Chapter Six
THE NIGHT WAS still warm when I pulled up to the clubhouse. Charleston air had that salt-heavy cling that never quite let go, even after dark. I killed the engine and let the quiet settle, crickets, distant traffic, the faint clang of a wrench from Bolt’s garage.
The clubhouse lights glowed gold through the front windows, constant, familiar. Home.
I pushed through the door. I could’ve lived anywhere, but this was where I belonged. The hum inside was easy, alive.
Mystic and Spinner were in the corner, half a game of pool goin’ behind them. Lucy sat with her boots kicked up on a chair, laughin’ loud enough to shake the rafters. Zeynep was beside her, quiet as always, just listenin’, because hell, who could get a word in with Lucy around.
And then I saw her.
She sat near the far end of the table, hair catchin’ the light, loose curls, softer and lighter than I remembered. Her hands wrapped around a glass, attention fixed on whatever story Lucy was tellin’.
Lark.
Every damn thought in my head shorted out.
What the hell was she doin’ here?
She looked different. Stronger. There was confidence in the way she sat, not curled in on herself, not scannin’ the exits. Like she belonged. Like she wasn’t scared of breathin’ anymore.
“Chain!” Lucy called, spottin’ me first. “Look who finally decided to show face! Man spends all his time at that bar of his, I swear he’s married to the place.”
Spinner snorted. “Only thing he’ll ever marry.”
“Keep talkin’,” I muttered, setting the folder on the bar. My voice stayed even, but my chest tightened. “Devil around?”
“Office,” Mystic said, jerkin’ his chin toward the hall.
“Thanks.” I turned to go, but my eyes caught hers again. And this time, I couldn’t make myself look away.
Damn ridiculous, me feelin’ awkward. I was smooth with women. Always had been. But somethin’ about her made the air feel too thick.
“Lark,” I said, my tone lower than I meant. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Lucy grinned like she’d been waitin’ for that exact moment. “Surprise! She’s staying here for a while. Devil’s letting her use one of the upstairs rooms. Told her you ran High Voltage, figured you might have a job open.”
My stomach tightened. “That right?”
Lark nodded, her gaze steady on mine. “I need experience and money to start my life over.”
Her voice was soft, but there was somethin’ under it, steel and hunger and a little bit of fear. Not the kind that makes you shrink back, though. The kind that makes you move forward.
Lucy elbowed me in the ribs. “Well? Say something useful.”
“Lucy,” Zeynep murmured, though she was smilin’.
I shot Lucy a look, but she only grinned wider. “You ever get tired of bein’ pushy?” I asked, shakin’ my head.
Lark laughed—soft, unguarded—and that sound cut through the noise in my head like a clean blade. Damn, I liked that sound.
“Sure,” I said finally. “Have Lucy bring you by High Voltage and we’ll talk it through.”
“I will,” she said. “And… thank you again. For what you did.”
Didn’t know how to answer that, a rare thing for me. My throat went tight, so I just nodded.
“I need to talk to Devil,” I said, turning toward the hall.
But her gaze trailed after me all the way across the room—hot, focused.
And hell if I didn’t feel it long after the door shut behind me.
***
I DIDN’T BOTHER knocking when I stepped into Devil’s office. We’d been brothers too damn long for formality. The air inside hit heavy, smoke, whiskey, and old ghosts he refused to let go of.
He sat behind the desk, elbows braced, eyes locked on Raina’s picture again, cigarette burnin’ low between his fingers. Same frame. Same spot. I never knew if he was keepin’ her memory alive or just too stubborn to admit she was gone.
I’d tried to understand that kind of love—the kind that guts a man and still leaves him kneelin’ in the ashes—but I’d never had it. Not like him. Not like what he lost.
I dropped a folder on the desk. “Numbers Gatsby said you wanted.”
Devil didn’t look up. He stamped the cigarette out and slid the photo right back where it always sat. Same damn move he’d done every day for five years. Like that frame was the only thing keepin’ him anchored to the earth.
“I see we’ve got a new houseguest,” I said, leanin’ against the doorframe.
