Chapter 5 Nitro
NITRO
Nitro had slept in worse places than the Iron Vipers’ safe house.
Hell, this place was nice compared to some of the shitholes that he had lived in while on missions for the government.
There were too many war zones, cargo planes, and concrete floors that smelled like oil and blood to count.
A single bed in a quiet house shouldn’t have rattled him the way it did—but Aurora standing at the foot of it, arms folded over her chest like she was bracing for impact, made the space feel a hell of a lot smaller.
“One bed,” she said softly, pointing out the obvious.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Sorry about that. But all the other safe houses were booked for the night,” he teased.
She shook her head at him. “So, we’re supposed to sleep in the same bed?” she asked.
“Well, up until a few hours ago, you were very willing to jump into the same bed with me, honey,” he reminded.
That earned a faint smile from her—one that faded fast when the door clicked shut behind them, and the silence settled in.
Safe houses were like that. They didn’t distract you from everything going wrong around you.
They gave your thoughts room to stretch their legs and hunt you down.
Nitro stripped off his boots and cut, setting his weapons where he could reach them in under a second.
Old habits die hard. Hell, they were necessary ones that had saved his life more times than he could count.
He caught Aurora watching him—not afraid, exactly, but curious.
Like she was trying to map him out the same way he’d already mapped out a dozen ways to keep her alive.
“You don’t move like a biker,” she said.
He paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged. “You move like someone who’s been trained. You know, like someone who’s been in the military.”
Nitro sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. “That’s because I was in the military.”
Her brows knit together. “Past tense?”
“Mostly,” he lied. There was nothing past tense about what he did for Uncle Sam.
She didn’t push him right away for answers, which told him she understood restraint and understood waiting until the moment was right. She moved closer, perched on the opposite edge of the bed, keeping space between them. “What branch?” she asked.
He exhaled slowly. “Army, Special Operations.” That got her full attention.
“How long were you in?” she asked.
“Long enough,” he said. “Too long.” Silence filled the room again, giving him time to regroup.
When she finally spoke, her voice was careful.
“Is that why you knew what to do tonight?” Nitro closed his eyes, not sure how much more he wanted to tell her.
He had already said too much. He hadn’t planned on telling her anything.
He hadn’t told anyone outside of Torque about his time in the military and his current work.
Even then, he didn’t fully disclose all the details.
But Aurora had already seen him bleed for her.
If he lied to her now, he’d never forgive himself.
“No,” he said quietly. “That’s not how I knew what to do tonight.” His training had a little to do with it, but it was basic instinct for him—always had been.
Her breath caught. “Then how did you know what to do?” He looked at her—really looked. The way she held herself was like someone who’d learned to survive without expecting protection from anyone else. The shadows she wore like armor.
“Because I didn’t stop,” he said. “When things fall apart, no matter how bad things get, I don’t give up. It’s instinct, really.”
Her lips parted. “What do you mean by you didn’t stop? Stop what?”
“The missions,” he said. “I left the uniform, but I didn’t leave the work.” She went still at the end of the bed.
“I do things for the government,” he continued, voice low and rough, “that don’t exist on paper.
I go places no one’s supposed to know about, and I fix problems before they become wars.
” His jaw tightened. “That’s why I know security.
That’s why I knew how to clear your apartment.
And how I knew those men weren’t amateurs. ”
Aurora stared at him, processing everything that he had just admitted to her. “That’s why,” he added, quieter now, “I can keep you safe.” For a moment, he thought this would be it—the moment she decided he was too dangerous to keep around.
Instead, she asked, “Does it ever stop?”
The question nearly broke him. Nitro scrubbed his hand over his face.
“No,” he admitted. “You just get better at carrying it around with you and hiding the truth from everyone around you.” His chest tightened unexpectedly, something sharp clawing up from deep inside.
He hadn’t talked about this in years—not like this. Not without his walls in place.
“I see things that no man should have to witness,” he said, his voice cracking despite his best effort.
“I do things that no person should have to do, and when I come home, I’m supposed to just forget all of it.
Hell, half the time, I drink it all away or laugh it off.
” He swallowed hard. “But some nights, none of that works.”
Aurora moved then, slowly and deliberately, closing the space between them.
She didn’t touch him right away. She just sat close enough that he could feel her warmth.
“You don’t have to carry it alone tonight,” she said.
Nitro bowed his head, breath shuddering once before he could stop it.
He didn’t cry—he wasn’t built that way—but the weight pressed down hard enough that he felt damn close to it.
When he finally looked up, she was still right there, sharing his space, staring him down.
“She we set some bed rules?” she asked softly, a hint of humor threading through the seriousness.
He huffed out a half-hearted laugh. “Is this where you tell me to stay on my side?” he asked.
She smiled. “Yes,” she agreed, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
They lay down fully clothed, backs turned away from each other at first. The space between them felt vast. But sometime later in the night, Aurora shifted closer.
Her back brushed his chest, and he felt as though he was holding his damn breath waiting for her to move again.
Nitro hesitated for only a second before draping an arm around her, protective without being possessive.
She sighed, the sound small and trusting.
For the first time in a long time, Nitro let himself rest—not because the world was safe but because, in this moment, they were.
