4. Reyes #2
“Mrs. Chen helped,” he admits, then bounces on his toes. “You have surprise?”
Smart kid. I pull the book from behind my back, and his eyes go wide.
“Motorcycle book!” He grabs it, immediately, flipping through the pages. “Look, Mama! Like Savior bike!”
I look up. Shannon is standing in the doorway, and something in my chest seizes up.
She’s changed into jeans and a soft gray sweater that makes her rich brown skin glow.
Her braids are loose, framing a face that’s both exhausted and resilient.
The contrast between that softness and the steel in her spine is a knockout blow.
“That’s very nice,” she says, her voice carefully neutral. “What do you say, baby?”
“Thank you, Savior.” Aiden throws his good arm around my neck in a hug that nearly knocks me over. “Read it to me?”
“We’ll read it at home,” Shannon says, and the word ‘home’ sounds brittle. Like she’s not sure it applies to the safehouse. Like she’s not sure it applies anywhere.
The drive back is different. Aiden chatters nonstop about the motorcycle book, about how he told everyone about Savior’s big bike.
Shannon’s quiet, but it’s not the angry silence from this morning.
This is exhaustion. A woman who’s been holding herself together by sheer will and is finally running out of steam.
“Savior, eat dinner here?” Aiden asks as we pull into the driveway.
I meet Shannon’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “If your mama says it’s okay.”
She gives a slight nod.
Inside, Aiden sprawls on the floor with his new book, making motorcycle noises. Shannon moves to the kitchen, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator with mechanical efficiency.
“Need help?” I ask.
“I’ve got it.”
But when I step closer, her hands are shaking slightly as she opens a can of tomato sauce.
“Shannon.”
She doesn’t look up. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Do you?”
“That I should be grateful. That you’ve done enough. That it’s time for me to figure out my own problems.” Her voice is level, but a tremor runs underneath. “And you’re right. This isn’t your responsibility.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
Now she looks at me, the fear she’s been hiding all day in her eyes. “Then what?”
I glance toward the living room where Aiden’s absorbed in his book. “We need to talk. About today. About what’s coming.”
Her body goes still, and her breath catches. “He found us.”
“Not yet. But military police were in town yesterday. Asking questions. Showing pictures.”
Her legs give out. She sinks into one of the kitchen chairs like her strings were cut. “Pictures of us?”
“That’d be my guess.”
“Oh God.” She puts her head in her hands, her shoulders starting to shake. “I knew this would happen. I knew he’d find us.”
I want to go to her, pull her into my arms, and promise everything will be okay. But I can’t make promises I might not be able to keep.
“He hasn’t found you yet,” I say instead. “And he’s not going to.”
“How can you be sure?”
Because I won’t let him. Because I’d rather die than let that bastard touch you or Aiden again. Because somewhere between finding you in that freight yard and watching you tuck your son into bed, you became mine to protect.
“Because I’m going to make sure of it,” I say instead.
She looks up at me, something raw and desperate in her dark eyes. “Why? Why would you do that for us?”
“Mama sad?” Aiden’s voice cuts through the moment. He’s standing in the doorway, motorcycle book clutched to his chest, looking between us with that too-perceptive way kids have.
“No, baby.” Shannon wipes her eyes quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”
“Savior, make you better?”
The simple faith in his voice guts me. This kid still believes I can fix things. Still trusts me to keep his mama safe.
“I’m going to try, buddy,” I tell him.
Aiden nods like that settles it, then climbs into Shannon’s lap with his book. “Read story?”
Shannon looks at me over his head. What happens now?
I don’t have all the answers. But I know one thing for damn sure—I’m not walking away.
Tank can threaten my patch. Mason can send his MPs. The whole damn world can line up against us. I’m done pretending this is temporary. Shannon and Aiden aren’t strays. They’re mine to protect. And I’ll burn everything down before I let anyone take them from me.
After dinner, after Aiden’s bath and bedtime story, the house settles into a quiet that feels too fragile to last. Shannon and I finally have the conversation we’ve been avoiding.
She’s curled at one end of the couch, legs tucked under her.
I’m in the chair across from her, maintaining distance because getting too close to her is dangerous for my self-control.
“So what’s the plan?” She asks, her voice carefully neutral.
“You can’t run. Not yet. They’re watching the roads, probably have your license plate.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “But they don’t know about this place. It’s off the books.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
She’s right. The real answer—that I don’t know, that I’m making this up as I go, that I might be risking everything for a woman who could disappear the second her car gets fixed—isn’t what she needs to hear.
“New plan is I stay here. Twenty-four seven until we figure out how to make this go away permanently.”
Her hands still in her lap. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“No, you don’t.” Her voice gets sharper, walls going back up. “I don’t want to make this weird for you since you don’t want me that way—”
“What?” The word comes out like a gunshot.
Shannon freezes. “I mean, I know last night was a mistake. You made that pretty clear when you compared me to—”
I’m across the room before she can finish, hauling her up from the couch and into my arms. “That’s the problem, Shannon. I do want you.”
Her eyes go wide. “What?”
“I want you so much it’s driving me out of my fucking mind. I want you so much I’m willing to risk my patch, my brotherhood, everything.”
“Then why—”
I cup her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. “Because wanting you and being good for you are two different things. Because once I touch you, really touch you, I’m not letting you go.”
Her breath hitches. “I don’t want you to let me go.”
“Shannon—”
“I want you to touch me.” Her voice drops to a whisper, but there’s steel underneath. “I want you to show me what I’ve been missing.”
Something inside me snaps.
