Chapter Nine
SIN
The Next Day
The storage unit’s door closes with a satisfying clang, sealing away another month’s worth of McClane gold.
My shoulders ache from moving the heavy nuggets, but there’s something deeply satisfying about seeing our coffers full again.
This gold is what keeps us running, what pays for the toy drives, the nursing home visits, the club girls’ education, and everything else that makes us more than just another gang of thugs on bikes.
Koa, Bear, and Will did good work at the mine.
Clean extraction, no complications, no witnesses.
Jonas McClane’s arrangement with us has been flawless for years now, and I intend to keep it that way.
The old man gets protection for his daughter, and once a month, three of my brothers go into his mine to take gold that has been put aside for us that hasn’t been registered in his official digs.
We get the funding we need to operate without resorting to the kind of shit that would put us on the wrong side of a federal investigation.
It’s why I’ve been avoiding Elizabeth like she’s radioactive.
The irony isn’t lost on me. I brought her here to prove we’re not the criminals everyone thinks we are, but I can’t let her see the one illegal thing that keeps us afloat. The gold operation is clean enough, victimless, but it’s still off the books.
Still something that could destroy everything we’ve built if it got out.
And Elizabeth? She’s exactly the type to dig until she finds something like this.
My poker chip moves between my fingers as I walk back toward the clubhouse, muscle memory taking over while my mind churns.
The familiar weight and texture of it grounds me, reminds me who I am and what I’m fighting for.
This club saved me when I had nothing. These men are my family.
I won’t let anyone, not even a leather-clad wildcat with eyes that see too much, put that at risk.
But fuck, she’s making it hard to think straight.
Every time I catch a glimpse of her laughing with the girls or asking the brothers questions about their lives, something twists in my chest. She fits here in a way that terrifies me.
Last night, watching her help wrap toys like she’d been doing it for years, seeing her genuinely care about Millie’s problems with Will, it was too easy to imagine her as part of this permanently.
And that’s exactly why I need to keep my distance.
The Chapel’s heavy door closes behind me with a solid thunk, muffling the sounds of the clubhouse beyond. In here, surrounded by the familiar scent of leather and old wood, I can finally breathe. I can finally think without her intoxicating presence clouding my judgment.
I pour myself three fingers of whiskey and settle into my chair at the head of the table.
The amber liquid burns going down, but it’s a welcome distraction from the memory of Elizabeth’s skin under my hands in the desert.
The way she gasped when I touched her. The little sounds she made that drove me absolutely fucking insane.
Christ, I’m losing my mind.
A knock at the door interrupts my brooding, and Nitro’s voice cuts through the silence. “Pres? We need to talk.”
“Come in.”
My VP enters, closing the door behind him and taking his usual seat to my left. His expression is serious, the kind of look that tells me I’m about to get a lecture I probably deserve.
“Avoiding Elizabeth isn’t going to help the situation, Pres,” he says without preamble.
I take another sip of whiskey. “I’m not avoiding her. I’m handling club business.”
“Bullshit.” Nitro leans back in his chair, fixing me with that steady stare that’s gotten more than one prospect to confess their sins. “You’ve been dodging her since that ride in the desert. What the fuck happened out there?”
Everything.
Nothing.
I fucking kissed her like my life depended on it.
And for a moment, I forgot why that was a terrible idea.
“I let things get out of hand,” I admit finally. “Won’t happen again.”
“Because you’re going to hide in here like a coward?”
The word hits harder than it should.
Probably because it’s true.
I am hiding.
From her, from what she makes me feel, from the way she looks at me like she can see straight through every goddamn wall I’ve built.
“I’m protecting the club,” I growl. “She’s here to write a story, Nitro. That’s it. And right now, we’ve got a storage unit full of gold sitting fifty yards from where she’s asking questions about our operations. You think that’s a coincidence I should ignore?”
Nitro’s jaw tightens. “The gold is secure. She doesn’t know it’s there.”
“Yet.”
“Sin…” His voice softens slightly. “I get it. I know what happened when Rebekka fucked with your head—”
“Don’t.” The warning in my voice could cut glass. “That’s not what this is about.”
But it is, isn’t it?
At least partially.
Rebekka, with her bright smile and bigger dreams, who loved me right up until the moment I cut her loose to protect her from the shitstorm that was coming for the club.
I was ready to propose.
Had the ring picked out and everything.
Then the president pulled me aside and told me the Feds were circling, that it was only a matter of time before they moved.
So instead of getting down on one knee…
I broke her heart.
Told her she deserved better than a life with a criminal.
