23. Red Flag Run
TWENTY-THREE
RED FLAG RUN
CRUSHER
The fire pops, throwing sparks into the dark, and Nevaeh leans into my side, her warmth sinking past leather and denim to someplace I haven’t let anyone touch in a long damn time. She’s quiet, but her heartbeat against my arm is quick, like she knows this might be our last calm before the storm.
When I turn my head, her eyes are already on me. No armor. No sharp comebacks. Just her, stripped bare of all the fight she’s been clinging to since this started.
I should tell her we need to rest. That we’ve got a long night ahead, maybe our last if things go sideways.
Instead, I cup her jaw, thumb dragging slowly over the curve of her cheek.
Her skin’s warm, soft, and trembling under my touch.
She exhales, slow and shaky, and it’s all the permission I need.
Her lips taste like smoke and adrenaline, like everything we’ve been holding back since the night she crashed into my world.
The kiss starts slow, testing, then deepens until my restraint’s a hair from snapping.
My hand fists in her hair, the other gripping her thigh, pulling her into my lap.
She comes willingly, straddling me, pressing close like she’s trying to fuse herself to me before the night takes us both.
Her fingers curl into my cut, tugging me closer.
I groan into her mouth, sliding my hands under her shirt, fingers splaying over the smooth curve of her back, the delicate dip of her waist. Nevaeh gasps when I find bare skin, and that sound goes straight through my body, tightening every muscle low in my gut.
Firelight paints her in gold and shadow.
When she breathes my name, it’s not a plea, it’s a demand.
I give her everything she’s asking for. My mouth trails down her neck, tasting salt and heat, my teeth grazing just enough to make her nails dig into my shoulders. Her hips roll against me, and my restraint fractures, every grind of her body against mine fanning the burn in my veins.
After carefully removing my cut, Nevaeh tugs at my shirt, and I let her peel it over my head. Her hands splay across my chest, tracing scars like she’s memorizing them. I grip her hips hard, guiding her rhythm, feeling her warmth through denim that’s suddenly unbearable.
Nevaeh’s head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, a soft sound slipping from her throat as I push her shirt up and take her breast into my mouth, tongue circling until she shudders against me.
The taste of her, the way her body arches, the fire popping behind us, it’s all raw, primal, and I’m drowning in it.
We lose ourselves there on the bench, the crackle of flames and the muffled hum of the clubhouse fading until there’s nothing but her, the press of her body, the heat between us. Every kiss, every gasp, every shiver is a promise. If this is the last night, I want her to remember every moment.
Nevaeh lingers against me, her breath warm and uneven against my neck, the scent of smoke and her skin tangled in the cool night air. I press my forehead to hers, feeling the soft brush of her lashes and the faint crackle of the fire wrapping around us while we find our breath.
“Whatever’s coming,” Nevaeh murmurs, voice still shaky, “I’m not running.”
“Good,” I say, my voice rough, my hands still cupping her hips. “Because we’re taking the fight to them.”
Nevaeh and I stay up late into the night, talking and getting to know each other. The more she reveals about herself and the things she’s been through, the more my gut tells me I’m doing the right thing by protecting her. It’s almost dawn before I carry her to my room and settle in.
Hours later, I’m tangled in her warmth when the pounding on my door rattles me awake.
The knock on the door drags me from sleep like a hammer to the chest. Nevaeh shifts against me, half-buried in blankets, murmuring something soft and unintelligible.
I tighten my arm around her for a second too long, reluctant to let go.
“Crusher! Quit cuddling your way to retirement!” City barks from the other side of the door.
I groan, pulling one eye open. “Go away, City. I’m busy.”
“Yeah, busy being a blanket burrito,” he shoots back. “You think the Syndicate’s gonna wait for you to finish spooning?”
“Shut up,” I mutter, burying my face in Nevaeh’s hair.
Nevaeh chuckles into my chest. “Persistent.”
“Annoying,” I mutter.
City’s smirk is practically audible. “You’re lucky she’s cute, man, otherwise I’d drag you out myself.”
“Try it,” I warn, but I’m already rolling out of bed. “I bite before coffee.”
“Yeah, well, I like a challenge,” he retorts, voice sliding into that annoying, teasing rhythm we’ve had since forever.
I flop back onto the pillow, grumbling, and Nevaeh nuzzles my side, “Good morning, Erik.”
“Morning,” I whisper, planting a quick kiss on her temple.
