6. Josie
JOSIE
Maria calls at nine in the morning.
I'm still in bed, still wrapped in sheets that smell like Lock, still replaying the way he kissed me goodbye before he left last night. Soft. Unhurried. Like he had all the time in the world and wanted to spend it right there, his mouth on mine.
"You sitting down?" Maria says when I answer.
"I'm lying down. Why?"
"Because your man just did something insane."
I sit up. "What are you talking about?"
"Lock. He showed up at the Road Kings bar last night. Alone. Waited in the parking lot for Colt to come out, then told him — in front of everyone — that if he ever came near you again, it would be the last decision he ever made."
My heart stops. Then starts again, hammering against my ribs.
"He did what?"
"Girl, I'm telling you. Word's already everywhere. Rocky himself came out and shut it down. Sent Colt inside like a fucking child. And then—" She pauses for effect. "King showed up. Sons president. Just rolled into the lot like he was backing his boy."
I can't breathe. I can't think. He went to their bar. Their territory. Alone. For me.
"Josie? You still there?"
"Yeah." My voice sounds strange. Far away. "Yeah, I'm here."
"So? What are you gonna do about it?"
I'm already out of bed, already reaching for my jeans.
"I'm going to find him."
The Sons of Ruin clubhouse looks different in daylight.
I've never been here before — never had a reason to, never had an invitation.
It's bigger than I expected — a sprawling concrete building with a fenced lot, bikes lined up out front like soldiers at attention.
A prospect is leaning against the wall by the door, smoking a cigarette.
He straightens up when he sees me coming.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for Lock."
He looks me over. Takes in the determination on my face, the set of my jaw. Something flickers in his expression — recognition, maybe. Word travels fast.
"He know you're coming?"
"No."
The prospect considers this. Then he shrugs and pushes open the door.
"Bar's straight back. Good luck."
I walk inside.
The main room is bigger than I expected. Pool table in the corner, tables scattered around, a long wooden bar against the back wall. A few guys are scattered around — playing cards, nursing beers, shooting the shit. They all look up when I walk in.
I ignore them. My eyes are already scanning the room, searching for—
There.
He's at the bar, his back to me, talking to a massive guy with a thick chest and a Road Captain patch. Lock's got a beer in front of him, his shoulders relaxed, and he hasn't noticed me yet.
I cross the room. My boots are loud on the wooden floor. Conversations die as I pass, heads turning to track my progress. I don't care. Let them look.
I'm almost at the bar when Lock turns around.
The surprise on his face is subtle — just a flicker, a slight widening of his eyes — but I catch it. For a man who never shows anything, it's practically a billboard.
"Josie." He's already moving toward me. "What are you doing here?"
"You fixed it." I stop a foot away from him. "You went to their bar. You faced down Colt. You didn't tell me."
His expression shutters. That careful blankness I've seen before, the one he uses when he doesn't want to show what he's feeling.
"It's handled," he says. "That's all that matters."
"No." I step closer. "That's not all that matters."
"Josie—"
"Don't." I reach up, cup his face in my hands, force him to look at me. "Don't make this small. Don't shrug it off like it was nothing. You walked into enemy territory alone for me. You risked a war for me. You—" My voice cracks. I hate that it cracks. "You did that. For me."
The Road Captain glances between us, reads the room, and picks up his beer. "I'll be over there," he says to Lock, already moving toward the pool table. Lock doesn't even acknowledge him. His eyes are locked on mine.
He's very still. That preternatural stillness I've come to recognize, the one that means something big is happening under the surface.
"I'd do it again," he says quietly. "I'd do worse."
"I know you would." I hold his gaze. "That's what scares me. That's what— that's what makes me trust you."
Something shifts in his eyes. Something gives way.
"I don't—" He stops. Swallows. Tries again. "I'm not good at this. Words. Feelings. I don't know how to—"
"Then don't." I shake my head. "You don't have to be good at it. You just have to be honest."
The silence stretches between us. Around us, the bar has gone quiet. I can feel eyes on us — everyone watching this unfold. I don't care. Let them see. Let them all see.
Lock takes a breath. When he speaks, his voice is low. Rough. Like he's dragging the words up from somewhere deep.
"I've never felt this before." He doesn't look away from me.
Doesn't flinch. "I've never wanted to protect someone so badly it makes me stupid.
I've never looked at anyone and thought — that's it.
That's the one thing I can't live without.
" His hands come up to cover mine where they're still cupping his face. "With you. Only with you."
My eyes are burning. My chest is so full it hurts.
"That's enough," I whisper. "That's more than enough."
I kiss him.
It's not like our other kisses — not desperate, not hungry. This one is soft. Certain. A promise instead of a question. His arms wrap around me and he pulls me close, and I melt into him like I was always meant to be there.
When we finally break apart, there's a wolf whistle from somewhere behind us.
"About fucking time," someone calls out. "I was starting to think he'd never make a move."
"He made plenty of moves," I say, turning to face the room. "You just weren't invited to watch."
Laughter ripples through the bar. The guy who called out — tall, sharp eyes, VP patch on his cut — raises his eyebrows, then grins wide and genuine.
"Oh, I like her."
Lock's arm is still around my waist. Solid. Warm. Like it belongs there.
"You want a beer?" The Road Captain has moved behind the bar, already reaching for a bottle. "I'm Diesel, by the way."
"Josie."
He slides it across to me with a small smile. "We know."
