Chapter 1 #2
I bit my lip. “Are you sure we’re safe here? Some of the guys seem cool, but honestly, some look at me like they want to eat me for breakfast—and not in a fun way. Like, legitimately murder me before crunching on my bones.”
“They’re wary of outsiders, but they’re loyal to the club. To their brothers and the people who matter to them. Every man here would protect you with their life because you matter to me. They would literally take a bullet for you.”
I looked at Eva skeptically. “I’d never ask that of someone.”
Her lips tipped up in a half smile. “When you’re a part of this family, you don’t have to.”
I shook my head. What kind of world did these bikers live in, where loyalty was paid in blood?
“You have to come to the bonfire tonight,” Eva pleaded over the phone, her voice too chipper.
I rubbed a hand just below my neck where the pressure suffocated me. “I just want to stay home. Maybe drink some wine. Watch some bad movies.”
Silence hummed between us for a beat. I wanted to wallow in peace, but Eva seemed to have forgotten why. I hadn’t. I couldn’t. Despite the years that had passed, the ache of this day and the memories that haunted me lurked just beneath the surface.
“Please,” Eva said, her tone softening. “I want you to get to know them. They’re my family.”
“Eva, I just—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” she interrupted. “I’ll drag your ass there if I need to. You need to make friends. Besides, I already told Hatchet you’d be making an appearance.”
She dangled the pretty, blonde-haired, blue-eyed biker who’d helped us unpack my moving truck the week before like catnip. His charming grin and the short beard shadowing his jaw made him look reckless. Guilt pulsed beneath my ribcage as I considered how much I’d enjoyed the way he made me laugh.
I rubbed my temples. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“I promise you’ll have fun. Besides, when have you ever said no to a party?”
I released a deep sigh, relenting. “Fine. I’ll come. But I’m leaving at nine.”
“We’ll see about that,” she sing-songed.
I choked in a shaky breath. “I need to go for a run. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”
My fingers trembled as I slipped my cell phone into a pocket.
The walls in my small home leaned in, and my mind spun as I attempted to press away the memories I’d shoved to the back of my mind.
But they were always there, waiting for a moment of weakness.
I needed to relieve the pressure building in my chest before I exploded.
Within minutes, I laced my running shoes and bolted out the door with plans to hit the shaded trail around the corner.
Despite the early evening, the thick and oppressive Texas heat clung to the air, making each breath feel like a struggle.
But I welcomed the burn in my lungs, the ache in my legs—anything to distract me from the storm brewing inside.
I focused on the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement, trying to outrun the ghost who haunted me. But the pressure in my chest only grew heavier. My breath caught in short, shallow gasps as the panic threatened to engulf me.
I grumbled and forced myself to slow my pace, opting to try the grounding technique my therapist constantly and annoyingly suggested. She promised it’d help me focus on the present when the past bit at my heels.
Name five things you can see.
Trees. The trail. A weather-worn bench. A crushed Coors Light can. Alec’s broken body slumped against the steering wheel.
Fuck. No, not that. Trees, the trail, a bench, a crushed can, and a patch of petunias.
Name four things you can feel.
The paved path beneath my running shoes. The sticky Texas heat on my skin. My necklace bouncing with each stride. Alec’s blood dripping down my fingers.
Name three things you can hear.
Birds chirping. Children shouting. The crunch of metal.
Name two things you can smell.
Leaking gasoline. Burnt rubber on pavement.
Name one thing you can taste.
Regret.
I slowed to a stop, placing my hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath. My lungs burned nearly as much as my grief as I shoved the memories back.
Three years later and the guilt still crashed through me in unforgiving waves. I sucked in sharp, ragged breaths, but it seemed like the oxygen was sucked out of the air. I squatted on the side of the trail, and the world spun for a moment.
“You OK, ma’am?” a man asked as he and his wife walked past, their faces creased with concern.
I nodded and flashed a thumbs-up as I averted my gaze from them. “I’m fine,” I lied.
