Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
LONDYN
Glancing around the clubhouse, I take in the patched leather, the unreadable eyes, the men who don’t owe me a damn thing but stepped up anyway.
“Thanks,” I say, struggling to keep my voice from cracking. “None of you owe me shit, yet here you are, ready to walk into my mess with guns up.”
My eyes land on Maverick. “I don’t take this lightly. And I know this isn’t a simple ask.”
“We live for this shit,” a rough-looking bastard with Demolition stitched on his kutte throws out.
The room breaks into low laughter, severing the tension.
One week. That’s all it took to blow my entire life apart.
My family butchered.
Ty exposed as working with the DEA and FBI.
The Mendaro Syndicate breathing down my neck.
And someone in my own precinct feeding intel to the people who murdered my family.
Everything about this tastes like blood and betrayal. It all sounds like the plot of some suspense flick, but it’s not. It’s my life right now. And if Captain Herrera or Tony had a hand in this? I’ll put a bullet between their eyes myself. No questions. No hesitation. No mercy.
In the meantime, I’m staying off the radar. Keeping my head down in the last place anyone would think to look… a biker clubhouse. Cops don’t come here unless they’re serving warrants or raiding the place. Nobody’s checking this spot for me, not even the ones who want me dead.
I never put my connection to Malcolm in my report, didn’t mention it in a single briefing, and now I’m glad I didn’t.
Paper trails get people dragged into rooms with two-way mirrors and too many questions.
If Internal Affairs had caught wind of it, had even sniffed around it, they’d have dragged my ass into an interrogation room and picked until something cracked.
And once Malcolm’s name got out? it wouldn’t just be me in the crosshairs, everyone tied to this place would be, too.
“Is there somewhere I can crash?”
“Yeah. Come on,” Malcolm says, grabbing my bag.
We head upstairs to a room at the end of the hallway. When he opens the door, I stop short. It’s spotless. Bed made tight, everything squared away like a damn inspection’s about to happen.
Malcolm lets out a low laugh, catching the look on my face.
“Old Army habit. Clean space keeps your head straight.”
“Makes sense,” I say, sinking onto the edge of the bed. But my mind’s already drifting back to the conversation downstairs.
“What happens if Turbo actually finds something on my people?” I ask, my stomach twisting hard at the thought.
Malcolm leans back against the dresser, arms crossed, jaw locked tight. “Then we move. Fast. We find out who’s dirty and eliminate them before they hand you over to the cartel.”
I nod, clenching and unclenching my fists. “I don’t even know how to thank you for this. You’re putting yourself in the line of fire for something that’s not your problem.”
His eyes soften… just enough that I notice. “You don’t need to thank me. I made the call. I’m in this.”
His words soften something inside me. “Still,” I say quietly, “it means a lot. More than you know.”
The silence between us stretches, thick but not empty. It’s loaded with grief, danger, history, and whatever the hell we’re becoming in the middle of all this.
“I keep thinking about what happens next,” I say.
“About my family… their bodies.” The words hurt coming out.
“I’ve decided on cremation. No graves for the cartel to find.
No stones to vandalize to draw me out. Just their ashes, safe with me, where I can keep them close.
It’s the only way I can protect them now. ”
And then it really hits… my family is gone. How do I keep going? What does life look like now? So many questions, none of them with answers.
“Whatever it takes to keep you safe, I’m not going anywhere,” he says sitting beside me.
I lean into him…into his strength, because right now I need something solid to hold onto. I’m used to being the strong one, the one who doesn’t crack, but this? This has me feeling exposed in a way I hate. If I had to handle this alone, I’m not sure I’d survive.
It never even crossed my mind to look at the people closest to me at the precinct.
I never thought I’d have to. And yet here I am, relying on a motorcycle club that doesn’t owe me a damn thing.
The Royal Bastards don’t gain shit by helping me.
But they sure as hell have a lot to lose if the Mendaro Syndicate gets the upper hand.
And then there’s this man sitting next to me, risking his life for me.
