CHAPTER SIX
KADE
I stand there like a fucking statue as she turns away from me, my chest tight, my lungs refusing to work properly. I’ve stared down guns. I’ve walked into rooms knowing men wanted me dead. None of that compares to watching the woman I love walk away because of me. Again.
I scrub a hand over my face and blow out a shaky breath. My fingers come away damp. I don’t remember crying, but apparently my body doesn’t give a shit what my pride thinks anymore.
She keeps her head lowered, her hands on her hips, like she’s trying to regain some composure.
“Eden,” I say, her name rough in my throat, “I didn’t give up. I fucked up. There’s a difference.”
“It didn’t feel like that to me.”
I lean my hands on the counter, fixing her with a stare even though she still hasn’t looked back up. The room smells like coffee and toast and something painfully domestic. Something I used to have without even realising how rare it was. Fuck, I miss it.
“I thought if I carried it,” I say quietly, “if I held all the shit myself, you’d be safe. That’s how it’s always worked for me. You don’t involve the people you love.”
She lets out a short, humourless laugh. “You didn’t have to tell me everything, Kade. But you pretended you were running things clean, so I relaxed. All the women did. Yet all along, you were deeper than your dad ever took things.”
I close my eyes. She’s right. Again.
“I wake up every day knowing I failed you,” I admit.
“Knowing I wasn’t there when you needed me.
Knowing I touched you when I shouldn’t have.
Jesus Christ, Eden, that thought . . .” My voice breaks despite my best effort to keep it steady.
“That one’s gonna haunt me for the rest of my fucking life. ”
Silence stretches between us, heavy and unforgiving.
When I open my eyes, she’s finally looking at me. Her face is drawn, tired, but there’s something else there too. Deep hurt. Maybe she’ll never forgive me.
“I didn’t need you to fix what happened,” she says softly. “I needed you to see me. To acknowledge what happened and to accept it. To help me navigate through it so I wasn’t so alone.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “I know that now.”
The words sit between us like a gravestone.
I straighten slowly, forcing myself to breathe, to stand like the man she used to believe in.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” I say.
“And I’m not asking you to come back. I don’t get to ask for either of those things.
” Her jaw tightens. “But I’m not walking away again,” I continue.
“Not from you. Not from our kid. Even if all I ever get is to stand on the outside looking in.”
Her hand moves instinctively to her stomach, protective. My chest aches at the sight because it’s proof she doesn’t trust me to protect our child, to let me near.
“I’ll give you space,” I add. “I’ll do this on your terms, whatever you need. I just . . .” I shake my head, searching for the words. “I just need you to know I’m here and that I’m not disappearing again.”
She studies me for a long moment. “I don’t trust you,” she says finally. “But,” she adds, barely audible, “I don’t hate you either.”
It’s a sliver of hope, and I cling to it.
I nod once. “I’ll take that.”
The shrill of my ringtone breaks the tension. I take my phone from my pocket and stiffen at the sight of the name flashing across the screen. Anika.
I glance up to see Eden watching me carefully, her eyes burning with curiosity. Anika can wait, so I cancel the call, but as I go to tuck my phone away again, it rings out.
I sigh, giving an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I need to take this.”
She arches a brow, folding her arms over her chest. “Okay.”
I head for the back door, my heart starting to thud hard against my ribs. The moment I step outside, the cold air hits me, but it does nothing to cool the heat crawling up my spine. I stalk to the far end of the small garden and answer the call. “What?” I hiss.
“What the hell is this town?” Anika snaps. “It’s in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, and I’m the only woman in heels.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes. “Anika,” I mutter, already knowing the answer before I ask, “where are you?”
“I told you, Kade. My father has business in the area. You refused to entertain the idea of doing some actual work so,” she sighs theatrically, “he sent me.”
My chest tightens. It feels like someone’s pressing a boot straight into my sternum.
Fuck. No. Not now.
“You can’t be here,” I say flatly.
She laughs. “You don’t own this shithole, Kade. And, honestly, you should be thanking me. If I secure new containers and ship routes, that’s more work for your club.”
“We don’t need more work,” I snap.
“Nonsense,” she cuts in smoothly. “It’s growth. And my father is very much expecting you to agree.” There’s a pause, then she casually adds, “So, should I start asking around for little miss pregnant so I can track you down, or are you coming to me?”
My heart slams so hard, it actually steals my breath.
