Page 7

Rio

Yesterday, we’d rushed back after getting word Ellis and Denton knew I was here. But then, a whole lot of nothing had happened. Shade had basically told me to hold off while he researched more. I didn’t like sitting. It gave me too much time to think.

The compound was quiet this afternoon, with most of the members either sleeping off last night or handling club business elsewhere. I walked the familiar path between the buildings, trying to sort through the mess in my head. Rebel’s face kept appearing in my thoughts -- his cocky smile, those eyes that saw right through me. I wanted him. I feared what it meant to be with him. Both feelings twisted inside me.

I kicked at a small rock, watching it skitter across the road. The Devil’s Boneyard MC had become a strange sort of home to me in the past few days, but I still felt like an outsider looking in. Everyone had history here. Everyone except me.

“Rio?”

I turned at the sound of my name, finding Jordan standing there. Havoc’s old lady was watching me with those perceptive eyes that didn’t miss much. She was mature, strong, and completely comfortable in her skin.

“You look like you’re trying to solve world hunger with that expression,” she said, a half-smile crossing her face.

“Just thinking.” I shrugged, trying to appear casual.

Jordan nodded toward a nearby picnic table. “Come sit. I’ve got coffee.”

I hadn’t planned on talking to anyone, but something about Jordan’s steady presence drew me in. She wasn’t like the club girls who gossiped and competed. I hadn’t had to be around the club long to pick up on that bullshit. But Jordan had the kind of quiet confidence that only comes from living through hell and coming out the other side.

We sat, and she pushed a thermos toward me. I poured some coffee into the cup she offered.

“So,” she said after a moment. “Rebel.”

My head snapped up. “What about him?”

“I’ve seen how he looks at you. And how you look at him when you think nobody’s watching.”

When the hell had she had the time to watch us? Of course, we did venture out of his house frequently. It wasn’t like I was holed up in a bedroom hiding. And the man did have a tendency to be nearby if not right by my side.

The coffee suddenly tasted bitter. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s been there.” She took a sip from her cup, eyes never leaving mine.

The words came tumbling out before I could stop them. “I’m scared of losing myself, but I’m drawn to him. And I’m worried that I may regret it if I decide to stay. It’s not like we’ve known each other very long.”

Jordan didn’t react with surprise or judgment. She just nodded slowly. “That’s how it goes with these men. They’re like gravity.”

“Did you feel that way with Havoc?”

A genuine smile crossed her face, softening the lines around her eyes. “Still do, after all these years.”

“How did you two…” I let the question trail off.

“Meet?” She set her cup down. “He found me dying on the side of the road.”

That wasn’t what I expected. “What?”

“I’d been left for dead, essentially. Havoc was riding back from a run, saw me there, passed out. He could’ve kept going. Most people would have.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No.” Jordan’s eyes grew distant. “He stopped. Brought me to the compound.”

I tried to picture the intimidating Sergeant-at-Arms doing something so gentle. “Why here and not a hospital?”

“I begged him not to. Had my reasons.” Her eyes met mine. “This club became my safe haven when I had nowhere else to go.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves above us. In the distance, I could hear the rumble of motorcycles coming or going.

“The brotherhood looks rough on the outside,” Jordan continued. “And it is. Make no mistake. But there’s something else here too. Something most people never see. It’s what we talked about the other day. Being a family.”

I thought about Rebel and how he’d looked at me the first time we’d met. Like he could see every broken piece inside me and wanted to gather them up.

“You know,” Jordan said, breaking the silence, “I’d just gotten out of prison when Havoc found me.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Prison?”

“Got out and my own brother wanted nothing to do with me. The irony? He was a Prospect for this very club. He was supposed to pick me up and didn’t. That’s why I was passed out on the road.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” She took another sip of coffee. “My own blood abandoned me, but strangers took me in. Havoc made sure I had a place to stay, food to eat.”

“And you fell for him.”

“Fast and hard.” Jordan’s face softened again. “Wasn’t looking for it. Wasn’t ready for it. But there it was.”

I picked at a splinter in the wooden table. “Were you afraid?”

“Terrified.” She looked me dead in the eye. “Thought I’d lose myself in him. In this life. At the same time, I knew I didn’t want to be without him.”

That hit close to home. “And did you? Lose yourself?”