My voice comes out softer than I expect. “Why me, Malcolm? Why did you choose me, knowing what it could cost you?”
He exhales, long and rough, like the question drags something out of him he’s been holding back. “Because I couldn’t walk away. Not from you. Not after Ty. Not after what happened to your family. If I didn’t stand with you, I’d never forgive myself.”
I lift my head, searching his face. “But Maverick… the club. You went against him bringing me here.”
His jaw tightens. “Yeah. And that’s no small thing. Standing against Mav costs me. Costs me trust, maybe even my place in the Bastards if this goes sideways. He doesn’t tolerate sloppiness, doesn’t tolerate anyone dragging heat into the clubhouse. And I just did both.”
I feel the weight of his words settle in my chest. “So why risk it?”
His eyes meet mine, steady, unflinching. “Because you matter more than the fallout. I don’t know what that means yet, but I know it’s true. And if Mav decides I crossed a line, then I’ll bleed for it. But I’d rather bleed than watch you fight this alone.”
“Thank you,” I say, pressing my forehead against his shoulder, tears threatening again.
He wraps his arms around me tighter, like he’s bracing himself against my storm. “Don’t thank me yet. If Turbo finds something, this gets ugly real fast. That’s when we’ll see what it really costs.”
Fear fills my chest. I’m not scared of the fight. I’m scared of what Malcolm will lose because of me. This is more than the Royal Bastards helping me, it’s a line in the sand. And once it’s crossed, there’s no going back for any of us.
It’s too much to think about right now. Another wave of grief is waiting to knock me flat. But I owe it to my family to find out who did this and make them pay. They don’t deserve the luxury of the justice system. As corrupt as it is, it’s still too good for these fuckers.
No… they deserve my wrath, my grief, my pain… every ounce of adrenaline-laced anger pounding through me. But, in this moment? I need to release some of this before it eats me alive.
Lifting my head from his shoulder, my lips brush his cheek, my eyes locking on his. “I promise I’m thinking clearly, Malcolm,” I murmur, voice low, trembling. “I know exactly what I’m asking. This isn’t grief… I need you to drag me out of this hell in my head before it burns me alive.”
His jaw flexes, eyes darkening. “Lolo, we shouldn’t…”
Sliding my hand down his chest, I feel the heat of him through his shirt, feel his breath hitch, feel his heart hammering under my palm. “Please,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Don’t make me sit in this pain alone… not tonight.”
He swallows hard, and for a second, I think he’ll pull away.
“Help me forget…just for a minute,” I plead, dragging my lips along his jaw, letting my need spill into every kiss.
Something inside him snaps. Sharp, sudden, and hungry.
Dragging me onto his lap, I straddle him, his hands gripping my ass. When his mouth crashes against mine… hungry, reckless, desperate… a sound breaks out of me before I can stop it. His fingers dig into my tender flesh, rough and possessive, like he’s been starving for this.
The kiss deepens, turns rougher, his tongue sliding against mine with a need that hits low in my belly. I feel the tension pouring off him, feel how tight he’s holding himself together… like he’s one breath away from losing every shred of control he has.
“Lolo…” he murmurs against my mouth, voice wrecked. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me… what you’re asking of me.”
“Oh, I do.” My fingers twist in his shirt as I press closer, grinding my pussy against him. “I need this. I need you.”
His forehead drops to mine, breath harsh, chest rising against me.
Then his hands slide up my back, and under my shirt… warm, rough, claiming. My breath shudders out, my body arching into his touch like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
The world narrows to the heat between us, the way he pulls me closer, the way he kisses me like he’s trying to anchor both of us. It’s as if he needs me just as much as I need him.
I moan against his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss as his grip tightens.
“Malcolm…” I purr, melting against him.
“No.” His lips brush my ear, voice low and dominating. “Right now I talk, you listen.”
A shiver rips through me, and I’m here for every second of it.
“You sure this is what you want?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I proclaim, raw and certain.
“That’s all I need to hear,” he says.