Page 17 of Heart of Stone (Stoneheart MC #1)

HAWK

D uck’s office is a cluttered sanctuary of old-school grit and stubborn independence.

The walls are a patchwork of grease-stained posters, faded photos of muscle cars, and a calendar stuck on a year long past. A battered desk dominates the small room, its surface littered with a mismatched collection of tools, unpaid bills, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey that’s likely seen more action than the coffee mug beside it.

A fan in the corner sputters noisily, barely stirring the warm, oil-scented air, while the overhead light flickers faintly, casting uneven shadows across the floor.

The leather chair behind the desk creaks under Duck’s weight, worn patches and scuffed arms telling tales of countless late nights spent balancing books and fending off threats to his little slice of turf.

A stack of faded blueprints leans precariously against a filing cabinet, and the faint hum of a radio playing classic rock fills the silence when conversations die.

Despite the chaos, the space has a certain charm—gritty, no-nonsense, and unapologetically Duck.

The fact he’s called Axel and me in doesn’t bode well.

“Got this earlier today.” Duck tosses the envelope onto his desk. “Two million. Cash.”

Axel whistles low, picking up the offer letter. “That’s a lot of green for a garage in this neighborhood.”

“That’s because it ain’t about the garage.” I study Duck’s face. The old timer is pissed. “Summit wants the land.”

“Bingo.” Duck drops into his chair, the leather groaning under his weight. “Got a visit yesterday. Real smooth talker in an expensive suit. Said the neighborhood’s ‘evolving.’ That I should get out while the getting’s good.”

“Sounds gentle enough,” Axel says, his tone light.

“Oh, it wasn’t.” Duck pulls a second bottle of whiskey from his bottom drawer, not bothering with glasses as he takes a swig. “Mentioned how it’d be a shame if the city found code violations. How insurance rates are going up in ‘high-risk areas.’”

I catch the bottle he tosses my way. “Same playbook they’re using on the residents.”

“Yep.” Duck leans forward, his chair creaking. “But here’s what’s got me thinking—they’re moving too fast. Three months ago, they weren’t even in town. Now they’re throwing around millions like it’s nothing.”

“Money like that doesn’t appear overnight,” I say, rolling the bottle between my palms. “Not clean money, anyway. Those rumors about the cartel might be closer to the truth than we thought.”

Axel moves to the window, watching the garage floor below. “Lee says they’re bringing in workers from out of state. Whole crews. Setting up temp housing at the old factory site.”

“Before permits?” Duck’s eyebrows shoot up.

“That’s the thing.” Axel turns back to us. “Permits are flying through city hall. Projects that should take months to approve are getting rubber-stamped in days.”

“The mayor’s been spotted at the country club with Summit’s CEO,” I add. “Real cozy from what our prospects report.”

Duck snorts. “Roberts wouldn’t know honest money if it bit him in the ass. But still—why here? Why now?”

“Location.” Axel pulls out his phone, bringing up a map. “Look at it. Highway access. Rail line runs right behind the neighborhood. And those old mining tunnels underneath?—”

“Perfect for moving things you don’t want found,” I finish.

“Exactly.” Axel’s face is grim. “Plus, they’re targeting specific properties. The Wilson place? Old factory? Duck’s garage? They form a corridor.”

“A pipeline,” Duck mutters. “Jesus.”

“But for what?” I stand, restless energy making it hard to sit still. “Drugs? Weapons?”

“Whatever it is, they need it done fast.” Axel traces the route on his phone. “They’re not just buying properties—they’re isolating them. Utilities getting cut, road work blocking access, health code violations appearing out of nowhere.”

“Wearing people down,” Duck says. “Making them desperate to sell.”

“Making them disappear,” I correct. “No witnesses, no questions.”

The office falls silent except for the sputtering fan and the distant sound of engines being worked on. Through the window, I see Andi bent over a motorcycle, her movements precise and focused.

“Your girl’s place is right in their path,” Duck says quietly.

“She’s not my—” I stop at Duck’s knowing look. “I know.”

“They’ll come for her next,” Axel warns. “Put pressure on the landlord.”

“I’ve got it covered.”

“You better,” Duck says grimly. He pulls another envelope from his desk. “Had my lawyer draw up these papers this morning. Transferring forty-nine percent ownership of the garage to the club.”

I stare at the papers Duck’s tossed on the desk. Forty-nine percent. He’s giving up control of something he’s built from nothing.

“Duck—” I start.

