Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
I followed the motions of the morning—filling the dog’s bowl, brewing my coffee, microwaving a leftover cinnamon roll—but my mind was miles away, tangled in thoughts of Merrick.
He put me at ease in a way that left me feeling safe and unguarded.
He’d shown up with cake and comfort, stayed to watch a movie, and let me lean on him when my body ached.
He’d carried me to bed, tucked me in, and left without asking for anything in return.
It was more thought and care than I’d gotten from anyone in a long time.
But Merrick hadn’t shown interest in being more than a friend.
I sipped my coffee, staring out the kitchen window. My chest ached a little, disappointed that he hadn’t made a move. There had been moments that made my heart race. But he hadn’t acted on it. And he’d had plenty of chances.
He could have kissed me. He could have wrapped his arms around me on the couch while we watched the movie. He could have said something to let me know he wanted more.
But either he didn’t feel that way about me, or he held his own reservations. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. The truth was, we were just friends. And that had to be enough.
I bit into my cinnamon roll, letting the gooey sugar and warm dough crowd out my musings. I liked Merrick’s friendship. He listened. He showed up when I needed him. I liked the man he was—stoic, loyal, and unexpectedly tender.
My phone rang, the shrill tone breaking me out of my thoughts. Annoyance coursed through me as I saw who it was.
“Hey, Mom,” I said as cheerfully as I could muster.
“Kenna, dear. When are you coming home?”
No preamble. No “how are you?” Just demands.
“Texas is my home,” I reminded her. “I don’t know when I’ll come for a visit. Maybe Thanksgiving.”
My mother huffed at the inconvenience. “What about the annual picnic?”
I rolled my eyes. I despised the upscale barbecue event where she dragged me and my siblings around a ritzy country club, introducing us to her fake friends.
“I have a work event,” I lied. “A client needs me.”
“Oh? Who is this client?”
I grimaced. Shit. I couldn’t exactly tell my mother I worked for a motorcycle club. She’d have a heart attack. “It’s a private club. Very exclusive. Hard to get into. They’re pretty secretive. I can’t talk about ‘club business.’” I laughed internally at my use of the term that generally annoyed me.
She hummed. “Maybe you’ll find a nice husband at this club.”
I held back a snort. “Yeah, you’d love these guys. They’re very … driven.” On motorcycles, anyway.
“Well, I know you’re busy with work, but I wanted to make sure you’d heard about Alec’s memorial—”
I cut her off. “Sorry, a client’s calling. Love you. Bye.” I hung up the call and threw my phone down. It skittered across the countertop and immediately began to ring again. I glanced at the caller ID. It was Hatchet.
“Hey,” I answered, relaxing against the kitchen counter.
“Good morning, doll. You, uh, feeling better?” Hatchet asked, his tone pitched just shy of squeamish, which made me smile.
Men and menstruation. I could practically hear him squirming across the line.
“Yeah, a lot better actually. And I didn’t make anyone else bleed. Always a win when I make it through the first twenty-four hours without a murder.”
He let out a chuckle. “Glad to hear it. Anyway, I’m calling for Thane. He wants you to swing by.”
“Shit. Is he still mad at me for my … outburst?”
Hatchet scoffed. “No, Merrick smoothed that over for you. You’re forgiven. It’s about the Riot. Serpent and Jag are in town. They want you and Eva on board for PR stuff. Can you do two?”
I pulled my phone away from my ear and flipped to my calendar app. “Yeah, that should be fine. Is Eva coming, or am I the sacrificial lamb?”
“She had some other client meeting, so Thane asked me to call you.”
That probably meant Thane hadn’t completely forgiven me, if Eva was still his first choice. “Guess I’ll have to be OK with second place.”
“You’re always first in my book, doll. You want to go out tonight? Archer and I were going to hit up a new bar. There’ll be dancing and plenty of free drinks.”
I grinned. “You buying?”
“Always.”
“Do you think we could get Eva to come?”
“You’ve met her, right? Eva would rather stay home with her books and her dog.”
I giggled. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m still going to invite her. I feel obligated to try. Statistically, every tenth invite works.”
“Good luck with that. Pick you up at eight?”
I smiled. “Yeah, see you then.”
“Wear a jacket. We’re taking my bike.”
Something fluttered low in my stomach—equal parts nerves and excitement. “Got it. Try not to kill us.”
“You’re always safe with me, doll. I’d never let anything happen to you.”
What sounded like a herd of thundering mechanical buffalo pulled up to my house.
I wobbled a bit in my heeled boots as I ran out the door.
Archer and Fuse sat on their bikes as Hatchet swung his leg over, pulling a helmet from the saddlebags for me.
