Dasher (Iron Sentinels MC #6)

Chapter One

Ellie Carter drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, willing the traffic light to change faster. Her car idled in a long, crawling line of vehicles snaking through downtown Steelhaven, the glow of brake lights turning the windshield red.

She glanced at the clock on the dash and winced. Six minutes late already and the school board meeting was across town.

“Come on,” she muttered, stretching to peer past the SUV in front of her. “You’d think we were evacuating.”

The first snow hadn’t even hit the roads yet. Just a light dusting on rooftops and tree branches, barely enough to call for boots. But traffic had slowed to a crawl anyway, everyone suddenly remembering it was December and panicking accordingly.

She tapped her phone to check the agenda. She was supposed to speak third, right after Principal Garrison’s updates on the new fire alarms. That gave her maybe fifteen minutes to get there. Twenty, if someone went on one of their usual tangents about snack policies.

The rumble of engines cut through her thoughts. Two motorcycles zipped through the traffic from behind, weaving carefully but confidently down the middle lane. They weren’t speeding, but their presence alone stirred discomfort in the sluggish line of cars.

The riders wore black jackets, both patched. She recognized the emblem on the back immediately. Iron Sentinels MC. A coiled serpent, stylized into an S, sat beneath the words. The Iron Sentinels had a clubhouse on the edge of Steelhaven, and it felt like they’d been there forever.

The bikers laughed as they passed her car. Not at anyone in particular. They were just talking, carefree. The kind of laughter that made you wish you were in on the joke.

The man in the Buick next to her rolled down his window and scowled. “Idiots,” he muttered loudly, clearly not caring who heard. “Trash like that should stay off the road.”

Ellie blinked, shoulders stiffening. The old man kept ranting under his breath, something about them being a menace and “no place for that kind of gang nonsense in a town like Steelhaven.”

She looked away quickly, fixing her eyes back on the road, but it was too late. The bikes were long gone, their engines fading like ghosts into the cold air ... and she was no longer sitting in her sensible hatchback, late for a meeting.

She was nineteen again, on the back of a bike.

No helmet, no plan, just clutching tight around the waist of a broad-shouldered boy with a shaved jaw and sharp grin. Dasher, they called him even then. A nickname, like all the Iron Sentinels had.

He said it was because he never stayed long in one place. Said it with a smirk, like he was proud of it, but she’d seen the flicker of something else in his eyes. Sadness maybe. Restlessness.

Back then, Ellie had been reckless too. She’d wrapped her arms around him and leaned into the wind like she belonged there. Like she wasn’t terrified of falling or getting caught or losing everything. The road didn’t scare her then. Neither did love.

She smiled tightly, shaking the memory loose. That wasn’t her anymore.

Now she wore knit sweaters and sensible boots. She paid her mortgage on time and stayed up at night worrying about lesson plans and grant applications. No one called her “Firecracker” anymore. No one looked at her like she was made of spark and kindling.

And that was okay. Mostly.

The light finally turned green. She rolled forward slowly, sighing when the lane cleared.

Ten minutes later, she slid into a parking space at the edge of the Steelhaven Elementary lot, grabbed her tote bag, and hurried across the lot. The school gym was already aglow with fluorescent lighting, the sound of muffled voices filtering through the glass-paneled doors.

She slipped inside just as Mr. Finch, the town’s long-winded fire marshal, was wrapping up a comment about hallway exits.

“...and I still say we should install a second set of extinguishers by the library. If the new ones haven’t arrived by next week, I’ll—”

“Thank you, Mr. Finch,” Principal Garrison interrupted gently. He smiled when he saw Ellie. “And now, Miss Winters is here to talk about the upcoming holiday toy drive.”

Ellie stepped forward, cheeks pink from the cold, and maybe from everyone turning to look at her. She pulled her scarf off as she reached the front.

“Hi, everyone,” she began, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was ... very Steelhaven.”

