Chapter 11
Dash
The second Trigger says he’ll move into Sadie’s house, I know we’re fucked. Not because she looks horrified at the suggestion, which she does. Not because Chief immediately pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he’s developing a migraine—which he probably is. But because Trigger means it.
I’ve known Kane Ryder for twelve years. I’ve seen him drunk, bloody, furious, half-dead, and laughing so hard he fell through a plastic patio chair once in Daytona.
I’ve also seen him in love exactly one time, and it damn near destroyed him.
So when he says, “I’ll stay with her,” in that low, rough voice while staring at Sadie like she’s already his, something cold settles in my stomach because I recognize the signs.
The possessiveness. The fixation. The intensity.
Kane’s the kind of man who burns himself alive once he falls.
Sadie folds her arms. “No.”
Trigger’s jaw tightens. “No?”
“There isn’t enough room.”
Bullshit. Small house or not, Kane would happily sleep on the damn floor.
Which means she’s refusing for another reason.
Then I notice the way Trigger’s hand briefly brushes her lower back, the tiny flicker of heat across her face at his touch, and the way she avoids looking directly at him.
I realize then that they definitely fucked.
Jealousy punches me unexpectedly hard. Not enough to piss me off exactly.
Just enough to surprise me. I don’t do jealousy.
But now that Sadie’s standing here in front of us, properly—not blurry pictures, flirty messages, or imagined reactions—she’s somehow even hotter than I expected, which honestly feels unfair.
Her hair’s loose around her shoulders, soft chestnut waves catching the warm clubhouse lights.
Little denim shorts show off long, tanned legs that I absolutely should not be staring at while Trigger’s one emotional inconvenience away from murder.
And her face—Fuck. Big expressive eyes. A full mouth that makes her look permanently kissable.
Pretty in a real way. Not like a model, or fake.
Sadie looks like the kind of woman who laughs with her whole body, which somehow makes her more dangerous than any femme fatale bullshit ever could.
Trigger’s already fallen hard for her, and honestly, I’m starting to get it.
Chief leans back in his chair calmly, fingers wrapped around a whiskey glass. “You and Owen are welcome to stay here.”
Sadie shakes her head immediately. “No.”
Trigger turns toward her sharply. “Sadie—”
“I’m serious. I am not uprooting Owen’s life to move into a motorcycle club with a bunch of strangers.” She glances at Chief. “No offense.”
Outside the windows, Owen shrieks happily from the swing set while motorcycle engines rumble faintly from the garage. Inside, the atmosphere around our table gets tighter by the second.
Sadie sighs, shaking her head. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but this is getting intense.”
“You got a death threat shoved under your fucking door,” Trigger says flatly.
She doesn’t let Trigger boss her around. “And we don’t even know if it’s real!”
Trigger actually laughs at that, a dry, dangerous laugh without amusement. “The fuck does that even mean?”
“It means maybe somebody’s trying to scare me.”
“That’s literally still a threat.”
Chief steps in before Trigger can spiral further. Always the damn adult in the room. He speaks calmly in a measured voice. “We’re not trying to scare you, sweetheart.”
I catch the tiny flicker in Trigger’s expression when Chief calls her sweetheart. Yep, we’re definitely fucked.
Sadie exhales hard. “I just don’t want this becoming…”
“Becoming what?” I ask.
Her eyes flick around the clubhouse uncertainly. “Complicated.”
Too late. Way too fucking late. Trigger leans forward slowly, forearms braced on the table. “You and Owen aren’t staying alone right now.”
The finality in his voice makes Sadie bristle instantly. “You don’t get to decide that.”
His jaw tightens harder. “And you don’t get to act like this isn’t serious.”
Chief watches both of them carefully now. Shadow too. We all see it. Trigger’s already hanging by a thread, which would be less concerning if he weren’t built like a man capable of physically throwing a truck through a building.
Sadie shakes her head. “I can just call if something happens.”
Trigger’s expression goes cold. “No.” The word lands hard enough that the entire table goes quiet.
Even Sadie blinks slightly, looking as if she’s wondering what kind of man she shared her bed with last night.
I step in before Trigger accidentally turns this into a hostage negotiation. “He’s right.” Trigger glances at me briefly, surprised. I shrug. “If somebody’s watching the house, calling after something happens isn’t exactly ideal.”
Sadie looks frustrated now. “I don’t need armed bodyguards.”
I grin slightly. “Baby, if we were bodyguards, we’d charge you.”
That gets a reluctant tiny smile out of her. Trigger does not look amused that I made her smile—possessive bastard. I wince as Trigger punches me on the arm, a little too hard to be playful.
Shadow finally speaks for the first time in several minutes, his voice quiet and measured. “We rotate.” Everybody looks at him. He shrugs. “One guy each night. Outside or inside the house. Whatever she’s comfortable with.”
Sadie hesitates.
Trigger immediately opens his mouth, probably to volunteer permanently, but Chief cuts him off smoothly. “Temporarily,” Chief says calmly. “Until we figure out whether the threat’s real.”
Sadie bites her lip, thinking. Fuck, that’s dangerously attractive. I catch myself staring at her mouth and immediately look away before Trigger murders me in public. But I’m too late, of course, he noticed. His eyes narrow slowly.
Sadie finally exhales. “Okay. One or two weeks max.”
Trigger still looks unhappy, but Shadow’s suggestion is the first thing she hasn’t outright rejected.
