Page 102 of Claimed By the Bikers

“My eyes are on each and every one of you. One whiff of illegal dealing—just a whisper of criminal activity—is all I need to throw your ass in federal prison for the rest of your natural life.” The threat carries real weight, backed by the full authority of thefederal government and delivered by someone with the power to make it happen.

I step closer, close enough that our conversation becomes private despite the audience watching from both sides. “Director Lake,” I say quietly, “I’ve been running legitimate businesses in Wolf Pike for fifteen years. I employ local people, contribute to the community, and pay my taxes on time every year. If you want to investigate my operations, you’re welcome to try. But you’ll find exactly what Agent Hayes found—a restaurant that serves good food and a man who takes care of his neighbors.”

“And if I find something else?”

“You won’t. Because there’s nothing else to find.”

She holds my gaze for a long moment, searching for cracks in my composure. Finding none, she steps back and addresses the assembled bikers. “This investigation is concluded pending forensic confirmation of Agent Hayes’ death. All personnel will withdraw from Wolf Pike immediately.”

“Understood,” Ben says, though his voice carries clear reluctance.

“However,” Lake continues, “this area remains under federal monitoring. Any suspicious activity, any hint of criminal enterprise, will result in immediate task force deployment with full tactical support.”

“Noted,” I reply.

She turns to walk back toward her vehicle, then pauses. “Oh, and Mr. Bishop?”

“Yes?”

“Give my condolences to Agent Hayes’ family. Losing someone that young is always a tragedy.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

The federal convoy pulls away as slowly as it arrived, black SUVs disappearing down Main Street like a retreating army. Within minutes, Wolf Pike returns to its normal afternoon quiet—just a mountain town going about its business, with fifty bikers providing an unusually colorful tourist attraction.

Rick approaches, exhaling cigarette smoke through a satisfied grin. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“Better than I hoped,” I agree. “No shots fired, no arrests, and they’re officially closing the investigation.”

“What about the forensic analysis?”

“It’ll confirm that Special Agent Natalie Hayes died in an industrial accident while investigating our operations. Case closed, file archived, threat neutralized.”

“And your girl?”

“Gets to live the rest of her life as Ember Bishop-McKenzie-Delacroix. Three names, three fathers, and the protection of the Black Wolves MC.”

Rick nods, grinding his cigarette under his boot. “Speaking of protection, we should probably discuss permanent security arrangements. Los Serpientes are still out there, still pissed about their dead soldiers.”

“Agreed. But first, we need to bring our woman home.”

“She’s safe with Rowan and the kids. Black Dog compound’s as secure as any place in the county.”

“I know. But she belongs here, with us.”

“Then let’s go get her.”

As the last federal SUV disappears around the mountain curve, I feel something I haven’t experienced in years. Not just victory, but completion. The twenty-year rift between me and my MC brothers is finally healed. The federal threat to our family has been neutralized. And somewhere across town, the woman carrying our child waits for us to bring her home.

Time to reclaim what’s ours.

31

EMBER

Three daysof hiding at Black Dog compound, and I’m losing my mind.

Rowan’s house is beautiful—spacious, secure, filled with the laughter of a three-year-old who doesn’t understand that his temporary houseguest is supposed to be dead. James toddles around, discovering the world one dangerous adventure at a time.