A few chuckles rippled through the folding chairs.

“I’ll keep this short. As you all know, the school’s annual holiday toy drive is next Saturday. We’re collecting new, unwrapped toys for local families in need. This year we’ve already partnered with the Iron Sentinels MC...”

She heard a few surprised murmurs.

“...and they’ve offered to donate funds and manpower to help us with transport and setup. Last year we collected just under five hundred toys. This year, we’re hoping to break six hundred.”

Her eyes scanned the room. Some faces were eager. Others looked skeptical.

“I know this is a busy season. And I know asking people to give more when wallets are tighter than ever isn’t easy. But the truth is, we’ve got more families in need this year than ever before. More kids who might not have anything under the tree.”

She paused, taking a breath. Her voice softened.

“When I was little, I remember getting a handmade doll from a local drive. It wasn’t fancy. Yarn hair, button eyes, clothes stitched from someone’s leftover fabric. But I remember thinking it was magic. Because someone out there had cared,” she finished.

Silence met her words.

Ellie smiled faintly and tucked a loose paper back into her folder.

“We still need volunteers for sorting and wrapping, and we’re accepting toy donations until Friday. Any help you can offer, big or small, it matters.”

Principal Garrison nodded from the back. “Thank you, Miss Winters.”

As she returned to her seat, she felt the tension in her shoulders start to ease, just a little. She’d said what she needed to say.

Still, as she sat, Ellie couldn’t stop the thought creeping back in. The bikers. Their laughter. The familiar sound of engines rolling down snowy streets. The memory of her arms around Dasher’s waist.

He wouldn’t be the one to show up for a toy drive, would he? But maybe ... just maybe he would. And if he did, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to see him again. Not after five years. Not after the way he’d left.

Not after she’d finally built a life where she didn’t look over her shoulder, waiting for a man with storm-gray eyes and a grudge against staying still.

But life in Steelhaven had a funny way of stirring up the past. Especially at Christmas.

****

Ellie pulled into the dimly lit lot behind the Iron Sentinels’ storage unit, her headlights sweeping across the dented roll-up door and scattering shadows across the cracked pavement. Her heart sank the moment she noticed the padlock hanging broken, useless, from its metal loop.

“No,” she whispered, killing the engine and throwing the door open.

The cold bit into her as she stepped out, gravel crunching under her boots. She grabbed her phone from the passenger seat with shaking fingers and made her way to the storage unit’s entrance. Her stomach was in knots, dreading what she’d find inside.

A dozen boxes of toys had been packed and sorted over the last few weeks—donations from businesses, teachers, and parents who still believed in the spirit of Christmas. They were for the kids. Some of them wouldn’t be getting anything else this year.

Ellie pulled up the dented door with effort, and it groaned in protest as it rolled open. The sharp fluorescent light flickered above, revealing the chaos inside.

“Damn it,” she whispered.

Boxes were overturned, wrapping paper shredded, toys missing or smashed. Empty cartons littered the floor like someone had taken their time wrecking everything that mattered.

She stood there frozen, blinking back angry tears. The sight hit her like a gut punch. This wasn’t just vandalism. It was personal. Mean.

She dialed the number Beast had given her just yesterday, her voice trembling when he picked up. “It’s Ellie. The unit’s been broken into. The toys ... they’re gone. Or trashed.”

A pause. “Where are you?”

“At the unit now. I just got here.”

“I’ll send someone,” Beast offered.

“Not someone,” she snapped before she could stop herself. “Send you.”

Beast grunted. “I’m finishing something. But I’ll send backup now. Someone I trust.”

Five minutes later, she heard the familiar rumble of a Harley rolling in behind her. Gravel spat out from under the tires as the bike came to a stop. She didn’t turn around at first, already knowing who it was.

The engine cut off. Footsteps followed.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Ellie,” he said.

His voice. Smooth, low, and unmistakable. Like smoke curling around her ribs. She stiffened, swallowing hard before turning around.