Eva perched behind Reaper on his matte white Harley.
“You came!” I screeched, hugging Eva one-armed and sideways, careful to avoid the scorching-hot black pipes. She squeezed me back.
“I’m leaving early,” she warned.
“We’ll see about that, Grandma,” I said as Hatchet handed me the helmet.
I jammed it on, adjusting the strap below my chin, and swung my leg over the bike.
Most of the guys didn’t wear anything besides a backward ball cap or bandanna.
But Hatchet seemed to intuitively know I’d be more comfortable with protection.
Inside, despite the long line curling around the block, Hatchet just nodded at the bouncer, who stepped aside and let us straight in.
“Are you a secret celebrity?” I asked him, trying to stay quiet but feeling like I had to shout above the pulsing crowd.
Hatchet shot me a sidelong grin. “I’m a fucking legend, doll.”
I rolled my eyes. “Get us a drink,” I ordered as I dragged Eva to the dance floor.
Our hips swayed to the bass, and we giggled as we danced in our own world, not worrying about what others thought. Because of her cut, most people gave Eva and me a wide berth.
I laughed and caught Eva’s attention, pointing her gaze toward Hatchet, who was holding a tray of shots beside Reaper and Fuse, who were doing their best “security detail” impressions by the cocktail table.
The table looked comically small before the brawny men.
We wove through the crowd, the drinks calling for us.
“Did you giants steal this from a dollhouse?” I asked.
Hatchet didn’t miss a beat, arching a brow as he handed me a shot.
“Girls always like to say size doesn’t matter but then complain when it’s not big enough,” he joked.
I caught Eva’s eye. She hated crowds and had only come for me. I’d be lucky if she lasted fifteen more minutes. “Last dance?” I mouthed. She nodded, and I dragged her back toward the pulsing blur of lights and bodies.
We threw ourselves into the music. Halfway through, an overgrown frat boy tried to grind up against Eva, wrapping a hand around her waist. She twisted away, but he leaned in, oblivious and determined.
Big mistake.
Before Eva could unleash her particular brand of mayhem, Reaper materialized. He tossed Eva—who squawked, sounding both outraged and delighted—over his shoulder before he reeled back and decked the guy, sending him flat on his back.
I pressed my hand over my mouth, eyes wide in gleeful shock. As the crowd shrieked at the spectacle, Fuse threw me a mock salute, following Reaper out the door.
My shoulders shook with laughter as Hatchet stepped up beside me. He slipped his arm around my waist, warm and casual, and before I could protest, he spun me onto the dance floor. Suddenly, it felt like the entire bar belonged to us.
Dancing with Hatchet was like willingly grabbing onto a live wire. He knew every beat, matching my moves. His hands found my hips, and I melted into the thrum of the music, feeling the beat in my chest and his body heat everywhere else.
God, I loved this. The floodlights, the strangers, the sticky floor, and the promise of bad decisions. For a second, I caught my reflection in one of the mirrored walls—a shock of wild red hair, flushed cheeks, and eyes so bright I almost didn’t recognize myself.
Archer waved us over to the bar, where he slid us another pair of shots.
Hatchet didn’t miss a beat. He threw his back in one smooth move, his other arm locked around my waist as if claiming me, his hips swaying behind me like we’d never left the dance floor.
He waved down the bartender for two glasses of water, and I leaned further into him, letting my head rest briefly against the hard plane of his chest.
Hatchet handed me a glass, and I downed the cool liquid gratefully. I wiped sweat from my brow, missing the ghost of his touch burning hot at my hips.
A girl with big hair and cherry-red lips started circling Hatchet, pressing her chest against him to try to whisper in his ear. Clearly a bit tipsy, her whisper came out as a shout.
“Save a horse, ride a biker. Want to dance?”
Hatchet blinked, rolled his eyes, and turned his attention back to me, deliberately ignoring the offer.
“Come on,” the blonde said, running her hand down his back.
“Back off,” I barked around Hatchet’s shoulder.
Archer swooped in, taking the overly touchy woman’s hand and leading her out to the dance floor. I raised my glass and mouthed a thank you to him.
Every nerve ending in me sparked the moment Hatchet’s hands slid back to my waist. His thumbs traced tantalizing, deliberate circles on the bare skin exposed above my jeans, sending a shiver up my spine.
“You’re dangerously beautiful tonight,” he murmured in my ear.
My heart fluttered in my chest, but I kept my voice steady. “I thought you liked to live dangerously.”
His fingers tightened the slightest bit. The unspoken promise in his grip made me catch my breath.