Chapter 20 #2
“I do. Trouble is, every time I’m near you, I forget where the line is.”
I let myself linger in that heat, biting my lip to hide a smile. “Maybe tonight, we should see how close we can get without crossing it.”
He dropped his head, letting his lips brush the shell of my ear—close enough I felt his breath, but not touching. “That sounds like a challenge, doll.”
I turned to face him, laughing lightly. “Then accept it.”
My pulse thundered at my throat, desperate for more, but I held the line. He grinned wickedly, eyes never leaving mine. Neither of us closed the distance, but the tension glittered sharp and heavy in the heat between us.
A golden haze leaked through my window as the sun rose only a few hours after landing in my bed. I buried my face deeper into the pillow. Brisket lay sprawled beside me. He thumped his tail as I woke, silently asking for a morning belly rub.
I hesitantly stretched my body, which ached from dancing and drinking until the bar closed.
The ghost of Hatchet’s touch still tingled across my body, the memory of his rough fingers causing my stomach to flip.
He touched me like I was made of dynamite, careful yet confident with his trademark cockiness and desire for anything that gave him a rush of adrenaline.
Memories of him standing at my door after driving me home rushed back to me. We stood on my porch as he held my elbow, keeping me steady as I teetered in my heels. He stepped in, his palm grazing my arm lightly. I could feel in the gravity of the moment that he was going to kiss me.
And I panicked. Full system shutdown. I turned away and unlocked the door as I told him good night.
But Hatchet just grinned. He chuckled, low and warm, like I hadn’t rejected him once again.
“I had a good time tonight, doll. Night,” he’d said before swaggering off like he didn’t have a single bruise on his ego. Like women who were a sure thing hadn’t been throwing themselves at him all night long.
Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling fan spinning lazy circles above me.
Why had I pulled away? I liked Hatchet. As Eva reminded me time and time again, Alec wouldn’t expect me to stay loyal to his corpse.
He’d want me to be happy. And I didn’t have to jump into a long-term, committed relationship. I could choose casual. Fun.
I struggled to reprogram the muscle memory of heartbreak. Pushing people away was a reflex.
But after Hatchet left, the ache for Alec felt more distant. Not gone. Not by a long shot. But dulled at the edges, like a scar that had healed enough that you could trace it with your fingers without wincing.
I’d spent so much time buried under the weight of my grief, living in my old apartment, where the ghost of memories of my life before trailed my every step.
Texas had given me a fresh start. A home with halls Alec had never walked.
New friends who were becoming family. And a sweet, overgrown puppy that brought purpose to my day.
I closed my eyes, letting myself drift in the feeling of hope and happiness that filled my chest. Brisket whined, growing impatient as I lazed in bed.
“Fine, I’ll get up. We’ll go for a walk before the air feels like we’re walking through hell,” I said, as if the dog spoke English and could understand me. His warm, mocha eyes and excited yip told me he just might.
My phone pinged as a text came through.
Eva:
Don’t forget that you’re meeting with Thane and the Riot today.
Me:
Yes, Mom. I won’t be late.
Eva:
Get there a few minutes early. And try not to piss off Thane again.
I rolled my eyes.
Me:
He could try basic communication about what is actually happening in the club.
Eva:
That is precisely the type of comment you need to keep in your head.
Me:
I’ll play nice today. Promise.
I strolled into the clubhouse five minutes before our meeting, having gotten a text from Merrick thirty minutes before reminding me that, from Thane’s point of view, on time equaled late.
“Mornin’, darlin’,” Thane drawled. “This is Serpent. He’s the president of the Red Rock Riot.”
Thane gestured toward the man leaning against the pool table.
I nodded in hello. Serpent’s presence made me stand up straighter.
His black hair brushed his collar in wind-torn waves, like he hadn’t bothered to run his fingers through it after a long, hard ride.
A dark beard framed his mouth. His forearms, wrapped in tight cords of muscle, were a gallery of ink with snakes twisting through shadows and smoke.
I recognized one piece as a Mayan deity from my brief stint in college as an archaeology student.
The fact that this man carried that god on his skin made me wonder if he believed in what it stood for—power and sacrifice.
“And this is Jaguar. VP.”
Jaguar straightened from where he’d been lounging in a chair.
