Chapter Ten
Tank
I smile at the group surrounding Abby as they crowd around the screen, voices overlapping as clips and photos flash by.
“You’re freaking famous,” Riley says, eyes wide.
“That dress is unreal,” Sunny adds. “Like… museum unreal.”
“They’re talking about it on every gossip channel,” Riley continues, scrolling. “Fashion blogs, entertainment news…everywhere. You’re going to have people banging down the gate trying to get to you for their own dress.”
I don’t like that.
Judging by the way Spike’s mouth tightens, neither does he.
“Looks like we’re gonna have to increase gate security,” Spike mutters, already shifting into big-brother mode as he pulls Abby into his arms. “I’m proud of you, baby sister.”
She melts into the hug.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
And as everyone keeps talking, I watch her.
Not the dress. Not the headlines.
Her.
Because fame doesn’t knock politely.
And the moment the world realizes what we already know…that Abby Turner creates magic with her hands…it’s going to come looking for her.
Whether we’re ready or not.
Abby walks over to me and smiles up at me.
Not the polite smile. Not the one she hides behind when she’s tired or hurting.
This one is real.
Pure joy.
I commit every second of it to memory.
“People like the dress,” she says quietly, fingers laced together in front of her like she’s trying to hold the moment in place.
“They do,” I tell her, smiling back.
It’s been three months since Abby moved back into the compound. Three months of me inching my way back toward her instead of charging ahead like an idiot. Three months of watching the light slowly return to her eyes, little by little.
She still keeps me at arm’s length.
And I don’t blame her.
If the ache in my chest these past three months…of loving her openly, of choosing her every day while she keeps her shields locked tight…is even a fraction of what she endured for years, then I wouldn’t blame her if she never lets those walls come down again.
I’d hate it.
But I’d understand.
“It’s very fluffy,” I say seriously. “And extremely sparkly.”
She laughs, the sound warm and unguarded, and it hits me straight in the chest.
“Want to tell me all about how you made it?”
I don’t actually care how she made it. But if it takes her hours to explain every stitch and crystal, I’ll sit right here and listen with a notebook and pen ready to take notes.
“You have no interest in fashion,” she says, amused.
“Not even the tiniest bit,” I admit. “But I’ve got a hell of a lot of interest in the designer.”
Her smile softens.
“Abigail,” Spike says, pulling her from our moment.
I can’t kill my president…my friend. No matter how tempting it is at the moment.
“Is your personal number listed for your company?” he asks.
I sober instantly and wait.
“No,” she answers.
“But her full name is,” Foster says, tapping at his phone. “And a quick search will tell anyone exactly where she lives.”
Fuck.
“I’m so proud of you, babygirl,” I say, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Do me a favor and don’t leave this compound.”
Turning, I spot the man I need.
“Max!” I shout. “I want every prospect in the center. Now. Training with Foster and me.”
A chorus of groans follows, but I don’t give a single fuck.
My woman’s name is out there.
Her face. Her work.
Abby is so fucking beautiful. More so than she realizes. She also has that soft, innocent look about her that any sick fuck would like to bask in.
Ain’t fucking happening.
“I want everyone not on guard duty in the center as well,” Spike calls out, voice sharp. “Tank, call the other chapters. We’re having a club-wide meeting tomorrow. Presidents and officers here at the main clubhouse…no later than eleven.”
“Guys,” Abby sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re making this into way too big a deal.”
I turn back to her, jaw tight.
“If someone reaches out,” she continues calmly, “it’ll probably be women who want a simple outfit made. It’s fashion. What are they gonna do, assault me with fabric?”
A few people chuckle.
I don’t.
Because the world already proved it doesn’t need a reason to hurt her…three fucking times.
But this time?
We’ll be ready.
“Don’t fight it, sister,” Foster says. “Now… you want to come outside and see why these cowards hate training with me?”
***ABBY***
I should probably be throwing a fit over how over-the-top everyone is being.
But honestly?
I really do want to see why these men fear Foster.
“Lead the way,” I sigh, already moving.
“I’ve already ordered pizza,” Sunny announces, earning an approving grunt from Bones.
“Why don’t you ever help train the prospects, Bones?” Lila asks.
“Because the first time they mess up, Bones would throw one of his little metal stars between their eyes,” Skip says, laughing. “It’s safer for everyone if he just watches from the sidelines.”
Bones doesn’t deny it.
He just smirks.
Caveman…the lot of them.
***
“I don’t think a bodyguard is necessary,” I tell my brother. “I’ve been here on my own plenty of times. I used to live upstairs, remember?”
“I still don’t understand why you can’t just work from home,” Tank grumbles.
“Because I have clients coming in today to get measured,” I remind him for what feels like the fifth time. “Would you rather I invite them to my house instead? Because then they’d know exactly where I live.”
I lift a brow, letting it sink in.
“And that gives them inside access to the compound,” I add calmly. “Something neither of you would ever be okay with.”
“Just promise me you won’t go anywhere without your guard,” Tank sighs. “At least until we get a better idea of how things are about to change for you.”
“That depends entirely on who my guard is,” I say, glaring at the two men who have apparently made it their life’s mission to give me a constant headache.
“That would be me,” Maverick says from the doorway, casually leaning against the frame. “Well, for the next hour, anyway. I’m holding the position until my cousins get here.”
My eyes widen. “Which cousins? Surely it’s not the twins?”
Laughing, Maverick nods.
“Is that wise?” I add quickly.
“No,” Maverick says with a broad, unapologetic grin. “Not in the slightest. But they’re the best protection one can get. There isn’t a man alive you’d be safer with.”
