Page 12

Heck’s Kitchen smells like bourbon, cigars and sweat, all scents I’m more than used to. But it’s loud, rowdy, lit in flickering red neon like a sinner’s sanctuary. Not my usual crowd.

I’ve driven past a thousand times but never dared to look too closely. These men, these outlaws, they’re my neighbors. Not that I’ve ever waved from the porch.

I sit at the edge of the bar, nursing a glass of bourbon. My heels are killing me. My dress is a little too tight. And every time I glance toward the ring, my eyes find him.

Legend.

He’s the reason I’m here. The reason the Kings of Anarchy MC are guarding my land like it’s sacred. The reason I’ve crossed every line my daddy ever drew in the dirt.

Legend's been a shadow in my life for years. I’ve seen him at gas stations, farmer’s markets, in town parades when he and his crew rolled through with too much noise and too much leather.

I avoid him on purpose. My daddy doesn’t approve of his kind, men with inked skin, heavy fists, and a taste for anarchy. And daddy doesn’t approve of him in particular after what happened on the farm. Which, naturally, made Legend all the more fascinating to me.

My fingers tighten around the glass. Daddy can’t stop me now. Not from hiring the very people he warned me about. Not from looking at Legend the way I do.

He’s lying in a hospital bed back at the house, fighting to outlive death the way he always has, three cancers, a bad heart, a fall off the roof. I thought losing Mama two years ago would’ve broken him, but no. He’s still here, refusing to go, even if all the doctors say it’ll be any day now.

Maybe I hired the Kings partly out of desperation.

Maybe... maybe I just wanted to shake things up.

See if that would spark something in him again.

Or maybe I wanted to see if Legend would look at me like he used to, like I wasn’t just a rich girl with dirty boots and a horse farm dynasty to rule one day.

He walks over now, sweat glistening on his chest from the fight.

"You win?"

"Always." He slides into the stool beside me. "You think I’m just a brute in a ring?"

I study him. "No. I think you’re a man used to fighting for what he wants."

"Damn straight."

I take a sip, and say under my breath, "Maybe you should start fighting for something more."

“Speaking of wrestlin’. They got a micro league might be interested in ya,” he says, chuckling.

“I wondered when you’d start teasing me.”

“It’s just like ol’ times.” He glances at my drink and the bottle beside it.

“I brought it over. We can celebrate your win,” I explain, fighting a smile.

“The good stuff…”

“Not stolen this time,” I say, fixin’ to pour into his empty glass.

Legend finishes his drink first and takes my offer of Pappy with a grin.

That smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he lifts the glass and inhales, but it fades fast. “I should’ve said something. About your mom.”

His words knock the breath out of me. Of course, he thinks of her too, sipping her favorite drink. After all, my mama was so good to him when his mom ran off.

“I didn’t think it would matter if I did,” he adds.

I nod, throat tight. “Thanks.”

There’s a beat between us. He doesn’t say he’s sorry about my dad. Doesn’t have to. We both know that storm’s still hovering.

“You think he’d approve of you hiring us?” he asks, like he can read my damn mind.

I laugh bitterly. “No. That was part of the reason I called on y’all. Just to see if it’d piss him off enough to sit up and yell at me.”

Legend’s brows twitch. “He always had to approve of your men.” It was a fact.

“Every single one,” I say, tracing the rim of my glass. “Didn’t matter if they were harmless. If Daddy didn’t give his blessing, they didn’t stand a chance.”

“Even Sam?”

I look up sharply. “How do you know about Sam?”

He shrugs, leans against the bar beside me, arms crossed. “I hear things. Town talks.”

I narrow my eyes. “Then you know he’d approve of Sam… I hear things too. Like how you’ve got yourself a woman here.”

His smirk doesn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t.”

“Oh?”

"Nah," he mumbled. “Not one woman.”

My stomach does a little flip. I hate that it does.

I tilt my head.

He just looks at me like I’m something he wants but knows he shouldn’t touch.

And that look?

That’s the most dangerous thing of all.

Legend doesn’t say anything right away, and maybe that’s why I do.

“I know what this looks like,” I murmur, tracing the condensation on my glass.

“Me playing dress-up in boots too big for me. But this place, Paradise Falls, it’s not just a farm.

It’s home, my whole damn world. It’s all I’ve got left of my mama, and the only thing keeping my daddy breathing. His legacy is in my hands.”

Legend watches me like he’s trying to read the fine print on my soul.

“You’ll do great,” he says, sure.

I scoff, shaking my head. “You don’t get it.

I’m not him. I’m not some horse-racing tycoon with steel in my spine.

I’m just… scrappy on the inside and exhausted on the outside.

I don’t want to fight. I want peace. Which means I’m going to lose.

To the bank. To James. To anyone willing to throw a punch harder than me. ”

He leans in, eyes burning. “Your daddy wouldn’t have handed you the reins if he didn’t think you could hold on.”

I blink back the sting behind my eyes, swallow the lump in my throat. “You know what he said to me? The last real conversation we had? He told me I love shitty men.”

Legend raises a brow. “Sounds like he had some opinions.”

“He ain’t wrong,” I admit, laughing without humor. “M first heartbreak was the preacher’s son. Last one? Sam. Who was perfect. I broke it off. Daddy said I only fall for broken things I think I can fix.”

Legend’s jaw ticks. “I’m not a preacher’s son.”

“Aint talkin’ ‘bout you.”

“But your daddy thinks I’m one of them, shitty men.”

“I think you are.”

He smirks, but there’s pain behind it. “Well, you’re right. I am a shitty man.”

“No shit,” I whisper. “The shittiest.”

We’re close now. Closer than we should be in a bar full of outlaws. The music fades. The crowd blurs. It’s just us and this weighty silence between a thousand unsaid things.

His hand brushes mine on the bar, rough fingers grazing my skin, and I think he might kiss me. I think I might let him.

Then she appears.

Darla. Blonde, braless, and smug in a cutoff tank with “KINGS ONLY” scrawled across it in Sharpie. She leans over the bar in front of us, tits nearly on the counter, her lip gloss catching the light.

“Hey, Legend,” she drawls, voice sweet as the tea. “Just a heads up. Becki ain’t happy, just so you know. Said you left her hangin’ earlier. Again.”

He doesn’t look at her. Not once. But the spell is broken.

“Do I look like I give a damn.”

“I just saw her in the bathroom. She fixin’ to cut off her damn hair.”

“And?”

“Just thought you’d wanna know.”

I pull my hand away, slow and deliberate. “You’ve got a lot of admirers.”

“Don’t matter,” he mutters.

Darla smiles like a cat with cream, ignoring me entirely. “Y’all need refills?”

“No,” I say, standing. “We’re done here.”

Legend’s mouth opens like he might stop me, but he doesn’t.

My phone chimes with a text, from daddy’s nurse.

“I need to go check on daddy.”