Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
WOLF
The air in the Rebel Kings clubhouse smells like stale beer, woodsmoke, and twenty years of bad decisions, which is right at home for us.
We’re gathered around the heavy oak table in the back room, a familiar scene spread out before me.
Stryker sitting at the head of the table with a permanent scowl carved into his face, Phoenix leaning against the wall with his arms folded like an immovable wall of stone, and Onyx tapping a heavy ring against the wood.
At the center of it all is the problem: a blown-up, glossy photo of an unregistered, custom logo stamped onto the side of a double-walled shipping crate we know originated straight out of King’s Logistics.
"I ran it through every database known to man," I say, dropping a thick folder onto the table.
"Customs manifests, federal freight logs, commercial registries, black-market indices. Nothing. There are no registered trademarks for this stamp, no LLC attached to it, no subsidiary paper trail. Whoever’s using our routes is a ghost."
Stryker lets out a low, venomous curse, scrubbing a hand over his face. "If the feds trace that logo back to our warehouse before we find the leak, they’re going to tear King’s Logistics apart brick by brick."
I take it all in stride. This is who I am for Stryker. As the Vice President, my job is to absorb his volatile moods, slice through the panic, and help him see straight when the fog rolls in.
Looking at him now, my mind flashes back fifteen years.
We were just two angry punks on the street with zero purpose and nowhere to go.
I wanted out of my old man's suffocating trailer park, away from his toxic girlfriends and failing kidneys, thanks to the liquor he used to numb his broken heart.
Stryker bounced around the foster care system, a feral teenager fighting and looting just to feel like he existed.
When I started hanging around the Rebel Kings, trying out life as a pledge, Stryker watched the shift in me.
He saw how the club gave me a spine, an identity, and a family that didn't abandon you when things got messy.
We patched in together. Years later, when our former President drank himself into an early grave, Stryker stepped up to lead us through the fire.
I stood right by his side, taking the VP patch the day he was unanimously voted in as the new President.
We’ve bled for this club. We’ve built a fortress out of broken pieces. Which is exactly why this smuggling setup feels like a blade between the ribs.
Onyx suddenly slaps a heavy hand against my back, jarring me violently out of the memory. "Earth to Wolf. You still with us, man?"
We spend another hour banging our heads against the wall, running through dead ends and hypothetical suspects, but the trail is cold. I check my watch, realizing it’s pushing 7:30.
Straightening up, I reach for my leather cut. "I gotta run,” I mumble under my breath, hoping no one asks follow-up questions. No such luck.
Phoenix narrows his eyes, a flicker of skepticism crossing his hard features. "Where to?"
"Training the new employee," I say casually, adjusting my cuffs.
Onyx lets out a bored snort, already looking away. But Stryker doesn't look away. He fixes me with an unreadable, razor-sharp stare.
"You can stay for a bit," Stryker says, nodding toward the door. "The warehouse is right next door. You've got time."
"I have to run an errand," I mutter.
Stryker raises a single, knowing brow. "An errand."
I let out a low breath, knowing there's no use dodging it with him. "I need to make sure she has a ride. It's no big deal. I just... I don't want her walking alone in the dark."
The words hang in the air, and instantly, I curse myself.
I think back to stumbling out of my office earlier that morning, waking up with a heavy wool blanket draped across my chest and Hadley nowhere in sight.
I'd cursed myself for falling asleep, and then cursed myself ten times over when I realized she walked back to that seedy, roach-infested motel all alone before sunrise.
Phoenix lets out a sudden, barking laugh. Onyx groans, shaking his head. "A ride? Since when does the VP moonlight as a personal taxi service for data entry clerks?"
Phoenix crosses his arms, grinning like a shark. "Sounds like somebody’s got a soft spot."
I ignore the two asshats entirely, rolling my eyes as I lock my gaze on Stryker. He just sits back, a slow, cocky smirk spreading across his face.
"Just because you fell hard and fast for your woman, doesn't mean I'm going to do the same," I snap, pointing a finger at him.
Phoenix’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "So, there is a woman, then? Just not your woman?"
I groan, rubbing the back of my neck, while Onyx snorts a laugh.
"Fuck you, all of you," I grunt, turning on my heel and walking out.
Laughter follows me right out the heavy clubhouse door, but I drown it out with the deafening roar of my bike engine.
Call me what you want. I don't care. There is no chance Hadley is walking alone at night anymore.
She might not be mine—she can't be, she's an employee, a sweet young woman caught in my orbit—but she deserves to feel safe.
And sure, playing chauffeur might be way above and beyond my job description, but...
but nothing. I'm out of excuses for why my chest tightens every time I think about her.
I know I can't have feelings for her. I don't trust anyone outside of my brothers. After watching a hundred relationships explode in my father's face, I swore off love and domestic life decades ago. I refuse to turn into a bitter, broken old fool who is angry at the world and everyone in it.
I tear down the wet pavement on my bike, pulling up outside the Royal Motel a few minutes later. As I scan the dozen or so run-down doors, a dark, protective wave of pure possessiveness rolls over me, so heavy it physically hurts. Which room is she in?
This place is dangerously exposed. The exterior looks like it’s made of balsa wood, and the single-pane windows would shatter if a stiff breeze looked at them wrong. I wonder if any of the locks work on the room doors.
The more I study the drab, unclean, unsafe environment, the more my blood boils.
Hadley does not belong here. I picture her bright smile, her soft voice, the way she effortlessly dismantled my bad mood yesterday.
I’ve only spent a handful of hours with her, yet my brain has been hijacked by thoughts of her red hair, creamy skin, and the curves that draw me in like a beacon.