“But…the twins,” I repeat, because it absolutely deserves repeating. “They hate people. And public places. Did I mention people? And public places? Both of which I am. And will be in.”
Maverick chuckles. “Exactly why no one ever gets close to them. Or you.”
“But I need people to come into the store,” I remind him. “I need them to feel comfortable. To not be scared off.”
I gesture vaguely. “Really? The twins?”
I lower my voice. “Do they even talk? Are they even human?”
Maverick’s smile turns slow. Knowing.
“They talk when necessary,” Maverick says. “Usually, to each other. Sometimes to me.”
“I don’t believe you,” I reply flatly. “I don’t think they know how to use human language. I’m convinced they communicate telepathically much like Micah does with that machine of his.”
Maverick laughs. “They’re very human. They just don’t like being noticed. Which makes them excellent at their jobs.”
“And terrifying,” I mutter.
“Only to people who mean harm,” he says smoothly. “To everyone else, they’ll just be two quiet men who enjoy standing in corners and pretending not to exist.”
Tank snorts. “Good luck with that.”
Maverick shrugs. “Fear is a matter of perspective.”
Sighing, I gesture to the three infuriating men currently occupying my shop.
“I hate all of you.”
None of them looks even remotely sorry.
“We just want you safe, baby,” Tank says. “I’ve got a run to make, and I’d feel a hell of a lot better knowing you’re not in any danger.”
“I get it,” I sigh. “But I’m not in any danger.”
Spike’s head snaps toward me; whatever patience he had left is gone.
“Need I remind you,” he says coldly, “that you were kidnapped by the Mexican cartel not once…but twice?”
The words hit like a slap.
“And you were raped,” he continues, voice brutal, unyielding, “and fucking sliced up less than four months ago.”
Shock freezes me in place.
He doesn’t soften it. Doesn’t try to spare me.
“You of all people should know how sadistic the world can be,” he finishes. “How fast it finds the ones who think they’re safe.”
My chest tightens.
Images flash…darkness, pain, fear I thought I’d buried deep enough not to touch again. My hands curl at my sides, nails biting into my palms as my heart stutters.
For a moment, all I feel is that old terror.
Then something steadier settles beneath it.
Understanding.
This isn’t cruelty for the sake of cruelty.
This is a brother who would rather break my heart than lose me.
I exhale slowly, my shoulders dropping.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I get it.”
And for the first time, I really do.
“Good,” Spike says, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry. I just really need you safe.”
He releases me and steps back. “Now tell your man goodbye. We’ve got shit to do.”
“He’s not my man,” I say quietly as I step into Tank’s open, waiting arms.
But the words don’t feel as solid as they did a few months ago.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Spike mutters as he turns and leaves the building.
“The way he said it was wrong,” Tank murmurs. “But what he said wasn’t. Please… don’t fight us on this, Abigail.”
His hand lifts, fingers gentle as they catch my chin and tip my face up to his.
My breath stutters.
Is he going to kiss me?
Do I want him to?
Yes.
God help me, yes.
I close my eyes…and feel his lips press to my forehead instead.
“I love you, babygirl,” he says against my skin. “So fucking much it kills me knowing what you’ve been through.”
My chest tightens.
“I’m sorry for pushing you away,” he continues, voice rough. “For not loving you out loud when you needed me the most. If I had, you never would’ve been hurt by that fuck. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
His lips brush once, feather-light, before dropping away.
“But I swear on my mama’s grave I will never put that wall between us again. I used your brother as an excuse. I used your innocence as an excuse. I even used your being captured by the cartel as an excuse.”
He shakes his head, jaw tight.
“But it was never you, baby. It was always me. I was a coward.”
I open my eyes, but he doesn’t stop.
“Even if you never give me another chance,” he says, “I’ll never stop doing everything in my power to protect you. Please… listen to Maverick. Listen to the twins. Stay safe for me.”
He presses one last kiss to my forehead and turns away like it costs him everything.
“Tank,” I call out, my heart hammering in my chest.
He stops. Turns. Waits.
“I love you too,” I say, the truth spilling out before fear can stop it.
A soft smile touches his mouth. “I know, baby. And I’m so sorry I didn’t accept that sooner.”
He nods once at Maverick…some silent, caveman understanding passing between them…and then he’s gone.
Moments later, the sound of engines roars to life.
My brother’s bike. Tank’s.
And I stand there, heart cracked open, knowing that something has shifted.
Not fixed. But changed.
Taking a huge, steady breath, I exhale it loudly.
Then I turn to Maverick, cock a hip, and plant my hands on my waist.
“Really?” I say flatly. “The freaking twins?”
Maverick throws his head back and laughs, the sound rich and entirely unapologetic.
Despite my irritation…despite everything…I duck my head to hide my smile.
Shaking it off, I turn back toward my work, pushing the conversation aside just as the clock ticks closer to my first client’s arrival.
Because frustration or not, I have four clients to measure today.
That thought alone makes me smile.
Since my name was released as the designer of that dress, I’ve received over a dozen calls. I’m not stupid. I’m not going to take all of them. I’m also not only choosing the ones that pay the most.
I went through every request carefully and picked the five projects that actually made my heart race.
A quinceanera dress.
Two wedding gowns.
A Coachella outfit.
And the one I’m most excited about…A red carpet couple’s look. A dress and a suit, designed to complement each other perfectly, for the local film festival here in Palm Springs.
For the first time in a long while, the future doesn’t feel heavy.
It feels…exciting.
And entirely mine.