The minute I step into Church, City’s smirk is already cutting through the room. I’d like to think I can focus, but he’s got that look, the one that says he’s about to push every button he owns.
“Look who finally decided to join the living,” City says, leaning casually against the wall. “Did Nevaeh have to pry you out of bed with a crowbar?”
I grit my teeth. “She let me sleep. That’s more than you can say for your fashion sense.”
He snorts. “Fashion sense? Man, I look like a god compared to the bedhead you’re rocking. Speaking of gods… she even let you touch her all morning? I swear, you’re grinning like a kid who just stole candy.”
I flex my jaw, fighting the urge to laugh. “Shut up and sit down, City. We’ve got work to do.”
He leans over my shoulder, peeking at the laptop. “Work, right. Because we’re gonna strategize about maps and vans while I’m picturing my VP wrapped around his little lady. Cute.”
“City…” I warn, voice low and dangerous.
“Relax,” he says, hands raised. “I’m just saying, if you get distracted, I won’t be responsible for what happens when Steel asks for your input.”
Steel doesn’t even look up. His hands are folded in front of him like a prayer. City clicks the space bar on a laptop, and a grainy satellite image pops up. “Warehouse on the south side is the Syndicate staging area. They’ve got runners coming in from three directions, loading up vans.”
Rampage taps the map. “If we cut them off here, we can pin ’em in the yard. Force them into the open.”
“They’ve got more firepower than last time,” Rock warns, gravelly and calm. “But fewer brains. We use that.”
I flex my hands, remembering Nevaeh’s warmth. I force my attention to the plan, pressing my hands to the table, but City leans close again, whispering loud enough for me to hear, “You better focus, Crusher… wouldn’t want your girl seeing you mess this up.”
I glance at him, deadpan. “Keep it up, City. And I swear…”
“Swear what?” He grins, unrepentant. “That you’ll kiss her again when this is over? Go ahead, man, set the table for the rest of us.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the smirk that’s threatening to break.
He’s relentless, but beneath the teasing is the rhythm of brotherhood, the constant jab to keep everyone on edge.
Even with Nevaeh on my mind, I sink into the maps, the photos, the glowing satellite images.
The Syndicate’s staging area, the vans, the runners. It’s all real. Dangerous.
And as much as I want to punch City for every word about her, a part of me can’t help but appreciate it. The tension, the teasing, the planning, they all exist in the same space. And in the middle of it, I steel myself.
No distractions. Not even City.
We moved the planning to the Kitchen, so the guys who haven’t eaten yet can.
The meeting hums around me, maps and satellite images spread across the table, laptops glowing under the harsh overhead lights.
I’m tracing the routes with my finger when Nevaeh steps fully into the room, notebook in hand, moving quietly but with that confidence that makes her impossible to ignore.
City perks up instantly. “Well, well, the lady herself. Here to make sure our VP doesn’t completely lose his mind over all these vans and runners?”
I shoot him a look sharp enough to cut, but Nevaeh just smiles faintly at me. “I thought I might have something to add,” she says, voice soft but carrying across the table.
“Add?” Rampage raises an eyebrow, leaning over the map.
“Yeah,” she continues, flipping her notebook open.
“They took my sister. I’m going to help any way I can.
If they’re coming from three directions, they’re going to converge at the north corner of the yard first. If we block that access point, they’ll funnel right into the open, just like you planned here, but they won’t have room to maneuver. ”
I freeze, staring at her, and I feel my chest swell with pride, protectiveness, disbelief that she’s sitting here, thinking like one of us. She’s good. Really good.
City, of course, can’t let it go. He grins, leaning close enough that I want to push him off the table. “Ohhhh, she’s giving tactical advice now. I swear, Crusher, if you weren’t already wrapped around her finger, I’d start worrying about your job security.”
“City,” I growl, voice low and dangerous, “shut the hell up.” I grit my teeth, trying not to react, but I feel my shoulders tighten, and my jaw locks.
Nevaeh notices. Her pen pauses mid-note. She tilts her head just slightly, eyes flicking to mine. For a second, everything else, the maps, the laptops, the looming tension of the Syndicate, blurs. She sees me. Really sees me. That flash of heat in my chest, the tension in my hands.
I swallow, forcing my eyes back to the maps. Nevaeh keeps going. “Also, if they have more firepower but less brains, their drivers will panic first. If we time it right, we can separate the vans before they even reach the main lot.”
I nod slowly, impressed, and reach over, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear without thinking. My hand lingers a second too long, and I feel that familiar mix of pride and something else tighter in my chest.