Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Goldie
By the time the sun disappeared behind the buildings outside, my eyes had started crossing.
I’d spent the entire afternoon and evening sitting at the long table with everyone else, flipping through page after page of deeds, permits, inspection reports, tax records, handwritten notes, and copies of copies that somehow raised more questions than they answered.
Unfortunately, they didn’t provide any answers.
I found more signatures from Gene and Hollis Kettler. More paperwork connecting properties. More names. More dates.
Nothing that explained why people were willing to shoot at bikers, burn buildings, or threaten anyone who got too close.
The Ledger still had us beat.
Twister finally called it.
“We’re done for tonight.” Nobody argued. Even Method looked relieved.
Podge stacked papers into neat piles while Rev closed another notebook. Sully rubbed both hands over his face. Cord let out a groan loud enough to make everyone laugh.
“I never thought paperwork could kick my ass,” he muttered.
“It didn’t,” Gramps said as he stood. “Goldie did.”
Everyone looked at me. “What?”
“You read twice as fast as the rest of us,” Plug said.
“And remember where everything is,” Chewy added.
“I have a weird brain.”
Twister smirked. “No complaints here.”
Tempi disappeared into the kitchen before popping her head back out. “Coffee’s officially cut off.”
A chorus of disappointed groans answered her. “You’ll survive.”
“I don’t know,” Hodge deadpanned. “I’ve become attached.”
She rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, boys.”
One by one, everyone started drifting away.
I gathered the last folder into a stack before stretching my back. Every muscle protested.
It made absolutely no sense.
I’d spent twelve hours sitting. How did sitting hurt this much?
Wheels appeared beside me without saying a word and lifted the heaviest stack before I could.
“I’ve got it.”
“I know.”
He carried it anyway.
We put everything in the office where Twister wanted it for the morning before I finally admitted defeat. “I’m done.”
His grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Time for bed, babe.”
Best suggestion I’d heard all day. I muttered goodnight to everyone and headed toward the stairs. Behind me, boots followed.
I should have probably told Wheels I planned to collapse face-first into my mattress and sleep until someone physically dragged me out of bed tomorrow. Instead, I didn’t have the energy.
If Wheels wanted to walk me upstairs and spend another night sleeping in that uncomfortable chair outside my room, more power to him.
The stairs felt twice as long as they had that morning.
Halfway up, Britta leaned over the upstairs railing. “Night, Goldie!”
I looked up. “Night!”
“Wheels!”
“Yeah?” he grunted.
“You better actually sleep tonight.”
“No promises.”
She pointed a finger at him. “I mean it.”
He laughed. “I heard you.”
She disappeared back toward her room, still muttering something about stubborn bikers.
I couldn’t help smiling.
We reached my door; I opened it and didn’t bother with the light. The room was dark except for the faint glow filtering through the curtains from the streetlights outside.
Perfect.
I walked straight to the bed and did a perfect face plant. The mattress caught me with a soft whoosh, and I didn’t even bother taking off my shoes.
Behind me, Wheels chuckled.
I lifted my face just enough to mumble into the comforter. “Shu’ up.”
“What?”
I groaned louder. “I said shut up.”
“No idea what you just said, babe.”
Babe.
The single word rolled through me far more than it should have. Heat crept into my cheeks and thankfully, my face was buried in the mattress where he couldn’t see it.
I wasn’t sure why I liked hearing him call me that. Maybe because it sounded so natural coming from him. Maybe because nobody had ever said it quite like that before. Whatever the reason, I liked it.
I turned my head enough to breathe. “That was a long day of sitting on my butt, hunched over a table.”
I finally looked over toward him.
He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, and one shoulder resting against the frame. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re right about that, babe. I’m more sore than I am after riding all day.”
“I didn’t know paperwork required this much physical endurance.”
“It doesn’t.”
“No?”
“No. You just worked harder than the rest of us.”
I snorted. “I sat.”
“You noticed things we didn’t.”
“I noticed signatures.”
“You noticed patterns.”
There was a difference. I hadn’t thought much about it until he pointed it out. “I guess.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
I stared at him for a second. “You always this nice?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
His grin widened. “You’re special.”
My stomach did a funny little flip, and I decided not to examine it too closely. “I think you’re just trying to butter me up.”
“You caught me.”
He nodded toward the bed. “You need sleep.”
“I know.”
“You plan on falling asleep with your shoes on?”
“...Maybe.”
“Babe.”
“I at least need to change, okay?”
“There you go.”
I pushed myself upright with considerably more effort than dignity.
Then I rolled off the bed and immediately, my foot caught on the pile of dirty clothes I had dropped there yesterday.
“Oh—” The room tilted, and before I could hit the floor, strong hands caught me, one around my waist and the other around my arm.
My breath caught, and his body stopped mine before I could stumble another inch.
For one suspended second, neither of us moved.
My palms rested against his chest, solid and warm, while his fingers flexed lightly against my waist, just holding me.
Close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him. Close enough that I caught the clean scent of soap mixed with leather.
I slowly lifted my eyes and his were already on mine. Neither of us said anything.
The room suddenly felt very quiet, and my heartbeat sounded embarrassingly loud.
