Chapter Four
Riley
By daylight, the Rogue Maniacs clubhouse looked exactly like every biker compound Riley had ever avoided.
Surrounded by the tall chain-link fence she’d seen last night, topped with razor wire glinting under sunshine that she hadn’t.
A row of gleaming motorcycles was parked like soldiers at attention, and picnic tables scattered across the gravel yard where men in cuts stopped mid-sentence the second she walked out the door.
Dan stood beside her, face hidden from the view of everyone.
Conversation stuttered back to life, but the stares didn’t stop. Eyes tracked her like scopes, and she felt like a target. Some gazes were curious, some assessing, and a few openly appreciative. She bore the weight of every one of them.
A tall guy with a crooked smile and VP patch ambled over first, thumbs hooked in his belt. “This the tattooed damsel, Dan?”
“Riley Monroe,” Dan said, voice flat and final. “She’s under club protection.”
The VP’s brows shot up. “That was fast.”
Dan’s reply was a low growl that vibrated through her own spine. He said, “Watch it, Rocker.”
Rocker lifted both hands, palms out, grin widening. “Kidding. Jesus. Welcome, Riley. I’m Rocker. You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Kitchen’s always open. Dan’ll show you.” He jerked a thumb back towards the main building. “Don’t let him hog all the bacon.”
More brothers had drifted closer as they walked.
Crude jokes flew low and fast, with tame ones surrounding her talents.
“Bet she inks better than she rides,” and “Nah, bet she rides better than she inks,” and finally “Ten bucks says Dan’s blushing under that rag,” but no one crossed the invisible line Dan’s presence drew around her.
She met every gaze straight on, chin up, the way she’d rehearsed in places far worse than this.
Back inside, the cozy atmosphere in the common room hit her like a wall of warmth. She smelled beer, motor oil, and once again the sharp scent of cinnamon from baking in the kitchen. She saw a familiar face, and Ella waved from the couch, folding tiny baby clothes with careful hands.
“Megs! Dawg said you had some trouble, but I didn’t expect to see you here. Also, you’ve been holding out on me. Mad Dawg said you ink really well. I’ve been dying to get something new, but this one—” She patted her rounded belly. “—has me on lockdown.”
Riley’s lips curved despite herself. “Hi, Ella. You know what? I’m pretty sure I can do free consultants for pregnant old ladies. We could do some henna if there’s an idea you’re enamored with. And then we can expedite an appointment postpartum.”
Ella beamed. “I always knew I liked you,” she announced to the room at large.
A chorus of chuckles rolled through the space. Dan exhaled through his nose, and it sounded like half amusement, half exasperation as he grabbed two mugs of coffee from a prospect and steered Riley towards the hallway with a hand hot against the low of her back.
She liked it, that little sign of possessiveness.
The kitchen was large, clean, and smelled strongly of fried bacon. Nearly every burner of the double stovetops was busy with a pot or a pan.
In the middle of it all was a biker in black leathers, frowning as he flipped a crepe with the twist of one wrist. Every move was smooth, professional, and Riley had never seen something like this in real life.
“Malibu, what’s cooking?”
“Whachu want, Dan the Man? I got eggs, taters, three kinds of meat, and some fuckin’ fruit if you’re so inclined.
I heard you brought a gorgeous redhead home last night.
Good on ya, Dan the Man.” He turned to look, and Riley was surprised to see a bright flush rising into Malibu’s cheeks.
“Oh, shit, man. I’m sorry. I mean, she is gorgeous, but I shouldn’t have...
” He swallowed visibly, then lifted his chin.
“I’ve got a little bit of pretty much anything you might want. ” He tipped his head. “Ma’am.”
Riley burst out laughing, turning to rest her forehead against Dan’s shoulder. “I never expected to get ma’amed in a biker compound.”
“Malibu is one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.” Dan chuckled. “And he doesn’t fluster easily, but you got him today.”
“I’m sorry, ma—” Malibu rolled his eyes. “Food? Anyone? A rescue here?”
“Eggs however you wanna cook them, some bacon and toast?” Riley gave him a grin. “I’m not fussy.”
“Same, make your life easier,” Dan told him. “If you’ve got platters out somewhere, Riley and me can pull from that?”
“Nope, lemme do the eggs and toast fresh at least.” He turned and flipped on a burner underneath a pan, tossing a pat of butter in before he tipped a measured amount of pre-whipped raw eggs.
“Are you a chef somewhere?” Riley was impressed. “You’re good at this.”
“Yeah, he is. He won’t brag on himself, but we all will.
He’s at the restaurant in the resort up the hill.
He’s in high demand at other places in town too, aren’t ya, Malibu?
” Dan’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and Riley lifted a hand to touch the evidence of a smile.
He pressed into the hand, and she cradled his face, stroking her thumb across his cheek over the bandana.
Dan looked at her, and she felt the muscles of his face move.
“Uh. Plates are ready.” Malibu was blushing again as she turned to look at him. “Here you go, Dan the Man and...uh, Riley.”
She accepted the plateful of food and watched Dan’s next move, following him to where he gathered utensils and napkins and a fair pile of bacon. They went back outside and sat at a picnic table off to the side, and Riley sighed, because the sunshine felt so good.
“What time do you open?” Dan had his back to his brothers in the club and had taken off the bandana to eat.
