Page 10 of Property of Blade (Kings of Anarchy MC: Alaska #1)

––––––––

Blade

I t’s been a week since Hannah came to visit, and those damn cookies sat on my counter the whole time, taunting me as an uncomfortable reminder. This morning, I finally broke down, scrubbed the container clean, and decided to return it before I could talk myself out of it.

When I pull up to her place, there’s a silver rental car parked in her driveway. My hand hovers on the door handle, but before I can get out, her front door flies open.

Hannah storms out, her face flushed red with anger, her steps quick and determined. She points at the rental car, and not far behind, some pretty boy stumbles out of her house. From where I’m sitting, he looks as if he’s trying to calm her down, his hands up in some half-assed attempt to hug her.

Hannah shakes her head fiercely, her voice carrying even to where I’m parked. “Go!”

Before I even realize it, I’m out of the truck, vaulting over her fence. My boots hit the ground, and I’m at her side in three strides, towering over the guy before he’s even processed what’s happening.

His eyes narrow as he glances between us, his bravado slipping just a little. “Who the fuck are you?”

Hannah spins, stepping in front of me. “None of your fucking business!” Her tone is sharp enough to cut steel.

The pretty boy sneers, flicking his gaze back to her. “You can have her. She’s damaged goods anyway.”

A growl rumbles from deep in my chest, and I take a step forward, ready to teach him a lesson he won’t forget. But before I can, Hannah turns to me, rising on her toes to meet my eyes.

Her gaze is firm, steady, and filled with something I can’t quite place but respect immediately. “I’ve got this,” she says, her voice low and commanding.

I nod, my fists unclenching as I take a step back. There’s authority in her tone, a quiet strength that’s impossible to ignore. She’s tougher than she looks, and for a moment, I’m impressed as hell.

Hannah spares me the briefest of smiles before squaring her shoulders and turning back to the guy. She takes a deep breath, her voice calm but laced with steel. “Just leave, Travis.”

The guy, Travis, scoffs, his jaw tightening. “We’re not done.”

She shakes her head, her voice resolute. “We so are.”

For a second, he looks like he might argue, but then his shoulders slump. With a muttered curse, he shoves past us and gets into the rental car, slamming the door so hard it rattles. The engine roars to life, and he speeds off without a backward glance.

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by the sound of Hannah exhaling slowly. She turns to me, her hands trembling just slightly as she pushes a strand of hair out of her face.

“Thanks for... whatever that was.” Her voice is softer now, the strength from earlier fading just a little.

“Anytime.” I gesture to the container in my hand. “I, uh, came to return this. Thought maybe we could have coffee.”

Her lips twitch, and despite the tension, she smiles. “Coffee sounds good.” Hannah glances down when a wide grin lights up her face.

“What?” I ask, caught off-guard by her sudden expression.

“I knew she’d like you,” she says, motioning to the gray cat now weaving around my boots.

The cat rubs against my leg, her purring audible even over the distant hum of the wind. Then, as if satisfied with the attention, she pads back inside the house, tail high in the air.

“Grace is a good judge of character,” Hannah adds, her smile softening as she looks up at me.

“Well, that makes one of us,” I tease, earning a quiet laugh. “And don’t apologize for him,” I add, nodding toward the driveway where the rental car had disappeared. “To me, it seemed like you handled him just fine.”

Her eyes light up with a mix of pride and disbelief. “I did, didn’t I?” She rocks back on her heels, clearly impressed with herself.

“Yep,” I confirm with a slight grin.

“So...” Her voice turns playful, her head tilting as she watches me. “Does this mean I’m cooking you dinner too?”

The memory of her cookies flashes through my mind, a lingering bad dream, and I hesitate. “Ah, no. This was just supposed to be coffee.”

Hannah glances at her watch, then quirks an eyebrow at me. “Yes, but it’s almost dinner time. I could whip us up something?”

“I don’t want you going to any trouble for me,” I say quickly, watching her frown ever so slightly. “But there’s a bar in town,” I add, hoping to salvage the moment. “They’ve got the best burgers and pizzas around.”

Her expression brightens instantly. “Okay, but it’s my treat.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Not a chance.”

She narrows her eyes at me, mock-challenging, but doesn’t push it. Instead, she steps back, motioning toward the house. “Come in while I grab my coat.”

As she disappears inside, I glance down at Grace, who’s watching me from the doorway, tail flicking lazily.

“Looks as though it’s just you and me, huh?” I mutter under my breath.

