Chapter Ten
Wolf
T he morning's light spills into my room, messy with the spill of half-unpacked bounty hunting gear and last night's takeout remnants. I blink against the glare, my thoughts sluggish from a night spent tossing and turning. Janelle. Her name hammers in my head like a bikers' rally revving up at dawn.
I roll out of bed, feeling every bit of my thirty-six years and then some, padding to the kitchen to brew some strong coffee—black, no sugar, just how I like it to kick start a sluggish morning.
My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter as if on cue with my thoughts. Razor, one of my club brothers, wants an update on a lead we've been following. But even his usual gruff humor can't fully capture my attention today.
After I give him a quick rundown, he asks, "Is everything okay, Wolf?"
"Yeah," I lie, pouring myself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. “Just didn't sleep well. Nothing a good ride can't fix," I add, trying to sound more like myself.
Razor grunts through the phone skeptically, but he doesn't push it. "All right, just remember, we've got your back if you need us."
I nod, even though he can't see me. "Thanks, man," I say before hanging up. The warmth of the brotherhood always eases a bit of the weight on my shoulders, but this morning, it's Janelle who occupies my thoughts.
Dragging my fingers through my hair, I decide a ride is exactly what I need. The cool wind against my face always helps clear my head. Maybe it’ll help me sort out these tangled feelings about Janelle.
Throwing on my jacket, I grab the keys to my bike and head out. The engine's roar fills the air as I take to the streets, the early morning light casting long shadows on the asphalt. The city is just waking up, and the peacefulness starkly contrasts the turmoil inside me.
The cool breeze slaps against my skin as I ride, sharp and invigorating. It's like each gust is trying to blow away the confusion and clear a path through the fog of emotions that cloud my judgment. I need this ride, need this momentary escape to figure things out.
The streets blur past, each turn and stoplight a reminder of the rhythms of a life I know all too well. But today, they feel different, charged with the weight of what's been left unsaid between Janelle and me. The usual thrill of the ride is tempered by a restlessness that grips my chest—a knot of worry and wonder about where we stand.
I pull over at a familiar overlook, where the city stretches out below like a sprawling tapestry. It’s quiet here, the rumble of the city muted by distance. I kill the engine and sit there, allowing the silence to wash over me.
As I look over the city, my thoughts drift back to Janelle. Her smile, her resilience in the face of everything she's been through, her eyes light up when she talks about her kids... it all comes crashing into me like a wave. This isn’t just about protecting her anymore; it’s something deeper, something more personal, that threatens the barriers I've built around my heart. I know the rules—don't get too close, don't make it personal—but with Janelle, every rule seems to bend, twist, and ultimately break.
I fish out my phone from my jacket pocket, thinking I should just call her and hear her voice. But then I hesitate. What would I even say? 'Hey, I'm sitting here thinking about you and how you're changing my life'? That is a conversation for another time when I'm less confused and less overwhelmed by my feelings.
Instead, I tuck the phone away and sit there longer, watching the sun climb higher in the sky. It casts golden hues over the city, painting everything in shades of promise and new beginnings. It's beautiful but daunting. Change always is.
Finally, with a deep breath, I start up the bike again and head back toward town. As much as I want to escape, running isn't the answer. It's time to face this with Janelle head-on, whatever that might mean for us.
As I ride back, the streets start filling up more—the buzz of the city coming to life, acting as a backdrop to the whirl of my thoughts. I decide to swing by the clubhouse first; sometimes, a bit of noise and laughter from my club brothers is just what I need to get my head straight.
Pulling up, I see some guys outside, working on their bikes. Smoke, always with a wrench, nods as I kill the engine.
"Morning, Wolf," he calls out, his voice echoing slightly in the cool air.
"Morning, Smoke," I reply, dismounting and walking over. The familiar smell of oil and metal fills the air, grounding me a bit. "What's up?"
"Just tweaking the old beast," Smoke says, gesturing to his motorcycle. "She's been acting up lately. Needs a bit of tender loving care."
I chuckle, leaning against my bike. "Don't we all?"
He looks at me for a moment, his eyes sharp. "Something on your mind, Wolf? You seem off today."
I hesitate, not sure how much I want to divulge. The guys are like family, but this feels different—more personal. "Just thinking about some stuff," I manage to say.
