Chapter Seven
I ROLLED INTO the clubhouse yard with Evie at my back, the engine rumbling low beneath us as the big house came into view through the evening light, and for the first time in my life the thought slipped in that maybe bringing a woman into this world of mine wasn’t quite the simple thing I’d always treated it like.
Women had come and gone around the club for years, some staying a night, some hanging around longer, but none of them had ever mattered enough for me to pause and wonder what they’d see when the doors opened and the reality of this place settled in around them.
Evie was a different story.
The bike rolled to a stop beneath the glow of the yard lights and I cut the engine, the sudden quiet letting the music inside the clubhouse push out into the night a little clearer now, bass thumping low through the walls while laughter and voices spilled out across the gravel lot.
I swung my leg off first and turned as Evie climbed down behind me, steadying herself with a hand against my shoulder, and for a second I just stood there watching her the way a man does when something catches his attention harder than it should.
Fuck.
She looked good tonight.
Not just good either, dangerous in that quiet way that made a man start reconsidering decisions, because bringing Evie into a biker clubhouse suddenly felt a little like tossing raw meat into a yard full of wolves and hoping they remembered their manners.
“I’m nervous,” she admitted softly, smoothing her hands down the sides of her jeans as though she could press the feeling flat if she tried hard enough.
I stepped closer before she could talk herself out of being here, taking her hand and lacing my fingers through hers in a grip that was easy enough to look casual but firm enough to say she wasn’t walking into the place alone.
“Nothing to be nervous about,” I told her.
Her eyes drifted back to the clubhouse door, the bass thumping behind it while someone inside shouted loud enough for the sound to carry “It’s not that,” she said after a moment. “I’m just… not really a partying kind of person.”
I huffed out a quiet laugh and gave her hand a small squeeze. “Trust me,” I said. “If this place was half as wild as people imagine it, half these idiots would already be dead.”
That earned a small lift of her brows. “You sure about that?”
I knew exactly what she was picturing—wild parties, drunk bikers tearing the place apart, women everywhere, chaos and bad decisions stacked on top of each other.
And to be fair… the club had been like that once. Before Devil took over.
“Most nights the crazy stuff happens out by the bonfire,” I said, pushing the door open and guiding her inside. “Inside’s just people hanging out.”
The first thing that hit was the noise.
The bar stretched along one wall where Brenda was pouring drinks while Lucy leaned halfway across the counter talking so fast it was a wonder the woman remembered to breathe, and scattered around the room the guys filled their usual spots, some around the pool table, some at the card tables, others leaning against bikes or chairs like the furniture had grown there with them.
Leather cuts were everywhere, the club’s patch catching the light in flashes as people moved.
The place looked like chaos to anyone seeing it for the first time.
To me it looked like home.
Evie’s fingers tightened around mine when we stepped inside, her eyes moving over everything, the patches, the men, the women drifting between tables in tight clothes meant to catch attention, and I felt the moment her nerves kicked in the same way I’d seen it happen a thousand times before behind the bar.
Running a place like High Voltage teaches you how to read people faster than they realize.
You learn who’s about to start a fight, who’s about to cry, and who’s about to bolt for the door.
Evie wasn’t doing any of that. She was studying the room.
Taking it in piece by piece. After a minute the tension eased out of her hand, her shoulders lowering a fraction as her breathing settled into something calmer.
“See?” I murmured near her ear. “Just people having a good time.”
She let out a small breath. “Okay… yeah. I see that.”
I rested my hand lightly against the small of her back as we moved deeper into the room, not steering her so much as keeping that point of contact there, a quiet signal to anyone paying attention that she was with me.
I guided her toward the back table where Devil, Gearhead, and Bolt sat with a deck of cards spread between them, the three of them looking up the second we approached like they’d been tracking our progress from the moment we stepped inside.
Which they probably had.
“Evie,” I said, stopping beside the table, “this is Devil, Gearhead, and Bolt.”
Gearhead leaned back in his chair, studying her like he was trying to solve a puzzle, and after a second the familiar smirk crept onto his face. “So this is your pinup girl,” he said, glancing at me with a look meant to get under my skin. “Yeah… I can see it now.”
I gave him a flat look. “Careful,” I said mildly. “You’re real close to volunteering to lose a couple teeth.
Under the table Gearhead jerked suddenly like someone had kicked him. Devil. Had to be.
Bolt chuckled under his breath. “Good to see Gatsby finally bring a woman around,” Bolt said, folding his arms on the table. “Didn’t think we’d live long enough to see the day.”
Yeah, yeah.
Half these bastards had been betting for years I’d die alone surrounded by old movies and clutching computer parts.
Devil didn’t say anything, just watched the interaction with that controlled, unreadable expression of his like he was measuring the whole situation for something the rest of us hadn’t noticed yet.
“Who’s this?”
Lucy’s voice cut in behind us and I turned just in time to see her drifting over with Fiona, both of them looking Evie up and down with the kind of open curiosity that usually meant a thousand questions. Lucy could smell new people in the clubhouse from across town.
“This is Evie,” I said. “Evie, this is Lucy and Fiona.”
Fiona slid easily onto Bolt’s lap like a thousand times before and smiled warmly at Evie. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah,” Lucy added with a grin. “Always good to have another woman around.”
“Oh, I—” Evie started before trailing off, clearly unsure what the right answer to that was supposed to be.
“We’re still getting to know each other,” I cut in quickly, catching the direction Lucy’s brain was heading before she could start digging.
Lucy laughed outright. “Please,” she said. “If ever two people looked like they belonged together, it’s you two.”
I didn’t argue. Because she wasn’t wrong.
“Come on,” I said to Evie, tugging lightly on her hand before Lucy could launch into round two. “I’ll show you around.”
We moved away from the table and into the room again, weaving between chairs and people while the music thumped steadily around us.
“So,” Evie said after a moment, glancing back toward Lucy, “is she one of the women who hangs around the club?”
I barked out a laugh. “God, no. Don’t let her hear you say that.”
Evie blinked in surprise.
“Lucy’s Spinner’s ol’ lady,” I explained.
“Oh,” she said quickly. “Got it.”
She hesitated for a second before adding, “But you do have women here?”
“Yeah,” I said honestly. “A few. It’s part of the lifestyle. They come and go.”
Her smile faltered just enough that most people might’ve missed it.
I didn’t.
“But not all of us are into that part of it,” I added.
Which was the truth.
I’d dipped a toe in that water once or twice years ago mostly because it was there and easy, but it had never sat right with me.
At times the women made it feel like they were obligated to have sex.
Their eyes only seeing the patch and not the man.
Too many men in this world didn’t give a shit as long as they got laid, but I needed more.
Evie looked up at me again, relief softening her expression as the smile returned.
We made our way around the room after that, stopping here and there while I introduced her to a few more of the guys, most of them giving me varying levels of shit while Evie handled the attention better than I expected. She didn’t shrink away from the noise or the stares.
If anything, she looked curious. Like she was trying to understand the world instead of judging it. That alone had something settling in my chest in a way that felt a little too comfortable for this early stage in out relationship.
Then the door behind us opened.
Mystic stepped inside first, Zeynep close beside him, the two of them moving through the room with the kind of quiet confidence that came from being so in love you only saw each other and everyone else fell into the background.
I felt Evie shift slightly beside me, her eyes taking them in, most likely noticing Mystic’s scarred face. But I knew Evie wasn’t the type of person to judge him based on it.
I guided her toward them.
“Evie,” I said as we stopped in front of them, “this is Mystic… and Zeynep.”