His gaze dropped for the briefest second to my mouth and then back to my eyes. A rush of anticipation rolled through me. I didn’t even realize I’d leaned forward until I noticed how little space remained between us.
Just another inch, maybe two.
I wanted to know what it felt like if he kissed me. The thought arrived so suddenly it stole my breath.
His thumb shifted slightly against my side.
Everything inside me wanted those last inches to disappear.
Instead, he took one slow breath. “You should get some sleep.” The words were quiet and gentle, but they broke whatever had settled between us.
He eased me back onto my own feet, and the warmth disappeared.
“So should you,” I managed.
He nodded once. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Was it just me? Had I imagined all of that? Maybe he hadn’t felt anything. Maybe I’d built the whole moment into something it wasn’t because I was exhausted.
I stepped back. “So...”
“So.” He turned toward the door.
“Wait,” I called.
He looked back.
“Are you still sleeping in the chair?” I asked.
“I’m right outside the door if you need me.”
I frowned. “You can’t keep sleeping in a chair.”
“I’ll survive.”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“If you think you need to stay that close to me,” I said, “then sleep in here.”
He blinked.
“I mean sleep,” I quickly clarified. “Actual sleeping.”
His expression didn’t change. “Goldie—”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sleeping in your room.”
“Why not?” I asked, taking a step closer to him.
“Because.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m staying outside.”
I crossed my arms. “No.”
He looked almost amused. “You done?”
“Not even close.”
“Goldie.”
“You and this entire club have spent the last several days telling me what to do.”
“For good reason.”
“Maybe,” I slightly agreed. I pointed at him. “But this time I’m telling you what to do.”
His eyebrows climbed.
“You are going to sleep in this room.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
His grin finally escaped. “You always this stubborn?”
“I learned from the best.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“It is tonight.”
He sighed. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know you’ll be fine.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that you’re sleeping in a chair.”
“I’ve slept in worse places,” he insisted.
“I believe that.”
He folded his arms. “I’m staying outside.”
“And I’m not taking any answer other than you getting into bed with me.”
His eyes searched mine long enough that I wondered if I’d pushed too hard.
Finally, he let out a slow breath. “...Fine.”
Victory.
“But.”
There was always a but.
“I keep my boots on.”
I stared.
“And I’m sleeping on top of the covers.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I laughed.
“It keeps things simple.”
I wanted to argue. Instead, I went with it. “Fine, I’ll take it.” I grabbed my pajamas from my bag. “I’m changing before I pass out.”
He nodded toward the hallway. “I’ll stay here.”
I hurried into the bathroom before my brain had time to overthink anything.
Five minutes later, I’d brushed my teeth, washed my face, changed into an oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts, and tied my hair into a messy braid. I looked exhausted and totally felt it.
When I walked back into the bedroom, Wheels looked up. “I’ll be right back.”
He slipped past me toward the bathroom, and I tossed my clothes into the corner. I climbed under the blankets, and the mattress felt heavenly. I pulled the comforter all the way up to my chin and tried very hard not to smile.
Wheels was sleeping in my room. Just sleeping, but still… I liked knowing he was there.
A few minutes later, he returned. He’d washed up but otherwise looked exactly the same.
Boots. Jeans. T-shirt.
He reached over and switched off the light. Darkness settled over the room, and the mattress shifted as he carefully stretched out beside me.
True to his word, he stayed on top of the blankets, boots and all.
I glanced sideways. “You really meant it.”
“I usually do.”
“I thought maybe you’d reconsider.”
“Nope.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I laughed.
“I’ve been called worse, and I like to be prepared. God knows what is going to happen around here anymore.”
We lay there in silence, both staring at the ceiling.
After a minute, I spoke. “Is this how you thought things were going to go when you moved to Madison?”
He turned his head slightly. “You mean sleeping in bed with my boots on?”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it. “I mean... yeah, but also this whole thing with The Ledger.”
He thought about it for several seconds. “No.”
“No?”
“I expected some pushback.”
“From the city?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
He folded one arm behind his head. “New motorcycle club moves into town? Figured somebody would complain. Maybe local businesses wouldn’t like us.”
“Normal stuff.”
“Exactly.”
“But not this.”
He shook his head. “Nothing like this.”
I stared back at the ceiling. “I keep wondering what they’re protecting.”
“So do we.”
“It has to be something big.”
“It is.”
“You really believe that.”
“I do.”
I yawned. “So do I.”
Another quiet settled over us.
“I’m glad you came to us,” he said quietly.
I smiled into the darkness. “So am I.”
“You don’t have to figure it out alone anymore.”
For the first time since this whole nightmare had started, I believed them.
My eyelids grew heavier, and the mattress felt warmer. Safer.
I heard Wheels shift just enough to get comfortable.
“I hope,” I murmured sleepily, “you sleep better in a bed than you do in a chair.”
A soft chuckle came from beside me. “I’ve got a feeling I will.”
I smiled. “Even if you’re wearing your boots.”
The last thing I remembered was the steady sound of his breathing only a few feet away.
For the first time in weeks, falling asleep didn’t feel hard. It just happened.