Page 11

Emmy

I sighed as I stretched, rolling the stiffness out of my shoulders. It had been a long morning, and I there was still a full day ahead of me. I poured myself a cup of coffee to give me a jolt for the afternoon sessions. I loved my job, but some days seemed endless when I felt as if I were only spinning my wheels with my patients.

Austin was in his usual spot—seated in the waiting room, his ever-watchful gaze scanning the room. He had become a permanent fixture, my self-appointed protector, and no amount of arguing swayed him from shadowing my every move.

I poured a second cup, shaking my head as I stepped out of my office, holding it out to him. “Here. Since you insist on camping out in my waiting room, you might as well be caffeinated.”

Austin arched a brow but took the cup from me. His fingers brushed against mine, sending a flicker of warmth through me that I pretended not to notice. That morning he’d joined me in the shower and almost made us late, but what that man could do with his mouth should’ve been illegal. Although if it were, I’d gladly break the law every damn day.

“Thanks, Doc.” His voice was teasing, but his eyes were warm.

The moment was interrupted as the front door creaked open. I turned and instantly recognized the young man stepping inside. Noah, the same boy Austin had spoken with in the waiting room on his first day. But today something was different.

His hoodie was zipped up tight, his shoulders hunched. A baseball cap was pulled low over his face, but it wasn’t enough to hide the fresh bruising along his cheekbone, the split in his lower lip.

My stomach flipped, and I felt Austin tense beside me. His entire body went rigid, and his grip tightened around the coffee cup, his knuckles turning white.

He saw it too. The bruises. The swollen lip. The haunted look in the boy’s eyes.

For a half-second, I was afraid Austin was going to say something right then and there, but he didn’t. He stayed silent, though his entire body vibrated with anger.

I met his gaze, shaking my head slightly—a silent plea. Not here. Not now.

He gave me the smallest nod. “Hey, Noah. Good to see you again.”

Noah ducked his head lower and mumbled, “Yeah, man.”

I gave Noah a warm smile as if I hadn’t just seen the evidence of what had been done to him. “Come on in,” I said softly.

The boy hesitated, then nodded, following me into the office.

The session went as expected. Noah was guarded, hesitant to share much. He danced around the truth, careful with his words, but I could read between the lines. I could see the exhaustion in his eyes. The weight of carrying more than any kid his age should have to bear.

He lived with his alcoholic father who, when drunk, took it out on Noah for his mother leaving. The only person to rightfully blame was Noah’s father. What I never could understand was why the mother didn’t take Noah with her.

I wanted to press, to push, but I knew better. Trust took time.

So, instead, I let him talk about the things he did want to share, offering him a space that was safe. A place where no one could hurt him.

By the time the session ended, I felt the familiar ache in my chest—the helpless frustration of knowing I couldn’t fix everything, no matter how much I wanted to.

Noah stood to leave, pulling his hood up as if that would somehow make him invisible. Austin was waiting just outside the office.

I barely had time to prepare before his gaze locked on to the boy. The tightness in Austin’s jaw, the fire in his eyes—it was all there.

Noah hesitated, shifting uncomfortably under Austin’s stare.

“See you next time, Noah,” I said gently, giving the boy a reassuring nod.

Noah didn’t respond, just tugged his cap lower and hurried out the door.

As soon as it clicked shut, Austin turned to me.

“That kid, Noah,” he said, voice low and tight. “He’s being abused, isn’t he? His father?”

I couldn’t answer, but I didn’t need to. Austin was sharp. He didn’t miss a damn thing.

I met his eyes, giving him a look—one that said you already know the answer.

Austin swore under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. His silence was heavier than words.

I swallowed, turning back toward my office. “I have to get ready for another patient,” I murmured. “We’ll talk later.”

I didn’t wait for a response before slipping inside, closing the door behind me.

My heart was still pounding. Not because of what I’d seen on Noah’s face, but because of the look in Austin’s eyes.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of sessions and paperwork. I tried to focus, tried to push aside the gnawing feeling in my gut, but it wasn’t easy. Every time I stepped into the waiting room and caught a glimpse of Austin—still seated in the same chair, still watching—I felt that tension coil tighter.

I knew him, and I knew damn well he wasn’t going to let this go.

At exactly five o’clock, I stepped out of my office, rubbing my temples. The long day had drained me, and all I wanted was to go home, take a hot bath, and not think for a few hours.

Austin was already on his feet. “Ready to go?”

I sighed. “So ready.”

I was used to handling tough cases, but Noah’s situation stuck with me. It wasn’t just the fresh bruises on his face—it was the way his shoulders hunched as if expecting another blow at any second, the way his eyes darted to the door as if someone might barge in and drag him out at any moment.

If Noah would give me something that would stick with CPS, I could have him out of that house. Three times I’ve filed a report, and all three times Noah’s dad managed to convince the case worker that he’d been getting into fights with neighborhood kids.

And then there was Austin.

I glanced at him as we stepped out of the building together. He was in full protector mode, his broad shoulders tense, eyes scanning the surroundings like a man who expected trouble. Maybe he did.

