Chapter Eight
Goldie
The ride back to the clubhouse felt longer than the ride to my apartment.
Maybe it only felt that way because I had left with hope and was coming back with confirmation. The Ledger had been inside my home.
Not to trash it or to scare me with broken furniture or spray-painted messages across the walls. They’d walked through my apartment like they belonged there.
They had gone straight to my desk, taken exactly what they wanted, and left everything else sitting neatly in its place.
That somehow made it worse.
It felt personal. Like someone had quietly stepped into my life while I wasn’t looking and reminded me that nowhere belonged to me anymore.
I shifted slightly on the back of Wheels’ bike.
My backpack sat snug against my shoulders, heavier now with the clothes I’d managed to grab. A couple pairs of jeans, shirts, pajamas, undergarments, my favorite hoodie. Nothing exciting.
Just pieces of normal life.
The rest of my things sat tucked inside the saddlebags on either side of Wheels’ bike. A pair of shoes, my toiletries, and a couple of books I’d grabbed without thinking.
Not because I planned on reading, but because they were mine.
Funny how the smallest things suddenly mattered when everything else was falling apart.
The vibration of the motorcycle hummed beneath me, steady and familiar now. Twenty-four hours ago, I’d been terrified climbing onto the back of it. Now, without thinking, my arms rested comfortably around Wheels’ waist.
The city rolled past us. Traffic had picked up since we’d left the clubhouse.
Students wandered sidewalks with backpacks slung over one shoulder.
Couples sat outside coffee shops. Delivery vans squeezed through intersections while cyclists darted between cars like they had a death wish.
Madison looked exactly the way it always had.
Normal.
Nobody would ever guess there was an organization quietly controlling pieces of it from the shadows.
Nobody would guess a motorcycle club had unknowingly bought the one property they couldn’t afford to lose.
Nobody would guess I was riding behind the man who had somehow become the safest place I’d found in days.
The thought caught me off guard.
Safe.
I didn’t know Wheels.
I knew he was the Sergeant at Arms. I knew he listened more than he talked. I knew Twister trusted him enough to put my life in his hands.
And I trusted him. That realization should’ve scared me.
We slowed as the traffic light ahead turned red. Magnum rolled to a stop first. Wheels stopped behind him. Hodge pulled up on our right.
The idle of three Harleys rumbled around us.
Wheels turned his head just enough that I could see part of his profile. “You okay?”
The question floated back to me over the engine noise. I stared at the line of cars crossing the intersection.
Was I okay? Not even close.
My apartment didn’t feel like mine anymore.
Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured someone calmly opening my desk drawers, lifting my planner, sliding my hard drives into a bag, then quietly walking out the door like they’d done it a hundred times before.
I was safer with Wheels.
Safer with the Saints.
That didn’t change the fact that The Ledger was still out there.
“I’m fine,” I called back.
He held my gaze another second. Long enough that I knew he didn’t believe me.
The light turned green, and he faced forward again.
The bike rolled ahead, and neither of us said another word.
The clubhouse came into view fifteen minutes later, and this time we didn’t pull around back.
Magnum eased toward the curb out front before parking beside the sidewalk. Wheels stopped behind him, and Hodge parked last.
I noticed the small seating area before I noticed the people.
A round metal table sat near the front door with a faded blue umbrella rising from the middle. Four chairs circled it, and another couple had been pulled close enough to join the conversation.
Twister sat with one boot stretched out in front of him, looking every bit the president of the club even in the middle of a sunny afternoon.
Tempi occupied the chair beside him with one leg tucked beneath her.
Swift leaned back in another chair, arms crossed over his chest, as Britta sat beside him with her feet propped on the empty chair next to her.
They all looked up as the motorcycles rolled to a stop.
Engines shut off one by one until the block fell strangely quiet.
Wheels climbed off first. He pulled off his helmet before turning toward me. Without saying a word, he held out his hand.
I smiled. “You know I’ve managed to get off by myself every other time.”
“I know.”
“But you’re still offering?”
“Yep.”
I slipped my hand into his. His fingers wrapped around mine, warm and firm. He steadied me as I swung my leg over the bike, and once both boots hit the pavement, he didn’t let go.
Neither did I.
For one brief second, we simply stood there.
Neither of us seemed in much of a hurry.
Finally, his thumb brushed lightly across the back of my hand before he let go. He looked down at me. “You okay?”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it. “You already asked me that.”
“I know.”
His eyes met mine. “And now I’d like you to answer it without lying.”
I rolled my eyes toward the sky. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”
“Nope.”
I sighed. “I’m as good as someone can be having some psycho group of power-hungry assholes trying to kill her.”
He chuckled. “So...”
I shrugged. “Peachy.”
The smile never completely left his face. “I’ve seen peachier.”
“I’d hope so.”
His expression softened just a little. “You’ve got us now.” Four simple words. No promises he couldn’t keep. No speeches. Just certainty. “We’ll figure out what they’re after.”
I searched his face.
He actually believed that. Not because he was na?ve, but because he trusted the people standing twenty feet away.