Watched her cry and beg me to explain what she’d done wrong, knowing I could never tell her the truth. That I was letting her go because I loved her too much to destroy her life along with mine.
Six years later, and I still don’t know if I made the right choice.
“This is different,” Nitro says quietly. “Elizabeth isn’t some civilian who stumbled into our world. She came here looking for something specific.”
“That’s exactly why I need to keep my distance.”
“No, that’s exactly why you need to stay close. Figure out what she’s really after.” He stands, moving to the window that overlooks the main clubhouse floor. “She’s asking about Marcus.”
My blood runs cold. “What?”
“Yesterday, when you were handling the gold transfer, she asked Millie about him. Just dropped the name casual-like, wanted to know what happened to him.”
The poker chip stills in my fingers. Marcus. Christ! I should have seen this coming. Should have put precautions in place before agreeing to this whole damn interview.
“What did Millie tell her?”
“Nothing. Girl’s smart enough to know that’s not her story to tell. But Elizabeth didn’t just ask once and let it go. She pushed. Wanted details.”
Fuck.
This changes everything.
If Elizabeth is digging into Marcus, if she knows something about what really happened…
“We can’t let her get close to that story,” I say, my voice harder than granite.
“Which is why you need to stop hiding and do your damn job, Pres. You brought her here to control the narrative. You can’t do that from inside this room. No matter how sacred it is.”
Nitro’s right, and I hate him for it.
The whole point of bringing Elizabeth to the club was to show her who we really are, to make her see past the outlaw reputation to the family underneath.
But if she’s asking about Marcus, if she knows more than she’s letting on, then this isn’t just about good PR anymore.
This is about which version of the truth could come out and how that will affect everything we’ve been working for.
“Fine,” I say, draining the rest of my whiskey. “I’ll talk to her. Keep her focused on how we want this to go.”
“Good. Because the rest of us can only keep her occupied for so long, this was your idea, remember? You said you were gonna keep your eye on her. Don’t let this get away from us, Pres.”
“Yeah… yeah, I hear you.”
Nitro nods and heads for the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “For what it’s worth, I think she genuinely likes it here. Likes us. That could work in our favor, if you handle it right.”
The door begins to close behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the ghost of Elizabeth’s laughter echoing from the main room.
I hear her, probably charming my brothers with that sharp wit and unexpected vulnerability that’s been driving me crazy since the moment she stepped out of her car, but it is soon snuffed out as the door closes, completely drowning out the noise.
She genuinely likes it here.
That should make me feel better, but instead, it makes everything worse. Because part of me, the part I’ve been trying to ignore, likes having her here too. Likes watching her fit seamlessly into our chaotic family. Likes the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention.
But if she’s asking about Marcus, then I need to be on my guard.
I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes and letting the memory of the desert wash over me.
The way she felt pressed against me, soft, warm, and perfectly responsive.
The little gasp she made when I touched her, like she was as surprised by the heat between us as I was.
The way she looked at me after, like she was seeing me for the first time.
Christ, I haven’t been able to get her out of my fucking mind.
Even now, knowing she might be playing an angle I don’t understand, my body responds to the memory of her. The scent of her skin, the taste of her lips, the way she fit against me like she was made for it.
It’s been six years since Rebekka. Six years since I let myself feel anything real for someone. I’d convinced myself I was done with that shit, that the club was enough. That family and brotherhood were all I needed.
Then Elizabeth walked into my life, wearing leather pants and a spicy attitude, and suddenly I’m remembering what it feels like to want something, someone, so badly it makes my chest ache.
But I can’t afford to want her.
Not if she’s digging about Marcus.
Not if she has the power to destroy everything I’ve built.
The club has to come first.
It always comes first.
These men, this family we’ve created, depend on me to keep them safe.
To make the hard choices.
To sacrifice whatever I have to sacrifice to protect what matters most.
That’s what my president did before me.
I learned that lesson with Rebekka, too, and I’ll apply it with Elizabeth if I have to.
No matter how good she smells. No matter how fucking perfect she tastes when I kiss her. No matter how right it feels to have her in my arms.
The fact is, the club is my priority. The only reason she’s here is to prove to her that we’re not who she thinks we are.
And I will prove that to her.
One way or another.
Even if it kills me.
I flip the poker chip one more time, catching it in my palm and closing my fist around it. The familiar weight centers me, reminds me of who I am and what I owe these men.
Elizabeth Hale came here looking for a story.
I just need to make sure I spin the narrative to the right one.
Because the alternative could end in disaster…
For Defiance and Elizabeth!