“No. Found myself instead.” She reached across and touched my hand briefly. “Never been happier than when I’m with him. It’s not perfect. It’s not easy. But it’s real.”

“How do you deal with… everything else? The club stuff?”

Jordan leaned back. “You find your place in it. Your boundaries. They respect that more than you’d think.”

“You heard Rebel. He says he can be patient.”

“And do you believe him?” she asked.

I thought about it. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then trust your gut.” She stood up. “These men aren’t saints. But the good ones -- the ones worth keeping -- they love differently than other men. Completely. When they decide you’re theirs, they’ll move heaven and earth for you.”

I nodded, absorbing her words. “Thanks, Jordan.”

“Anytime.” She picked up her thermos. “And, Rio? I meant what I said the other day. If you need to talk, about anything, you know where to find me.”

I watched her walk away, her shoulders straight, her steps confident. Havoc was a lucky man.

I sat there a while longer, letting Jordan’s story settle inside me. She’d gone from dying on the side of a road to finding a home, a family, a love that had lasted decades. I’d seen their kids around the compound. Pretty much grown-ass adults. It told me they’d been together a long while.

Maybe there was hope for someone like me too.

Standing, I continued my walk through the compound, feeling a strange new peace. The fear was still there. The doubts. But something else had taken root alongside them.

Hope.

* * *

I stood outside Rebel’s house for a minute, gathering my courage. The porch light cast a warm glow against the gathering darkness.

I knocked once, quick and decisive before I could second-guess myself. The door opened almost immediately. Had he been waiting?

“Rio.” My name sounded different on his lips. Softer. “You know you don’t have to knock.”

Rebel stood there in a black T-shirt and jeans, looking more approachable than the cocky guy he seemed to project around most people. Not that the danger had disappeared. It never did with him. It just simmered beneath the surface, controlled but present.

“Come in.” He stepped aside, and I felt his eyes on me as I passed.

We walked into the dining area where he’d set the table. Two plates. Two glasses. A bottle of whiskey alongside a bottle of wine.

“Wasn’t sure what you’d prefer,” he explained, following my gaze.

“Whiskey,” I answered. “Tonight feels like a whiskey night.”

A small smile touched his lips. “Woman after my own heart.”

He gestured for me to sit, then moved to the chair opposite mine. I sat with my back straight, shoulders tight. My hands found the edge of the table, fingers curling around it like I might fly away without something to anchor me. Across from me, Rebel leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, gaze never leaving mine. He poured two fingers of whiskey into each glass, sliding one toward me.

“You look ready to bolt,” he said, his voice low.

“I’m still here.” I took a sip, welcoming the burn.

“Why is that, Rio?” His question cut straight to the chase. That was Rebel -- no bullshit, no games.

I set the glass down carefully. “Because I want to be.”

“But?”

“But I’m still figuring things out.” He nodded, taking a slow sip of his drink. “My talk with Jordan today helped.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. “Jordan? You seem to have gotten friendly with Havoc’s old lady. I didn’t realize the two of you had met up again.”

“She found me wandering the compound. We talked.”

“About?”

I met his gaze. “About how it works. With men like you. The club.”

Rebel leaned back slightly, studying me. “And what did she tell you?”

“That it’s not easy.” I took another sip. “But it can be worth it.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Smart woman.”

“She is.”

Silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable but full of unspoken things. The ice in our glasses clinked when we drank. The house creaked around us.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said finally. “More than I should.”

My heart kicked against my ribs. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re different.” He turned his glass slowly between his fingers. “You make me want things I haven’t wanted in a long time. Possibly ever.”

“What kind of things?”

His eyes darkened. “Stability. Connection.” A pause. “Something real.”

I’d known men like Rebel before. Women came and went without leaving a mark on his heart. But maybe he was different from those other guys.

“People wouldn’t believe that coming from a guy like you,” I said.

“I don’t give a damn what people believe. They see what they want to.”

“And what am I seeing?”

“The truth.” He leaned forward again, his gaze so intense I nearly looked away. “Like I said before. I’ll take things at your pace, Rio. Whatever you need.”

Something inside me unclenched at his words. The promise in them.

“Why me?” I asked, the question that had been circling my mind since he first showed interest. “It’s not like I’m the first woman to walk into your life.”