Dasher.

His patch was newer. His beard a little more salt-and-pepper than she remembered. But those blue eyes were exactly the same. Sharp, reckless, and dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with crime and everything to do with her heart.

“What are you doing here?” she asked tightly.

“Beast sent me. Said you needed backup.” He swept a look over the destroyed unit, jaw ticking. “Guess he wasn’t wrong.”

Ellie crossed her arms, trying to hold onto her frustration like armor. “I asked him to come. Not you.”

Dasher’s gaze flicked to hers. “He’s busy. You get me.”

“Lucky me,” she muttered.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t quite land. Not with everything between them. Not with this mess.

He stepped inside, boots crunching over ripped wrapping paper. “This is bad.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “We don’t have time to replace this. The toy drive’s in two days.”

“We’ll figure something out,” he said, calm and confident like he always was. Like he could fix anything with a wrench and a smirk.

But this wasn’t something she could let him fix. Not when he’d broken so much already. Ellie leaned against the cold wall, arms tightening around herself.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.

He glanced at her, frowning. “Why? Because I remind you of the girl you used to be?”

“No,” she said, voice too sharp. “Because I finally stopped being her.”

He flinched, just slightly, and she hated herself for the way her chest clenched. The silence stretched heavy between them.

Dasher ran a hand through his windblown hair. “Beast told me I’m co-running this drive with you now. Thinks it’ll show the town we’re involved. Clean. That we care,” he said.

“That’s nice,” Ellie said flatly. “He just forgot to mention it to me.”

“You’re not the only one who’s pissed,” he muttered. “You think I wanted to do this?”

She looked up at him sharply. “Then why did you agree?”

He didn’t answer for a second. Just stared at her, eyes too honest. “Because it’s you.”

Ellie’s throat tightened. She turned away before he could see too much. She didn’t want to feel this. Not the flicker of heat low in her stomach when he was near.

Not the ache in her chest remembering the way he used to hold her like the world could burn and he wouldn’t care, as long as she was beside him.

“I’m not the girl you left behind,” she said quietly. “I have responsibilities. A job. A daughter.”

“I know,” Dasher said, softer now. “And I’m not the guy who left.”

Ellie turned to face him. “What are you, then?”

He didn’t answer, but the way he looked at her made her forget the cold, the wreckage, the years. He looked at her like she was still his. And damn it. Part of her wanted to be.

A gust of wind rattled the storage door behind them, dragging her back to reality. Ellie rubbed her hands together for warmth and stepped inside.

“We need to make a list,” she said. “Salvage what we can. Inventory what’s missing. Maybe there’s still time to reach out to the sponsors.”

Dasher nodded, stepping up beside her. For a moment they worked in silence, stacking the few toys that could be saved. His presence was too large, too familiar. And every time his hand brushed hers, she felt the static.

“So this is what you do now?” he asked after a while. “Toys and bake sales?”

“It’s called giving back,” Ellie said.

He grinned. “Still fiery.”

“And you’re still infuriating.”

But she was smiling, just a little. Against her better judgment.

“You look good,” he said. “Happier. Stronger.”

She hesitated. “I had to be.”

They met eyes then, and something passed between them. A memory. A thousand of them. Late nights on his bike, the wind in her hair, her arms around his waist like nothing in the world could touch them. She hated that it was still there.

The moment stretched too long, too charged. She stepped back. “We should finish up,” Ellie finally said.

Dasher nodded, but his gaze lingered on her. “We will. But Ellie...”

She paused, fingers still on a crushed box of Legos.

“I don’t know if we can fix what broke between us. But maybe we can do some good together. Just for now,” he said.

Her heart pounded. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust herself. But for the kids, for this town...

“For now,” she said. “That’s all this is.”

He didn’t push. Just gave a nod and got back to work. But Ellie knew better. One look in those eyes, and she knew: this wasn’t over. Not even close.