39
Luna
“Do you think Scar’s okay?” I ask.
Cade’s hand tightens on my denim-covered thigh, his thumb drawing lazy circles. He’s been like this all day—constantly touching me. Only problem is, every time I return the favor, we end up stopping. It seems Cade can’t be touched without . . . overreacting.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Cade snorts.
“Dunno. He seemed off this morning.”
Scar’s bear hug had nearly crushed me before we left, and his tight smile hadn’t reached his eyes. I’ll see you soon, he’d whispered, like he knew something I didn’t.
I shake off the memory. “Even Saint, too, seemed off. Moody. He wouldn’t even wag his tail or offer his belly for a scratch.”
Cade chuckles, “No, baby, he wasn’t moody. He was shy.”
“Shy?”
“ Yeah. He’s never been a suckass for anyone else, and didn’t want to lose his cred in front of Scar.”
I laugh. “Cred? He’s a dog!”
“He’s a very intelligent Cane Corso,” Cade corrects, flashing me a grin. “And he takes his job of guarding his people and his territory seriously.”
“Just like his owner?” I tease, tracing the vein on the back of his hand.
Cade’s grin widens. “Watch it, princess.”
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll be facing a clubhouse full of bikers with a red face and buckling knees. We’re ten minutes away.”
I know exactly what he means by that. We’ve stopped twice in three hours. I can barely walk as is. I ignore the throbbing between my legs at his dark promise and whirl around to glance out the window.
We’ve entered a small, quiet town with cracked sidewalks and weathered storefronts.
“You’re tense,” I say softly, my eyes catching the rigid line of his jaw. “Why?”
Cade glances at me, his gaze shuttered. “I may have been born in Harmony, but Valencia? This is where I got fucked up.”
My head whips toward him, taking in the sleepy, unassuming town we’re leaving behind. The cracked sidewalks. The weathered storefronts. The oppressive stillness. “Here?”
“Yep.” He nods toward a boarded-up structure tagged with fading graffiti. “See that clubhouse?”
I follow his gaze to the dilapidated building. Dead, like everything else in Valencia. “Looks abandoned.”
“It’s not. Hellfire Renegades just don’t get the action they used to. That was Jackson’s palace.” His thumb strokes absently over my hip—like he’s trying to tet her himself.
Jackson Pype. The man Cade’s mother remarried.
When Cade talks about his past, he drops breadcrumbs—daring me to follow but always ready to pull me back.
A beat of silence stretches before he exhales roughly. “If Thomas had treated her right, Matilda wouldn’t have been easy pickings for a vulture like him.”
Thomas. Matilda. Jackson. Phoenix. Cade never uses the words “mother” or “father”—just names. People he’s obligated to acknowledge, but never more than that.
“You must’ve hated living here,” I prod gently.
Cade’s expression clouds. “Not as much as Matilda did. The only time she was ever happy was when she went to mass.”
I tilt my head, pushing just a little harder. “Did you hate your parents?”
He smiles wanly. “Quite the opposite. I loved them. Irrevocably.”
“Even Jackson?”
“Unfortunately, the asshole.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “But they were—no offense—shitty as fuck! Thomas beat your mom. Jackson was a monster!”
“That’s love, isn’t it?” His fingers tighten on mine. “Nothing wrong with loving someone who doesn’t deserve it, as long as you shield yourself from their abuse. That means distance. Or divorce.”
“Or death,” I finish glibly.
Cade grins, “Well, then.”
The tension breaks, and I find myself smiling back. But before I can follow up with another question, something in the air changes.
The outskirts of Valencia fade behind us, giving way to tall trees and dappled sunlight. The town ahead looks like something out of a postcard.
Har mony.
Cade’s grip on the steering wheel loosens as we pass through the town center. His shoulders drop, and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, like being here melts something inside him.
And then I see it.
The Druids Motorcycle Dealership. Rising ahead is a gleaming steel structure that seems completely out of place in this quiet slice of small-town America. It’s bold and unapologetic.
“That looks like it belongs on Rodeo Drive!”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s our legit front: custom-made motorcycles.”
“Legit?” I arch a brow. “Why would you need anything else with a setup like that?”
“Because compared to interstate arms dealing, baby, motorcycle repair is peanuts.”
I blink in surprise, my gaze shifting back to the Druids’ Garage. Its polished exterior is a perfect disguise for what lies beneath. It’s not so different from the Mafia. My world just wears suits instead of leather.
Cade pulls into the lot, past a neat row of gleaming motorcycles. The clubhouse looms ahead, a timber structure with a wraparound porch that defies the town’s modest aesthetic. My breath catches as I take in the massive graffiti spanning one wall. It’s a replica of the tattoo on Cade’s back.
I’m still staring when Cade comes to my side, his warm hand enveloping mine as he helps me out.
“We’ll just say hello, then head over there to see Nico.” He nods toward a smaller building across the way—some diner I hadn’t noticed. “He’ll meet us shortly.”
My smile vanishes as nerves flutter to life. I almost forgot about Nico Vitelli. Guilty Pleasures. Saving my family from ruin. I’ve been so wrapped up in Cade that everything else has slipped through the cracks.
“Cade, I stood him up almost two days.”
“Oh, he’s survived worse.” Cade obviously doesn’t share my concern.
“He’s going to be pissed off!”
“He’s always in a bad mood.”
“That’s so not reassuring.”
He chuckles, then pulls me into his side, and his warmth silences my protests as we approach the porch.
The double doors swing open like a statement, and a stern-faced man strides out. He’s burly, covered in ink, and sports a braided salt-and-pepper beard and a bald head that gleams under the afternoon sun.
Phoenix Kellan.
The two men meet in the middle of the lot, and Phoenix wraps Cade in a brief hug. The way they pat each other on the back feels almost brotherly.