His slow movements were fluid, embodying the predatory grace of the large cat he was named for.
He was leaner than Serpent, with the sleek build of an MMA fighter.
His black hair was shaved close on the sides with a short, spiky mohawk running across the top of his head.
A still-pink puckered scar cut through the side of his cheek.
I reached out a palm to shake with each of the men, their enormous hands swallowing my own.
“We’re just waiting on Hatchet, and then we can head to the office to talk,” Reaper explained.
A throaty laugh drifted from the hall. A stunning blonde with bright-blue eyes walked out from beside Hatchet.
A surge of jealousy coursed through me. I pursed my lips, reminding myself that Hatchet and I were not in a relationship.
Hatchet caught my gaze and pointedly stepped farther from the blonde as they entered the room.
“Kenna, this is Haven,” Thane said. “She’s Serpent and Jag’s old lady.”
Serpent AND Jag? My terrible poker face betrayed my curious thoughts as I heard the two men chuckle at my reaction.
“Did you pick one out that you liked, love?” Jaguar asked Haven, wrapping his arms around her. She pulled a small pistol from her purse, aiming the barrel at the ground as she handed it to him.
“The Springfield Hellcat,” she said proudly. “Hatchet says it’s the perfect size for me.”
Jaguar admired the small weapon, looking down the barrel before carefully handing it back to Haven. “Nice. We’ll do some target shooting when we get home to make sure you’re comfortable with it.”
“Let’s head to my office to chat,” Thane suggested. “Kenna’s the one who alerted me to the reporters digging into your club. I think she can help you.”
I trailed behind Thane, feeling Merrick close behind me and hearing the heavy bootsteps of the Riot men.
Once we sat down, I began to ask Serpent and Jaguar basic questions about their club and the reputational challenges they faced in their small community in New Mexico.
A former member had made headlines—fighting in the grocery store, recklessly driving through a school zone, and—the last straw—assaulting an underage girl.
“Misconduct by one bad actor can tarnish an entire organization’s image,” I explained. “But this is repairable. You’ve already kicked him out. That shows you’re not willing to accept that kind of behavior.”
Serpent and Jag nodded, seemingly more open to my counsel than I’d have expected a month ago, before I’d found myself embedded in the motorcycle club world.
“Actions speak louder than words,” I continued. “We don’t need to tell the newspapers that your club is good. We need to show them. That’s how Eva approached reputation repair with the Mavericks. She found the stories that showed the community who these guys really are.”
Before I could say more, the unmistakable rat-tat-tat of gunfire sounded nearby, the shots ricocheting off the clubhouse steel siding.
The men were on their feet in a blur, hands finding pistols as easily as a normal man would find his phone. Jaguar, Thane, and Reaper rushed out as Merrick and Serpent reached for me and Haven.
“Get behind the desk,” Merrick ordered. “Now.”
I scrambled with Haven, dropping behind Thane’s solid oak desk.
“Stay down. I’m locking the door behind us. Don’t open it for anyone.” Merrick waited for a beat as I stared at him, my heart thundering in my chest. “Words, Kenna. Use your words. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I squeaked. “Stay behind the desk. Don’t open the door.”
Serpent kneeled to kiss Haven and handed her the purse she’d left behind on the chair. “If anyone tries to get in here who isn’t us, don’t stop pulling the trigger until you’re out of bullets,” he added.
Haven’s hand found mine, and the lock clicked behind the men as they left.
Deafening silence filled our ears. No more gunshots. No shouts. None of the chaos I’d expect in a firefight.
After ten minutes, heavy boots thudded down the hall. Haven gripped the small pistol in her hand, peeking around the desk. The handle rattled as the person behind the door began to unlock it.
“You can come out,” Merrick said as he opened the door. “You’re safe.”
Haven stood, running and throwing herself into Jaguar’s arms.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice shakier than I’d expected.
Merrick’s gaze skimmed over me before he shrugged. “Drive-by, but we’re not sure yet who the target was. Hopefully, Linc can find out more from the camera.”
He was so nonchalant, like drive-by shootings occurred every day.
“We’re going to get on the road,” Serpent said. “I don’t want Haven caught in the crossfire. Thanks for meeting with us. We’ll be in touch.”