Chapter 60 Lucy
Lucy
The door closed softly behind Jay, the faint click echoing in the stillness. His words lingered louder than the brothers downstairs, louder than the war we’d fought.
Because I’m in love with you.
I sat on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing the rumpled comforter where we’d laid together. My pulse was still hammering, not from adrenaline, not from fear, but from him.
He thought I’d leave.
A part of me thought I would too, once. Back when I was first trying to find out the truth about how Caleb died. Back when I rolled up in that dusty lot with nothing but a report full of secrets. I told myself I was there for answers, nothing else.
But the truth hadn’t been neat or clean.
I’d found betrayal, blood, broken codes. I’d found the truth of what happened to my brother.
And I’d found Jay.
At first, I hated him, for the kutte, the danger, for being the embodiment of everything that stole Caleb away.
Now, I couldn’t imagine walking away without tearing out something vital inside me.
He was right, though. I had another life somewhere else, an apartment, a job, a future that didn’t smell like motor oil and leather. But that future felt like it belonged to someone else. Someone softer. Someone na?ve.
The woman I’d become had stood in the fire and chose to stay. Not because she had to but because she wanted to. Because she’d fallen in love too.
I showered quickly, steam curling the edges of the mirror, and dressed in what I could salvage from Jay’s dresser—a faded black shirt that came down to just above my knees and a belt. No panties. Everything I’d owned was now ash and smoke, and I really needed to go shopping, so it would have to do.
When I opened the door and stepped down the stairs, the low rumble of voices drifted down the hall. The church room. Jay’s voice broke through, steady, sure, already sketching the outline of a future for the Dead Knights. A future with tattoo shops, garages, and betting halls.
His future... our future.
I hesitated, hand on the doorframe, before I knocked once.
The voices died instantly.
“If the door’s open, you’re welcome to come in,” Jay’s voice called.
That stupid flutter hit my chest again as I pushed the door fully open.
Riot tipped his chin at me. Link gave me a brief nod. Finn, sitting in the seat that used to be Bishop’s, was grinning like he’d been crowned king. Keno rolled his eyes but didn’t comment.
But I didn’t linger on any of them. My eyes found Jay. Always Jay.
He was tired, scarred, still carrying the war on his shoulders. When his gaze met mine, steady and unflinching, drifting down the length of my body and back up, I felt the fire flare back to life.
“We’d actually value your input,” he said, his voice even.
Something cracked open inside me at those words. Wanted. Family.
“I can do that,” I said. My feet carried me forward until I was in front of him, then I slid between him and the table, wrapping my arms around his neck.
His hands were on my waist instantly, like they’d been waiting for me to fill the space. Heat licked through me at the contact.
“Pres,” Riot drawled from somewhere behind us. “You want us to leave?”
“No,” I answered before Jay could, my eyes locked on his.
His brow arched, amused and hungry. “That right?”
I didn’t answer. I kissed him instead, hard and fast.
The room erupted, catcalls, muttered curses, Riot choked on his water, but I didn’t care. His mouth was hot and desperate against mine, his grip bruising at my hips, his body pressing into mine like he’d claim me here and now, brothers be damned.
When I finally pulled back, his lips were parted, breath shallow. His kutte bunched under my fists where I’d grabbed and yanked him down.
“I’m publicly claiming you this time, Jay,” I said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “I’m not leaving you or the club. You’re my family now.” A wicked smile tugged at my lips. “Or do you need to bend me over this table in front of them to prove it?”
Finn muttered, “Jesus Christ.”
Riot was still hacking on his drink. Link stared at the floor like he wished it would swallow him whole.
Jay’s jaw flexed, but his eyes never wavered from mine. Pure, unrestrained fire blazed in them. His hand slid up my spine, deliberate, possessive, anchoring me tight against him. His hips pushed the hard bar of his cock into me, letting me feel exactly what my words had done to him.
“You say the word, princess,” he rasped. “I’ll clear this table in two seconds flat.”
My breath hitched, and my smile curved sharper. “Not yet.”
“But soon?” His forehead pressed to mine, his breath hot, his hands refusing to let me go.
I kissed him again, slower, a promise wrapped in heat.
“Definitely.”