When they part, Cade turns to me, his arm sliding around my waist as he guides me forward. “This is Luna.”
My heart kicks up as Phoenix’s gaze shifts to me. . . and cools.
I manage to extend my hand, ignoring the inexplicable urge to do more—like hug him. Something about this man feels like we’re standing on equal footing as the only two people on earth who know who Cade really is.
Phoenix’s grip is firm and warm, a stark contrast to the chill in his hazel eyes.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
Phoenix nods curtly, his expression unreadable, and turns back to Cade. “We should talk.”
Shit. He hates me.
“Later,” Cade replies. “We’re meeting Nico first.”
The air gr ows taut with silence, only to fracture as more bikers spill out of the clubhouse.
Grins split their faces as they greet Cade, and by extension, me, with a deference that surprises me. It’s like watching wolves welcome their alpha home.
Cade takes it all in stride, responding with nods and brief smiles, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that I don’t think anyone else notices. His grip on my waist tightens. As if he’s grounding himself through me.
“Alright, listen up!” Phoenix’s booming voice cuts through the noise. Instantly, the crowd quiets, their eyes snapping to him. “Cade’s here, so I expect every one of you to park your ass out here by eight to raise a glass and remind him of what will always be waiting for him.”
A roar of agreement erupts from the group.
Cade chuckles, too, but the sound is all wrong. I glance up at him, catching the flicker in his eyes and the clench of his jaw.
Phoenix’s words touched a nerve.
What will always be waiting for him?
And then, chaos strikes again.
A group of children comes flying out from behind the clubhouse, their high-pitched shouts piercing the air. “Uncle Cade’s back! Uncle Cade’s back!”
A little girl with dark curly pigtails leads the troop, her legs pumping as she races across the yard. Cade drops everything—including me—to scoop her up.
“Hey there, squirt!”
It’s like watching a grizzly bear cuddle a kitten—shocking but achingly sweet.
“I missed you so much, Zio Cade,” She announces, pressing her small hand against his cheek. “You left for waaaay too long!”
“ I know, Victoria. I know,” Cade murmurs in a contrite voice.
A slender brunette approaches more slowly, her dark eyes softening as she watches Cade with the little girl. Her tight black jeans and crop top highlight her toned frame, and there’s an ease to her movements that suggests she belongs here.
“Maria,” Cade greets, pulling her into a hug with his free arm, and my gut twists.
It turns into full-blown wrenching when Maria buries her face in his chest, looping her arms around his neck like she’s found safety there.
And he just . . . lets her.
I stand frozen, feeling like Alice tumbling down yet another rabbit hole.
After what feels like forever, Cade disentangles himself from Maria and Victoria and, as if nothing happened, pulls me back against his side with a firm grip.
“Let’s go, baby,” he murmurs.
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to wait until we’re out of sight so I can yank myself out of his hold to demand an explanation of what in the fucking hell that was.
“Zio Cade!”
We both turn to see Victoria racing after us. “Where are you going?” she asks breathlessly as she reaches us.
Cade grins, crouching to her height. “I’m going to show my friend around.”
Victoria shields her eyes from the sun, squinting as she studies me. “Why?”
“Because I want us to be nice to her,” Cade says with exaggerated patience.
Her other hand lands on her hip, and her small frame puffs up, ready for battle. “Is she going to be your Old Lady?”
Hea t rushes to my cheeks so fast I feel lightheaded. Old Lady? I don’t know whether to laugh or crawl under the nearest motorcycle, but Cade only chuckles.
Maria appears beside Victoria, catching the question. She bends to scold the little girl in rapid Italian, then turns to Cade. “Dio mio, I’m sorry.”
Cade shakes his head, clearly unbothered. “It’s okay, Maria.” Then, cocking his head, he gestures for Victoria to come closer as if sharing a secret. In fluent Italian, he whispers loudly, “I haven’t asked her yet.”
Victoria pouts, then leans in to whisper back, “So . . . don’t ask her.”
“That’s enough, Victoria,” Maria says, sweeping her away with an apologetic look my way.
I manage a weak smile, watching them leave. My simmering anger cools, but the question still tumbles out in a sneer. “Friends of yours?”
“Sophie’s. They ran into some trouble a while back. She’s still working through most of it.”
Ah, a damsel in distress. Of course. “Makes sense.” I scoff. “Naturally, you brought her to your home to find healing.”
“It’s Sophie’s home, too,” he says evenly, like I’ve forgotten. Then he pauses, his head tilting slightly as his gaze sharpens on my face. “Wait, are you . . . jealous?”
“Why the fuck would I be?” I snap. “As long as you understand that the next time you put your arm around another woman like that, I’m going to break it.”
And that did not make me sound like a psycho bitch at all—not that he’s in any position to complain.
Cade watches me for a long beat, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips twitch into a slow, infuriating smile that makes my pulse stutter. “Noted.”
I n arrow my eyes. “You think I’m kidding?”
His finger hooks under my jaw, tilting my face up until our gazes lock. “No, I don’t think you’re kidding, Luciana. And for the record, I like it when you get territorial.”
“Territorial?” I step back from him just enough to make my point. “I’m not territorial, I just—”
“Baby.” He doesn’t even let me finish. His hands slide down to my hips as he drags me back against him. “You might as well pee all over me at this point.”
My jaw drops at the crude visual. “Cade!”
“Relax.” His chuckle is rough, dripping with male satisfaction as his hands tighten on my waist. “It’s a compliment. Though, if you ever want to go there . . .”
“Caden!” I hiss, glaring up at him. He only laughs harder, soaking up my indignation, the bastard.
I should smack the smug grin off his face. I should. But the ache building low in my belly makes it hard to think about anything other than dragging him into the nearest corner to finish what he just started.