“I’m sure Lucy filled you in,” he said, voice calm, clipped. “Girl needed a place. Didn’t seem right to turn her away.”
“And a job at my bar,” I added.
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “No, she skipped that part. You are short a waitress though, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “But you sure she can handle it? Girl’s been locked up her whole damn life.”
Devil leaned back, eyes cuttin’ to mine. “From what I’ve seen, she’s tougher than she looks. And don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”
My jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I saw the way you looked at her that night. The way you carried her out of that tunnel.” His smirk was small, sharp. “You forget how long I’ve known you?”
“I was savin’ her ass,” I said, heat creepin’ into my voice. “Didn’t know there was a right or wrong way to do that now.”
Devil let out a low, rough laugh, the kind I hadn’t heard enough from him in years. “This is gonna be good. Payback for all the times you gave me and Mystic hell.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, though it didn’t sound near as certain as I wanted. “I don’t do relationships. Never have. No woman’s ever stuck in my head long enough to make me want to.”
His gaze drifted back to Raina’s picture. “It’s not something you’ll see coming,” he said quietly. “It just hits you—clean through. Leaves nothing but smoke.”
I studied him a moment, feelin’ that old ache settle behind my ribs. He still kept that old house exactly the way she left it. Five years gone, and he was still livin’ in the wreckage.
“Christ,” I muttered, pushin’ off the wall. “We gettin’ sentimental now? You goin’ soft on me, brother?”
His eyes snapped sharp again, business takin’ back over. “Fine. Gatsby said when the feds hit Gabriel’s mansion, they came up empty. Someone tipped him off.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” I said. “Half those agents’ll roll for the right money. You think it ties back to us?”
He shook his head. “Kickstand and Jaycee cleaned our end. But my gut says something’s off.”
“Then we put eyes on it,” I said. “Your gut’s saved our asses before.”
He nodded. “We’ll cover it at the next meet.”
I pushed off the desk. “Then I’m grabbin’ a drink and takin’ Spinner’s money at poker.”
I’d just reached the handle when it swung open. Tillie stood there, coffee mug in hand, eyes wide like she’d stepped into somethin’ she wasn’t meant to see.
“What?” Devil snapped.
“Josie sent me with your coffee,” she said quietly.
He sighed, took the cup with a curt nod, and didn’t speak again until her boots faded down the hall.
“Josie knows better,” he muttered.
“Maybe she’s tryin’ to help you stop bein’ a monk,” I said before thinkin’.
His eyes cut to me—reddish and dangerous. “That’ll be a cold day in hell, and you damn well know it.”
“Yeah,” I said, rubbin’ a hand over my jaw. “Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
He didn’t answer. Just stared at that picture again, like the ghost inside it was louder than anything in the room.
“You sure you don’t wanna come play a hand?”
He shook his head. “Gonna check the house. Been a few weeks.”
I hesitated. “You want company?”
“No.”
Didn’t expect any other answer.
I clapped him on the shoulder. “See you later, brother.”
The door shut behind me as I headed down the hall. The silence he left behind followed like a ghost, and damn if I wasn’t startin’ to understand what it meant to be haunted by someone you couldn’t forget.
***
THE HALLWAY OUTSIDE Devil’s office buzzed with low voices and the loud thump of music bleeding in from the common room, the kind of sound that crawled under your skin and settled there whether you wanted it to or not.
By the time I stepped out into the main room, the brothers were already spread around the tables, cards slappin’ down, cash changin’ hands, somebody claimin’ they’d been cheated while Spinner barked a laugh at whatever bullshit Mystic tossed out.
Bottles clinked. Chairs scraped. Somebody cussed loud enough the air shook with it.
Noise. Chaos. Home. But none of it was why my damn pulse kicked.
I headed toward the bar, tellin’ myself it was just instinct, just habit, just the usual sweep I did every time I came into a room. But I wasn’t foolin’ myself. Not even close.
Yeah, I was lookin’ for her.
Lark stood at the far end of the counter, talkin’ with Lucy and Zeynep, and it hit me all over again, how the hell a woman like her ended up in a place like this.
Her hair caught the overhead bulbs like it had been dipped in gold and set loose, wild curls spilling down her back and over her shoulders like they refused to be tamed by anyone or anything.