I pulled the small backpack from my shoulders, digging for the medication at the bottom with shaky hands. I swallowed the pill dry and chased it with a splash of warm water.
You can’t run from grief, I reminded myself. But that didn’t mean I had to face it.
Tonight, I’d do the next best thing.
Drink.
Eva insisted on picking me up, clearly intending to foil my plan to leave the party early. But at this point, I was ready to surrender and end the night completely hammered with no memory of why this day made my chest ache.
She chattered about a recent meeting with a local editor while I snuggled Hawk, her Malinois puppy, in the front seat.
When we pulled up to the clubhouse, I took in the scene before me.
A row of Harleys lined the driveway, each with gleaming chrome and shimmering paint jobs.
An irresponsibly large bonfire crackled in the yard, its smoke curling around the surrounding Adirondack chairs.
“I’m glad you came,” Eva said. “I need my best friend.”
I offered a small smile. “For you, I’d join a cult. Which, technically, isn’t that what this club is?”
Eva rolled her eyes. “Smart-ass. It’s not a cult. It’s a club.”
“If I get kidnapped by bikers tonight, you’re explaining it to my mom.”
“Oh, fuck that. I’d rather be tied up beside you than have to call your mom.”
As soon as we parked, I beelined for the makeshift bar and poured myself a whiskey on the rocks in a plastic red cup.
“Thought you were never drinking again,” Eva teased as she tipped a bottle of water into a bowl for Hawk.
“Desperate times,” I deadpanned, forcing a smirk. I wondered how she could forget. I considered reminding her, but then I’d have to see her blue-gray eyes mist and answer endless questions about how I felt. And talking about my feelings wasn’t exactly high on my list for the evening.
Eva looped an arm through mine as she insisted on another round of introductions amidst the low thrum of laughter, chatter, and country music.
“You introduced me to almost everyone last week,” I whined as I tried to pull away. “Reaper, back me up here.”
Reaper held up his palms, his tall frame backing away. “Nope. I find it’s best just to do as she says.”
I scowled at him. “You’re not nearly as tough as you look.”
Reaper laughed, waving me off as he walked away with the pup biting at his heels. The man might have been a hardened biker and veteran, but he was a marshmallow when it came to Eva.
The parade of names and faces began again. A few I’d met already. Don and Maisie, a sweet couple that would fit in at a retirement home if they weren’t clad in leather cuts. Linc, a wiry, dark-eyed man who looked exactly like his brother, Reaper, but seemed younger and lighter.
Eva dragged me across the yard to another group.
“Jack, meet my best friend, Kenna.”
Jack stretched out a grease-stained palm. “A pleasure,” he said in a Southern drawl.
Before I could respond, a woman with a hot-pink pixie cut pressed up beside him.
“This is Leah, my old lady.” Jack kissed the top of her head as she suspiciously eyed me like I might try to steal her man.
I forced a polite smile as I bit back a comment about the old lady label. Their world, their rules, I reminded myself.
“Nice to meet you both,” I said. I threw back the rest of my whiskey, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat.
A roar split the air as a Harley rumbled up the long gravel driveway.
The man who swung off the bike was massive, all muscle and tattoos. His presence commanded the attention of everyone in the yard.
“That’s Fuse,” Eva said, excitement clear in her chipper voice. She glanced at my now-empty cup. “Let’s grab another drink and go say hi.”
“Sure, let’s go meet the prison biker who could snap me in half,” I grumbled, though curiosity coursed through me. I’d never met anyone who’d done hard time.
“Trust me. He’s a good guy,” Eva chided as she poured more whiskey into my glass before filling her own. “Don’t judge him before you get to know him.” She pressed the drink into my hand with a warning glare before spinning on her heels.
I sipped my whiskey and watched in rapt fascination as a group surrounded Fuse. They gave each other the manliest hugs I’ve ever seen, concluded by bruising back slaps.
It was a far cry from the old money country club world I’d grown up in—all handshakes and air-kissed cheeks, polite applause, and passive aggression. Instead of polo shirts and linen pants, these men wore leather and patches steeped in testosterone and tobacco.