A slight smile touched his lips. “Because you see through the bullshit. Because you don’t flinch when things get ugly. Because when you look at me, I feel like you’re actually seeing me, not just the cut or the reputation, or the mask I show the world.”

His hand moved across the table, not grabbing mine, just resting close enough that our fingertips nearly touched. An invitation, not a demand.

“I don’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

“You couldn’t be if you tried.”

I believed him. That was the scary part.

Slowly, I let my fingertips brush against his. The contact sent a jolt up my arm, like touching a live wire.

“The club comes first,” I said. Not a question.

“The club is family,” he corrected. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for more.”

“Jordan said something similar.”

“She would know. She and Havoc have made it work for a long time.”

I took another sip of whiskey, feeling the warmth spread through my chest. “I’ve been hurt before. And I don’t just mean what happened in the Army.”

“I know.” His fingers lightly stroked mine. “I won’t lie to you, Rio. This life isn’t easy. But I can promise you won’t face it alone.”

“I’m not afraid of hard,” I said. “I’m afraid of giving myself to someone and finding out I’ve disappeared in the process.”

Understanding flashed in his eyes. “I don’t want you to disappear. I want all of you -- the good, the bad, the broken parts, the strong parts. Everything. I happen to think you’re one badass woman. I knew it the moment you walked into the clubhouse.”

His words hit me like a physical touch. No man had ever wanted all of me before. They’d wanted pieces -- my body, my submission, my adoration. Never the whole, complicated mess.

“I’m not good at letting people in,” I admitted.

“I’ve noticed.” His smile was gentle. “But you’re here. That’s a start.”

The distance between us felt too great suddenly. I stood, moving around the table to his side. He watched me approach, his body going still like a predator sensing prey -- except I wasn’t running away. I was walking straight toward him.

Rebel pushed his chair back slightly, making room. I stepped between his legs, looking down at him. This close, I could see the flecks of gray in his eyes, the small scar near his temple, the day’s stubble darkening his jaw. He’d shaved his beard off the other morning, and I wondered if he’d decided to grow it back already.

“What are you doing, Rio?” His voice had dropped an octave.

“Taking what I want,” I answered, surprising myself with my boldness.

His hands moved to my hips, strong but light, ready to let go if I pulled away. “And what’s that?”

Instead of answering, I leaned down, bringing my face close to his. Our breaths mingled. For a heartbeat, we stayed like that, suspended in the moment before everything changed.

Then I kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. And that was fine. It was the last thing I wanted. I poured my fear, my desire, my hope into that kiss. His response was immediate, one hand sliding up my back to tangle in my hair, holding me to him as he took control of the kiss.

Rebel kissed like he did everything else -- with absolute confidence and skill. But there was something else there too. Something that felt like reverence.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. His eyes had darkened to storm clouds.

“Been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you,” he said, his voice rough.

“Why did you wait?”

“Told you. Your pace.” His thumb traced my lower lip. “Worth the wait.”

I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in months. Maybe years. “So what now?”

“Now we figure it out, day by day.” He pulled me onto his lap, and I went willingly. I hadn’t outright agreed to be his, but I’d implied it. Was that enough? “No pressure, no timeline.”

I rested my forehead against his. “I can work with that.”

His arms tightened around me. Safe. I felt safe with him, which was ironic given who he was, what he did. But maybe that was the point. The man most people would fear would move heaven and earth to make sure I never had reason to be afraid again.

“Stay with me,” he said softly. Not a demand. A question.

“To sleep,” I clarified.

He nodded. “Just sleep. I want to wake up with you.”

The simplicity of it, the honesty, made my chest ache. This man, who could have anyone, wanted just to wake up beside me. The thought of sharing a bed with him both excited and terrified me. Was I really ready for that step? I liked to think I wasn’t a coward.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ll stay.”

His smile was slow and genuine, lacking the cockiness he showed the world. This smile was just for me.

Later, lying in his bed with his arm around me, I felt something I hadn’t expected: resolution. Not an ending, but a beginning. The future stretched before us, uncertain but full of possibility.

Rebel’s breathing had evened out, his body relaxed in sleep. I studied his face in the moonlight filtering through the blinds. Peaceful. Human.

Mine, if I wanted him to be.

And I was starting to think I did.