Chapter 5 Kya
KYA
My first week as the owner of Devil’s officially ends with me flopped on my couch surrounded by crumpled receipts and ledger sheets that make about as much sense as quantum physics. The light from my laptop casts a blue glow across the chaos of my small living room.
I didn’t have the stomach to stay in Mom’s trailer—not with the smell and memories—so I’d rented a small cottage on the edge of town. It’s nothing fancy, just a one-bedroom with creaky floorboards and a temperamental water heater, but it’s clean and it’s mine. For now, at least.
My phone buzzes, dragging me from the edge of sleep. I blink at the screen, surprised to see Mercy’s name.
Mercy
You alive, boss?
Kya
Barely. Why?
Mercy
Need your sign-off on an order. Plus Duck just called. MC needs a favor.
I frown at the message. A favor? From me?
Kya
Did he say what about?
Mercy
Nope. Just asked if you could call him ASAP.
Kya
Thanks. Approve the order. I’ll give Duck a call.
I’m about to set the phone down when it rings.
“Hello?”
“Kya.” Duck’s gravelly voice fills my ear. “Got your number from Devil. You got my message?”
“Yeah. How can I help?”
“We need your backroom for a few hours. And your discretion.”
I frown, drawing a pattern in the rug with my big toe. “Is it illegal?”
“No.”
“Is it going to get me in trouble with anyone?”
“Not if we can help it.”
I close my eyes, sighing heavily. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Don’t worry about it. This is club business. It’s sensitive but there won’t be blowback. Promise.”
I barely resist sighing once more. “Fine. But I’m charging you double for the room. Consider it danger pay.”
He chuckles. “You do that, sweetheart.”
The call ends, leaving me staring at my phone with a knot in my stomach. What the hell had I just agreed to? I guess I’d find out tomorrow.
Thursday arrives with steel-gray clouds and a chill that cuts through my jacket as I unlock the front door of Devil’s.
The bar feels different in the daylight.
The scuffs on the floorboards are more visible, the wear on the bar stools more apparent.
It’s like seeing someone without their makeup on—all their flaws and character laid bare.
It’s my favorite part of the day.
I’m restocking the bar when I hear the first rumble of motorcycles in the parking lot. My watch reads 2:45. They’re early.
The door opens, and Duck enters first, followed by Stone, Emma and Lee’s dad, and the club’s president. I haven’t seen him in years, but the silver threading through his dark hair suits him.
Behind him comes a steady stream of leather and denim—Cash and Mack, Bones, and several others I recognize from around town but don’t know by name.
Lee enters with the group and his gaze locks with mine across the room.
His expression is unreadable as he takes in the sight of me here, in the middle of club business.
Last to enter is a man with a carefully trimmed beard and piercing eyes that seem to catalogue every detail of the room. His cut identifies him as “Axel - Road Captain.”
“Kya.” Duck nods in greeting. “Appreciate you letting us use the space.”
“My pleasure,” I say, gesturing toward the back room where I’ve already set up tables and chairs. “Coffee’s fresh if anyone wants some.”
Stone approaches, his eyes warming with recognition. “Kya Sullivan. It’s been a while.”
“Mr. Armstrong.” I extend my hand, expecting a shake. I get a hug instead. A real one, like what I imagine a father might give a daughter he hasn’t seen in years.
It’s warm and tight, and for a beat I let myself pretend he’s my parent, grateful to have me home.
Silly girl. You don’t have any family left.
“It’s Stone to you now,” he says with a slight smile as he puts me back on the ground. “You’re not a kid anymore.”
“No, sir,” I agree. “Not for a long time.”
His eyes study me for a moment, something thoughtful in his expression. “Duck tells me you’re okay with us hosting this meeting.”
“Devil explained this happens occasionally. I understand.”
“It does. Though we try to keep the imposition to a minimum.” His gaze is piercing when it meets mine. “Just understand that what we discuss here stays here.”
“I’ve always been good at keeping secrets,” I tell him, meeting his stare steadily. The unspoken reference to all those nights I spent covering for his daughter, and all the times he’d pretended not to notice me sneaking out of their house at dawn, hangs between us.
His lips twitch as if he’s amused. “That you have. Let’s get started.”
We move to the back room, but before anyone sits, Axel pulls out a small device from his jacket pocket.
“Standard procedure,” he explains, seeing my questioning look. “Just checking for bugs.”
