Chapter Four
Goldie
The burger was ridiculous. There wasn’t another word for it.
I had eaten half of it before I realized I’d barely taken a breath between bites. It was messy, greasy, loaded with cheese, and exactly the kind of food I hadn’t known I needed until Tempi set the plate in front of me and told me to eat before I fell over.
I hadn’t argued. I wasn’t stupid.
The beer helped, too.
I didn’t drink much, not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t trust my body not to collapse into a nap right there at the table if I got too comfortable. One long sleep did not magically fix days of fear, stress, and running on fumes.
But the burger? The burger did its part.
I leaned back in my chair and sighed, staring down at the half-eaten masterpiece on my plate. “That might be the best burger I’ve ever had.”
Tempi stood beside Twister with one hand resting on his shoulder. She looked entirely too comfortable in a room full of bikers, bullet holes, and tension. “That good, huh?”
“That good,” I confirmed. I glanced toward the kitchen where Britta was cleaning up. “If you two cook like that at The Badger’s Den, I’ll definitely become a regular.”
Britta’s voice called from the kitchen. “I heard that, and I support this plan.”
Tempi smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sounds good. You’ll just have to wait until we get the place fixed up and open again.”
The easy noise dipped—not fully gone, but enough that I felt it.
Enough that everyone remembered why The Badger’s Den wasn’t open.
Why the clubhouse had plywood over a busted window.
Why Swift was standing by the door like he expected someone to come through it at any second.
Why no one looked fully relaxed, even though everyone had a plate and a beer.
“Fucking Ledger fucked everything up,” Method muttered from the bar.
He sat with Gramps, Nugget, and Sully, all of them close enough to hear every word said at the table. Not that anyone in this room seemed like the type to miss anything.
“No lie there,” Sully said, lifting his beer. “They’ve been a pain in our ass since we rolled into town.”
“Pain in the ass is too nice,” Hodge called from the couch. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees, scowl firmly in place. “They burned the bar, shot at us, screwed with permits, and keep hiding behind paperwork and money. That’s coward shit.”
Rev sat beside him, one boot crossed over his knee. “Coward shit can still kill people.”
Podge, sitting on the other side of Rev with a notebook resting on his thigh, nodded. “And cost a fortune.”
Magnum, behind the bar, leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed. “Podge cares about the money. Shocking.”
“I care about us not going broke because some shadowy group of rich assholes is playing with us,” Podge shot back.
Several heads turned my way. Not all at once, and not in a dramatic way, but enough.
Britta stepped out of the kitchen with a towel in her hand. “The Badger’s Den will be back open soon.”
Swift’s gaze moved to her immediately. “That’s wishful thinking, babe.”
Britta planted a hand on her hip. “No, it’s called positive thinking.”
“It’s called tempting fate,” Swift replied.
She narrowed her eyes. “You are always this cheerful?”
“For you?” His mouth twitched. “Always.”
Tempi looked over her shoulder. “Ignore him. He must have been born suspicious.”
Swift shrugged. “Kept me alive this far.”
“Barely,” Wheels muttered from beside me.
Swift looked at him. “You got something to say?”
“Nope.”
“That sounded like something.”
Wheels lifted his beer and took a drink. “Must’ve been the wind.”
“There is no wind inside,” Gramps said.
“Then it was Nugget.”
Nugget’s head snapped up. “Why am I catching strays?”
“Because you’re sitting there,” Method answered.
“That’s discrimination.”
“Against what?” Chewy asked.
“Handsome men with healthy appetites.”
Hodge groaned. “Jesus Christ.”
The room chuckled again, and I found myself sitting back, watching them.
Really watching them.
This was the Saint’s Outlaws MC.
This was the group I had been told to fear.
The group city officials whispered about in meetings and used as the reason inspections needed to be delayed, permits needed extra review, and paperwork needed to disappear into piles that never moved.
The dangerous outsiders. The criminals. The bikers who were supposedly bringing chaos to Madison.
But this didn’t look like chaos. It looked like family. Loud, foul-mouthed, armed family, but family all the same.
Tempi’s hand stayed on Twister’s shoulder, and every now and then, his fingers brushed over hers like he was checking that she was still there.
Swift hadn’t moved from the door, but his eyes tracked Britta every few seconds.
Hodge looked angry at the world, but when Rev said something low beside him, Hodge leaned in like he trusted the man next to him without question.