I let out a breath, pushing my hair back as I dug for my keys in my purse. “I can drive, Austin.”

“Not happening,” he replied.

I shook my head, but before I could respond, something—someone—caught my attention in the distance. A shadowy figure near the edge of the parking lot, just beyond the dim glow of the streetlights. As he raised his hand, I could see he held something black.

A muffled ping split the air.

Before I could even process the sound, Austin was on me. One second, I was standing beside my car. The next, I was crushed beneath him, his weight forcing the oxygen from my lungs as the glass of my car window exploded above us. Right where I had been standing.

I gasped, heart slamming against my ribs. Austin’s body was tense over mine, shielding me completely. His breath stuttered against my ear, his muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike.

“Stay down,” he ground out. “Somebody is firing at us.”

My pulse was a wild thing. What? “Austin?—”

Another ping , this time missing us by inches, striking the pavement nearby.

Austin moved fast. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me up, shielding me with his body as he hauled me toward the car door.

More shots.

My mind spun as I clung to him. His grip was iron, unyielding as he shoved me into the car, his movements controlled, but furious.

I scrambled over the console, into the passenger seat as Austin climbed in behind me in one smooth motion. “Get down,” he barked as he started the car and put it into drive.

I bent at the waist as I clicked the seatbelt into place while he gunned it out of the parking lot, throwing me back in the seat. With a hand to the back of my head, Austin pushed me down again as we sped away from the chaos. My heart still pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else.

I barely registered the drive or the heated phone call to Tank. Barely processed anything until we pulled into the compound, engines roaring as Austin’s men surged toward us.

Austin killed the engine and was out of the car and around to my side in seconds. He ripped my door open, his face a storm of self-controlled rage. Tank and several more guys rushed out the clubhouse door.

“Find out who the fuck shot at us,” Austin ordered, voice like thunder. “I want every single lead, every name, every goddamn rumor. Get me camera footage of the parking lot.”

His men snapped to attention, Tank already issuing commands into his phone. The compound was suddenly alive with motion, but my world had narrowed to the man standing in front of me.

Austin turned, eyes locking on to mine. They were dark, wild, filled with something murderous. He wasn’t just angry—he was enraged. And underneath all that fury was an undercurrent of fear.

Not for himself. For me.

Without a word, he grabbed my hand and pulled me inside straight to his room. The door slammed shut behind us, and before I could say a damn thing, he was locking it.

“You’re locking me in?”

Austin whirled around, eyes blazing. “Damn right I am. There will be no interruptions or running tonight.”

My pulse kicked up a notch. The anger rolling off of him was palpable, his entire body wound tight. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the room like a caged animal.

“Someone just tried to kill you, Emmy,” he bit out. “That’s not something I take lightly.”

“I know that,” I shot back. “But I can’t just be?—”

“Be what? Careless?” He stepped toward me, towering over me. “Because that’s exactly what you’d be if you left this room. You can’t go back to work, not even with a bodyguard.”

I glared at him, refusing to back down. “I have a life, Austin. A job. Responsibilities.”

“You almost died today!”

His words hit me like a bucket of ice-cold water. I sucked in a desperate breath, my throat constricting. I knew he was right.

I could’ve died.

Austin took another step, his features softer now. “I can’t let that happen, Em. I won’t.” His voice broke as he admitted, “I can’t lose you.”

My chest ached. Damn him. Damn him for making me feel safe. For making me want this—want him.

He was too close, his body radiating heat. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating. And God help me, I liked it. No—I hated that I liked it.

The way he looked at me, all fire and intensity, made my heart beat faster. Made me remember exactly what it felt like to be under him, to feel his hands on my skin, his mouth on mine.

“You can’t just keep me locked in here.”

Austin tilted his head, a slow smirk curving his lips. “You sure about that?”

My breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers trailing down my arm. The simple touch sent a shiver racing down my spine.

Damn him all to hell.

I knew exactly where this was going, and I should stop him. Push him away. Tell him that being with him was a mistake. When his fingers tilted my chin up and his mouth slanted against mine, every single reason flew out the window.

His kiss was punishing, demanding, and I kissed him back just as hard. I shoved at his cut, pushing it off his shoulders, and Austin groaned against my lips. His hands gripped my waist, lifting me as I wrapped my legs around his hips.

He carried me to the bed, dropping me onto the mattress with a roughness that sent a gasp from my lips, but I wasn’t scared. I was burning. There was no hesitancy this time. No careful consideration. There was only need. Desperate. Raw. Consuming. The kind that left no room for doubt. No space for second thoughts.

Austin was on me in an instant, his big hands tugging at my clothes, stripping them from my body without mercy. Fabric whispered against my skin as he ripped me out of whatever barriers remained between us.

His breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling hard as he took me in. I should have felt vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze. But I didn’t. I felt alive. His fingertips trailed over my bare skin, slow at first, then rougher, more urgent. Every touch stoked the flames already burning inside me.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low, the possessiveness sending a tremor straight through my core.

