots he didn’t even realize he had.
It didn’t belong in a place like this. This clubhouse full of scars and ghosts and men who’d forgotten softness a long time ago. Maybe that was why it hit him so hard. Because her voice, quiet as it was, softened everything it touched. Even him, especially him.
He lay there on his back, staring at the ceiling, every nerve tuned to the woman just a dozen feet away.
Twelve feet. Two doors. One bad decision away.
Her room was just across from his. Close enough that he could imagine her curled under the spare blankets King had thrown together for her, hair still smelling like her goddamn vanilla shampoo, lips that had brushed his still swollen from the cold night air.
He dragged a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. He hated forced proximity and how it stripped him bare. Hated how the walls he’d built for years felt thinner tonight than they ever had.
Worst of all, he hated how much he wanted it.
Because in the silence between her hummed notes, he could feel a pull.
A promise. That fleeting kiss wasn’t enough.
It had opened something inside him, something reckless and starving in a way he didn’t recognize.
A man like him didn’t get soft, didn’t get affected.
He could take a punch, take a bullet, take any hit the world threw at him . .. but he couldn’t take her.
If she opened her door right now, stepped into the hallway and whispered his name, he would go to her. No hesitation or second thoughts. He’d cross the space between them like it was nothing, haul her close, taste her lips for real this time.
He’d lose every bit of discipline he’d built his life on.
Because the truth was simple and terrifying.
Brick wanted her, deeply and desperately. More than was smart or safe.
But wanting her meant walking a line he couldn’t step back from. Once he made a move, once he touched her the way he wanted, there would be no turning around. No pretending he didn’t need her.
Tessa deserved better than a man carved out of scars and violence.
And yet the way she’d kissed him tonight, soft but sure, grateful but wanting, felt like a damn promise of something explosive waiting just beneath the surface.
Brick exhaled shakily and turned onto his side, facing the walls that separated them. He rested a hand flat against the cool sheet, imagining her doing the same on the other side. Stupid thought, hell, a dangerous one. Still, he couldn’t stop it.
Her humming softened, drifting lower, slower like she was finally winding down, head nestled on the pillow. Brick snapped his eyes shut
He listened to every last note, letting it wash over him like a tide he didn’t have the strength to resist. Somewhere between one breath and the next, sleep finally dragged him under.