Page 37 of Heat (The Royal HArlots MC, Quebec City-Canada #1)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Diamond rolled onto her back; eyes fixed on the ceiling of the truck’s sleeper compartment.

The hum of the idling engine beneath her did little to quiet her thoughts.

She wished she’d stayed in the motel room with Sayer, but there’d been too much testosterone for her liking—too many men pacing, planning, posturing.

She’d needed space. Now she had it, and all she could do was think.

Nova’s questions looped through her head like a broken record. Had she thought the situation with Sayer through? Was she jumping in blindly?

She exhaled sharply through her nose. It wasn’t like her to move without a plan. But Sayer wasn’t a plan—he was a feeling. A gut-pull. A risk wrapped in temptation. And maybe, just maybe, she was tired of being cautious.

Tossing off the covers, Diamond rolled into a sitting position and planted her feet on the floor.

The cold tile grounded her, a sharp contrast to the heat still clinging to her skin from sleep.

She welcomed it. It cut through the fog in her mind, gave her something real to focus on—something that wasn’t Sayer.

A sharp knock on the cabin door made her jump. Glancing at her phone, Diamond realized it was later than she thought—ten a.m., to be exact. She must have slept, even though it felt like she’d barely closed her eyes.

Shoving off the bed, she crossed the small space and unlocked the door. Standing outside was Teller, holding two cups of coffee.

She stepped back to let him in. “Please tell me one of those is for me.”

“Nope. I’m a two-cup-a-day fiend.” He chuckled as disappointment washed over the pretty blonde’s face. “I’m kidding.”

Diamond smiled and took the cup he handed her. “Thanks.” She sipped, savoring the warmth before asking, “Any word on when Sayer gets released?”

“They’re working on his discharge papers now. Should be an hour, maybe two.”

“I guess I need to get dressed so I can start getting things ready.”

Teller set his cup down on the small counter. His next words were going to be blunt, maybe even offensive, but he figured it had to be said. “I think we should take Sayer home. You can head back to Quebec City and handle club business.”

Diamond didn’t miss a beat. “Is that what Sayer wants?”

When Teller didn’t answer, her expression hardened. “Then we’ll let him decide. He’s a grown man, last I checked.”

So much for the Bastards having her back. She’d thought after the hospital room, Teller was good with things. She opened the door and looked at him with polite finality. “I need to get dressed.”

Teller hesitated, then nodded and stepped out.

Diamond didn’t scream or shout. She stayed quiet as she got dressed. Teller hadn’t argued about letting Sayer decide for himself. That made her nervous. Had he sent Teller to soften the blow?

The thought deflated her. “Fuck it,” she muttered. If Sayer wanted her to leave without him, he could damn well say it to her face and not hide behind his president.

Pulling on clean clothes, she took her time. Not out of vanity—just to feel like herself again. To armor up.

When she finally stepped out of the truck, the walk to his room felt shorter than it had the night before. Maybe because she wasn’t dragging hope behind her this time.

She was ready for it to be over. Ready to hit the road, get back to her chapter, and start piecing together what this one mission had wrecked.

As for her and Sayer… they’d be what they’d be.

Maybe something. Maybe nothing. But she wasn’t chasing it.

The hospital lobby was quiet—too quiet for a place full of people trying to survive. Diamond kept her head down, moving past nurses and patients without making eye contact. She wasn’t here to make friends.

She hit the elevator button and waited; arms crossed tight across her chest. The doors slid open with a dull chime, and she stepped inside, alone.

The ride up was short, but the silence stretched, pressing in around her like a closing fist. She stared at the glowing numbers above the door, jaw clenched, heart ticking faster the closer she got.

What if he’d made up his mind already? What if she walked in there and it was over before it began?

When the doors opened, she stepped into the hallway, boots echoing softly against the sterile tile. The place smelled like antiseptic and something faintly burnt—hospital air that never felt clean no matter how much bleach they used.

She wondered how people spent their days working in the sterile environment—day after day, week after week. The smell alone assaulted her senses. There was no way she could stay there long term. Still she was thankful for those who did.

She followed the numbers until she found his door. Her hand hovered at the handle for a second too long.

This was Sayer on the other side. Not a soldier. Not the patched-in brother or the man who haunted her nights with smirks and sharp words. Just the man. Bruised, broken, and maybe still trying to decide if she was worth the mess that came with choosing her.

She hated how much she felt for him. How deep it went, how fast. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. They were supposed to finish the job and walk away. Clean. Easy. But nothing about Sayer had ever been easy.

He made her want more when she had no business wanting anything at all. And if this was the end of whatever they were, she needed to hear it from him. Not from Teller. Not from silence. From him.

So, she squared her shoulders, exhaled steadily, and pushed the door open. What she expected was stillness. Maybe tension. A quiet man bracing to end things.

What she got was the opposite.

The room was full—six, maybe seven of the Royal Bastards crammed inside, laughing loud enough to make the nurse down the hall shoot a warning glance. Someone was perched at the end of the bed, another leaning against the window, arms crossed and grinning.

Sayer was propped up with a pillow behind him, a fresh bandage on his side, shirt half-buttoned, and a smirk aimed dead at the guy giving him shit about something she missed on the way in.

“She’s gonna trade you in for a dog that listens better,” one of them was saying.

“Wouldn’t blame her,” Sayer shot back, voice rough but steady. “Dog probably doesn’t come with bullet wounds and trust issues.”

The guys laughed, and Diamond stood frozen in the doorway, caught somewhere between confusion and whiplash.

This wasn’t the man she’d come to fight with. This was the man she cared about, surrounded by the people who clearly cared back.

And suddenly, she didn’t know what to say.