Chapter 26 #3
He shrugs. “Proximity. Trauma bonding. Hypervigilance. Protective behavioral adaptation. Also, you stare at her like a serial killer with a Hallmark card.”
Blaze nearly falls over laughing.
I point at Dom. “I liked you better when you spoke less.”
“Objectively false,” he says, already looking back at the screen.
Logan’s still grinning when he straightens and pushes off the bar. “Alright, Romeo, what exactly are you telling me here?”
I hold his gaze. No bullshit. No joking. No backing off now that it’s out there.
“I’m telling you if this goes bad, I’m not playing detached. I’m in it. She stays protected, the kid stays protected, and if anybody’s making calls or plans involving either of them, you clear that shit with me.”
That wipes the last of the amusement out of Logan’s face. Not because he’s mad. Because now he knows I’m serious. He nods once. “Done.”
Cain straightens a little too, his expression going from entertained to locked in. “That includes us tightening eyes?”
“Yeah.”
“Already happening,” he says.
Good.
Logan studies me for another second, then asks, “You told Grinder yet?”
That one hangs in the room for a beat. Because everybody here knows exactly what that question means. Not just that Raven’s his daughter. That he’s president. That there’s politics attached now whether I want there to be or not.
I don’t answer immediately.
Which is answer enough.
And that, apparently, is what brings Logan’s grin roaring right back to life. “Oh, hell no,” he says, laughing again. “You have not.”
I glare at him. “I was busy.”
“Yeah,” Blaze says. “We all know.”
I ignore him.
Logan points at me like he’s issuing chapter orders. “Absolutely not. You do not make that call without me there.”
“Why the fuck would you need to be there?”
“Because I want to hear Grinder’s reaction when you tell him you claimed his daughter.”
Cain outright laughs this time.
Even Shadow loses his fight against it and snorts into his hand.
I’m surrounded by children.
Actual children.
“This is why people shoot presidents,” I mutter.
Logan grins wider. “And yet I remain beloved.”
“Debatable.”
“Sit on it for a couple hours,” he says, still clearly enjoying himself far too much. “Then we’ll figure out how much shit you’re in.”
“I’m not in shit.”
Logan raises a brow. “You’re fucking the Louisiana president’s daughter in the room next to yours while she’s under our protection.”
I open my mouth. Then close it. Because when he says it like that, it does sound a little like maybe I’m in some shit.
Cain laughs into his hand.
Dom says, without looking up, “That is, in fact, a high-risk operational choice.”
I point at him. “I’m gonna unplug your whole setup.”
“Threat noted.”
Logan pushes off the bar and claps me once on the shoulder, amusement fading just enough to let something steadier through. “You good with it?” he asks.
That question matters. Not because he needs permission from me. Because he’s asking if I understand what I’m saying.
What it means. What it could cost. What I’ll have to do if Cal gets close enough to make this personal in a way it isn’t already.
I don’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
He nods once.
That’s it. That’s all. No lecture. No warning.
Just acknowledgment.
Because he knows me well enough to know I wouldn’t be standing here saying it if I wasn’t already sure.
The conversation shifts after that, back into security and routes and the kind of practical shit that keeps people breathing, but I only half hear it.
Because out the window by the lot, I catch sight of Raven again. She’s kneeling in front of Lexi now, fixing the kid’s sleeve while Amy says something dramatic enough to make Raven laugh.
That laugh carries through the cracked door.
Soft. Real. And I feel the truth of it settle all the way down into bone.
This isn’t about wanting her anymore. That part’s old news. This isn’t about attraction or chemistry or the fact that she sounds fucking wrecked when she says my real name and I’ll probably never recover from that.
No.
This is bigger now.
Meaner. Cleaner. This is the kind of thing that changes how a man moves through the world. Because now, every decision gets filtered through one question first.
How does it affect them?
That’s not lust. That’s not a fling. That’s not temporary.
That’s mine.
And I know it with a certainty so sharp it almost feels like violence.
I’m not letting her go.
Not to Cal. Not to fear. Not to some future where she disappears because this was only ever supposed to be a stop on the way to somewhere else.
No.
She’s here. She’s in my clubhouse. In my space. In my head. Under my skin.
And whether Grinder likes it or not, whether Raven’s ready to hear it in those exact words yet or not, whether the whole goddamn world burns around us before this is over…
I’m keeping her.
Logan must see something in my face when I glance back toward the lot, because after a beat, he pushes off the bar and jerks his chin toward his office.
“C’mon,” he says.
I don’t move. “For what?”
