Chapter 11 Steel Hearts #2
I looked toward the sky.
Searching for patience.
Or lightning.
Either option would've helped.
"I smile."
"You tolerate things."
The exact same argument as before.
The man lacked originality.
Unfortunately, he compensated with persistence.
Mason nodded toward the food tents.
Specifically toward Elliot.
The kid stood with Rhett discussing motorcycles.
His attention completely focused on whatever explanation Rhett was giving.
The sight automatically made something warm settle inside my chest.
A fatal mistake.
Because Mason immediately noticed.
"Oh my God."
I closed my eyes.
Too late.
Way too late.
"Did you see that?"
Several volunteers wisely ignored him.
Mason remained undeterred.
"He just did it again."
I opened my eyes.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
"Mason."
The warning carried enough weight to stop most people.
Not Mason.
Never Mason.
His grin widened.
"You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The one people get right before they start writing terrible love songs."
I stared.
The man deserved every parking ticket he'd ever received.
Maybe more.
Fortunately, Rhett appeared before I could respond.
The former military mechanic looked toward Mason.
Then toward me.
Then sighed.
Deeply.
Like a man who'd witnessed this exact conversation a hundred times before.
"Leave him alone."
Bless Rhett Walker.
The closest thing Steel Hearts had to adult supervision.
Mason pointed dramatically.
"See?"
Rhett immediately regretted speaking.
"He's defending you."
I considered walking directly into traffic.
The idea held significant appeal.
The rest of the afternoon improved slightly.
Mostly because Mason became distracted by other opportunities for chaos.
Unfortunately, his observations lingered.
Because he wasn't wrong.
I was happier.
The realization followed me throughout the day.
Watching Elliot laugh with Rhett.
Watching him help at the charity booth.
Watching him slowly relax as he realized everyone accepted him.
The sight did something to me.
Something difficult to explain.
For years, happiness had felt temporary.
Fragile.
A thing borrowed rather than owned.
Today felt different.
Today felt real.
Dangerously real.
Late afternoon sunlight stretched across the rally grounds.
The crowd remained large.
The event had been a success.
Donations exceeded expectations.
Everyone seemed relaxed.
Content.
Including me.
Which should have been my first warning.
Because life had a habit of punishing contentment.
The trouble arrived shortly before sunset.
I spotted him immediately.
A familiar motorcycle parked near the edge of the event.
Black Harley.
Chrome details.
Steel Vipers insignia.
My stomach immediately tightened.
Hell.
The rider removed his helmet.
Not Derek.
Worse.
Tommy Mercer.
Another former club associate.
Someone I'd known for years.
Someone who never traveled anywhere without a reason.
And never delivered good news.
The moment our eyes met, I knew.
This wasn't a social visit.
Not even close.
I quietly handed my drink to Rhett.
His expression changed immediately.
"What?"
I nodded toward the parking area.
Rhett followed my gaze.
Recognition flashed across his face.
Followed immediately by concern.
"Problem?"
"Probably."
The answer sounded calm.
It wasn't.
Every instinct I possessed screamed that something had changed.
Tommy waited near the motorcycles.
Watching.
Patient.
The way predators watched.
I hated it.
Especially here.
Especially around Elliot.
The rally suddenly felt smaller.
More vulnerable.
I glanced toward the food tents.
Elliot remained with Mason and several volunteers.
Laughing.
Happy.
Safe.
Good.
I intended to keep it that way.
"I'll handle it."
Rhett didn't look convinced.
Neither was I.
Still, there weren't many alternatives.
I crossed the rally grounds slowly.
Carefully.
Tommy never moved.
Never waved.
Never smiled.
The closer I got, the worse the feeling became.
By the time I reached him, the atmosphere around us had changed completely.
The noise of the rally felt distant.
Muted.
Like another world.
"Tommy."
He nodded.
"Kane."
The greeting carried no warmth.
No hostility either.
Just business.
I hated business.
Business usually involved problems.
"What do you want?"
Straight to the point.
No reason pretending otherwise.
Tommy glanced toward the crowd.
Toward the families.
The volunteers.
The charity booths.
His gaze lingered briefly on Elliot.
The movement immediately set every protective instinct on fire.
Then he looked back at me.
"Derek's not happy."
Of course he wasn't.
The statement surprised nobody.
"Not my concern."
Tommy sighed.
Like someone dealing with a difficult child.
The reaction irritated me instantly.
"Actually, it is."
There it was.
The threat.
Not direct.
Not yet.
But close.
I folded my arms.
"Then Derek should've accepted my answer."
Silence followed.
Several long seconds passed.
Tommy studied me carefully.
The same way people examined unstable explosives.
Finally, he shook his head.
"You always were stubborn."
"Funny."
My voice hardened.
"People keep saying that."
A hint of amusement appeared.
Then disappeared.
The brief expression somehow made things worse.
Because it reminded me Tommy wasn't enjoying this conversation either.
Which meant the situation was serious.
Very serious.
The realization settled heavily inside my chest.
Tommy lowered his voice.
"The shipment wasn't the only problem."
I remained silent.
Listening.
Waiting.
Dreading.
"There are people asking questions."
The statement sounded vague.
Deliberately vague.
I hated that.
"What people?"
Tommy looked around once.
Checking.
Ensuring privacy.
Then:
"People who don't like losing money."
My stomach dropped.
Because suddenly the missing shipment mattered much more than before.
Not club politics.
Not loyalty.
Money.
Large amounts of money.
The kind people killed over.
The realization darkened everything.
Tommy saw the understanding appear.
Good.
At least somebody was being honest.
"Derek thinks you can help."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
Firm.
Certain.
Tommy expected it.
I could tell.
Which made his next words even worse.
"He expected that answer too."
Silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
The sounds of the rally drifted across the distance.
Children laughing.
Motorcycles starting.
Music playing.
The contrast felt almost surreal.
Because standing here, everything suddenly seemed darker.
Colder.
More fragile.
Tommy looked toward Elliot again.
Only briefly.
Yet it was enough.
Far more than enough.
The movement immediately sharpened my attention.
The warning arrived without words.
And he knew it.
His expression hardened slightly.
Not threatening.
Regretful.
Which somehow felt worse.
"You've got something worth protecting now."
Ice spread through my chest.
Tommy held my gaze.
Neither of us looked away.
Neither of us pretended anymore.
Then he delivered the message he'd clearly traveled here to deliver.
"Refusing the club has consequences."
The words landed like a punch.
Simple.
Direct.
Final.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
The threat lingered between us.
Clear as day.
Not aimed at me.
Not really.
Aimed at everything I'd built.
Everything I loved.
Everything I wanted to keep safe.
Tommy adjusted his helmet.
The conversation was over.
Apparently.
He climbed back onto the motorcycle.
Started the engine.
Then paused one final time.
"Kane."
I didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
Tommy looked toward the rally.
Toward Elliot.
Toward the life I'd created away from the club.
Then he sighed.
"You should've left town when you had the chance."
A second later, he rode away.
The motorcycle disappeared down the road.
Leaving me standing alone beside the parking area.
Watching darkness slowly settle across the horizon.
And for the first time since meeting Elliot Reed, genuine fear wrapped itself around my heart.
Because the threat wasn't theoretical anymore.
It wasn't a warning about the future.
It was already here.
And if the Steel Vipers couldn't force me back into their world, they might decide to drag the people I loved into it instead.
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