Reaper waved us over. “This is my old lady, Eva, and her best friend, Kenna.”
Fuse’s intense gaze swept over us both, lingering just long enough to make me shift and tense.
“Reaper has good taste,” he said in a gruff voice as he wrapped his bear-sized hands around Eva. He lifted her off the ground and twirled her around in a circle. She giggled as her drink arced through the air and splashed onto the grass. Hawk let out a high-pitched yip, leaping to follow his human.
“You are absolutely stunning,” Fuse said as he set Eva down.
“Hands off my woman before I cut them off,” Reaper growled possessively.
Fuse glanced at me and smirked as I subtly stepped back.
“Relax,” he murmured. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve seen so many beautiful women. You can’t blame me for being a little enthusiastic.”
I kept a careful distance and studied Fuse as he turned to greet Thane. Every inch of him up to his neck was covered in tattoos. Scarred knuckles marred his fists. The unyielding confidence and flicker of challenge in his eyes made him magnetic.
From across the yard, Hatchet caught my eye. He was laughing with Linc, but when he saw me, he winked. My face flushed as I offered a small wave. He sauntered to the bar before heading my way with two drinks in hand.
“What’s this?” I asked, sniffing the one he offered me.
“I hear you and tequila are taking a break, so I took a guess with a vodka tonic.” He embraced me with a side hug. “I’m glad you could make it.”
Hatchet stood close enough that I could breathe in his cologne mixed with leather, motor oil, and maybe even bad decisions.
“Thank you. Eva forced me. She thinks I need to make friends.”
A crooked grin tugged at his lips. “I’ll be your friend,” he said smoothly, his ocean-blue eyes sparkling.
I sipped the drink, the ice and citrus biting my tongue. “Being my friend means Bloody Mary brunches, shopping, and dancing. Are you prepared to agree to those terms?”
Hatchet snorted. “Brunch? Absolutely. I like a woman who starts drinking in the morning. Dancing? I’ve got moves you’ve never seen, doll. But shopping? Sorry. That’s where I draw the line.” He grinned at me as he took a long drink of his beer.
I hid my smile behind my glass as I pretended to consider. “What if it’s for lingerie?”
Hatchet choked. I laughed as he sputtered, delighted to have caught him off guard.
He wiped his mouth. “Fuck. You trying to kill me?”
I feigned innocence. “I wanted to see if you truly drew the line at shopping. Friendship requires flexibility.”
He leaned in closer. “If that’s what friendship with you looks like, I’m willing to negotiate.”
I arched a brow. “What exactly are your terms?”
“Hmm,” Hatchet hummed, stroking his beard as he pretended to ponder the question. “First, I get to take you to my favorite taco truck for brunch. Second, I always get to pick the music in my truck. Third, I have a strict no-pants-after-midnight policy.”
I nearly spat out my drink. “It seems we may be at an impasse, biker boy. I always pick the music.”
Hatchet grinned as he closed the last bit of distance between us.
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’ll agree to that, as long as you don’t play any Taylor Swift,” he said in a low voice as his fingers lingered on the side of my neck.
“I have to draw the line somewhere, sweetheart.”
For a heartbeat, I let myself enjoy the warmth of his touch and our easy flirtation. Then the world tilted, and I froze as the unwanted memories flooded my mind once again.
Taylor Swift blaring in my Lexus. Tires screeching.
The cry of metal on metal. Steel piercing through Alec’s chest. My hands, cut from shattered glass, covering the wound.
The smell of copper filling the car as blood flowed under my palms. Alec’s shaky fingers tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as he called me “sweetheart” one last time and apologized over the approaching sirens.
His expression went slack, his eyes blank, before I had a chance to insist that I was the one who should apologize.
A crushing weight pressed on my chest as I stepped backward. “I’m sorry. I need a minute.”
Hatchet’s brows furrowed as I stumbled toward the edge of the clubhouse, my lungs clawing for air as the laughter and music faded behind me.