“Usually at noon, since I work until late. Today I have a ten o’clock appointment. I’ve got time after to go over the sketches. I can’t believe I didn’t remember to bring them with me last night.” She ducked her head. “Sorry.”
“You had a pretty shitty day yesterday, Riley. I’d say there’s no reason to ask forgiveness for anything.”
“Dan, keepin’ the pretty lady all to yourself?” The man he’d called Rocker walked up behind him, smiling over Dan’s head at Riley.
“Planned on it.” Dan only moved to bring up the bandana after Rocker smacked him on the shoulder. “The fuck you think you’re doing over here, brother?”
“Seein’ how your lady liked her accommodations. That’s it, brother.” He sat next to Dan and swung his legs over the bench, twisting so they were both facing Riley.
I’m thinking he’s hoping I get in the middle of things. She snorted internally. I’m thinking he’s going to be wrong.
“I slept well, didn’t I Dan?” She shot him a guarded smile, hoping he’d pick up on where she was going. “The compound is quiet, the company is great, and I can’t imagine a safer place.”
“Yeah, you slept like a baby.” His eyes crinkled in what she knew was a grin. “Once I let you get to sleep, that is.”
“Hell yeah, Dan,” Rocker crowed, slugging Dan in the shoulder. “Lock her down, man. She’s here without fear. She’s a keeper.”
Dan’s eyes crinkled again, and Riley let herself smile back.
***
Dan
He’d had to go deal with a prospect getting into trouble with another club, and on his return, Dan pulled into the clubhouse lot, the bike’s engine rumbling to a stop as he killed the ignition. Riley’s bike was still parked next to his spot, telling him she hadn’t gone anywhere while he was away.
The lot was bright in the sunshine, a few brothers milling around outside with smokes and beers, but his mind was back at the shop on that first day.
When he’d first experienced Riley’s touch on his scars, her steady gaze that didn’t flinch.
It had stirred something in him, a vulnerability he hadn’t let surface in years.
But with the Horde remnants sniffing around, the threats feeling too close, he couldn’t shake the parallels to what Dawg had gone through last year with Ella’s kidnapping by the HHMC.
That caused the Maniacs to shut down the Horde. Hard.
He spotted Mad Dawg inside the main room, slumped on a stool at the bar, staring into a half-empty bottle like it held some kind of wisdom.
Dan tugged the bandana down slightly and slid onto the stool next to him.
The prospect behind the bar handed him a beer without a word, and Dan twisted off the cap, taking a long pull before speaking.
“Brother,” Dan started, voice low and rough. “Got a minute? Need to pick your brain about something.”
Mad Dawg glanced over, his eyes sharpening. “Always, man. What’s eating at you? That redhead at the shop?”
Dan nodded, then shook his head because it wasn’t just that.
“Yeah, but it’s more. The Horde shit, and them targeting her place.
Reminds me of what went down with Ella last year.
That fucking kidnapping, and all the fear.
I know you powered through it on the outside, but mentally?
How’d you deal? The what-ifs, the guilt.
How’d you keep from cracking under the pressure? ”
Dawg set his bottle down hard, exhaling like the question dragged him back to a dark place.
He rubbed a hand over his face, beard scratching against his palm.
“Fuck, Dan. That shit nearly destroyed me. For a long while I was waking up every night replaying it. The reality of her being gone, because of club business, because I wasn’t there fast enough.
The rage? It was easy to channel into hunts and fists.
But the mental part...that’s the killer.
The fact it was my fault she’d been treated so badly ate at me like fire.
I shut down at first, thought about pushing Ella away to protect her.
That would have been my biggest mistake.
” He took a breath, then another, before saying, “But none of that made my fear any less real.”
Dan leaned in, scarred hands gripping the bottle tighter. “Yeah, I get that. Feel like I’d be one step from losing it if anything bad happened to Riley.”
Dawg met his eyes, steady and serious. “What pulled me out was facing it head-on. Talking. Of all things. Talking to Ella and to a counselor the VA hooked me up with. Yoga helped too, believe it or not. I made Ella drag me to the first few classes, where she promptly taught me to breathe through the panic instead of fighting it. Getting past everything is not about burying the demons. It’s about staring ‘em down. Let the club carry some weight, but don’t hide from her.
She’ll see through it anyway. And therapy?
Don’t knock it. Turned my head around, made me stronger for my Ella. ”
Dan absorbed the words, the raw honesty hitting like a gut punch. He’d avoided shrinks as much as he could since the blast, but hearing from Dawg, a man he’d seen as unbreakable, made the need real. “Appreciate the truth, brother. Didn’t expect the yoga angle.”
Dawg chuckled, though it was tired. “Hey, downward dog saved my ass more than once. Seriously, Dan. Brother, if things inside your head get bad, talk. To me, to Tinder, to her. You’re not alone in this shit.”
Dan clapped him on the shoulder, a silent thanks. “Will do. Means a lot.”
As Mad Dawg nodded and focused back on his beer, Dan felt a shift, perhaps a crack in the armor he’d worn too long.
Maybe opening up wasn’t weakness. Maybe it was the way to keep what mattered safe.
He finished his drink, mind clearer, and headed for the showers, ready to hit the ground running with images of the flame-haired woman he couldn’t get out of his head.