Smoke nods, understanding not to pry further. "Well, if you wanna talk or throw back a beer later, let me know," he offers with a supportive slap on my shoulder.
I nod appreciatively. "Will do."
The morning at the clubhouse is always a mix of repair noises, laughter, and the occasional shout over the rumble of engines. It's comforting—it reminds me of simpler times before life got tangled up with emotions too big to fit in the garage.
"I might just take you up on that beer," I tell Smoke, forcing a grin.
He chuckles, wiping his hands on a rag. "You know where to find me."
As I walk into the clubhouse, the noise picks up—a blend of rock music and rough voices. The place smells like leather and stale beer, a scent I've come to associate with refuge. The guys are gathered around, some throwing darts, others deep in conversation. I grab a coffee from the pot that’s always brewing and settle into the familiar environment.
But even amid the chaos, my thoughts drift back to Janelle. It's like she's become this constant presence in my mind, her image superimposed on every surface, her voice a soft echo in the back of my head. It's disconcerting and yet oddly comforting. I wonder what she's doing right now—probably getting the kids ready for their homeschooling, making breakfast, trying to make life as if everything is normal. But for me, nothing feels normal anymore.
I sip my coffee slowly, letting the bitter warmth slide down my throat, grounding me back to the present. Be it the caffeine or the familiar surroundings, my thoughts align with a clearer perspective. I know I can't keep circling my feelings for Janelle. It's time to face, understand, and embrace them.
"Hey, Wolf! You gonna join in or just brood over that coffee all day?" Tank shouts over from the pool table, cue stick in hand and a challenging grin on his face.
I shake off my reverie with a smirk. "You sure you want to lose this early in the morning?"
Laughter erupts around the room as I stride over to the table, grabbing a cue from the rack. The light banter and clatter of pool balls hitting each other is a welcome distraction. I line up my shot, focusing on the task rather than the turmoil.
"Always cocky, Wolf," Tank teases as I sink a solid ball into the corner pocket.
"Just confident," I shoot back with a wink, allowing myself to get lost in the game. With each stroke, tension ebb away, replaced by the familiar thrill of competition and camaraderie.
We play a couple of games, laughter and good-natured ribbing filling the air. Moments like these remind me why I love this brotherhood so much—they're an escape, a family, a constant in my ever-complicated life.
After losing narrowly to Tank in the second game, I lean against the wall, watching as Smoke takes his turn against Tank. The room is filled with clinking glasses and the low hum of conversation, a perfect backdrop to gather my thoughts.
I realize I can't keep Janelle and what I feel for her at bay much longer. It's like trying to hold back the tide with my bare hands—futile and exhausting. She's seeped into every crack of my hardened exterior, making me question everything I thought I knew about love and connection.
As Smoke lines up his shot, I pull out my phone again. This time, my fingers are steady as I dial Janelle's number. The phone rings, each tone echoing slightly in the noisy room.
"Hey Wolf," Janelle's voice comes through, sounding surprised yet pleased. "Everything okay?"
I take a deep breath, leaning further against the cool wall. "Can we meet? We need to talk about a lot, and I don’t think it can wait."
Sure, ah yeah, that sounds good. Obviously, you would come here." Her voice is cautious but open, a hint of hope threading through her words.
"Perfect. I’ll be there in an hour," I reply, feeling a strange mix of nerves and relief.
As I hang up, I glance around at my brothers; their faces blurred into the background of my sudden determination. Smoke catches my eye, giving me a knowing nod as if to say, 'Go get what you need.'
I smile gratefully and make my way out of the clubhouse, mounting my bike more purposefully than I’ve felt in a long time. The engine roars under me, mirroring the tumultuous excitement brewing in my chest.
The ride to Janelle’s is quicker than usual, or maybe it just seems that way because my thoughts are rushing faster than my bike. When I pull up to her modest single-story house, the front yard where her kids often play is quiet and serene. It feels like even the universe is holding its breath.
I rehearse what I want to say as I knock on her door. The questions, the confessions, all of it tumbling around in a chaotic symphony that I'm desperate to conduct into some semblance of a melody.
The door swings open, and there she stands—Janelle, with her hair pulled back in a messy bun, wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans that somehow make her look more beautiful than any decked-out dame I've ever seen.
"Hey," I manage to say, my voice steadier than my racing heart feels.
"Hi," Janelle replies, her smile cautious but genuine. "Come in."