I nodded. “I hope you’re right.”
“I usually am.”
That earned him another eye roll. “Confident much?”
“Occupational hazard.”
We started toward the table. Magnum and Hodge were already giving Twister a rundown about my apartment.
“...place looked untouched,” Magnum was saying. “But it wasn’t.”
Hodge folded his arms. “They knew exactly what they wanted.”
Twister’s attention shifted to me. “Anything else missing?”
I thought about it. Really thought. “My jewelry was still there.”
Tempi looked surprised. “They didn’t take it?”
I shook my head. “My TV’s still there. Laptop charger. Kitchen stuff.”
“What about money?” Swift asked.
“I had cash in my nightstand.”
“You check?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“It was still there.”
Nobody spoke for a second.
“They weren’t stealing,” Magnum finally said.
“They were collecting.”
Twister nodded once before looking back at me. “So nothing else?”
“Not that I noticed.”
Tempi leaned forward. “Did they take anything important?”
I pursed my lips and squinted toward the sidewalk. “Not really.”
Everyone looked confused.
“It was important to me,” I clarified, “but it wasn’t anything connected to what I found over the last couple of months.”
Twister leaned forward.
“Meaning?”
“They took my planner. My inspection notebook. My work calendar. My flash drives. My hard drives.” I looked at him. “But none of the evidence. Not the second copies I had of everything.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “You didn’t keep it there?”
“No.” A hint of satisfaction crept into my voice. “I made a second set of copies.”
Swift gave a short laugh. “Smart.”
I nodded. “They aren’t in my apartment.”
Twister folded his arms. “Where are they?”
The question came easily, but my answer didn’t. Every instinct I’d developed over the last few months screamed at me not to tell anyone.
Not yet.
These people had saved my life, fed me, given me a place to sleep, and protected me, but trust wasn’t something I could manufacture overnight. “They’re someplace safe.”
Twister held my gaze. “Where?”
I didn’t answer.
Swift leaned back in his chair. “I’ll give her this.”
Everyone looked his way.
“Making copies was smart.” He looked at me. “Most people would’ve kept everything in one place.”
“I almost did.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
Twister wasn’t finished.
“Goldie.” I met his eyes again. “Where are they?”
Before I could answer, Wheels spoke. “We don’t need to know.” Every head turned toward him. He shrugged. “We’ve got one complete set.”
Twister’s gaze shifted to him. “And what happens if something happens to ours?” Nobody answered.
“What happens,” Twister continued, “if this clubhouse burns down tonight?” Silence.
“What happens if The Ledger somehow gets their hands on the copies we’ve got?
” He looked back at me. “And yours get found too?”
“They won’t,” I answered without hesitation. “No one will find them.”
Twister studied me for several long seconds. He clearly wasn’t happy with that answer, but after a moment, he simply nodded once. “We’ll come back to it.”
I appreciated that more than I expected.
He could’ve ordered me or demanded it. Instead, he let it go for now.
Tempi slapped her palm against the tabletop. “Well.” Everyone looked at her. “I think it’s time for a drink.”
Twister looked over. “Nobody’s getting drunk.”
Britta grinned. “Speak for yourself.”
Swift groaned. “Oh boy.”
Britta stood. “It’s the perfect time to have one drink with Goldie and actually get to know her.” She looked at the men around the table. “You guys are the ones who need to stay sharp.”
Tempi stood too. “We’re just making her feel welcome.”
Swift looked at Britta. “Britta.”
She leaned down and kissed him quickly. “I promise it’ll only be a drink or two.”
Hodge snorted. “I think she means six.”
Britta pointed at him. “You’re just jealous because you’re not invited.”
“I absolutely am. This is our damn club, woman,” Hodge laughed.
Tempi walked over and hooked one arm through mine. Before I could react, Britta slipped through my other arm. “Come on,” Tempi said.
“We’re stealing you,” Britta finished.
“I don’t know if stealing is the right-”
“It is,” Britta interrupted cheerfully.
Tempi looked over her shoulder at Wheels. “We’re taking her.”
He crossed his arms. “I figured.”
“You’re welcome to come along.” She smiled sweetly. “But you’re not stopping the fun.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“We’ll see.”
They started leading me toward the clubhouse, and I glanced over my shoulder. Every one of the guys still sat or stood around the table watching us.
Most of them looked amused. Twister looked resigned. Swift looked like he was already questioning Britta’s definition of “one or two drinks.” Hodge wore the kind of grin that suggested he couldn’t wait to see how this ended.
Only one face stayed locked on mine. Wheels.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off me since Tempi grabbed my arm.
Something warm fluttered low in my stomach, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d defended me with Twister or because he’d held my hand a little longer than necessary.
Or because I knew, if I asked him to follow us inside, he probably would.
The clubhouse door swung open, and Tempi tugged me through first with Britta, followed close behind.
Just before the door shut, I looked back one last time, and Wheels was still standing exactly where I’d left him.
Watching.
The door clicked closed, and for reasons I wasn’t quite ready to examine, I found myself hoping he’d come inside.