Chief nods once. “Done.”
The tension eases slightly around the table. Not fully, but enough that I no longer worry Trigger will go nuclear. Sadie slowly relaxes back into her chair, though she still looks overwhelmed.
Which is fair enough, a week ago, she thought she was flirting with a gym trainer. Now she’s sitting in a biker clubhouse negotiating protective custody with four outlaw bikers.
Owen barrels inside. “Mommy! There’s a dog,” he says breathlessly.
“A dog?” she repeats.
He nods eagerly. “A big one.”
I snort softly. “That’d be Moose.”
“Can I pet him?”
“If you ask his owner first,” Sadie agrees.
Owen immediately sprints back outside. Sadie watches him go, with an automatic softness across her face, and I feel weirdly soft and protective.
She looks so fucking good like this. She’s not even trying to impress us, to seduce us; she’s just natural and real, so different from the club bunnies constantly performing, trying to be the woman they think we want—no wonder Trigger’s spiraling.
Sadie nods distractedly as Chief explains more about the clubhouse and what we’ll do to find out who left the note. Her eyes flick slowly across the table, looking at each of us in turn. Something thoughtful crosses her expression, as if she’s trying to solve a puzzle.
I feel my stomach tighten slightly as I realize that she’s noticing us properly, our tones, our energy, the familiar way we’re talking to her, as if we’ve not just met. Did Trigger tell her the truth? I glance sideways at him. Judging by his face, absolutely not.
Sadie’s eyes narrow slightly as she looks at me. “What?” I ask lightly.
She hesitates. “Nothing.”
Bullshit, I think, but I change the subject, discussing her usual routine. Shadow notices, too, of course, he notices fucking everything.
Sadie keeps glancing at us strangely now during our conversation, as if she recognizes something she can’t place. Suddenly, I realize exactly where this is heading.
Oh, this is bad. Very bad.
“Have we met before?” she asks me.
“Only in your dreams,” I reply with a wink.
It does nothing to stop the cogs turning. For a moment, I think she’s going to ask outright. But then she shakes her head, as if dismissing the idea as too crazy to consider.
Chief takes another drink of whiskey. “We’ll work out schedules later.”
I should absolutely keep my mouth shut. But of course, I never do as I’m supposed to, I can’t help myself. “We can decide which one of us you’re in the mood for. Though the dangerous one shouldn’t get the first shift,” I quip.
Silence. Complete fucking silence. The second the words leave my mouth, I realize what I’ve done. Trigger goes completely still beside me. Chief closes his eyes briefly.
Shadow mutters, “Jesus Christ.”
Sadie blinks. Once. Twice. Then, slowly, her voice icily measured, she asks, “What?”
Fuck. I grin weakly. “So. Funny story—”
Her eyes widen. I watch the entire realization crash through her all at once. The different personalities. The changing tones. The shifting flirting. She wasn’t just talking to Trigger; she was talking to all of us.
Her face turns bright red, and she buries her head in her hands. “Oh, my God.”
Trigger stands so fast his chair screeches violently backward across the floor. “Dash.” His voice is dangerously low.
Sadie looks absolutely horrified now. “You all—” she shakes her head.
“Nobody planned it,” Chief says.
“Technically,” I offer carefully, “It was kind of an accident.” It sounds lame because how can you accidentally text someone for hours every day for a whole week?
Sadie stares at all four of us, completely mortified. “You were all texting me?”
Okay wow. Hearing it out loud makes it sound significantly worse.
Trigger points at me furiously. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”
“You’re the one who took it further by sending a dick pic,” I fire back defensively.
Wrong choice of words. Very wrong choice. Sadie makes a strangled, horrified sound. Shadow covers his face briefly.
Chief mutters, “This is a disaster.”
“Did you show them the photos I sent?” Sadie asks Trigger.
“I— technically—”
“Oh, my God!” She turns and storms toward the exit so fast her chair nearly tips over.
“Sadie—” Trigger starts, following after her.
She turns around, beautifully furious. “No!”
Every head in the clubhouse turns toward the yelling. Fantastic.
Sadie points furiously at all of us. “All of you are insane!” Then she disappears outside.
The silence is deafening. Trigger slowly turns toward me, and I immediately regret every life decision I’ve ever made.
“You,” he says calmly, which is way scarier than yelling.
I stand, holding my hands up. “In my defense—”
Trigger lunges across the table.
Chief catches him with one arm across his chest while Shadow grabs his shoulder from the other side. “Easy,” Chief snaps.
Trigger struggles like a feral housecat. “Get the fuck off me.”
“You’re proving her point,” Shadow says sharply.
Trigger looks genuinely furious now. The kind of anger that makes people back away instinctively. “I told you not to fucking say anything. We needed to find a way to break it to her gently, if we were going to at all.”
“I didn’t mean to!”
“Bullshit. You just couldn’t stand that she chose me. I couldn’t have one thing without you wanting it too.”
Okay. Fair. Maybe a little bullshit. I have to admit, I was a little jealous that he got to hook up with her last night, jealous of the way she responded to him, the way she looked at him.
Chief shoves Trigger backward hard enough to force space between us. “Enough.”
The whole clubhouse is watching now. Everybody here knows Kane’s history. We all know what happened last time he lost control over a woman. Judging by the looks passing between Chief and Shadow, they’re thinking the same thing I am. Trigger’s already in way too deep.