I take a sip. Cold and exactly what I need.
And just like that, I'm in.
No fanfare. No formal welcome. I'm just...
here. Part of the furniture. Part of the fabric.
The VP makes a joke about Lock finally having something to smile about, and Lock tells him to fuck off without any heat behind it.
Diesel goes back to wiping down the bar.
The guys at the tables go back to their card game.
Normal. Easy. Like I've always been here.
Lock steers me toward a booth in the corner. We slide in together, his thigh pressed against mine, and for a while we just sit there. Drinking our beers. Watching the room.
"I'm glad you came," he says eventually. His hand finds mine under the table, fingers interlacing. "I would've come to you. But I'm glad you're here."
His thumb strokes across my knuckles. "You're braver than you think, Josie. Braver than anyone I know."
My throat tightens. "I chose wrong once. Spent a year paying for it. When I left, I swore I wouldn't make the same mistake again." I stop. Breathe. "But then I met you. And you're not a mistake."
He doesn't say anything. Just lifts our joined hands and presses a kiss to my knuckles. Soft. Reverent.
It's not a declaration. It's not a speech. But from Lock, it's everything.
We stay in the booth for a long time. The light shifts, afternoon fading toward evening.
Guys come and go. Someone puts music on — old rock, the kind that rattles the windows.
At some point, the VP swings by to give Lock shit about something, and I fire back with a comment that makes him laugh so hard he chokes on his beer.
Lock watches the whole thing, quiet, but there's a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
I did this. I made the man who never smiles almost smile.
I'll take it.
Eventually, we end up outside. The sun's going down and we're leaning against his bike. His arm is around me. My head is on his shoulder.
"So what happens now?" I ask.
He presses a kiss to my hair. "Whatever we want."
Simple. Certain. So completely Lock.
The silence settles between us, comfortable and warm. Somewhere inside, someone laughs. A bike rumbles past on the road. The world keeps turning.
But right here, right now, everything is exactly where it's supposed to be.
I chose wrong once. I won't make that mistake again.
I chose Lock.
And he chose me right back.
EPILOGUE
One Month Later
The clubhouse is quiet when church is in session.
Not silent — there's still music from the jukebox, the clink of glasses, the low murmur of the few people left in the main room. But a different kind of quiet. Like the building itself is waiting for the men to finish whatever they're deciding behind that closed door.
I'm at a table near the bar with Demi and Bella, a half-empty beer in front of me. A month ago, I would've felt out of place here. Now it just feels like a Thursday night.
"How long do these things usually take?" I ask.
Bella shrugs. "Depends. Sometimes twenty minutes. Sometimes three hours and they come out arguing about something nobody will explain."
"The trick is not to ask," Demi adds. "They'll tell you what you need to know. The rest of it..." She waves a hand. "Club business."
I'm still learning the rules. What to ask, what not to ask.
When to push and when to let it go. It's different from what I knew with Colt — he used "club business" as a wall, a way to shut me out whenever he didn't feel like talking.
With Lock, it's not like that. He tells me what he can. The rest, I trust him to handle.
Trust. Funny how that word doesn't stick in my throat anymore.
"So." Demi leans forward, elbows on the table, something conspiratorial in her expression. "I heard something. Thought you'd want to know."
"About what?"
"About Colt."
I go still. Bella glances between us, eyebrows raised.
"I still know a few people from the Road Kings," Demi says carefully. "Old ladies, girlfriends. My dad doesn't know, but... we keep in touch. And word gets around."
"What kind of word?"
"He's out. Patched out." She lets that land. "Apparently he's been a problem for a while. Running his mouth, starting shit, making enemies he couldn't back up. The thing with you was just the last straw. My dad called it — said he was more liability than asset."
Rocky. Her father. The man who stood in that parking lot and shut Colt down while Lock faced him alone.
"When?" I manage.
"Last week. He's gone. Not Road Kings anymore, not welcome in their territory." Demi shrugs. "He's nobody now."
I wait for something to hit. Relief, maybe. Vindication. Something big and cathartic that tells me the nightmare is officially over.
It's quieter than that. Just a settling. A door clicking shut that I didn't realise was still open.
"Good," Bella says simply. "Fuck him."
Demi snorts. "Yeah. That about covers it."
And just like that, we move on. Bella says something about the prospect behind the bar being scared of Demi, and Demi grins like she's proud of it, and the conversation shifts. Easy. Normal.
Colt doesn't get any more space. Not in this room. Not in my life.
I take a sip of my beer and let myself feel it. Not the relief I expected, but something better. Peace. The quiet certainty that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
The chapel door opens and the guys file out. I spot Lock immediately — he's already scanning the room, finding me. When our eyes meet, something in his expression softens. Just a fraction. Just for me.
He crosses to the table and his hand lands on my shoulder. Warm. Solid.
"Ready?"
I look up at him. This man who walked into a rival club's territory for me. Who faced down my ex without raising his voice. Who says more with a look than most men say in a lifetime.
"Yeah," I say. "Let's go home."
He takes my hand and we walk out together. The night air is cool, his bike gleaming under the lights, and I climb on behind him like I've been doing it forever.
His hand squeezes my thigh once before he kicks the engine to life.
I wrap my arms around him, press my cheek to his back, and hold on.
The engine rumbles beneath us. The road opens up ahead.
I'm not looking back. Not anymore.
I've got better things in front of me.