Chapter Seventeen
The highway stretched out ahead of them like an open promise, the asphalt still warm from the afternoon sun.
Sinner and Annabelle, rode point. The wind tore past them, carrying the scent of pine and dust and the faint trace of exhaust from the dozen bikes that followed in formation.
Silverlake faded behind them as the road climbed toward the ridge, and for the first time in months the air felt clean.
Behind them Jackson rode on his Harley, Larkin tucked against his back, her arms wrapped tight around his waist. , Ryder and Haven, Ryder keeping the pack tight while his old lady leaned into his spine the way she always did when the ride grew long.
The rest of the brothers filled the lanes, chrome glinting in the late light.
They had buried their dead months ago, and now they rode to honor them one last time before the club turned a corner none of them could undo.
Larkin pressed her cheek to Jackson's leather cut, feeling the vibration of the engine travel through her bones.
Her fingers found the edge of his vest and held on.
The baby growing inside her was still a secret, a small pulse she carried alone, but every mile made the words press harder against her tongue.
She had known for weeks. She had wanted to tell him in the quiet of their new bedroom, but something always held her back.
Tonight the words would come. They had to.
The overlook appeared around a bend, a wide gravel pull-off that looked down over the valley.
Jackson lifted one hand and signaled, and the entire column slowed.
Engines dropped to idle, then quieted one by one until only the wind remained.
Boots hit the ground. Men stretched stiff legs and lit cigarettes.
Larkin swung off the bike and removed her helmet, auburn curls spilling free in the breeze.
Jackson set his kickstand and turned to her.
The late sun caught the silver in his beard and the hard line of his jaw.
He reached for her without speaking, one large hand settling at the small of her back, pulling her in until their bodies met.
She fit against him the way she always had, as if the space between them had been carved for this moment.
"Look at it," he said quietly. "Whole damn town spread out like it belongs to us."
Larkin turned in his arms and followed his gaze.
Silverlake lay below them in miniature, rooftops catching the gold light, the river a thin silver thread running through the center.
The library stood on its corner, the clubhouse just visible past the old railroad tracks.
From this height the town looked peaceful, almost untouched by the blood that had soaked its alleys.
"It does belong to us," she answered. "We fought for every inch."
His arm tightened around her. "You and your mother never have to be afraid again. Not while I draw breath. That's a promise, darlin'."
She leaned her head against his shoulder. The words she had rehearsed so many nights rose to her lips, but she held them back a little longer. There would be time. The sun had not yet set.
The ride back down the mountain felt different.
Lighter. The brothers laughed between bikes, trading stories about the old days and the new ones they planned to build.
Sinner's deep voice carried on the wind, a gravelly rumble that kept the formation tight.
By the time the clubhouse came into view, the sky had turned the color of bruised plums, and the lot was already filling with cars and trucks from the rest of the town.
Inside, the chapel had been cleared for the feast. Long tables lined the walls, covered in white cloths and loaded with food brought by locals who had once feared the Bastard Kings and now called them allies.
The smell of smoked meat and fresh bread filled the air.
Prospect patches had been traded for full colors on more than one back tonight, and the mood carried a brightness that had been missing for too long.
Jackson led Larkin through the crowd, one hand at her waist. People reached for them, hands clasping shoulders, voices offering congratulations on the new security firm and the award that had come for Larkin's reporting.
She smiled and accepted the words, but her mind kept circling back to the secret she still carried.
When Sinner raised his glass from the head of the table, the room fell quiet.
"To my Vice President," the Sinner said, voice carrying without effort. "And to the woman who stood beside him when the whole damn town wanted to look the other way. The club is stronger because of what they built together. To Jackson and Larkin."
Glasses lifted. Cheers rose. Larkin felt heat climb her cheeks, but she lifted her glass with the rest of them.
Her mother stood near the back with Haven, both women clapping, both smiling like they had finally found a place where they belonged.
Ryder caught Jackson's eye across the room and gave a short nod.
The two men had spoken earlier about the future of the firm, about how they would keep their hands clean while still protecting what was theirs.
It was a new chapter. One they had earned.
Larkin waited until the toasts died down before she took Jackson's hand and led him toward the back hallway.
The noise of the party faded behind them.
She stopped near the rear door, the one that opened onto the small porch where they had first admitted what they felt for each other.
The air outside was cool, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers from Glenda's garden next door.
"There's something I need to tell you," she said. Her voice came out steadier than she felt.
Jackson studied her face, blue eyes sharp even in the low light. "I'm listening."
She placed his hand against her stomach, the way she had practiced in the mirror. "We're going to have a family. A real one. I found out three weeks ago. I wanted to be sure before I said anything."
For a moment he simply stared at her. Then his expression changed, the hard lines softening in a way she had only seen a handful of times. His thumb moved in a slow circle over her shirt, as if he could already feel the life growing there.
