Chapter Twenty
NITRO
One Month Later
My palms are sweating like I’m about to ask permission to marry Sin’s sister, if he had a sister, instead of throwing a party, as I stand at the door of the clubhouse Chapel.
Which is ridiculous.
I’m the VP of this club. I’ve faced down rival MCs, negotiated deals worth millions, and run security operations that would make most men piss themselves, but asking my president if I can use the clubhouse for my girlfriend’s birthday party?
That’s got my heart hammering against my ribs as though it’s trying to escape.
“You gonna actually say something, or you just gonna stand there looking constipated?” Sin asks, that damn poker chip flipping between his fingers the way it always does. His mismatched eyes study me with amusement as I stand in the doorway.
I clear my throat, rolling my shoulders back. “Marley’s thirtieth birthday is coming up.”
“And?” He leans back in his chair, a slow smirk spreading across his face. The bastard already knows where this is going.
“I want to throw her a party here, at the clubhouse.”
The poker chip stops mid-flip. Sin’s eyebrows climb toward his hairline, and for a second, he stares at me. Then he lets out a low whistle. “Damn, brother. You’re really doing this, aren’t you?”
“Doing what?”
“Falling.” He gestures at me with the chip. “Hard. I’ve known you for what, fifteen years? Never seen you this solid about anyone.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “Are you gonna give me permission or not?”
“Permission?” Sin laughs, actually laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Nitro, you’re my VP. You don’t need my permission to use the clubhouse. But the fact that you’re asking?” His expression softens. “Yeah, throw her the best damn party this club has ever seen.”
Relief floods through me, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Great, thanks, Pres.”
“One condition.” Sin points the chip at me. “I want in on the planning. Victoria’s been bugging me about doing something fun for the club anyway. This could be perfect.”
“Done.”
As I turn to leave, Sin calls out, “Nitro?”
I glance back.
“She’s good for you, brother. I see it in the way you carry yourself. Lighter somehow. As though you’re not carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore.” He flips the chip once more. “Hold onto that. Hold onto her.”
The words settle in my chest, warm and heavy. “I plan to.”
Now I have the location, I need help putting it together, and after sending out the text, I jump on my ride and head off to meet the two other people in this world who love her as I do.
Well, maybe not quite the same as me.
I arrive at The Grind, Marley’s favorite coffee shop. Sage and Beck are already sitting at a corner table, and when Beck sees me approaching, his face lights up.
“There he is!” Beck jumps up, pulling me into a hug that’s surprisingly strong for someone half my size. “The man of the hour. Or should I say, the man with a plan?”
“Keep your voice down,” I mutter, glancing around. “Marley comes here every morning. If she hears—”
“Relax, lover boy.” Sage grins, patting the seat next to her.
“She’s at work. We’ve got at least an hour before she usually takes her lunch break, and besides, it takes her a little longer to come here now from the new job, seeing as it’s not directly across the street like dickhead Derek’s place.
But she still insists on Ubering here because of her damn loyalty. ”
I smirk because Marley is adorable that way as I slide into the chair, and immediately Beck shoves his phone in my face. “Okay, so I’ve been thinking. Marley’s turning thirty, which is a big deal, right? We need to make this epic. Unforgettable. Something she’ll talk about for years.”
“I’m thinking the same thing,” I say, pulling out my own phone where I’ve been making notes. “We got permission to use the clubhouse. The brothers are all in.”
Sage’s eyes widen. “The clubhouse? Nitro, that’s perfect. She loves it there. Loves your family.”
My chest tightens at the word family. Because that’s exactly what the club has become to Marley.
In the month since she started at Blackwell Entertainment Group, she’s integrated herself into my world so seamlessly that it’s as if she was always meant to be there.
Sunday dinners at the clubhouse. Victoria is teaching her how to shoot.
Ro is making her laugh until she can’t breathe.
Even Ghost, who barely talks to anyone, has warmed to her.
She fits.
And watching her belong, watching my brothers accept her and protect her like she’s already an Old Lady, makes me want things I never thought I’d want.