I kiss her hard, desperate, three days of want and denial pouring into her.
She melts against me, hands fisting in my shirt as she kisses me back like she’s been starving for it.
I lift her onto the kitchen counter, and she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer.
The heat of her seeps through my jeans, and it’s driving me crazy.
“Reyes,” she breathes against my mouth, and the way she says my name—like a prayer, like a plea—makes me want to give her everything.
I kiss down her throat, tasting the salt on her skin, her pulse hammering under my lips. When I find that spot where her neck meets her shoulder, she arches into me with a soft moan that goes straight to my dick.
“You sure about this?” I ask, even as my hands slide under her sweater, finding warm skin and the edge of her bra.
“Stop asking me that.” Her fingers are already at the buttons of my shirt. When her palms hit my chest, I nearly lose it. “I know what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“You.” Her hands slide to my belt, and I have to grab her wrists to stop her. “I want you to make me forget everything but your name.”
Hell. The need in her voice, the way she’s looking at me like I’m something she’s been waiting for her whole life—it undoes me.
I strip her sweater off, then pause just to look at her. She’s wearing simple black lace, but on her, it looks like sin wrapped in silk. A delicate sheen has surfaced on her warm brown skin, and when she reaches for me again, I don’t stop her.
She pushes my shirt off my shoulders, running her hands over my chest, my arms, like she’s memorizing me. When her fingers find the scars from old fights, she doesn’t flinch. Just traces them gently, like they’re part of a map she wants to learn by heart.
“Beautiful,” she whispers, and I almost laugh because the word has never been applied to me.
I show her beautiful. I worship every inch of skin I can reach—her throat, her shoulders, the soft swell of her breasts above the lace. When I unhook her bra and finally get my mouth on her, she throws her head back with a cry that makes my blood burn.
She’s responsive, eager. When I slide my hand between her thighs, she’s already wet for me, and the knowledge that I did this to her nearly brings me to my knees.
“Please,” she gasps, hips rocking against my hand. “Reyes, please—”
I give her what she needs. My fingers find her, circling and teasing until she’s trembling, making these soft, desperate sounds that drive me wild. When I slide one finger inside her, then two, she clenches around me so tight I see stars.
“That’s it, baby,” I murmur against her ear. “Let go for me.”
She comes apart in my arms, beautiful and perfect and mine. I hold her through it, her pulse beating around my fingers, her breath whispering my name.
When she finally comes down, she looks at me with dark, satisfied eyes and reaches for my belt.
“More,” she demands.
Her fingers work at the buckle. Watching her take what she wants is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. When she gets the leather free and starts on my jeans, when her knuckles brush against me, my control starts fraying.
“Shannon—”
“I want you,” she says, looking up at me as she works my zipper down. “All of you.”
When her fingers find the waistband of my boxers and start to push them down, reality crashes into me. If she frees me, if she gets her hands on me, I won’t be able to stop.
I catch her wrists. “Wait.”
“Why?” She’s breathing hard, skin slick with a light sheen, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Because if you touch me like that, I won’t be able to hold back.”
Her smile is pure sin. “Maybe I don’t want you to hold back.”
“I know you don’t. But somebody’s got to be the adult in the room.”
The words are out before I can stop them. The heat dies in her eyes, replaced by a flash of hurt.
“Shit.” I run a hand through my hair, hating myself. “Shannon, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” She reaches for her sweater. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing. You think I’m being childish.”
“No.” I grab her hands, making her look at me. “That came out wrong. What I meant is, it’s too soon. We need to slow down.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t even have a condom,” I admit. She blinks in surprise. “Because I’m not prepared for this, and you deserve better than getting fucked on a kitchen counter like some quick hookup.”
Mental note: buy a whole box of condoms.
“And because,” I continue, forcing myself to be honest, “if I make you mine like that, if I claim you completely—Shannon, I might be just as possessive as Mason. How the hell am I supposed to let you go after that?”
She goes very still. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you won’t be casual. You won’t be temporary. If we cross that line, you’re mine. Period. And I don’t know if that’s fair to you.”
She studies my face, processing the implications of being with a man who doesn’t know how to let go of what’s his.
“What if I don’t want fair?” she asks quietly. “What if I want to be claimed? What if I want to belong to someone who won’t let me go?”
The words are a sucker punch. “Shannon—”
“I’ve been alone for three years. Carrying all the weight by myself. Do you know what it would feel like to have someone else be strong for me? To have someone who wouldn’t let me run when things get hard?”
I cup her face. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then show me,” she whispers. “Teach me what it means to be yours.”
Everything in me wants to say yes. Wants to carry her to the bedroom and show her exactly what it means to belong to me. But the last rational part of my brain won’t shut up.
“Not tonight,” I say, though it nearly kills me. “Tonight, we think. We make sure.”
She nods slowly, disappointment in her eyes. “How much time?”
“However long it takes.”
“And if I’m sure right now?”
“Then you’ll still be sure tomorrow.” I press my forehead to hers. “I’m not going anywhere, Shannon. Neither are you. We’ve got time to do this right.”
She smiles then, small and sad but real. “Just don’t make me wait too long. I’m not patient when I know what I want.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She starts toward the bedroom, then stops. “Reyes?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time, you'd better have protection. Because I’m not planning to be patient forever.”
Then she’s gone, leaving me alone with an ache that won’t quit.
I sink against the counter, head in my hands. Tank’s words echo— would you risk all that for a woman who’s not even yours?
But sitting here in the dark, my body still burning for her, I know the truth.
She’s already mine.
Now I have to figure out how to keep her without losing everything else.