Chapter 14 #2
"Portland office. I can base out of here and commute when operations require it." I step inside and he closes the door behind me. "Bauman approved the transfer."
"What about DC?"
"Turned it down." I set my bag on the floor. "Lead investigator position, supervisory track, everything I've worked toward. But it would have meant giving this up. Giving you up. I'm not doing that."
His expression shifts. Something fierce and possessive beneath the careful control he usually maintains. "You sure about this? Federal agent and MC VP isn't exactly conventional."
"Nothing about us is conventional." I move closer and wrap my arms around his neck.
"I watched you beat a suspect and chose not to stop you until I needed him breathing for prosecution.
You stopped because I asked, not because you couldn't finish.
We're both exactly who we are, and we're choosing each other anyway. "
"Yeah." He pulls me against him, hands settling on my hips. "We are."
My phone buzzes. Text from Gemma:
Gathering at Ironside tonight. Axel's vote. You should come.
I show Cole the message. "Brotherhood business?"
"Axel's been prospecting for almost a year. Tonight's his vote." Cole heads toward the garage. "You coming?"
"To a club vote?" I raise an eyebrow. "I'm not a member."
"No. But you're family." He holds out his hand. "That's different."
I take his hand and follow him to the garage.
We mount up. The Triumph roars to life beneath me, and Cole's Harley rumbles beside me. We ride together through Anchor Bay as evening settles over the town.
Ironside Bar is packed when we arrive. We park our bikes out front with the other Brothers' rides.
Inside, Brothers and their families fill the space, music playing from the jukebox, pool tables occupied, the atmosphere celebratory.
Will stands behind the bar with Gemma, both of them laughing at something Shaw said.
Mira sits at a table with several other women, and when she sees me, she waves me over.
Cole guides me toward the bar first. Will pours two beers and slides them across the counter.
"Heard you're staying," Will says. "Good choice."
"Portland transfer," I clarify. "Not leaving ATF."
"Didn't think you would." Will glances at Cole. "She keeps her career, you handle VP duties. Both of you get what you need."
"That's the plan," Cole says.
Gemma comes around the bar and hugs me. "I'm glad you're staying. Cole's been different since you showed up. Better."
"Better?" I look at Cole, who's trying very hard to maintain his neutral VP expression.
"Happier," Gemma clarifies. "Less isolated. He needed someone who could handle all of him, not just the controlled parts."
Cole turns to Will. "You gonna let your woman embarrass your VP in public?"
Will grins. "Yep."
Gemma laughs and squeezes my arm. "Welcome to the family."
Cole glares at both of them, but there's no heat in it. Just resignation that his sister gets away with everything.
Family—not club member, not outsider, but family.
Will bangs a bottle on the bar for attention. The noise level drops as Brothers turn toward him.
"Church," Will announces. "Back room. Brothers only."
The patched members move toward the back of the bar where Church is held. Cole kisses my temple before joining them, and I stay at the bar with Gemma and Mira, watching the Brothers disappear into the meeting room.
Church doesn't take long. When the door opens again, the Brothers file back out. Will gestures to Axel, who's been waiting with the families. They take him into Church and the door closes again. A few minutes later, they all emerge with Axel wearing his kutte.
Will addresses the room, voice carrying over the crowd. "The Brotherhood has voted. Welcome to the Iron Brotherhood, Brother Axel."
The celebration erupts. Brothers clap Axel on the back, someone cranks up the music, and Axel looks overwhelmed and grateful—raw emotion from earning acceptance into something that matters.
Cole returns to my side and hands me a fresh beer. "Positive future. Club's growing stronger."
"He earned it," I say.
"Yeah. He did." Cole's hand settles on the small of my back, claiming and protective. "One more thing."
Will raises his beer. The room quiets again, everyone turning toward the President.
"To fallen warriors," Will says. "ATF Special Agent Blake Walsh gave his life in service. He was one of the good ones, and we honor that sacrifice."
The Brothers raise their beers. "To Blake Walsh."
My throat tightens. Blake would have appreciated this moment—an MC honoring a federal agent, recognizing the shared bond of service and sacrifice. I raise my beer with everyone else.
"To Blake," I say quietly.
Cole's hand tightens on my back, offering support without words and understanding without explanation.
The celebration continues around us. Music plays, people laugh, Brothers and their families filling Ironside with noise and warmth. Shaw and Mira dance near the jukebox, Will and Gemma talk with other couples, Axel gets hazed good-naturedly by the other Brothers.
And I stand here with Cole, ATF agent and MC VP, choosing this complicated, dangerous, beautiful life together.
Later, after the celebration winds down and we've said goodnight to everyone, Cole and I walk out to the parking lot. My Triumph is parked next to his bike, and both machines gleam under the streetlights.
"Feel like a ride?" Cole asks.
"Always."
We mount up and put on our helmets. Engines roar to life, the familiar vibration settling through my body. Cole pulls out and I pull out beside him, the two of us riding north along the coastal highway.