His grin comes back, mean and entertained. “Because there’s not a chance in hell I’m missing this call.”
Cain laughs under his breath.
Blaze perks up like somebody just announced free beer.
Shadow folds his arms and leans against the wall like he’s got nowhere better to be.
I look at all of them and immediately regret every life choice that led me to this exact moment. “You’re all real fucking annoying.”
“Yet,” Logan says, already heading toward his office, “you keep choosing to live here.”
I should tell him to go fuck himself.
Instead, I follow him, because much as I hate to admit it, he’s right about one thing. This isn’t a call I should make alone. Not because I need backup. Because Grinder’s going to lose his ever-loving mind, and Logan’s gonna want to be there when it happens.
Asshole.
By the time I step into Logan’s office, he’s already dropping into the chair behind his desk with his phone in hand and a look on his face that says he’s having entirely too much fun with this.
I stay standing.
Shadow, Blaze, and Cain crowd in behind me like vultures.
Logan scrolls through his contacts, then glances up at me. “You sure?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
That sobers him a little. Enough to remind me this isn’t just entertainment. This matters.
He hits the call button and puts it on speaker.
It rings twice before Grinder answers. “Pearce.”
Logan leans back in his chair. “Grinder.”
“Something wrong?”
Straight to business. Makes sense. Men like him and Logan don’t call each other in the middle of the day to shoot the shit.
Logan glances at me once before saying, “Nah. Everybody’s breathing. But there’s something we need to talk through.”
Silence on the other end. Then, sharper, “Raven?”
That one-word question carries enough weight to tell me everything I need to know about the man. Whatever happened between him and his daughter over the last few years, whatever distance Cal forced into her life, he still goes to her first.
Good. That matters.
“She’s fine,” I say before Logan can answer.
There’s a beat. Then another.
And when Grinder speaks again, his voice is colder. “Joker.”
“Yeah.”
“She alright?”
I look out through the office window toward the lot. Raven’s still outside with Lexi, one hand on the kid’s shoulder while Amy and Gio run circles around them like little heathens.
“She’s safe,” I say. “Kid too.”
That gets me another stretch of silence. Like he’s trying to decide what the fuck kind of conversation this is about to be.
He figures it out before Logan has to spell it out. I can hear it happen in the way his tone changes. Low. Flat. Dangerously controlled. “What’s going on?”
Logan folds his hands over his stomach and leans back farther in the chair like he’s settled in for a show.
I make a mental note to hit him later. Then I look at the phone on the desk and decide to do this clean.
No hedging. No bullshit. No trying to soften it so it goes down easier. That’s not who I am, and it sure as hell isn’t how this needs to be said.
“Me and Raven are together.”
Silence. Complete, absolute silence.
Behind me, Blaze presses his lips together hard enough that I know he’s fighting for his life not to laugh.
Shadow elbows him in the ribs.
Cain crosses his arms and wisely says nothing.
On the phone, Grinder finally speaks. And when he does, his voice could strip paint. “The fuck you just say?”
I don’t blink. “You heard me.”
“I sent my daughter there for protection,” he bites out, “not to become your fucking whore.”
Everything in me goes dead still. Not hot. Not wild. Not reckless.
Cold. Lethal.
The kind of still that only ever comes right before something gets broken.
Behind me, the whole room changes too. The air shifts.
Shadow straightens.
Cain’s face goes flat.
Even Logan’s grin disappears.
Because every one of them knows exactly how bad a move that just was.
My voice drops low enough to scrape. “You wanna try that again?”
Grinder doesn’t back off. “Don’t push me, boy.”
Wrong fucking answer.
I plant both hands on Logan’s desk and lean in toward the phone like the distance between us means nothing at all.
“Listen to me real goddamn carefully,” I say, each word clean and deliberate.
“You can be pissed. You can hate it. You can threaten me all you want. But you do not ever talk about her like that again.”
The office goes dead quiet.
Every eye in the room is on me. I don’t care. “Not to me,” I continue, voice like gravel and violence. “Not to anybody. Not even you.”
There’s a rough exhale on the other end of the line.
I keep going before he can cut in. “She’s not some problem you handed off. She’s not baggage. She’s not a body. And she damn sure isn’t something for anybody to disrespect.”
Grinder’s breathing hard enough now that I can hear it through the speaker.
Good. Let him hear mine too. Because I mean every fucking word.
“This isn’t some fling,” I say. “It’s not a way to pass time while she’s here. It’s not me taking advantage of anything. I’m telling you plain, so there’s no confusion later—”