"A kid," he said, voice rough. "Our kid."
"Yeah." She swallowed. "I know it's fast. I know we just moved into the house and the firm is still new. But I want this. I want it with you."
Jackson pulled her close, his arms coming around her with the same careful strength he used on the bike.
He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in.
"I never thought I'd have this," he said against her temple.
"A house. A woman who fights beside me. A child.
You keep giving me things I didn't know I could want. "
She felt the tension leave his shoulders, felt the way his hold shifted from protective to possessive. His mouth found hers in the darkness, the kiss deep and unhurried. When he pulled back, his eyes held a promise she had learned to trust.
"We'll raise this kid right," he said. "No shadows. No running. Just us and the club and whatever comes next."
They stayed outside a while longer, watching the stars appear one by one above the town.
Inside, the party continued, voices rising and falling in waves of laughter and old stories.
Sinner's toast had been the first of many.
Glenda, scarred from the fire but still in the thick of things with the boys and their ladies, moved through the crowd with a bottle in each hand, refilling glasses and trading gossip.
Haven and Ryder stood near the bar, their heads bent close together.
The Bastard Kings had lost brothers, but they had gained something stronger in return.
When the door opened behind them, Sinner stepped out with Annabelle at his side.
The President looked at Jackson and Larkin, then gave a short nod that carried more weight than words.
Annabelle smiled, her hand resting on the slight swell beneath her own shirt.
The two women shared a look that needed no translation.
Jackson took Larkin's hand and led her back inside.
The room parted for them, brothers stepping aside with quiet respect.
At the center of the largest table, a new plaque had been hung on the wall, an official commendation from the mayor's office for the club's role in cleaning up the theft ring and exposing Whitaker's corruption.
The new mayor, a woman who had run on a platform of transparency, had signed it herself.
It was the kind of recognition none of them had expected, and all of them needed.
Larkin accepted another round of congratulations, her hand never leaving Jackson's.
The award for her reporting sat on the mantle, a polished piece of glass that caught the light.
She had fought for that recognition for years, had sacrificed everything to earn it.
Yet standing here, surrounded by the people who had become her family, she understood that the real prize was something no committee could grant.
As the night wound down, Jackson pulled her toward the front door.
The crowd had thinned, the remaining brothers talking in low voices about the runs they would take tomorrow and the contracts they would sign next week.
The porch was empty now, the stars bright overhead.
Jackson stopped at the railing, the same spot where he had first told her she belonged to him and he belonged to her.
"You ready for this?" he asked, voice low. "The kid. The club. All of it."
"I was ready the day I stopped running from you," she answered.
He pulled her in again, his mouth claiming hers with the same controlled hunger that had marked every night since they had moved into the house.
His hands settled at her hips, thumbs tracing slow circles.
The kiss deepened, and for a moment the rest of the world fell away.
When they broke apart, both of them were breathing harder.
"Let's go home," he said. "I want to show you exactly how much this means to me."
They rode back through the quiet streets, the Harley growling beneath them.
Larkin's arms stayed tight around his waist, her cheek pressed to his back.
The new house waited at the end of the block, lights glowing in the windows.
Her mother had already gone to bed, the guest room dark.
Jackson parked the bike and lifted Larkin off it, carrying her up the steps like she weighed nothing.
Inside, the door closed behind them with a soft click.
He set her down in the hallway, but his hands never left her body.
They moved together toward the stairs, shedding jackets and boots along the way.
In the bedroom, moonlight spilled across the bed they had chosen together.
Jackson pulled her shirt over her head, his mouth following the fabric, pressing kisses to every inch of skin he uncovered.
Larkin reached for his belt, fingers working the buckle with practiced ease.
They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs and need.
Jackson covered her body with his, careful of the life growing between them, yet still demanding in the way she had come to crave.
His mouth found the sensitive spot beneath her ear, the one that always made her gasp.
His hands mapped her curves with the same thorough attention he gave to every ride, every fight, every decision that kept the club alive.
Larkin arched beneath him, nails dragging down his back.
She met his rhythm, matched his intensity, and when release found them both it came in a slow, rolling wave that left them breathless and clinging to each other.
Afterward, Jackson stayed inside her, his forehead resting against hers, their breathing slowly returning to normal.
His hand rested on her stomach again, protective even in sleep.
Outside, the night settled over Silverlake.
The clubhouse lights would burn for hours more as the brothers celebrated what they had built and what they had lost. But here, in the quiet of their bedroom, two people who had fought their way through blood and lies now held something neither had believed they deserved.
Jackson kissed her temple, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "Whatever comes next," he murmured, "we face it together."
Larkin closed her eyes and let the words settle into her bones.
The road ahead was still long, still uncertain, but for the first time she knew she would not travel it alone.
The Bastard Kings had secured their territory.
Jackson Reed had secured his heart. And together they would build a future worth every mile they had ridden to reach it.