The wind cuts cold against exposed skin. The ocean stretches dark to our left, and stars begin to emerge overhead. The highway curves and climbs, and Cole keeps pace beside me, close enough to be present, far enough to let me choose my own path.
My comm crackles. "You good?" Cole's voice comes through clear.
"Yeah." I lean into a curve, feeling the Triumph respond perfectly. "Better than good."
"Portland office going to keep you busy?"
"Probably. Multi-agency task force work, ongoing investigations. But I can base here and commute when operations require it." I accelerate slightly, enjoying the rush of speed and freedom. "What about you? VP responsibilities keeping you occupied?"
"Always work to do. Club's expanding, need to manage growth carefully. But I'll make time."
"For what?"
"For you." His response is simple, direct, with no hesitation. "For this."
The road stretches ahead, empty and open. No traffic, no distractions, just two riders and the night and the choices we made to get here.
"I'm not running anymore," I say into the comm. "From Blake's death, from Ryan's murder, from what happened with Kline. I'm done running from ghosts."
"What are you doing instead?"
"Riding toward something real." I glance over at him, his profile visible in the moonlight. "Toward you. Toward the life we're building. Complicated and dangerous and honest."
"Yeah." His voice carries satisfaction and possession. "That's what this is."
We ride in comfortable silence for several miles. The highway climbs higher into the coastal hills, fog thinning as we gain elevation. My Triumph handles the curves perfectly, responsive and powerful between my thighs.
Eventually Cole signals and pulls into an overlook. I follow, both of us killing our engines. The sudden quiet is profound, broken only by wind and distant ocean waves.
We dismount and walk to the railing. Below us, Anchor Bay spreads along the coastline, lights twinkling in the darkness—the Forge, Ironside Bar, the harbor, all the places that have become familiar.
"This is home now," I say. "Not just a temporary assignment. Home."
"Good." Cole pulls me against his side. "Because I'm not letting you go."
"Didn't ask you to." I lean into him, solid and steady and dangerous. "I chose this. Chose you. All of it."
"The darkness didn't scare you away."
"No." I turn to face him fully. "The darkness is part of who you are. Delta Force, Brotherhood VP, protective brother, lethal when necessary. I see all of it, and I'm still here."
"And I see you." His hands frame my face. "Federal agent, undercover operative, woman who lost her partner and her brother and kept fighting anyway. Capable, dangerous, honest. All of it."
We kiss, deep and claiming, two people who know exactly what the other is capable of and choose each other anyway.
When we break apart, Cole rests his forehead against mine. "You're mine now. Portland office, Anchor Bay, all of it. No running."
"I'm not running."
"Good." His hand tightens on the back of my neck. "Because I won't let go."
We return to the bikes and ride back toward Anchor Bay. The highway unwinds beneath us, stars overhead, ocean to our left. Cole's Harley rumbles beside my Triumph—two predators choosing the same hunting ground.
When we pull into his driveway, he kills the engine and waits for me to park beside him. His hand finds mine before I can dismount.
"Inside."
It's not a request.
I follow him through the door. He closes it behind us, locks it, and presses me against the wall in one smooth movement. His mouth claims mine—no gentle exploration, just possession.
"Mine," he says against my lips.
"Yours."
His hand fists in my hair. "Say it again."
"I'm yours." The words come easier than they should. "Federal agent, ATF investigator, woman who watched you beat a man and didn't stop you. All of it. Yours."
"That's right." His teeth find my throat. "And you're staying."
"Portland transfer. I already chose."
"You chose me over your career track." His hand slides under my shirt, possessive and claiming. "You gave up DC for this. For us. That makes you mine permanently."
I should argue. Should remind him I didn't give up my career, just redirected it. But his hands are stripping off my jacket, my shirt, and the dominance in every movement makes the words die in my throat.
We fuck against the wall. His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat while his other hand strips my jeans down my hips. There's no gentle preamble, no soft touches—just his fingers finding me wet and ready, then his cock driving into me hard enough that I cry out.
"Quiet," he growls against my ear. "You take what I give you."
I bite down on my lip as he sets a brutal pace, each thrust driving me into the wall. His hand stays locked in my hair, controlling the angle, keeping me exactly where he wants me. The other hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise.
"Mine," he says with each thrust. "Say it."
"Yours," I gasp out.
"Louder."
"Yours." The word comes out broken as he drives deeper, hitting that spot that makes my vision white out. "Fuck—Cole—"
His teeth sink into my shoulder. The pain mixes with pleasure, sharp and claiming, and I come hard around him with a strangled sound I can't quite suppress.
He follows seconds later, his grip tightening, breath hot against my marked skin.
When he finally pulls out and carries me to the bedroom, I'm marked and satisfied and exactly where I want to be.
Later, with his arm locked around me and his breath steady against my neck, I process the choices that led here. Every line I crossed, every rule I bent, every compromise I made.
I'd do it all again without hesitation.
"Sleep," Cole says against my shoulder.
I close my eyes. Tomorrow I'll deal with the implications, but tonight I'm where I chose to be... with the man who claimed me completely. And the one I claimed right back.