He holds up a hand. “Before either of you start, this ain’t charity. And I’m not retiring.” He jerks his thumb toward the garage floor. “Got too many projects. Too many good people depending on this place.”

“Why now?” Axel asks, picking up the papers.

“Because I’m not stupid.” Duck leans back, the chair groaning in protest. “Summit’s got reach. Deep pockets. If something happens to me?—”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” I cut in sharply.

“If something happens,” Duck continues, ignoring me, “Maggie’d be left holding the bag. She’s tough as nails, but she shouldn’t have to deal with their kind of pressure.”

Axel scans the documents, his expression thoughtful. “Split ownership makes it harder to sell. They’d need club approval.”

“And we don’t approve shit without a vote,” I add, already seeing where this is going.

“Exactly.” Duck’s eyes crinkle. “Plus, gives me an excuse to keep you idiots in line. Make sure my investment’s protected.”

I snort. As if Duck needs an excuse to bust our balls.

“There’s more.” He pulls out another set of papers. “Been thinking about expanding. That lot next door’s been empty since the hardware store went under. Could double our workspace, add more bays.”

“Add more mechanics,” Axel says slowly. “More eyes on the street. We’ll need to get in before Summit.”

Duck nods. “I already put in an offer last week.”

I study the old-timer, impressed despite myself. He’s thought this through.

“Stone know about this?” I ask.

“Called him this morning. He’s on board, pending club vote.” Duck’s expression turns serious. “Look, boys. This garage? It’s more than just a business. It’s family. Community. People come here when they need help, not just with their cars.”

I turn away, watching one of the junior mechanics showing Andi something on an engine. She laughs, rubbing a hand across her forehead before bending over to point something out.

The sight of her hits me like a physical blow—both the curve of her ass in those coveralls and her easy joy. Her laugh hasn’t been directed at me since that night on my bike.

Christ, that ride .

She'd felt perfect pressed against my back, her thighs gripping mine, her arms wound tight around my waist. I remember how she'd let down her guard just for a moment. How she’d allowed me to glimpse who she was underneath the walls she’d erected so high.

Those fucking walls. I'd give anything to tear them down, to find the woman underneath all that ice and independence. To be the one she lets in, the one she learns to trust.

Watching her now, laughing with someone else, strikes something possessive in my chest. It's more than just wanting her body, though God knows I do. I want her smiles, her trust, her heart. Want to be the one she turns to, the one who gets to see her soft and unguarded.

But she's got three kids depending on her, a life she's carved out on her own terms. She doesn't need some biker with too much baggage complicating things.

Except... maybe that's exactly what she needs. Someone to share the load, to have her back, to love those kids like they deserve. Someone to show her she doesn't have to do it all alone.

I could be that someone. If she'd let me.

The thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels right. Like pieces clicking into place.

"...more than just a business," Duck is saying, his words pulling me back to the conversation. "It's family. Community. People come here when they need help, not just with their cars."

He shook his head. “Summit doesn’t understand this community. They see property values, development opportunities. They don’t see the lives they’re trying to destroy.”

“We won’t let them,” Axel says firmly.

“Damn straight.” Duck pulls out three glasses from his bottom drawer, pouring a measure of whiskey in each—guess we’re done with drinking straight from the bottle.

“You didn’t bring us here just for this,” I say, turning to look at him. “What do you need from us?”

He chuckles. “Sharp as a tack. You’re right. Stone wants you and Axel to lead the project.” He slides the glasses across the desk. “You boys in?”

I pick up the whiskey, thinking about everything this place means. About the people who depend on it. About a certain mechanic who’s carved out her own place here.

“Fuck it,” I say.

Axel raises his glass. “To family.”

“To fighting dirty,” Duck adds with a grin.

“To riding free.”

We clink glasses, then drink deep.

“Now,” Duck says, settling back in his chair. “Make yourself useful and give Andi this.” He shoves a clipboard with papers across the desk. “And for god’s sake, pull your head out of your ass and claim her. I’ve worked too hard on that girl for you to fuck it up.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve worked too hard?”

Duck snorts. “Three years, I’ve watched that girl rebuild herself. Started at the bottom, fought her way up. Never asked for help, never complained.” He leans forward. “You know how many guys in this town tried to get her attention? How many assholes I had to run off?”

“That why you put her in the back bay?” Axel asks, grinning. “Protecting your investment?”

“Damn straight. Girl’s got talent. Natural feel for engines you can’t teach.” Duck’s expression turns serious. “But she’s got trust issues.”