I clench my fist at my side, nails biting into my palm. “Send me your location,” I order. “Then stay exactly where you are,” I say, my voice low and lethal. “Do not move.”
I end the call before she can respond, staring down at the phone like it might explode. Because Anika being in town isn’t just inconvenient, it’s dangerous.
And if Eden gets pulled into this mess . . .
I don’t finish the thought. I’m already moving.
Eden glances up from where she’s reading a magazine at the table. “Sorted?” she asks, her tone suspicious.
“Where did you say that B and B was?”
She narrows her eyes. “Continue straight on the main road through town. You’ll come to it.”
I nod, grabbing my kutte and tucking it under my arm. “Perfect. I’ll get out your hair.”
I head for the door.
“Wait.” I pause, my hand against the knob. “How long are you sticking around for?” she asks, her brows furrowed.
I glance back over my shoulder. “As long as it takes, Eden.” And then I leave before she starts asking more questions.
I spot Anika the second I round the corner.
She stands out like a sore thumb, her heels sinking slightly into uneven pavement, her cashmere coat pristine, her dark hair glossy and perfect like she’s stepped out of another world entirely. This town wasn’t built for women like her. Or problems like the one she represents.
She smiles when she sees me. Slow. Knowing.
“Well,” she drawls, eyes dragging over me, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“I could say the same,” I mutter darkly, already moving.
I grab her by the upper arm and march her towards where my bike is parked behind the pub. She lets out a soft laugh, like this is all some amusing detour in her day.
“Hey,” she says lightly, “relax.”
I spin on her so fast, she stumbles half a step. I catch her jacket in my fist and slam her back against the brick wall, my face inches from hers.
“Relax?” I repeat, my voice low and shaking with contained fury. “You turn up here—here—when I’m trying to convince my pregnant old lady I’m safe to be around again, and you want me to relax?”
Her eyes flicker for just a second. It’s the only tell she gives that I’ve surprised her.
She pulls her arm free, smoothing her jacket like I didn’t just pin her to a wall. She straightens and lifts her chin, and when she looks back at me, it’s all ice and authority. Just like her father.
“Maybe,” she says coolly, “you’re forgetting the chain of command.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “There is no chain of command here.”
Her lips press together, irritation flashing now. “You work for my father.”
“I work with him,” I correct, stepping closer again. “And I told you—I told him—I’m taking some time out. There will be no new routes, no new containers. I’m done.”
“You don’t get to be done,” she snaps. “You made the agreement with my father, and there’s absolutely no way you’re walking away.”
“My club isn’t your delivery service.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Funny. Last I checked, you were very good at getting things from A to B.”
“That was before,” I growl. “Before you dragged your shit into my life.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re emotional. That makes you sloppy.”
“You go anywhere near Eden,” I warn quietly, every word vibrating with threat, “and I will burn every bridge your father has ever built. I don’t care who it hurts.”
Something hardens in her gaze.
“So, she’s the weakness,” Anika murmurs. “Good to know.”
My fist clenches. “I’m serious, Anika. She’s not like us. She’s innocent in all this.”
She steps closer now, unfazed. “Then stop all this talk of ending our connections. Let’s not do anything drastic to upset my father, and everything can tick along quietly.”
I lean in, my voice a whisper meant only for her. “You picked the wrong man to try and threaten.”
She smiles again, but this time, it doesn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll see.”
I stop beside my bike and stare.
Fuck.
I glance back towards the pub without meaning to. Windows. Doors. Faces that could appear at any second.
Martha . . . or worse, Eden.
If she sees Anika—if she sees me with Anika—whatever fragile ground I’ve clawed back will collapse completely. No explanations. No fixing it. Just another confirmation that I’m not safe, not honest, and still very much bringing danger to her doorstep.
My chest tightens.
I don’t want Anika anywhere near my bike.
It’s Eden’s place. It’s always been her clinging to me, pressing her cheek to my back, her laugh ringing in my ears as we ride against the wind.
Anika doesn’t belong there, but I don’t have a choice. Every second she stands here is another chance someone sees us. And rumours spread faster than fire in a place like this.
I yank my helmet off the seat and shove it at her. “Put it on.”
She takes it slowly, arching a brow. “You always this charming?”
“Get on the bike,” I snap. “Now.”
She studies me for a beat, like she’s cataloguing every crack in my control, then she smirks and swings a leg over, settling behind me far too comfortably.