Heat rolled off him, the barely restrained hunger vibrating through his entire being. I wanted to push back. To challenge him. To tell him I didn’t belong to anyone. But the truth was that I was his.

Always had been.

My hands moved on their own, dragging him closer, pulling at his shirt until it was gone, until I could feel his skin against mine. Heat to heat. Pulse to pulse. His lips crashed into mine, and there was nothing soft about it. Nothing careful. It was fierce. Claiming.

He kissed me like he was drowning, like I was the only thing that could keep him above water. And I let him because I needed it too. I needed him everywhere.

Austin’s hands skimmed down my body, over every dip, every curve, before gripping my thighs and spreading me wide beneath him. Then he was there—hot, hard, unyielding—pressing against me, pushing inside.

A sharp inhale.

A moment of stillness.

Then blazing, relentless movement.

I clung to him, nails digging into his back as he drove into me, each thrust deeper, harder, more deliberate than the last. His name was a breathless moan on my lips, a plea, a surrender. His body covered mine, surrounded me, owned me. When the pleasure crashed over me, blinding, shattering, I knew I would never escape him. I didn’t want to. Austin was right—he did own me.

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed, the sheets still warm where Austin had been. The silence in the room was unsettling, a reminder that I was trapped here while he and the Kings handled whatever chaos had erupted overnight.

I wasn’t about to sit around waiting for him. Pulling on jeans and a tank top, I tied my hair into a loose ponytail and headed downstairs. If I was stuck here, I was at least going to get some damn food.

The moment I walked into the bar, I instantly regretted it. It was like stepping into a time machine—one that transported me straight back to the life I had fought so hard to escape.

It didn’t matter that it was early in the morning. In front of me were probably the remnants from a long night of partying. A woman was riding one of the Kings on the couch in the corner, her head thrown back in a moan loud enough to be heard over the blaring rock music. Men. Can’t even be bothered to take it behind closed doors. I rolled my eyes and kept walking. Three women danced on the stage, topless, their only clothing the thin thongs clinging to their hips. They looked exhausted. Men sat back, drinking and watching, their eyes heavy with lust.

At the tables, card games were in full swing. A few of the guys I recognized from years ago nodded respectfully at my presence. Others—newer members or ones who still resented me for walking away from Austin—watched me with thinly-veiled disdain.

I ignored them all. I was used to it.

I pushed through the swinging kitchen doors, the sounds of the bar muffling as I stepped inside. The smell of bacon and grease filled the air, and behind the counter, Candy was flipping pancakes on the griddle.

She smirked when she spotted me. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. “Still running the kitchen, I see.”

She flipped another pancake. “Someone’s gotta keep these heathens fed. What are you doing down here?”

“Hoping for some actual food. Austin’s pickings are slim in his room. If I have to eat dry cereal one more time, I’ll scream.”

She snorted. “Sounds about right.”

Two other women sat at the counter, stirring their coffee in silence. Club girls. I recognized one of them—Star—but the other was new.

I pulled out a stool, sitting down as Candy slid me a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon.

“Long night?” I asked, glancing at the girls.

Star sighed, running a hand through her tangled blonde hair. “Yeah. Long week, actually.”

The other woman, a brunette with dark circles under her eyes, let out a humorless laugh. “Try long life.”

I picked at my food, watching them both. I didn’t usually get involved in club business anymore, but…

“What’s going on?” I asked nonchalantly.

Candy shot me a warning look, but Star just shrugged. “Same shit, different day. Men want one thing, and when they get bored, they move on.”

The brunette nodded. “Some of us get lucky. Some don’t.”

I set down my fork. “Are you safe?”

They both hesitated.

Candy leaned over the counter, practically in my face. “Em, you know how it is. No one’s forcing anyone to be here. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

I exhaled slowly. I had spent years working with people—especially women—who had been used, discarded, and left to pick up the pieces. Some of them found strength and made a life for themselves. Others got stuck in a cycle they couldn’t escape.

I looked at Star. “What do you want?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“If you could do anything—leave, stay, change something—what would it be?”

She looked away, stirring her coffee again. “I don’t want to leave. I have everything I need here, and none of the shit I’ve had to put up with in my life before the club.”

I turned to the brunette. “What about you?”

The woman swallowed hard. “I used to want to be a nurse.”

Something tightened in my chest.

Candy sighed. “Emmy, don’t start. These girls know what they signed up for.”

I met her eyes. “That doesn’t mean they don’t deserve more.”

Silence settled over the kitchen until Star spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “You may not think this is much of a life, but I’ll tell you this. Before being a club whore, I worked three jobs, and my parents used me as a damn punching bag if I didn’t fuck their drug supplier on demand. Besides, I don’t think I’d know how to leave, even if I wanted to.”

Candy’s expression softened, but I felt the weight of those words. I had walked away from this life once. I knew how hard it was.

And now, sitting in this kitchen, listening to the quiet pain in their voices, I realized something.

Maybe it was time for a change.