As if my thoughts conjured her out of thin air, the door at the very end of the breezeway opens, and Hadley steps out.
My chest seizes. The end room. She’s doubly unprotected, hanging out at the dead end of the building where nobody in the office would ever hear her if she screamed.
My protective streak snaps my control in half. Before I can even process the movement, I cut the engine, stride across the pavement, and practically snarl her name.
"Hadley!"
She jumps, letting out a startled shriek and spinning around. But I’m already on a roll, my temper flaring hot and fast.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I bark, closing the distance between us. "You left yesterday without telling me. You walked home alone in the dark. You picked the worst, most dangerous hole-in-the-wall in this damn town to sleep in—"
The rest of my rant dies in my throat when I look down and see her face. Her brown eyes are flashing with a volatile mix of fury, confusion, and deep-seated shame.
"I've been taking care of myself and my family for a very long time before you came into my life," Hadley fires back, her voice shaking slightly.
She stands her ground, crossing her arms. "I assessed the risks versus rewards of staying at the Royal Motel, and right now, saving every penny I earn is the goal. So excuse me for trying to survive!"
I stand there, taking a second too long to absorb the punch of her words.
She doesn't wait for me to recover. She steps right up to me, plants a soft hand firmly on her hip, and points a trembling finger straight at my chest.
I stare down at her in disbelief. This five-foot-four, twenty-something, curvy redhead with adorable freckles scattered across her nose is scolding me. Again. That’s twice in two days she has dressed me down without blinking.
Instead of pissing me off, it hooks into my chest with a vicious, intoxicating pull.
She isn't just a sweet, shy angel; she has the heart of a warrior and the grit of a survivor.
Hadley has hidden layers, and for the first time in my life, I don't just want to know someone…
I need to. Every second I spend looking at her, that need digs deeper into my bones.
"You don't know me," she continues, her voice rising, thick with defensive pride. "You don't know my life, you have no right to tell me where to live, and I don't need your help! I've spent my entire life protecting everyone else, so I am perfectly fine taking care of myself!"
By the time she finishes, she’s trembling from head to toe, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.
The anger bleeds out of me, replaced by a hollow ache in my chest. I move slowly, keeping my eyes locked on hers so I don't startle her. When I reach out, I take the hand she was just using to scold me, gently wrapping my large fingers around her small, soft hand.
She looks up at me, all the fight draining out of her, leaving behind raw, naked vulnerability. Hadley is blinking furiously, trying desperately to hold her tears back.
I lean down, giving her all the space she needs to pull away if she wants to. She doesn't.
I tug her just a fraction closer, until my lips brush against the sensitive shell of her ear. My voice drops to a rough, low gravel.
"Who has been protecting you though?"
Her breath hitches, sharp and audible. Before she can find her voice to answer, I turn toward my bike, keeping a firm, gentle hold on her hand, leading her with me.
"Get on," I instruct, throwing my leg over the saddle.
She hesitates, starting to protest. "Wolf, I can—"
I rev the throttle, the deep rumble shaking the pavement, and before she can argue further, I wrap her arms securely around my waist and pull her flush against my back. I kick up the stand and rocket out of the parking lot into the cool night air.
A sharp, startled yelp escapes her lips as we accelerate, her grip tightening around my torso in a death-grip. I brace for her to panic, but a second later, a pure, unadulterated whoop of exhilaration bursts from her throat.
A grin rips across my face. I crank the throttle further, taking a wide, winding, roundabout route through the coastal backroads toward the warehouse. She buries her face into my back, clinging to me with every turn, her body shaking with bright, ringing laughter.
God, it feels incredible. The friction of her soft curves pressed against my spine, the heat of her body bleeding through my leather, the sound of her joy cutting right through the dark… it makes my head spin. Every sensory detail of her is burned directly into my skin.
When we finally slide to a stop outside the warehouse, I cut the engine and swing off, turning to help her down.
Her pulse is visibly pounding in the hollow of her throat, her cheeks flushed a bright, rosy pink, and her brown eyes blazing with wild, beautiful adrenaline. She flashes me a smile so bright it nearly blinds me.
"That was amazing," she breathes, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I didn't have a single thought or worry the entire ride. That... that never happens to me."
She takes a step forward to dismount the rest of the way, but her knees suddenly buckle beneath her.
I’m moving before my brain can even catch up. My arm shoots out, catching her around the waist and pulling her hard against my solid frame to keep her steady. She stumbles, her hands instinctively pressing flat against my chest to catch herself.
Hadley tilts her head up, looking right at me, and I’m hit square in the chest with the full, unshielded force of her radiant beauty. I flash a slow, wicked grin, tilting my head down toward hers. "That's why I like to ride, too. The rest of the world just fades away."
She swallows hard, nodding slowly, a few loose strands of vibrant red hair falling out of her braid to frame her flushed face.
Clack.
The heavy metal side door of the warehouse swings open with a sharp bang. We both snap out of our daze, springing apart like we’ve been burned. One of the day-shift guys is walking out, signaling the official start of the night shift.
Normally, I only show my face during the day, and even then, only long enough to check manifests before heading out to handle club business.
But with Hadley inside those walls, my place is right here.
My body made that decision for me twenty-four hours ago; my stubborn mind is just finally catching up.
We head in side-by-side. I walk her back to my office, get her settled at the desk, and then tell her I need to check on things in the back.
In reality, I just need to escape for five minutes.
I need to take a deep breath and come to terms with what this woman is doing to me without even trying.
She’s dismantling my impenetrable walls brick by brick, showing me her fierce, unbreakable strength alongside her quiet, tender vulnerabilities.
And looking at her makes me want to do the same.