Page 41 of Heat (The Royal HArlots MC, Quebec City-Canada #1)

It took the Harlots a solid month to rebuild their system, making it stronger—more secure—than the one that had been breached. Fifi, after running a dozen stress tests and simulating multiple attacks, finally leaned back in her chair with a satisfied grin.

“No one’s getting in this time,” she’d said. And Diamond believed her.

Now, Diamond sat at the long table in the chapel, listening as Fifi explained every detail that had gone into rebuilding the system—new firewalls, multi-layered encryption, a rotating VPN that changed locations every hour. It was a fortress wrapped in code.

During that month, they’d reached out to every single person they worked with—the safehouses, the underground transporters, the scattered allies who helped them move abused individuals to safety.

They’d owned up to the breach, made it clear it had been the work of a single individual, and laid out everything they were doing to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

Some understood immediately. Others understood, but were still rightfully upset. Trust was fragile in their line of work, and any crack in the foundation could send everything crumbling.

But not one person had said they’d stop working with the Harlots.

Maddyn had been instrumental in keeping things calm, acting as a voice of steady reassurance while Diamond focused on patching the pieces back together.

And then, there was Seven.

She’d shown up a week after Diamond returned from Montreal—riding in on a sleek denim-blue Dyna Bob, saddlebags packed tight with everything she owned. No announcement. No warning. Just showed up, parked her bike, and said she wanted to prospect.

Diamond hadn’t given her an answer. Not right away.

She’d let Nova bring it to a vote.

The girls had looked Seven over—sized her up without saying a word—and then, one by one, they’d nodded. Gave her a chance. A shot to prove her worth. The fact she came with the seal of approval from Maddyn went a long way.

And Seven? She’d simply said, “I won’t let you regret it.”

Diamond didn’t know yet if that was true. But something in her gut told her that denim-blue Dyna wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

She hadn’t seen or heard from Sayer in that month, which didn’t surprise her. He was handling his chapter, and she was handling hers. That was the reality of it. Clean lines. Separate lanes.

Still, there were moments—early in the morning or just before she fell asleep—when she’d catch herself wondering if he was okay. If he’d gotten through whatever fire waited for him in Montreal. But she never reached out. And neither did he.

So when the Royal Bastards extended an invitation to a club event at their Montreal clubhouse, Diamond didn’t hesitate. She sent back a polite but firm decline.

There was no reason to play nice. No reason to stay cozied up to the Bastards just for the sake of appearances. The Harlots weren’t a puppet chapter, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to start treating them like one.

Nova didn’t ask questions when Diamond turned the invite down, just gave her a look that said she understood more than she let on.

“Just keeping the circles clean,” Diamond had said, tossing the letter onto her desk like it didn’t mean a thing.

But it had meant something . At least, to her.

She just didn’t let it show.

Diamond wiped off her hands with a dishtowel and picked up the freshly dried plates, stacking them on the counter just as her phone rang. Closing the cabinet, she grabbed her phone and saw Domino calling.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, there’s a problem with the legacy sleeper you took on the last run.”

“What’s the problem with it?”

“Not sure, but Fifi’s about to tear open the console and take the guts out.”

“Tell her to stop and wait for me to get there, Domino.”

“Will do, boss.”

“Not a minute’s peace, not one single minute,” Diamond grumbled, scooping up her bike keys.

Halfway to the door, she turned around, kicked off her monster slippers, and shoved her feet into a worn-out pair of boots. If Fifi tore up that two-hundred-thousand-dollar truck, she’d kill her.

When Diamond arrived at the shop, she keyed in the gate code and drove into the lot. Parking her sled, she climbed off and looked around. Something didn’t feel right.

Where was everyone?

Stepping back, she retrieved a Glock from the saddlebag and shoved it into the waistband of her jeans. Scanning the area, she walked quickly toward the sleeper. The closer she got, the more obvious it became—it was running. Fifi and Domino must be inside.

Relieved, she pulled the door open, climbed inside … and froze.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s been five weeks, sweetheart. Doc says I’m good as new.”

“Sayer. I thought we agreed.”

“Oh, we did. But I’ve got a few unanswered questions.”

Diamond crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. “The answer is no.”

“You know, I think you’re sexy. But with that gun? You’re fucking hot.”

“Sayer.”

“Why’d you tuck tail and run once we got back to Montreal?”

The look on her face must’ve said it all—shock and awe—because she hadn’t tucked tail.

“You said it would be best for me to come back here.”

She watched him stare at her, deadpan.

“You said you had things to take care of. With the chapter. With Teller. Don’t you turn this around on me, you son of a bitch.”

“Hey now, my mom wasn’t a bitch. She was a ho—but she was no bitch.”

“Sorry. You son of a ho , I’m not taking the blame for you chickening out on us .”

There it was. The one thing she hadn’t openly admitted. And now—he had her.

“So there is an us .”

“Well... I mean...”

Before she could finish the thought, Sayer closed the space between them in two long strides.

She didn’t move, didn’t flinch. She just blinked up at him like she wasn’t sure whether to punch him or bolt.

And then he kissed her.

Not tentative. Not asking. Just claiming.

One hand slid to the small of her back, the other curling around her jaw like he’d been starving for the taste of her since the second she left.

Diamond made a noise in the back of her throat—half protest, half surrender—and just like that, the fight in her drained out. Her hands gripped his shirt, knuckles white, like she wanted to push him away but forgot how.

The kiss deepened, heat threading between them like a live wire. When he finally pulled back, she was breathless. Pissed. And completely unraveled.

“You don’t get to do that,” she whispered, eyes stormy.

“Too late.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I already did.”

She should’ve shoved him. Should’ve reminded him she wasn’t some girl waiting around to be swept off her feet.

But her fingers were still fisted in his shirt, and she didn’t let go.

“You make me stupid,” she muttered, hating how her voice came out soft instead of sharp.

“Only for me, baby. Everyone else still gets the brass knuckles.”

That almost made her smile. Almost.

Her forehead dropped against his chest, a sigh slipping out of her lungs like it had been locked up for weeks.

“I hate that I missed you.”

Sayer’s arms came around her like he’d been waiting five weeks to do just that.

“I missed you too. Like hell.”

She let herself stay there, just for a moment—held, warm, and undeniably his.

And when he kissed the top of her head and whispered, “We’re not done, Diamond. Not even close.”

And for once, she didn’t have the energy—or the will—to argue. She just let herself stay in his arms, pressed against the steady rhythm of his chest, breathing him in like she’d been holding her breath since Montreal.

For a minute, there was nothing but the low hum of the engine and the warmth of him wrapped around her. Then, from the front of the cab—just beyond the half-drawn curtains—came a sharp snort of laughter, followed by the unmistakable sound of Fifi giggling.

“Told you she’d cave,” Domino’s voice said, smug and way too loud.

“You owe me twenty,” Fifi whispered.

Diamond groaned and pulled back, burying her face in Sayer’s chest as if she could disappear into it. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Get in line,” Sayer muttered, but he was grinning.

She shoved him lightly in the chest, trying to scowl but failing miserably. “You set me up.”

“Nah.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against her ear. “I just knew how badly you missed me.”

More laughter from the front. Fifi let out a whistle. “Gonna need a mop back there!”

“Okay, that’s it.” Diamond yanked away and stormed toward the cab, murder in her eyes. “Dead. Both of you.”

Sayer just leaned against the wall of the sleeper, arms crossed, watching her go—with that crooked smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing.