Drift (Redline Kings MC #6)

Chapter 1

DRIFT

The sun hung low over Crossbend, bleeding gold across the cracked asphalt of Alanna’s new apartment complex. The place wasn’t fancy—four units tucked behind a strip of oaks, paint sun-bleached to the color of old bone—but it was solid. Safe.

My motorcycle club, the Redline Kings, owned the whole building, which meant no one besides one of us laid a finger on it. The security was top-notch.

This was also one of the reasons several of my club brothers and I were helping Jax’s little sister move in, as he’d left on his honeymoon last week.

The rented moving truck’s tailgate thudded open, shaking dust loose from the hinges.

I stepped forward, hands closing around the edge of a heavy box marked Kitchen Stuff-Fragile.

My fingers fit easily beneath the cardboard lip.

Didn’t matter that it weighed a ton; I could’ve carried it with one hand.

But I didn’t. The longer it took to take the box to the apartment, the longer I got to keep my distance.

Alanna stood near the stairs, sunlight sliding through her hair like liquid gold.

Loose curls brushed over her shoulders, the color bright against the soft gray tank top she wore.

The fabric clung in ways I had no business noticing.

She had on ripped jeans that hugged her curves and white sneakers, and there was a faint smudge of dust on her cheek from where she’d brushed a hand across her face earlier.

She looked so damn alive, while I felt like something carved out of shadow.

“Sure you got that, Drift?” Axle called while he leaned against the truck door, a cold bottle of water in his hand.

I grunted, heading for the stairs. “You offering to help or just narrating?”

That earned a short laugh from Nitro, who was wrestling with a rolled rug. “Narrating. Asshole probably forgot how to lift something heavier than a diaper bag.”

Axle flipped him off, but grinned. “Fuck you. I’m supervising.”

“Yeah?” Nitro kicked at the truck door, slamming it shut with a loud bang. “Then supervise this.” He shoved the rolled rug into Axle’s chest. “Straight up the stairs, boss man.”

Their bickering filled the humid air, easy and sharp-edged. The sound of brothers who’d walked through fire together.

I didn’t join in. My silence wasn’t new.

They were used to it. But today, it came with a pulse behind it.

Every step up those stairs, every echo of her laugh below, tightened something inside me.

The warm, throaty sound scraped down my spine like a slow drag of smoke.

She was laughing at Axle trying not to trip on the rug as he cursed Nitro under his breath.

It shouldn’t have hit me the way it did. But I had no way to stop it.

I shifted the box higher, forcing my focus back to the stairs. The wooden steps creaked beneath my boots. The whole building smelled faintly of fresh paint, sawdust, and the ocean air drifting up from the coast a few miles south.

Inside, the apartment was small but bright. Pale walls, clean floors, and a couch we’d carried up earlier. Simple. Perfect for Alanna. The kind of space that would feel like freedom after years of being locked in someone else’s idea of perfection.

I set the box on the counter and wiped a streak of sweat from my temple with the back of my hand. More trickled between my shoulder blades, and my shirt clung to my shoulders, the black cotton damp and stretched tight.

She came in behind me, carrying a plant in a chipped terracotta pot. “That goes in the kitchen?”

“Yeah,” I said, stepping aside.

Her smile flickered, uncertain. “You don’t have to do all the heavy lifting, Drift.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I know, but—” She hesitated, setting the plant down beside the box. “You’ve been at this for hours.”

“So have you.”

Her laugh came out soft and husky, cracking something in my chest. “Touché.”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her nails were painted a pale pink, and her skin glowed with the faintest sheen of sweat. I shouldn’t have noticed that.

There was a tiny freckle at the corner of her mouth. I shouldn’t have noticed that either.

Or the way the light caught her eyes—same steel-gray as Jax’s but softer. It damn near took the air out of my lungs.

Fuck.

I turned away, yanking open another box before I did something stupid, like stare too long. “Where do you want these dishes?”

“Cabinet by the sink.” Her voice followed me as I walked into the kitchen, light and careful. Trying to fill the silence I kept throwing at her.

Behind us, the others were still moving around. Edge thumped what sounded like a chair leg against the floor. “You sure this thing’s stable?”

“Stable as you,” Nitro shot back.

“That’s not fucking reassuring,” Rev snorted.

Edge, our VP, was as loyal as they came, a leader I’d follow anywhere, and a genius when it came to weapons. But he was also just a little bit psycho, which made him somewhat…unstable at times.

Axle sighed. “Gonna bring up the last box. You two try not to blow a hole through the drywall.”

