Chapter 16
BEAR
The glow of the candles hit her hair just right — soft gold flickers catching on every loose strand framing her face like a halo she’d never admit to wearing.
She was flushed from the wine. From the day.
From life.
“—and then this mom storms in, swearing her daughter’s costume was swapped, screaming about sequins and sabotage like it was Toddlers and Tiaras: Holiday Bloodbath,” she said, eyes wide, hands flying with each word.
“I literally had to bribe the lighting guy with a brownie to hold the tech run while I talked her down.”
I smiled. Couldn’t help it.
She wasn’t just beautiful.
She was alight.
Glowing. Lit from within. Her voice had an edge of purpose now, like she’d finally stopped drifting and found something solid to stand on.
“You should’ve seen the look on my face,” she added, grinning. “It was like I’d been hired to run the damn Pentagon, not a community center.”
I set my glass down, leaned forward, eyes never leaving hers.
“I think you’ve found your passion, babe.”
She blinked, caught off guard.
“I mean it,” I said, my voice low. Steady. “I’ve seen you laugh. Seen you mad. Seen you cold, wet, half-drunk, even kissin’ me like the world was ending. But this?” I gestured to her — flushed cheeks, star-bright eyes, hands still half-gesturing in midair. “This is different. You’re on fire.”
Her smile softened. She ducked her head, cheeks pink.
I could tell she wanted to say thank you. But something held her back. That flicker of discomfort I’d seen before — when she looked at the truck, the wine, the damn menu.
She reached for the bottle of merlot — the Napa label I knew she recognized — and poured herself a cautious splash, like she didn’t want to seem ungrateful or greedy.
And there it was. That hesitation. That guilt.
“I should’ve ordered a salad again,” she muttered, half-joking, swirling her glass.
I leaned back, casual.
“Cook’s uncle owns this place,” I lied, smooth and fast. “He’s a silent partner. Family deal. I called ahead and covered the tab. Didn’t even touch a card.”
Her brow lifted. “Really?”
“Really.”
Truth? I’d prepaid the whole thing over the phone, dropped an envelope at the back door with cash and a tip that’d make anyone blush. But she didn’t need to know that.
I just wanted her to enjoy it.
Let me do this for her. For us.
Let me give her a night where she could feel wanted without worrying about the cost.
Because she was worth it.
Every damn I was two seconds from asking her back to my place.
After dinner, we just walked through town n the snow.
The town square was quiet, snow drifting down soft under the glow of string lights.
Becca’s arm was looped through mine, her laugh still lingering in my ear.
That damn merlot had her cheeks flushed, eyes shining, and all I could think about was peeling her out of that tied-up flannel blouse and tasting every inch of that skin I hadn’t had nearly enough of yet.
And then I heard it.
Boots. Fast ones.
“Boss.”
I turned.
Diesel. Out of breath. Jinx right behind him, jaw tight.
No smiles. No jokes. No brotherly bullshit.
Just the kind of expression you don’t interrupt a date with unless the world’s about to go sideways.
I stepped toward them. “Talk.”
Diesel lowered his voice. “Bloody Scorpions. Atlanta chapter. Twenty minutes out. No heads-up. Just a request to meet.”
I stiffened. “No advance call?”
“None. Could be posturing. Could be worse. We don’t know what the hell we’re walking into.”
I pulled out my phone, fast. Texted their prez:
WHERE. WHO. HOW MANY.
Then:
THIS SHIT AIN’T HOW WE DO BUSINESS.
Three dots danced on the screen. Then came the reply.
We come clean. Talk in person. Respect.
Yeah, sure.
I looked up at Diesel and Jinx, all business now. “Put her in the truck.”
Jinx blinked. “Boss?”
“You heard me. She rides with me. I’m not leavin’ her walkin’ these streets in heels when something might be brewin’. Get the gear. Call in Reinforcements B and C.”
They both nodded and moved fast.
Becca stepped in, eyebrows up, confused as hell. “Wait—what’s going on?”
I turned to her. Pulled open the back of the Escalade. Tossed my fleece inside, pulled out the kutte.
Leather. Heavy. Worn. Appalachian Outlaw MC patch across the back in deep gray and blood-red stitching.
I saw her eyes go wide.
I’d never worn this in front of her before.
She knew who I was.
But she didn’t know.
Now she did.
I pulled it on. Felt it settle over my shoulders like steel.
Then I stepped close and grabbed her face in my hands. Kissed her — deep, hard, claiming her like I had every right.
“I’m not cutting our night short for those assholes,” I growled against her lips. “You’re riding with me. You’ll be safe, baby. I promise you that.”
She nodded, breath shaky, eyes locked on mine.
I tucked her into the front seat and slammed the door shut.
Whatever was coming — blood, bullshit, or posturing — I wasn’t showing up alone.
And I sure as hell wasn’t showing up soft.
The gun slid smooth from the center console — matte black, compact, loaded.
No big deal.
I tucked it into the waistband of my jeans, grip forward, and pulled my kutte down over it as I drove.
Becca didn’t say anything.
But I felt her watching me. The shift in her breath. The way her fingers curled in her lap.
“You okay?” I asked, voice easy. Even.
She nodded. “Should I be?”
“Not unless things go sideways.”
She gave me a look, one of those you did not just say that looks.
I cracked a grin. “Look, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. This life—it’s not neat. It’s not polite. And it sure as hell doesn’t come with a panic button. But I’ve been doing this a long time, babe. I know when something’s real and when it’s just noise.”
“Is this noise?”
I thought about that.
“Don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I’d rather show up ready than late.”
She nodded slowly. Eyes still scanning me. Like she wasn’t sure if she should be worried, impressed, or something else entirely.
“So this is just… normal for you?”
“This is Tuesday,” I said with a dry smirk. “Sometimes it’s a back alley. Sometimes it’s a bar fight. Sometimes it’s a bullshit meeting with a rival crew who don’t know how to pick up the phone like civilized men.”
“And sometimes it’s… taking a girl home you found stranded in the snow?”
My hand tightened on the steering wheel.
“Yeah,” I said. “Sometimes it’s that.”
The streetlights slid across her face. The silence between us settled into something that wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, sure — but honest.
She wasn’t running.
She wasn’t melting down.
She was here. Riding shotgun in my world, where things get hot, sharp, and bloody real.
And me?
I wasn’t gonna lie to her. Not anymore. She deserved to see all of me — even the dark corners.
I glanced over at her again. Her lips pressed together, hands still in her lap, but her eyes?
Still locked on mine.
Still steady.
Still with me.