Gramps griped. Nugget annoyed everyone. Magnum and Chewy looked like they were pretending not to listen while hearing every single word.
And Wheels? Wheels sat close enough to me that I felt the heat of him. A steady wall of leather, muscle, and calm confidence that kept making my brain do stupid things.
I still had half a mind to run. The thought hadn’t left me.
Not after sleeping.
Not after the burger.
Not after a beer or Tempi’s smile or Wheels standing at the bottom of the stairs like a guard dog with tattoos and attitude.
Running still made sense. Far away from Madison. Far away from The Ledger. Far away from every name I had found on those documents and every person who had looked me in the eye and lied like breathing.
I could leave. I could disappear. Change my phone. Empty what little savings I had. Drive until my car ran out of gas or courage.
Except my car was sitting in a field driveway somewhere outside Madison, and my sister lived here.
Novalea was still here.
My life was still here.
Twister shifted in his chair. The room changed before he said a word.
I didn’t know how else to describe it. One second, there was joking and eating and men yelling about burgers. The next, every bit of attention turned toward the man at the head of the table.
President.
Tempi’s fingers tightened on his shoulder.
Wheels set his beer down.
Swift straightened by the door.
Conversation died.
Twister reached into his cut and pulled out the yellow envelope.
My stomach dropped. There it was. A little bent from being shoved into Wheels’ chest while I was panicking and telling all of them to run, but it still terrified me.
Twister tossed it onto the table between us.
The sound it made was soft. Barely anything, but it landed like a gunshot.
“Since we’re all fed and awake,” Twister said, his voice low and controlled, “it’s time we talk about what’s in this envelope.”
No one moved.
My throat went dry as I looked at the envelope. Then at Twister. Then at Wheels.
Wheels was watching me, not the papers. Of course he was.
Twister leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I looked over what’s in there.”
I didn’t respond.
He tapped one finger against the table, right beside the envelope.
“Permits. Inspection notes. Property transfers. Business filings. Names. Dates. A few handwritten notes that look like they were put together by someone who either knew exactly what they were doing or was terrified enough to write fast.”
My fingers curled around my beer bottle. “That someone was me,” I said quietly.
Twister nodded once. “Figured.”
Gramps set his mug down at the bar. “Hell of a paper trail.”
Podge nodded from the couch. “Messy, but there’s a pattern.”
I looked at him.
He lifted the notebook slightly. “Numbers make patterns. So do names.”
“Of course you noticed that,” Nugget muttered.
Podge ignored him.
Twister kept his eyes on me. “Here’s the problem, Goldie. I don’t know what the fuck any of this has to do with my club.”
Suddenly, everyone was looking at me.
Wheels.
Twister.
Tempi.
Swift from the door.
Britta from near the kitchen.
Method, Gramps, Nugget, and Sully at the bar.
Hodge, Rev, and Podge from the couch.
Magnum and Chewy behind the bar.
All of them waiting. All of them expecting me to finally explain the nightmare I had dragged to their door.
My pulse jumped. For a second, I couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in my ears.
I had made my choice when I walked up to their clubhouse and shoved that envelope into Wheels’ hands. I had made my choice when I ran. And maybe I’d made my choice before that, when I printed the first file I wasn’t supposed to see and started connecting names no one wanted connected.
Wheels shifted beside me, just enough for my shoulder to brush his arm. It was barely anything, but I felt it as a reminder.
I wasn’t in that city office alone anymore.
I wasn’t sitting in my apartment with all the lights off, listening for footsteps in the hall.
I wasn’t driving through the dark with headlights gaining behind me.
I was here, surrounded by men and women who had every reason to throw me out and hadn’t.
Still, my mouth felt glued shut.
Twister waited. No pressure. No yelling. No threats. That somehow made it worse.
“So,” I said, my voice rough. “We’re doing this now?”
Twister nodded once. “Seems like a good time to me.”
I reached for the envelope with fingers that suddenly felt heavier than they had a minute ago.
It was amazing how a stack of papers could change the mood of an entire room.
Five minutes ago everyone had been arguing over burgers and pickles.
Now the only sound was the low hum of the refrigerator behind the bar.
I slid the envelope closer and slowly pulled the papers out, laying them across the scarred wooden table.
“I didn’t steal any originals,” I said. “If I had, someone would’ve known immediately.”
Twister leaned forward, already studying the stacks before I finished talking. “So these are copies.”
I nodded. “Everything I could get my hands on before they realized I was looking.”