I step inside, my thoughts going a mile a minute. If she doesn’t like me the same way, then what? Is it a crush or forbidden fruit?
No time for second-guessing now. I follow her into the kitchen, where a pot of coffee, probably just as strong as the one back at the clubhouse, is brewing. The homely smell settled some of the chaos inside me.
Janelle pours two cups, her movements graceful and familiar. She places one in front of me on the small kitchen table, then sits opposite, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "So, what's on your mind, Wolf?"
I take a deep breath, picking up the coffee cup for something to do with my hands. "Look, Janelle," I start, pausing to gather my thoughts. "I know this might come out of left field, and I don't want to make things weird between us. But I've got to be honest about how I’m feeling."
Her brow furrows slightly, concern etching her features. "Okay..." she prompts, her voice soft.
"It’s about us," I continue, feeling the weight of each word as it leaves my mouth. "I think there's something here, more than just friendship or... or whatever this started as. And I need to know if you feel it, too."
Janelle remains silent for a moment, her eyes searching mine. The tension between us stretches, tangible and thick.
"I... I've felt something too," she finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm scared, Wolf. Scared of what this means, scared of jumping into something new when my past still feels so present."
I nod, understanding her hesitation all too well. "I get that. I'm not saying we rush into anything. Just that... maybe we start exploring what this is. Together."
Her smile returns, cautious but hopeful. "That sounds... doable," she says, a lightness seeping into her tone.
Locking eyes with her, I approach her from the table, but she stands up as I approach her. Janelle looks up at me, her eyes reflecting fear and excitement. "Wolf, what if I told you I want you to kiss me?"
The room becomes tense, a moment frozen as I process her words. A smile slowly spreads across my face, like the rising sun. I move closer and gently hold her face in my hands.
"Then I would say," I whisper, leaning in so close our breaths mingle, "that I've wanted to do that for a long time."
She closes her eyes and our lips. The touch is hesitant, and the kiss is ever so gentle. It’s as if we are both cherishing the new chapter we are entering. It is filled with hope, potential, and the cautiousness of past hurt.
When we finally pull back, a glow in her eyes mirrors my heart’s quiet joy. "That was..." Janelle starts, her voice is soft.
"Better than good?" I offer with a half-grin, my thumb gently caressing her cheek.
She laughs, a light, genuine sound that sends a thrill through my chest. "Yeah... better than good."
Our smiles meet in silence, a silent agreement echoing between us. We want to explore this, something real and raw and potentially beautiful.
As I pull away, I take her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"We'll take this slow," I promise, meeting her gaze steadily. "And Janelle?"
"Yeah?" she asks, her brow furrowing slightly at the seriousness in my tone.
"I'm in this with you. No matter what." As the sweet taste of our first kiss lingers on our tongues, those words hang between us, a promise that binds us together.
Her smile widens at that, her eyes shining with hope. "Thank you, Wolf," she says softly. "That… means more than you know."
I nod, feeling the weight of my words settle firmly in my chest, and it feels right. Looking around her cozy kitchen, I realize this place could become as familiar as the clubhouse, a new kind of haven.
As we stand there, the kitchen clock ticking in the background, I realize how much strength it takes to open up like this, especially for Janelle. Her past isn't just a shadow; it's a looming figure that has shaped her and tested her. But here she is, stepping into the unknown with me.
"I should probably get going, not that I want to," I mention as the reality of time nudges at me. "But I need to get back to the clubhouse for a meeting. I'll call you later?"
Janelle nods, "I'd like that," she says, and there's a warmth in her voice that makes me believe in possibilities.
I leave her with another quick kiss; this one feels filled with something more like hope. As I step out into the evening air, the world seems a little brighter, a little sharper. Riding back to the clubhouse, my mind replays every moment of our conversation, each word and pause etched deep into my memory.
As I ride, I can't help but replay that kiss repeatedly in my mind. It's like a loop. The road stretches before me, but my thoughts are all tangled up with Janelle.
As the clubhouse comes into view, I’m pulled back into reality. I park my bike and dismount, still feeling a sense of euphoria. As I walk in, Smoke is the first to notice my grin.
"Look who's back with that cat-that-ate-the-canary smile," he teases, nudging me with his elbow as I pass.
I roll my eyes but can't wipe the smile off my face. "Something like that," I admit, trying not to give too much away yet. But Smoke knows me better than most.