Nitro didn’t sleep. How could he with Aurora tucked up against him?
Her breathing was slow and even, one hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt like she’d anchored herself there without realizing it.
He kept his arm around her, and his eyes open as he counted shadows and listened to the quiet as though it might betray them.
Safe houses never fooled him. Sure, they bought time, but that was all.
At 0400, his burner phone vibrated in his duffel bag.
He carefully slipped out from under Aurora’s weight, easing her hand free and replacing his shirt with the pillow.
Nitro felt as though he was holding his breath watching her as she shifted, but didn’t wake.
He paused long enough to make sure she was good, and then moved silently into the kitchen, closing the door most of the way behind him.
He checked his phone, and the message was short.
GHOST: Got movement. Calling in five
Nitro exhaled slowly and decided to grab a cup of coffee before Ghost called in. He was the club’s Enforcer, and if he was calling, that meant that things were happening back at home.
As soon as the burner phone rang, he answered it. The voice on the other end sounded like pure gravel and smoke—Ghost. He was the Iron Vipers’ right arm man, a former signals operator in the Army, and a current all-around nightmare to anyone who dared to cross him.
“Did I wake you?” Ghost asked.
“I never sleep,” Nitro replied.
“Good. Because your girl’s got more going on than she told you and Torque. He filled me in last night, after you two took off, and she left out a few important parts of her story.”
Nitro leaned against the counter, jaw tightening. “Start talking,” he ordered.
“The men from her apartment,” Ghost started. “They’re contractors, not local muscle. They have Eastern European syndicate ties, but the money trail doesn’t match their usual work.”
Nitro’s grip tightened on the phone. “Meaning?”
“Meaning someone’s renting them, and using them to find your woman,” Ghost said. “And they are paying well.”
“She’s not my woman,” Nitro grumbled, skipping over the whole point of the phone call. Nitro glanced toward the bedroom door. Aurora had said the men weren’t the worst of it, and he was starting to believe her.
“Sure, she’s not,” Ghost taunted.
He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. “Names,” Nitro said. “Do you have any names yet?”
“Working on it. But here’s the part you’re not gonna like,” Ghost added. “They’ve been asking about a woman matching her description for over a year now. They’ve been looking for her in different cities, under different aliases, but it’s the same pattern.”
Nitro closed his eyes. “She’s been running for that long?” he questioned.
“Yeah,” Ghost agreed. “And somebody finally caught her scent. And now that they have it, they’re not going to stop looking for her.”
Nitro straightened. “They know about the club?” he worried that one of the guys would be able to trace him back to the Iron Vipers, putting the rest of the guys in danger.
He was sure that they’d be able to handle themselves, but the last thing his club needed was unwanted guests hanging around looking for trouble.
“No,” Ghost said. “But they know about you. Not biker you, but the real you, man.” Ghost was another member of his club who knew a lot about his story and what he did for a living. Hearing that they knew about his military background had gotten his full attention.
“They ID’d you from the apartment incident,” Ghost went on.
“Not your real name—but your face. They were using military-grade facial recognition. Whoever’s behind this has access to serious tech, Nitro.
” He went still. That narrowed the field down to people he really didn’t want involved in this mess.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Ghost asked.
“Yeah,” Nitro said grimly. “This isn’t just about her.”
“Nope,” Ghost replied. “This is a convergence problem. Whatever she walked away from intersects with things you handle for the government.”
Nitro ran a hand through his hair. “Then they’re testing boundaries.”
“And boundaries,” Ghost said, “are about to push back. You want club protection stepped up?” Ghost asked. “Because once we light this up, it’s not gonna be quiet. Things are going to get messy.”
Nitro didn’t hesitate. “Full coverage,” he said. “Put the safe house into rotation. Two men minimum at all times, and no solo runs.”
“Copy,” Ghost replied. “And Nitro?”
“Yeah?” he asked.
Ghost’s voice dropped. “If this goes where I think it’s going, you’re not just protecting her. You’ll need to cover your ass, too.”
Nitro stared at the wall, the weight of everything settling in his chest. “I know,” he said.
“I’m choosing her anyway. She needs help, and I can’t walk away now.
” That was the truth of the matter, too.
It didn’t matter how much trouble she was in or how much danger was coming for them; he wasn’t going anywhere.
The line went dead, and Nitro stood there a long moment, listening to the low hum of the refrigerator, the distant sounds of the city still asleep. Then he went back to the bedroom.
Aurora stirred as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Everything okay?” she murmured, voice thick with sleep.
He brushed his knuckles gently over her cheek. “Yeah,” he lied softly. “Just club stuff.”
She studied him through half-lidded eyes, seeing more than he wanted her to. “You’re tense.”
“Occupational hazard,” he said.
She shifted closer, resting her head against his thigh. “You don’t have to protect me.”
Nitro swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Maybe not,” he said, “but I will.” She didn’t argue. She just reached for his hand and held it.
Nitro looked down at her—this woman who’d walked into his life like a match tossed into gasoline—and he knew the truth with brutal clarity—whoever was hunting Aurora hadn’t just crossed a line. They’d stepped into Iron Vipers territory, and Nitro Jackson didn’t lose what he chose to protect.