10. Stryker
STRYKER
Ibarely sleep.
Not because something’s actively wrong. Not even because we’ve got another cartel problem lighting up my phone every twenty minutes or because half our Vegas routes still feel like they’re balancing on a knife edge lately.
Those things are normal now. Expected. Stress settles into the background after enough years carrying it.
No, I barely sleep because six years after losing Nora in a burning mansion, I find her again standing beside a dead SUV with a five-year-old little boy gripping her hand.
And now I can’t stop thinking about either of them.
The highway stretches empty beneath us while the three bikes eat up desert road just after sunrise.
Cold wind cuts through my jacket while Viper rides slightly ahead and Blade stays back near my rear tire.
We should probably be at the clubhouse this morning dealing with actual problems. Bishop texted at two in the morning that another Vegas account got hit.
Legacy thinks one of the Bratva runners crossed state lines overnight.
Reyes is convinced somebody is feeding information outward again.
Instead, we’re riding toward Nora’s house because, apparently, all three of us have lost our fucking minds.
“She’s gonna be annoyed we came back already,” Viper says through the comm.
“She’ll survive.”
“That’s not really the concern.”
I don’t answer because he’s not wrong.
Nora made it pretty obvious yesterday that while she didn’t exactly want us gone, she definitely wanted distance. The problem is Paxton looked personally betrayed when we left, and somewhere along the way all three of us apparently became incapable of saying no to a five-year-old.
Especially that one.
Blade’s voice cuts into the comm quieter than usual. “We also promised him.”
Viper sighs dramatically. “See? This is why children are dangerous. They weaponize emotional attachment.”
“You’re attached too,” Blade points out calmly.
“Yeah, but I’m emotionally intelligent enough to deny it.”
I snort quietly while Black Rock finally appears ahead.
The closer we get to Nora’s house, the stranger this whole thing feels. Six years of searching. Six years of dead ends and trafficked girls and bodies pulled from places no human being should ever see. Six years of trying to figure out if Nora escaped that house or burned inside it.
Then suddenly she’s here. Alive. Sleeping twenty minutes from our clubhouse with a kid that could belong to any of us.
I still don’t know how I feel about that part exactly. Fuck, maybe because I want it too much already. That’s the dangerous thing.
We pull onto Nora’s street a few minutes later, engines rumbling through the quiet neighborhood. The house comes into view almost immediately. Pale blue siding. Front porch. Toys already scattered across the yard like they’ve lived there longer than two days.
And there they are.
Nora sits on the porch steps holding her phone between her shoulder and ear while rubbing at her forehead tiredly.
She’s wearing leggings and one of those oversized sweaters women somehow make look soft instead of sloppy, blonde hair piled messily on top of her head like she gave up halfway through fixing it.
Paxton kneels on the walkway nearby, completely absorbed in drawing with sidewalk chalk. The second he notices us, his entire face lights up. Then he’s sprinting toward the driveway before the bikes even fully stop.
I kill my engine quickly and swing off the bike just in time to catch him when he nearly launches himself into me. Viper gets there at the same time, laughing, while Paxton grabs both our jackets excitedly.
“Morning,” Viper says carefully before signing awkwardly, Good morning.
I follow immediately with the greeting Blade drilled into us half the damn night. Good morning.
Paxton freezes. Then his eyes widen dramatically.
You practiced sign language.
His signing moves fast enough that I almost miss part of it, but I catch enough now to understand.
Beside me, Viper straightens proudly. “We did.”
Blade walks up behind us carrying a small paper bag from the bakery downtown and signs much smoother than either of us, We practiced with each other all night so we could say it correctly.
Paxton grins so hard his entire face crinkles. You guys did a good job.
Viper actually clutches his chest. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in years.”
Paxton laughs silently while Blade translates automatically for us anyway.
I glance toward the porch.
Nora’s still on the phone, but she’s watching us now with an expression I can’t fully read. Though I can see that one of those emotions is exhaustion. She looks tired enough that something immediately tightens low in my chest.
Paxton tugs my sleeve for attention. My mom is trying to find a school for me.
I blink once before Blade quietly translates the parts I missed. School. Right. I look back toward Nora just as she hangs up the phone harder than necessary and exhales sharply toward the yard. Frustration rolls off her even from here.