The cat blinks slowly, unimpressed, before turning and sauntering inside. Smiling to myself, I follow, wondering just how much trouble I’ve signed up for with Hannah, and finding that I don’t mind one bit.

Hannah leads me into her kitchen, her voice light and inviting. “I’ll just be a minute, but make yourself at home. There’s coffee, tea, or a cold drink in the fridge if you’d prefer.”

I nod, my eyes scanning the cozy space. The counter is cluttered with at least a dozen different types of tea, each in a colorful box or tin, but there’s only one brand of coffee.

It’s the same one I keep at home. A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I open the canister and fix myself a cup.

Taking a seat at her dining table, I cradle the warm mug in my hands, the rich aroma filling the air. I don’t sit alone for long. Grace leaps gracefully onto my lap, her soft gray fur brushing against my hands. She circles once, her tail flicking, before settling down with a satisfied sigh.

“You should be afraid of me, cat,” I mutter, stroking her fur despite myself.

“Grace,” Hannah corrects with a grin as she sweeps back into the room. “And she’s a good judge of character.”

“Yeah, you said that already,” I reply, looking down at the ball of fur in my lap. “But she’s got it wrong this time.”

Hannah’s smile softens as she watches us. “I don’t think she’s ever wrong.”

Hannah has changed into a fuzzy, black jumper that hugs her curves in all the right ways, and her hair is brushed out to frame her face, a golden halo that catches the light. I glance down at my outfit—a simple long-sleeved black shirt under my cut—and I suddenly feel underdressed.

“It’s not a fancy place,” I say, hoping to set the tone.

Hannah looks down at herself, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “You think this is fancy?”

I nod, unable to stop my lips from twitching into a smile.

She giggles, the sound light and infectious. Then, with a playful wink, she adds, “You should see me in an LBD and six-inch red heels.”

“LBD?”

“Little black dress.”

The mental image nearly stops me in my tracks. “You’d probably stop traffic.”

Hannah laughs, the sound soft and melodic, but there’s a faint nervousness underneath. Her cheeks tint pink as she shakes her head. “Maybe once, but not now.”

I narrow my eyes, confused. “Why not?”

Her smile falters, and she looks down, brushing her fingers against her sweater as if she’s trying to smooth out an invisible crease.

Her face flushes red, and she hesitates before pointing to her cheek. “I have scars.”

My stomach tightens at the vulnerability in her voice, and I take a slow breath. “So?” I say, my tone even. “Scars prove you’ve lived and survived. I’ve got scars, too, although most of mine are hidden under ink.”

She chews her bottom lip, her gaze darting to mine, unsure. For a heartbeat, I think she’s going to brush off what I said, but then she blurts out, “You don’t mind my face?”

Her question hits me hard, and I place Grace on the floor, stand, and step to Hannah. Tilting my head, I search her eyes. “What’s wrong with your face?”

Her eyes widen slightly, and then something shifts as if I’ve lifted a weight off her shoulders. Her lips part in a slow, genuine smile, and my chest swells with warmth. She’s beautiful, and for the life of me, I don’t know how anyone could’ve made her think otherwise.

“I’ll just grab my coat, and we can go,” she says, her voice lighter now.

As she disappears into the hallway, I move back into her kitchen.

I rinse out my mug and leave it neatly on her dish rack.

The sound of her soft voice reaches me as she coos to Grace.

When I return to the front door, she’s crouched down, scratching behind the cat’s ears.

The little gray furball purrs so loudly.

Bending, I stroke Grace’s head, and she stretches up, nuzzling against my hand. “See you, Grace,” I say, my voice low.

The cat leans into me one more time before padding off toward the couch.

“You know, you’re not so bad yourself. That cut gives you a dangerous vibe.”

I arch a brow, the corner of my mouth tugging upward. “Dangerous, huh? Is that a good thing?”

She shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes as she shuts the front door behind her. Then, slipping her arm through mine, she says, “Depends on who you ask. But for me... yeah, it’s a good thing.”

The words settle over me, warm and unexpected, as I guide her toward the truck. The cold Alaska wind nips at us, but it feels different tonight, less harsh, less biting. There’s an electric charge in the air, and for once, it’s not just the weather.

It’s her.

Hannah hesitates as I open the passenger door. “Thanks,” she says softly, climbing in.

I shut the door and pause, my breath visible in the icy night. My fingers linger on the edge of the doorframe, the faint scent of her lavender shampoo still hanging in the air. Grinning to myself, I round the truck and slide into the driver’s seat.

This is going to be an interesting night.