Soft where almost everything in this clubhouse was hard.
Bright where the world she’d crawled out of had been dark.
And her skin… Jesus. Even from across the room it looked warm, sunlit, glowing in a way that made my hands itch. Made me wonder if she felt as soft as she looked, if that warmth went all the way through or if it was just a shine the dim bar lights managed to find.
She was too damn pretty for the life that tried to break her. Too alive for the shadows she’d survived. Too steady for the fear she’d learned to outrun.
She didn’t dress for eyes, but mine locked on her anyway and refused to look anywhere else.
Simple jeans hugging the curve of her ass.
A pink tank soft against her breasts. Legs long enough a man could spend a lifetime figuring out how to get between them.
And the way she moved—slow without meaning to, graceful without tryin’, her body whisperin’ promises she probably didn’t even know she was makin’.
She lifted her chin a little, that stubborn line she always held, like she’d spent years being told to bow and decided she was done with that shit forever.
And that defiance—that quiet, steady pride—slid under my ribs in a way I didn’t have words for.
Made heat spread straight to my cock. Made every thought in my head turn raw and wicked.
She didn’t even know she was doin’ it to me. Or maybe she did. Either way, I couldn’t look away. Wouldn’t’ve even if the damn place caught fire around us.
My thoughts turned darker the more I stared at her. Dangerous dark. The kind that crawled low in your gut and stayed there, thick and hungry. The kind I tried to lock down because if I didn’t, I’d cross every line I shouldn’t with her.
All I could think about was how she’d sound if I kissed that defiance off her mouth. How she’d look pinned under me, breathless and arching. How her voice would break when she moaned my name. What she’d take from me. What she’d give back.
Lucy said somethin’ that made her laugh—low, quiet, warm. God. That sound damn near took my knees out. It curled inside me like smoke, rich and thick and slow burnin’’.
I stopped before anyone caught me staring like some lovesick idiot. Felt stupid for it too, because I wasn’t the kind of man who watched a woman from across the room, wantin’ more than I had any business wantin’.
She shouldn’t’ve been here. Not in this world. Not in this chaos.
But she was. And she wasn’t scared of any of it.
Then her eyes lifted and locked straight on mine. Like she felt me thinkin’ about her. Like she wanted me to keep goin’.
The hit of it came fast and deep, the same pull I’d felt the night I carried her out of that tunnel, only now it was sharper, hotter, burnin’ through every bit of sense I had left. There was heat behind it now. A silent dare. A fuckin’ promise.
She didn’t look away. Didn’t flinch. She just held my gaze, steady and sure, like she was the one callin’ the damn shots.
There was a spark in her eyes now, challenge, curiosity, maybe heat she wasn’t ready to admit to.
I lifted a brow slow. A silent: You seein’ me the way I’m seein’ you, darlin’?
Her mouth curved.
Not a smile, somethin’ smaller, heavier, the kind of expression a woman gives when she knows exactly what she’s doin’ to a man and isn’t the least bit sorry for it. My blood kicked hard. Damn near groaned at the sight of it.
Something shifted, inside me, inside the room, hell maybe inside the damn air. Even the noise behind me felt like it was holdin’ its breath.
She didn’t move toward me. Didn’t soften. Didn’t drop her gaze. She held her ground like a woman who’d finally learned she didn’t have to bow to anybody.
And that confidence? That quiet fire? It made me want her even more.
My feet were already moving before I told them to, solid strides cutting through the noise and the laughter until all of it faded to nothin’ but background behind the weight of her eyes on me.
Her spine straightened the closer I got. Her breath hitched—barely. Her fingers curled tight around the edge of the bar. I saw the way her lips parted. Just enough. Just for a second. Like her body knew what I meant to do before her mind caught up.
But she didn’t back up. Didn’t look down. Didn’t give me a single inch.
Good.
I wasn’t the kind of man who wanted a woman to run. I wanted one who stood her ground when I came for her. Wanted one who burned just as hot when I touched her as I did watchin’ her. And right then, she looked like she’d been waitin’ on me to make the first move.