Chapter 8 Outside World Intrudes #2
And from everything Elliot had told me, his father wasn't exactly going to celebrate finding out his son was dating a biker with a criminal record.
The realization irritated me immediately.
Not because it surprised me.
Because it felt unfair.
"Maybe he didn't recognize you."
Even as I said it, I didn't believe it.
Elliot clearly didn't either.
The look he gave me confirmed that.
Wonderful.
He sighed.
"Maybe."
Definitely not maybe.
I knew it.
He knew it.
Neither of us wanted to say it.
I stepped closer.
Rested a hand briefly against the back of his neck.
A small gesture.
One that instantly relaxed him.
The sight made something protective stir inside my chest.
"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it."
His eyes found mine.
The fear remained.
But something else appeared too.
Trust.
The kind that made me feel both stronger and infinitely more vulnerable.
Eventually he nodded.
The conversation ended there.
Not because the problem disappeared.
Because neither of us had a solution.
For now, that would have to be enough.
A few hours later, Elliot headed upstairs to work on his manuscript while I finished closing the garage.
The sun had already disappeared.
Darkness settled over the street outside.
The familiar routine should have felt comforting.
Instead, an uneasy feeling lingered beneath my skin.
The day had shifted something.
I could feel it.
Like a storm building somewhere beyond the horizon.
The garage doors were locked.
The paperwork finished.
I was just reaching for the office lights when headlights appeared outside.
A motorcycle.
Then another.
Then a third.
My stomach immediately sank.
I knew those bikes.
Hell.
I knew the men riding them.
The lead motorcycle rolled to a stop outside the garage.
The rider removed his helmet.
A familiar face appeared.
Older.
Harder.
More scarred than the last time I'd seen him.
Derek Cole.
Former vice president of the Steel Vipers Motorcycle Club.
My former club.
Or former enough.
"Son of a bitch."
The words escaped quietly.
Because I already knew this wasn't a social visit.
Derek didn't drive two hours to chat.
The garage door rattled lightly as someone knocked.
Three sharp hits.
Impatient.
Typical.
I opened the side entrance.
Derek grinned.
The expression contained no warmth whatsoever.
"Kane."
"Derek."
The two men behind him nodded briefly.
Faces from another life.
One I'd spent years trying to leave behind.
"What are you doing here?"
Derek glanced around the garage.
Taking everything in.
The business.
The motorcycles.
The clean floors.
The legitimate life I'd built.
Something unreadable crossed his expression.
Then vanished.
"We need to talk."
Of course they did.
They always needed to talk.
The phrase never meant anything good.
I stepped aside reluctantly.
The three men entered.
Immediately making the garage feel smaller.
Darker.
The atmosphere changed the second they arrived.
Like old ghosts dragging old memories through the door.
I hated it.
Derek noticed.
His grin widened.
"Nice place."
"What do you want?"
Straight to the point.
No reason pretending otherwise.
His expression became serious.
Finally.
"There was a problem."
I folded my arms.
"Not my problem."
"Maybe."
The answer irritated me immediately.
Derek leaned against a workbench.
Casual.
Dangerous.
The combination had always been his specialty.
One of the reasons he'd survived so long.
"We lost a shipment."
There it was.
Club business.
Exactly what I wanted nowhere near my garage.
My life.
Or Elliot.
Especially Elliot.
"I don't care."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"You should."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
Firm.
Certain.
"I shouldn't."
For several seconds nobody spoke.
The silence felt heavy.
The kind that usually preceded bad decisions.
Eventually Derek sighed.
"Still stubborn."
"Still breathing."
"Barely."
The exchange would've sounded friendly to outsiders.
It wasn't.
The tension underneath every word remained obvious.
At least to us.
Derek pushed away from the workbench.
"The shipment disappeared."
He paused.
"Along with one of our guys."
I stared.
Not because I cared about the shipment.
Because missing club members usually meant violence.
Or worse.
The realization explained why they'd come.
Derek continued.
"We need someone who knows the territory."
"No."
The answer arrived before he finished speaking.
His expression hardened.
Not surprised.
Just annoyed.
Like he'd expected resistance.
"Jaxon."
"No."
The repetition felt satisfying.
Derek rubbed a hand across his beard.
Patient.
Dangerously patient.
The way people acted when they believed they'd eventually get what they wanted.
I hated that look.
"Listen."
"I'm not interested."
"You haven't heard the whole story."
"I don't need to."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
The other two men exchanged glances.
Nobody looked happy.
Good.
Neither was I.
Derek stepped forward.
Not threatening.
Not yet.
Just close enough to make his point.
"The Vipers took care of you once."
I laughed.
A short humorless sound.
"There it is."
The debt.
The loyalty argument.
The oldest trick in club history.
Derek's expression tightened.
Because he knew I was right.
Years ago, that argument would've worked.
Not anymore.
I looked him directly in the eye.
"My answer is no."
The silence stretched.
Long.
Uncomfortable.
Final.
Then something changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Derek's expression softened.
The way a wolf might soften before showing its teeth.
"That's unfortunate."
A warning.
Clear as day.
I felt it immediately.
So did everyone else.
The garage suddenly seemed much quieter.
Much smaller.
Much more dangerous.
Derek headed toward the door.
The others followed.
For a moment, I thought that was the end of it.
Then he stopped.
Turned back.
And delivered the words I knew were coming.
"We weren't really asking."
The statement settled heavily in the garage.
Cold.
Certain.
Promising trouble.
Then they left.
The motorcycles roared to life outside.
Seconds later, the sound disappeared into the night.
I stood alone in the garage.
Motionless.
Staring at the closed door.
Because despite everything I'd said, one fact remained painfully obvious.
The Steel Vipers hadn't driven all this way just to hear no.
And sooner or later, they were coming back.
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