Viper notices too. “That looked promising.”
“She probably just got told no again,” Blade says quietly.
Something ugly stirs in my chest immediately, because I already know how this town handles things outside normal expectations. Black Rock likes easy. Predictable. Kids like Paxton force effort from people who don’t want to give it.
I hand my helmet to Viper without thinking. “Play with him.”
Viper lifts an eyebrow. “You giving orders now?”
“Yes.”
“That’s kinda hot.”
“Shut up.”
Blade snorts quietly while I head toward the porch.
Nora watches me approach, carefully, but doesn’t retreat. That matters more than she probably realizes. Six years ago she’d trusted us instinctively. Now every step forward feels measured instead.
Fair enough honestly.
I stop near the bottom step. “Morning.”
“Morning.” She glances toward the guys playing with Paxton near the walkway before looking back at me. “You didn’t have to come back.”
“We know.”
That drags the smallest hint of amusement across her face before it disappears again.
I nod toward the phone in her hand. “Bad call?”
Her shoulders tighten slightly. “Apparently every public school within reasonable driving distance thinks accommodating Paxton would be too difficult.”
The way she says difficult makes it clear exactly what the schools actually meant.
Anger settles into me quick and sharp.
“They can’t technically refuse him,” she continues, “but they can heavily imply he’d struggle there until parents get the message.”
I lean one shoulder against the porch railing while thinking through the problem automatically. Then the answer comes easy.
“I’ve got a daughter,” I say.
That catches her attention immediately.
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
She looks genuinely surprised enough that I almost laugh.
“I was surprised too,” I admit.
Something softer shifts across her expression at that.
“How old?”
“Just turned eight recently.”
“And you’re raising her alone?”
“Mostly.” I glance back toward Viper and Blade instinctively. “Her mom’s not around anymore. So it’s basically me and those two.”
Nora follows my line of sight toward the others. Blade’s crouched beside Paxton helping him draw something with chalk, while Viper intentionally signs things wrong just to make the kid laugh.
The sight does something strange to her face, like she’s reassessing us entirely.
“She goes to private school here,” I continue. “Small classes. Better resources. They usually don’t enroll mid-semester, but I can probably get him in.”
Nora blinks at me. “You’d do that?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Because I spent six years wondering if you were dead.
Because the idea of either of you struggling unnecessarily already feels personal somehow.
Instead I shrug. “Because the kid deserves a good school.”
She stares at me for a second too long before looking away first.
“That would…” She exhales quietly. “That would actually help a lot.”
“I’ll talk to them tomorrow when I drop Lena off.”
For the first time since we arrived, Nora looks genuinely relieved. Behind us, Viper suddenly bursts out laughing while Paxton points accusingly at him with chalk-covered fingers.
“He’s cheating!” Blade calls toward us while signing for Paxton.
“I’m improvising,” Viper argues.
“Not even close to the same thing.”
Nora watches them quietly before shaking her head faintly. “He likes you guys.”
She sounds more unsettled than pleased. I understand why. The attachment feels dangerous to all of us.
“Good,” I say anyway. “We all already love him.”
Her eyes flick back toward me immediately. Before either of us can say anything else, a delivery truck pulls into the driveway behind the bikes. Nora groans softly under her breath.
“Please tell me you didn’t order more death traps from Facebook Marketplace,” Viper calls.
“It’s furniture,” she yells back. “And I got it from Overstock.”
“That somehow feels equally dangerous.”
The next two hours become absolute chaos.
Apparently Nora ordered half her life online before leaving New York and everything chose today to arrive. A desk for her new remote job. Kitchen shelves. Lamps. Chairs. Boxes full of random apartment leftovers she had shipped separately because they wouldn’t fit in the SUV.
“You got a remote job already?” Blade asks while carrying a heavy box through the front door.
Nora nods distractedly from the living room floor where she’s trying unsuccessfully to assemble part of the desk.
“Customer support for some insurance company. I applied months ago and forgot about it honestly. Luck worked out I guess because they called to confirm a start date while we were road tripping here.”
“You work from home now?” Viper asks.
“Starting next week.”
“That’s actually huge,” Blade says genuinely.
Nora shrugs like she doesn’t fully believe the good luck herself yet. “Timing worked out.”