Forever things.
The kind of things that terrify and thrill me in equal measure.
“Earth to Nitro.” Beck snaps his fingers in front of my face. “You still with us, big guy?”
“Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?”
“Theme,” Sage says, leaning forward with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “We need a theme. Something fun, something that’ll get everyone involved.”
Beck taps his chin, then his eyes light up. “Eighties rock bands.”
I curl up my lip. “What?”
“Eighties rock bands!” Beck’s practically bouncing now. “Everyone dresses up. Guns N’ Roses, Bon Jovi, Joan Jett, Def Leppard. It’s cheesy, it’s fun, and can you imagine the club brothers in spandex and leather?”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. “Sin in a Bon Jovi costume?”
“Victoria as Joan Jett,” Sage adds, grinning. “Oh my God, she’d kill it.”
“Marley would love it,” I say slowly, the idea taking root, even though I personally hate it. I first made her smile because of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” “She’s got this record collection, all the classics. She plays them when she’s cooking, when she’s cleaning.”
I’ve caught her dancing in the apartment kitchen more times than I can count, wooden spoon as a microphone, hips swaying to “Livin’ on a Prayer” or “Sweet Child O’ Mine.
” Each time, I stand in the doorway and watch, memorizing every detail.
The way her red hair catches the light. The unselfconscious joy on her face. The curve of her hips as she moves.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I see those wheels turning,” Beck says, pointing at me. “You’re already picturing her in some amazing eighties getup, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
“He totally is.” Sage laughs. “Okay, so eighties rock theme. What else?”
“Decorations,” Beck says, already typing notes into his phone. “I’m thinking records hanging from the ceiling, neon lights, maybe a photo booth with props. Wigs, sunglasses, inflatable guitars.”
“I can handle the music,” I say. “I’m sure Ro will perform. She’s got a killer voice, and she loves this kind of stuff.”
“You’re going to play, too, right?” Beck asks, eyebrows raised. “Please tell me you’re going to serenade your woman with your flute.”
The idea makes my stomach flip. Playing for Queenie is one thing. Playing for Marley, in front of everyone, declaring my feelings through music? That’s vulnerable in a way I’ve spent most of my life avoiding.
But for her?
I’d do anything.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’ll play.”
Sage reaches over and squeezes my hand. “She’s going to love this, Nitro. All of it.”
“I want to invite Queenie,” I add. “Marley’s been asking about meeting her. I think it’s time.”
Beck and Sage exchange a look, and then Beck’s expression softens in a way I rarely see. “That’s huge, man. Queenie’s the most important person in your life.”
“She is,” I correct. “Marley is now too. But Queenie’s still…” I swallow hard. “She deserves to meet the woman who’s changed everything for me.”
“Jesus, Nitro.” Sage fans her face dramatically. “You’re going to make me cry, and I’m wearing mascara.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Beck teases, but his eyes look suspiciously shiny too.
We spend the next hour planning. Beck offers to make a photo montage of Marley, candid shots he’s been taking over the past few months that she doesn’t know about.
Sage promises to help with food, coordinating with the club girls to make sure there’s enough to feed everyone.
I make notes about decorations, music, and the guest list.
“What about the club brothers?” Sage asks. “Think they’ll actually dress up?”
I pull out my phone. “Let me handle that.”
I fire off a text to the club group chat.
Me: Church in thirty. Mandatory.
The responses come fast.
Ghost: *thumbs up emoji*
Koa: Right!
Bear: On my way.
Axel: Got it.
Mace: I’ll be there!
Deek: Bro, I JUST sat down to shit. Thirty minutes isn’t enough.
Sin: We will ALL be there, VP. Deek, clean snap if you have to!
I let out a small chuckle as I say goodbye to Beck and Sage, then hop on my ride back to the clubhouse. Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting in the Chapel with Sin, Ghost, Koa, Bear, Axel, and Mace while we wait for Deek.
“Is he really not done yet?” Mace asks.
