Chapter 2
Havoc
“You going to tell me why you hauled ass across town to scare some old man on a porch instead of coming straight to the clubhouse?” Viper drawls, flicking ash off his cigarette.
He’s leaning against the pool table like he owns it, sharp grin curling around the filter. His eyes glint, amused.
“Don’t look at me like that. I know everything that happens in Lovestone Ridge.”
The Damned Saints’ clubhouse hums around us. At this hour, just after dusk, the place is alive with movement. Leather creaks, boots thud, laughter breaks out at the prospects’ table. The scent of grease, chili, whiskey, and gun oil wraps around it all like smoke.
I drop my keys on the bar and pour myself a coffee instead of reaching for the whiskey that would take the edge off. Being president means I can drink whenever the hell I want.
It also means I don’t if there’s work to do.
“Old man had it coming,” I say.
My jaw is still tight. My whole body’s wired, like it’s waiting for a fight that didn’t happen.
Viper makes a face like that’s not enough of an answer. Ghost, sitting at the far end of the bar with his arms crossed, raises a brow.
“Is this about the baker?” he asks. No emotion. Just watching. Always catching more than he lets on.
“Yeah.” I grunt.
I was leading a ride through town when I first saw her. Standing on the sidewalk with flour on her cheek, curves that made my body react hard and fast after years of nothing. Years of discipline. Years of choosing quiet over touch.
The bike didn’t slow, but something inside me did.
Grip locked on the throttle. Jaw clenched. Blood roaring like it remembered how to want.
Yeah, she was fuckable. My body made that clear.
But it didn’t stop there.
There was something about her that went deeper than heat. Something soft and wounded and stubborn all at once. The kind of woman a man doesn’t just take to bed. The kind he keeps.
The kind he protects even from himself.
I felt it in my chest, sharp and unexpected. Not just desire, but recognition. Like some buried part of me sat up and paid attention for the first time in years.
Careful, I told myself.
Men like me don’t get to want hearts.
But I watched her anyway. Memorized the way she held herself like she’d learned not to lean on anyone. Thought about how she’d feel under my hands and how I’d want to do it slow, like I had something to prove.
Like I wanted more than her body.
And that scared me more than the want ever could.
The next day, I saw her leaving the community center after teaching. I trailed her, kept my distance. Not to scare her. Just to figure out what the hell my instincts were trying to tell me.
She walked fast. Head low. No headphones. No distractions. She took back streets instead of the main ones. Checked over her shoulder three times between the diner and her place.
That’s not a woman living her life.
That’s someone surviving it.
And when I saw her landlord grab her tonight, something in me snapped.
“She smelled like vanilla,” I murmur before I can stop myself. “Like vanilla and sugar and peace. And that landlord put his hands on her.”
Ghost’s expression hardens. “He alive?”
“For now. If he touches her again, he won’t be.”
Viper whistles low. “Damn. You’re gone already.”
“Do we need to throw a shower? Register at Bed Bath & Beyond?” he grins.
I flip him off. He cackles like it’s the funniest thing he’s seen all week.
The sarcasm’s part of the rhythm around here. It keeps us from splintering under pressure. Keeps us sane while we track cartel movements and try to clean up a town that doesn’t want to admit it’s bleeding out.
“Go slow,” Ghost says, voice low. “She’s not just scared. She seems like she’s hiding from something.”
“You saw her?”
He nods once. “I was running loops by the community center after the festival. Clocking a tan sedan that looked out of place. It tailed her for a few blocks, then peeled off. I followed it, grabbed a plate. When I saw you trailing her later, I let you take the lead and peeled off.”
My blood goes cold. “Cartel?”
“Could be. Could be nothing. We’ll know soon.”
I brace my forearms on the bar, eyes fixed on the scarred wood. This town’s a pressure cooker. Always has been. That’s why they voted me president. I don’t crack. I don’t look away. I do what needs doing, whether that’s talking someone down or putting them in the ground.
It’s never meant mooning over a girl nearly half my age, with flour on her nose and trauma in her spine. I just hit forty. She’s maybe twenty-three, twenty-four tops. Looked soft. Innocent. Like the world hadn’t finished chewing her up yet.
I’ve seen too much shit in uniform to believe in saving people. Being a Marine taught me how fast things break. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to keep the rest of the world off her skin.
“You sound domesticated already,” Viper says, pretending to gag. “Christ, Havoc. Say it ain’t so.”
I shoot him a look, but there’s not enough fire behind it to land. “You really want to test me tonight, Viper? I’m two seconds from seeing if you can fly without your boots.”
He just grins, cocky as ever. “Ghost’s already playing house with Nya,” he says. “And Merc’s married to his mail-order bride. That’s more than enough domestic bliss for one club.”
I give him a flat look.
He shrugs, still smirking. “Relax, boss. I’m just joking. So what’s your plan?”
My plan.
That’s the part I’m still trying to wrap my head around.
I’ve always been good at plans. Mapping ambush routes. Reading a room in three seconds flat. Getting my men in and out without losses.
But this?
This is a woman who doesn’t trust easy.
Who flinched before the guy even touched her.
Who scans every shadow like it’s got teeth.
And still had the spine to tell him to move.
“She’ll call if something happens,” I say finally. “I gave her a card.”
My jaw tightens. I’ll still be watching from the shadows tomorrow, whether she does or not.
Ghost studies me, unreadable. “You sure about this? She could be trouble.”
“So was Nya,” I say. “Different kind. But you still stepped in.”
He’s quiet. Because I’m not wrong.
“You think that sedan was just passing through?”
I shake my head. “No. That was surveillance. That was someone marking her.”
My voice drops. “She’s not just scared, Ghost. She’s running.”
He nods once. “You feel it in your gut?”
“Yeah,” I say. “And in my damn ribs.”
He gives a short nod. No hesitation.
That’s all I need.
From Ghost, that’s not approval. That’s backup.
“So what do we call her?” Viper grins. “Future Mrs. Havoc? Cupcake?”
“Her name’s Sage,” I growl.
Saying it feels like carving something into stone. Feels like the start of a storm.
That’s when Mercenary wanders in from the back, wiping grease off his hands. Roy’s built like a wrecking ball but moves like he’s in church.
“Who’s Sage?” he asks.
“Havoc’s woman,” Viper sing-songs.
Roy raises a brow. “Since when do you have a woman?”
“Since I decided,” I snap. The words come out hard, faster than I mean them to. The room goes quiet.
I square my shoulders. The weight settling over me isn’t new. It’s the same one I carry every time I lead men into fire.
“I want something, I take it,” I say, voice even. “Doesn’t mean I forget her choice matters. She’ll come to me on her terms.”
My eyes flick to Viper. “But when she does? She’s not walking away.”
Viper lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Our stone-cold prez caught feelings.”
“You say one more word,” I mutter, “and you’re cleaning the bathrooms with your toothbrush.”
My mouth twitches. They laugh because they can. Because they know me. And because beneath the bullshit, they know the truth.
The last time I felt something this real, it didn’t make it out of a warzone.
I’m not losing this one.
Not to fear.
Not to her past.
Not to mine.