Edge’s voice cut in from the living room again. “You got a hammer?”

“Toolbox by the door,” Nitro replied.

Something crashed—probably Edge’s ego hitting the floor.

“It’s fine,” he called. “It’s supposed to look like that.”

Their voices bounced around the small space, easy like they’d been doing this for decades. Brotherhood built from scars. I didn’t join in. I stayed at the counter, my hands working through plates and glasses I barely saw.

Alanna giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. I saw her shoulders shake in the reflection of the microwave door and caught myself almost smiling. Almost.

By the time the sun started dropping behind the trees, most of her things were unpacked. The apartment looked lived in—books on the shelf, her laptop open on the small dining table, and a throw blanket draped over the couch. It looked like a home. Or close enough to it.

Leaning her hip against the door frame, she watched the guys file out one by one. Edge brushed dust from his jeans and told her to call if anything broke, preferably before Jax tried to fix it.

Rev clapped me on the shoulder as he passed. “We’re heading out. You got this locked down?”

“Yeah.”

Nitro gave Alanna a lazy, two-finger salute. “If anything breaks, you call Drift. He’ll fix it.”

She smiled. “Will do.”

Axle brushed dust from his jeans, then sauntered through the door. “Expect you to let us know if you need anything. Don’t want Jax getting hurt when he tries to kick my ass for not taking care of his little sister.”

“Yeah, because you’re under our protection now.” Edge’s grin didn’t quite hide the steel beneath it. “No one fucks with what’s ours.”

Her eyes flicked to me then—quick and curious. My throat went tight. Then she looked back at Edge as she chuckled. “Got it. Thanks for helping today.”

“Anytime.” His grin softened at the edges, genuine beneath the mischief. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

She blushed faintly but didn’t look away. “Thanks.”

When the door shut behind them, the apartment went quiet. I checked the window locks out of habit. Old instincts. Always the last man standing, always the one watching the exits.

Alanna stood near the couch, tracing her finger along the edge of one of the framed photos she’d unpacked—she and Jax, when she was a kid and he was a teenager, laughing like they didn’t live in a cage.

She looked up when I turned. “Thanks for today.”

I shook my head. “You’re family.” The words came out rougher than I meant.

“Still.” Her voice softened. “It means a lot.”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded, my jaw aching from how hard I was clenching it.

She tilted her head, studying me. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’ve barely said anything all day.”

“Don’t have anything worth saying.”

That earned a small smile. “You always like this?”

“Only when I’m awake.”

She laughed then, low and real. The sound slid under my skin, hot and dangerous. She was so damn alive. So unaware of how easily she could unravel me just by existing in the same room.

“You hungry?” she asked after a pause. “I could order something. Pizza? Chinese?”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve had a long day.”

“So have you. And I really think I owe you dinner.”

“Don’t owe me a thing.”

Disappointment flickered in her eyes, gone just as quickly as it had come.

But I saw, and it hit like a punch to my gut.

I hated that I’d wiped away her enchanting smile.

I forced myself to step back and grabbed my lighter from my pocket even though I didn’t smoke anymore.

My thumb rolled over the worn metal out of habit.

“Need anything before I head out?” My voice came out too low and tight.

She shook her head, then hesitated. “Just…thanks, Drift. Really.”

I almost told her to call me Chance, my real name. Even though I knew how stupid it would be.

The internal struggle disappeared when she crossed the space between us and wrapped her arms around me.

Every muscle in my body locked up. She pressed herself against me, warm and soft. My hands hovered, then landed lightly on her back because not touching her would’ve been worse. Her heartbeat fluttered against my chest. I breathed her in like oxygen I didn’t deserve.

Two seconds. Not long enough to be a mistake, but long enough to ruin me. That’s all it took to burn her into my skin.

She pulled back, smiling up at me. “You’re kind of impossible, you know that?”

I managed a nod. My throat felt raw. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

She walked me to the door, bare feet padding against the floor. I stepped out into the warm evening, the air thick with the scent of the sea. When I looked back, she was still standing there—arms folded loosely and lips curved like she wanted to say something but didn’t.

If I’d been weaker, I’d have gone back up.

Instead, I started my bike, and the deep growl broke the hushed evening.

The vibration steadied me the same way it always did.

By the time I pulled out onto the main road, the sun was gone and the sky burned orange behind the trees.

My fists tightened on the handlebars, but my hands were steady again. My head wasn’t.

Jax’s baby sister, I reminded myself. Off-fucking-limits.

I’d already crossed enough lines just by wanting her.