He raises an eyebrow, leaning closer. "So, it went well with Janelle?"
I nod, unable to suppress the joy bubbling up inside me. "Yeah, it did. More than well."
Smoke claps me on the back with a hearty laugh. "That's what I like to hear! You deserve some happiness, Wolf."
Just then, Tank strolls over, a suspicious look on his face. "What's all the commotion about? Wolf turning soft on us?"
"Nothing like that," I retort quickly, the defensive edge in my voice softer than I intended. "Just good news is all."
Tank smirks, folding his arms across his chest. "Good news that involves Janelle?"
I raise an eyebrow, challenging him. "And if it does? Are you all gossiping hens?" I can’t stop the smile on my face.
Tank's smirk widens into a full grin. "Nah, just happy to see you smiling for once. It’s about time something good happened to one of us."
Smoke nods in agreement, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Exactly. And if anyone troubles you, you know we've got your back, Wolf."
I feel a warmth spread through me, a mix of affection and gratitude for these rough-around-the-edges brothers of mine. "Thanks, guys," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "Means a lot."
Just then, the clubhouse door swings open, and Battle Axe walks in, his face serious, scanning the room. “Are we here for gossip hour or meeting about current and new protection cases?”
Everyone straightens up, the mood shifting as Battle Axe's presence commands attention. I wipe the residual smile from my face, switching gears from personal to professional.
"Meeting time," Smoke confirms, shooting me a quick wink before turning serious. "Let's gather up."
We enter Church, and all move toward the large table at the center of the room where our meetings usually occur. Chairs scrape against the concrete floor as everyone finds a seat. Battle Axe stands at the head of the table, folders and papers in hand, his expression unreadable.
“Can I have an update on the Janelle Pierce case?” He asks, but I feel his eyes on me.
I clear my throat. "All quiet on that front," I start, keeping my report professional. "No new incidents. The gifts have stopped appearing after we increased patrols around her place."
Battle Axe nods, his eyes scanning the room, ensuring everyone’s attention is on the matter. "Good work on that, Wolf. We'll keep the patrols up, though. Better safe than sorry, especially with her ex still out there."
"Absolutely," I agree, feeling the protective instincts kick in strongly.
The meeting continues with reports on other ongoing cases and plans for upcoming rides, but my mind keeps drifting back to Janelle. It’s hard to keep my face neutral professional when inside I’m replaying that kiss, her smile, and the hopeful look in her eyes.
Battle Axe lingers at the table as the meeting wraps up, scribbling some last-minute notes. I wait until the others have left before approaching him.
“Got a minute?” I ask.
He looks up, his face softening slightly. “Sure thing, Wolf. What’s on your mind?”
I hesitate, knowing what I’m about to share could change how we handle Janelle’s case. “I need to disclose something,” I start, trying to keep my voice even. “Janelle and I... we’re exploring a relationship.”
Battle Axe raises his eyebrows but doesn’t seem surprised. “I sensed something was changing,” he admits. “Does this affect your ability to stay objective?"
I take a deep breath, considering his question. "I can keep my personal feelings separate from my professional duties," I reply confidently. "But I wanted to be upfront about it."
Battle Axe nods thoughtfully, tapping his pen against the table. "I appreciate your honesty, Wolf. It's important for the integrity of the club and our operations. We'll need to discuss this with the rest of the leadership to see if we need to adjust the case management."
I take a deep breath, "I can remain professional," I say firmly. "I know the stakes, and I wouldn’t let my personal feelings interfere with her safety or the club's operations."
Battle Axe nods thoughtfully, his eyes carefully studying me. "I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. We need to make sure there are no conflicts of interest. Wolf, you're one of our top members, so please keep me informed about any developments."
“I will,” I assure him. “And if you think it’s becoming a problem at any point, I’ll step back.”
He gives me a sharp nod. “Fair enough. We'll monitor the situation closely.”
"Thanks, Axe," I say, relief washing over me at his understanding. "I want to do right by the club and by her."
"We know you do," he replies, giving me another firm nod before gathering his papers and standing up. "Keep me updated, and let's keep our standards high."
As I leave the meeting room, I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders. Being honest with Battle Axe was necessary, though not easy. Balancing personal feelings with club duties is tricky, but it's a line I'm determined to walk carefully.