Chapter 20 #2
This is just the first shot.
Langston’s going to feel this and when he does, he’ll come for me.
Good. I want him to.
The next four days blur together into blood, smoke, and strategy. I barely sleep, barely eat. Every waking moment, my head is full of Ricky Langston. His men, his drops, his leverage. Every time I think I’ve found the edge of his operation, I uncover another layer.
I’ve got Talon pulling routes, Hulk intercepting shipments, and Pretty Boy running recon. We hit three of Langston’s caches back-to-back, taking his guns, his cash, and his muscle right out from under him. Every time we land a blow, though, I can feel him scrambling. Exactly where I want him.
But I don’t go back to the clubhouse. I can’t. Not yet. If I see Jo-Leigh before this is over, I’ll lose focus. And right now, focus is survival.
By the fourth night, exhaustion hits like a freight train. My phone’s dead, my bike reeks of burnt rubber, and there’s blood on my cut that’s not mine. I limp through the clubhouse doors just after dawn, body heavy, brain still in fight mode.
I don’t expect her to be there.
But she is.
Jo-Leigh’s leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on me like twin blades. There’s no softness in her face, no relief. Just fire.
“Four. Days.” Her voice is low but sharp enough to cut. “You disappear for four damn days, Swag. No calls. No texts. Nothing.”
I scrub a hand down my face, my throat dry. “Bee?—”
“Don’t ‘Bee’ me,” she snaps, stepping forward. “I thought you were dead.” Her hands tremble even though she’s trying hard to hide it. “I thought maybe Ricky had you, or that I was next.”
“Jo-Leigh…” I start, but the words die in my chest.
She shoves me. Hard.
“You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to swoop in, turn my life upside down, make me live here, make me feel things and then vanish like I don’t matter.”
The room goes quiet. Everyone in earshot freezes, but I don’t take my eyes off her.
I step closer, close enough that I can see the flush in her cheeks and the way her chest rises and falls. My voice comes out low, rough.
“You do matter.”
Her lips part, like she wants to argue, but I don’t let her.
“Langston’s escalating,” I tell her, my voice quiet but steady. “I’ve been tearing his operation apart, piece by piece, so he can’t touch you. That’s why I’ve been gone.”
She stares at me, her expression flickering between anger and something softer she’s trying hard to bury.
“I don’t care,” she whispers finally, shaking her head. “I just…I need to know you’re alive, Swag.”
I take her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my gaze. “I’m not going anywhere, little bee. Not unless it’s through hell and back to keep you safe.”
I don’t even see it coming. One second I’m standing there, trying to keep my distance, and the next her mouth is on mine.
It’s soft. Sweet. Dangerous. For a moment, I don’t breathe.
Hell, I don’t even move. But then my instincts kick in, and I grab her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space between us.
It isn’t about hunger this time. It’s about grounding myself, reminding both of us who the hell we are to each other even if she’s too damn stubborn to admit it yet.
When she pulls back, I catch the flicker of something in her eyes.
“I needed that,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I rasp, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “Me too.”
But the words aren’t enough. They’ll never be enough.
“Come here,” I murmur, and before she can argue, I scoop her into my arms. She makes a soft sound of protest, but I ignore it, carrying her through the clubhouse. A couple of my guys glance up, but one look from me has them dropping their eyes fast.
Upstairs, I push into my room and shut the door with my boot. I set her down on the bed like she’s fragile, even though I know better. My little bee has a sting, and she never hesitates to use it.
I crouch in front of her, resting my hands on her thighs, letting my gaze lock with hers.
“I’m not good with words, Jo-Leigh. Never have been. But I need you to hear me.” My voice comes out low, rough. “I don’t care what people say about me. I don’t care what I have to do to keep control of my world. But you?” I shake my head slowly. “You’re the one line nobody gets to cross.”
Her lips part, like she wants to argue, but nothing comes out.
I slip her shoes off, toss them aside, and pull the blankets back. She climbs in without a fight, her eyes still locked on mine. I slide in beside her and pull her against my chest, holding her there like she belongs nowhere else.
For the first time in four days, I breathe. Really breathe.
And as sleep starts to take her, I make myself a silent promise. Ricky Langston’s days are numbered.
She’s still asleep when I slip out of bed.
For a few minutes, I just watch her. Her arms curled beneath her cheek, the sheets tangled around her legs.
Peaceful. Soft. Mine. My hand twitches with the urge to touch her, but I hold back.
Last night, I made a promise. Not just to protect her but to make this something different. Something she wants.
Even if I still plan to own every part of her.
I head downstairs, already running through the list in my head. I need to tighten security around the clubhouse. Post eyes in town. Make sure Langston doesn’t so much as breathe in her direction without me knowing.
When I push into the chapel, Talon’s already there with two other officers—Diesel and Ruckus. Good. They know why they’ve been called.
“Langston has two dirty cops and a cousin who moves cash for him through a used car lot off Highland,” I say, dropping the folder Damien gave me on the table. “We start there.”
“You want pressure?” Talon asks, eyes sharp.
I nod. “No. I want chaos. Hit them where it hurts. Shake the tree and see what falls out.”
Diesel grins. “It’s been a minute since we stirred some shit.”
“Then you’ll love what I’ve got in mind,” I growl. “Tonight, we torch the lot. I want a message loud enough Langston can hear it from his fucking patrol car.”
They nod, adrenaline lighting them up like war dogs.
But as the plan starts unfolding—routes, signals, who covers who—my thoughts stray. Back to the woman sleeping upstairs. The one who kissed me like she meant it. Who curled up in my bed and let me hold her like she was something precious.
She doesn’t belong in this world. And yet, I can’t let her leave it.
When the meeting wraps, I linger a beat too long before heading back upstairs. I tell myself it’s just to check on her. But the truth is, I need to see her again before I dive back into this war.
I push the bedroom door open and find her sitting up, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in one of my shirts, legs bare beneath it. Her head turns, and our eyes lock.
“Morning,” she says softly, voice still rough from sleep.
“Morning, bee.” My voice comes out deeper than I mean. “You sleep okay?”
She nods. “Did you leave to go do something illegal?”
I huff out a laugh. “Not yet.”
Her gaze sharpens. “But you’re going to?”
I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You let me worry about the dirty work. Your only job is staying safe. Here. With me.”
Her brows pinch. “You can’t lock me up like I’m yours to cage.”
“You are mine,” I say, without hesitation. “But I’m not caging you, little bee. I’m protecting you from what’s out there. From men like Langston. You saw what he’s capable of.”
She swallows, and for a moment, her walls come down. “I hate that you’re right.”
“I always am.” I lean forward, kissing her forehead. “I’ll be gone a couple hours. You stay here, lock the door behind me, and don’t open it for anyone but me. You got it?”
She rolls her eyes. “Bossy biker.”
“Damn right.”
As I stand, she grabs my wrist, halting me.
“Come back, Swag.”
The words are soft. Vulnerable. They claw right through my ribcage.
“I’ll always come back to you, Jo-Leigh.”