Bear groans. “I don’t know what the fuck my son eats, but he’s been like this his whole life. His shits last longer than the entire Lord of the Rings Trilogy.”
Axel snorts. “Extended edition or theatrical?”
“Extended,” Bear deadpans. “We’re talking twelve-hour-long bowel warfare.”
Ghost leans back in his chair. “Honestly? I think he snacks in there. Refuels mid-battle.”
Koa shakes his head. “Brother’s got a whole questline happening on that toilet. First, he sits, then he struggles, then he overcomes adversity. It’s a hero’s journey.”
Mace chuckles. “Pretty sure the toilet’s the real victim. That thing’s seen things.”
Axel leans back in his chair, raising his fist in the air. “If he doesn’t walk outta there with a staff and a cloak saying, ‘You shall not pass,’ I’m gonna be disappointed.”
Sin rubs his temples. “Jesus-fucking-Christ! If he’s not in here in the next two minutes, someone go drag his hobbit ass out.”
From the hallway, Deek calls out loud and offended, “I can hear you fuckers shit-talking me!”
“We’re talking shit because you’re taking the longest one in the history of the world,” Bear calls back.
The Chapel door swings open hard, slamming against the wall like it personally offended him. Deek strides in with all the dramatic flair of a man who absolutely refuses to acknowledge he was fighting for his life in the bathroom.
His cut is crooked. His hair is a mess. But he looks… victorious.
Deek throws his arms wide. “You’re welcome, assholes. I just survived something traumatic. Nobody checked on me. Nobody offered emotional support. I could’ve fucking died in there.”
Bear groans. “For fuck’s sake.”
Deek plops into a chair like a man returning from war. “Now. What’s this urgent meeting about? Because if it’s anything less than life or death, I’m walking my heroic ass back out, to finish, because I had to stop mid-shit for this.”
“You took that long, and you’re only halfway through? What the fuck!” Axel drones.
Sin finally snaps, laughing despite himself. “Sit the fuck down, Deek.”
Deek grins, slides back into his seat, and points both thumbs at himself. “You’re welcome for my presence. Please… continue.”
The brothers turn to me, watching with varying degrees of curiosity and concern.
“Nitro,” Sin says, settling into his chair at the head of the table. “You called this meeting. What’s up?”
I stand, my hands braced on the table. “Now that we have literally got all that shit out of the way… Marley’s birthday is coming up. I’m throwing her a party here at the clubhouse. Eighties rock band theme. Everyone dresses up. No exceptions.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Koa starts laughing. “You want us to dress up? Like with costumes?”
“Yes.”
“As eighties rock stars?” Deek adds, grinning.
“Yes.”
Ghost, who’s usually the quiet one, speaks up. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.” I look around the table, meeting each brother’s eyes. “Marley’s important to me. Real fucking important. And I want this party to be perfect for her. So, I’m asking, no, I’m begging, you all to do this. For her. For me.”
The room goes quiet again, and I feel them weighing my words. The club doesn’t do favors lightly. But we also don’t abandon our brothers when something matters.
Sin is the first to speak. “I’m in. Victoria’s going to love this anyway. She’s been wanting an excuse to dress up.”
Bear nods. “Count me in, kid. I’ll dig out my old Def Leppard shirt.”
One by one, the brothers agree, even Ghost. “I’m definitely not wearing spandex, though,” he mutters. “But I’ll participate anyway.”
Koa claps me on the shoulder. “You’re serious about this girl, aren’t you?”
“Dead serious.”
“Good.” He squeezes once, hard. “She’s good people, Nitro. We see the way she looks at you. That’s rare, brother. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I don’t plan to.”
As the meeting breaks up, Deek sidles up to me with a shit-eating grin. “So, when you gonna make her your Old Lady, officially?”
The question catches me off guard, even though I’ve been thinking about it constantly. The image of Marley wearing my property patch and introducing her as mine to everyone who’ll listen makes my chest tight with want.
“Soon,” I say, and I mean it. “Real soon.”