He sweeps the room methodically, the device making occasional beeps as he passes it over light fixtures, under tables, and around the edges of the room. When he’s done, he nods to Stone.
“Clean.”
I linger by the door. “Need anything else from me?”
Stone exchanges a glance with Duck, then shakes his head. “We’re good, Kya. Thanks.”
The dismissal is clear. I nod, backing out of the room and pulling the door closed behind me. I stand there for a moment, listening to the low murmur of voices starting up on the other side.
Part of me knows I should respect their privacy. But another part—the part that grew up in this town, that understands the consequences of ignorance—can’t just walk away. Not when it sounds like something big is happening.
I head to the storeroom next door, stepping carefully around boxes of liquor and paper goods.
While cleaning this beast of a building, I’ve begun to leave its the quirks.
Which is how I found the small gap in the shared wall where a pipe had once run through.
It’s been patched on the meeting room side, but if you know where to look, you can still hear through it.
Not to mention the small peep hole beside it.
I had no doubt Devil knew all about this—and listened in regularly on anyone using the room. Cheeky bugger.
I press my ear against the wall, straining to make out the voices. That’s when I hear it. A woman.
Turning, I peep through the hole and am surprised to see a woman in her early-–forties with warm brown skin and natural curls which are pulled back in a neat bun. She’s wearing an expensive suit and carrying a sleek leather briefcase.
“You must be Ms. Bright,” Lee says, his posture shifting subtly.
“Josie, please. Ms. Bright makes me sound like I’m teaching kindergarten.”
“Lee Armstrong,” he introduces himself then the others at the table.
She sets her briefcase on the table. “I’ve reviewed the initial documents you sent. You’ve got a serious situation on your hands.”
“Very,” Stone agrees. “Lee was just briefing us on Summit’s political moves.”
Josie opens her briefcase, pulling out a folder. “That tracks with their MO in other communities. They establish a presence, then use money to push through zoning changes that benefit their projects and harm existing residents.”
I frown, pressing closer to the wall. People are being pushed out of their homes? The thought makes my stomach churn with anger. This is my town, my people. How is this not splashed across the front page of the newspaper? And why is the MC involved?
“Can we stop them?” Duck asks.
“That depends on a number of factors,” she says, spreading out several documents. “I need to understand what evidence we can gather, how organized the community response is, and whether we can find a legal angle to challenge their operations.”
Their voices drop, forcing me to return to the pipe, straining to hear.
“… Summit’s changing tactics,” Lee says, his voice carrying better than the others. “They’ve been trying to push residents out by making their lives difficult—cutting utilities, creating code violations, blocking road access. But now they’re going legitimate. Or at least, pretending to.”
The casual cruelty of it hits me like a physical blow. These aren’t just numbers on a development plan—these are real people’s lives being destroyed. My anger builds with each detail, and I find myself leaning forward, desperate to hear more.
“What do you mean?” Josie asks.
“They’ve got three candidates running for city council,” Lee explains. “All of whom are positioned as ‘concerned citizens’ who want to ‘revitalize’ Stoneheart.”
Duck’s gravelly voice comes through next. “Revitalize is just code for ‘push out the poor folk.’”
“Exactly,” Lee agrees. “But it gets worse. We’ve got sources who say Summit’s already greasing palms on the current council. That’s why they’re getting all their permits pushed through while everyone else is stuck in red tape hell.”
I shift, trying to hear better as Axel mentions something about a construction company and someone named Poppy.
“The Bennett Construction situation was just the beginning,” Axel says, his tone gruff. “Now they’re sending out rezoning questionnaires to residents, making it sound like they’re gathering community input, when really they’re just identifying which neighborhoods to target next.”
The conversations continue, and I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. If the club is correct, that means there’s a corrupt organization operating out of our town.
But for what purpose?
I jump as warm breath brushes against the shell of my ear, Lee’s voice a low rumble that sends goosebumps racing down my arms.
“Find what you’re looking for?”
I spin, startled, and suddenly we’re face-to-face, our noses almost touching. My heart hammers against my ribs as I take in his piercing gaze, the way his jaw is set with barely controlled tension. I try to step back but my foot catches on a box of stock behind me, and I stumble.
Lee’s hands shoot out, gripping my hips to steady me, his fingers strong and sure against the curve of my waist. My palms flatten against his chest automatically, and I can feel the solid thud of his heart underneath the material of his shirt, beating just as fast as mine.