Page 49 of Riding the Line (Steel Saints MC #1)

I remembered her fight with Daniel. The blood.

The panic. The way she clawed her way back from the edge like she’d done it before.

She was a fighter—I always knew that. But maybe if I hadn’t been so consumed by the fear of losing her, I would’ve seen it for what it was.

Tactical. Trained. Controlled, even in chaos.

Not just instinct. Not just survival. She fought like someone who had fought before.

And I didn’t see it, didn’t want to see it.

Because loving her had already blinded me.

I couldn’t move. Holly began to laugh, a completely unhinged and lost sound. “A cop. Holy fucking shit, she’s a cop. She fucking lied to us. She lied to us.” Her voice cracked, and Jackson reached for her, but she took a staggering step back—like the thought of physical touch pained her.

I ran my hands through my hair, and glanced at my brother.

Dalton hadn’t said a word. He just stood there—stone still.

But I saw it. That shift in his expression.

Like something was cracking open inside him.

Not loud. Not sudden. Just the kind of break that happens after too much pressure on old glass.

“Dalton,” I said, to get his attention. To get him to look away from the screen that just shattered our reality. He looked at me, and I’d never forget the way his face looked in that moment. Rage and grief all twisted up in a way that made my stomach churn.

“She lied,” he said, almost to himself, “right to my face.”

“Brother—”

“She said it was a stray bullet. Wrong place, wrong time. ”

I blinked. “What?”

“There’s a scar. On her hip. Did you notice?

It’s small. But I knew what it was. I touched it.

I asked. I wanted to protect her from whoever had hurt her.

” His voice was shaking now, teeth clenched.

“And she fed me some bullshit story, and I bought it. Because I wanted to. Because I—” He cut himself off, turning away, fists clenched at his sides.

I stepped toward him. “She threw a knife at me once.” Everyone looked at me.

“It was right after Daniel, and I wasn’t thinking.

Just wanted to surprise her. She walked in like she didn’t see me.

Next thing I knew, I felt the breeze on my cheek as I barely dodged the knife she threw.

She was so calm, the throw was so precise.

But she started freaking out, and I dropped it.

I should’ve questioned her. But all I could think about was calming her down. There were signs. We missed them.”

Dalton laughed bitterly. “I loved her. She said she loved me. I believed her.”

“We all did.”

He didn’t answer, just dropped into the nearest chair like he’d been hit. “Doesn’t make it hurt less,” he whispered.

I glanced back at the TV, but I didn’t see anything as images and sounds instead played in my mind.

The fire in her eyes the first night we met.

The way she said my name. That soft smile she gave me when we were in a room full of people, the one that narrowed my entire world down to just her.

I had been a fool to trust her. And an even bigger one to love her.

I couldn’t stand being in that damned room for another minute. Grabbing my keys out of my jacket, I pulled on the worn leather as I all but ran out the door. Trying to forget every time she had put my jacket on.

The house was too quiet. I wasn’t really sure what brought me here.

I had just gotten on my bike and next thing I knew, I pulled up outside a familiar door.

Stepping inside, I locked the door behind me more out of habit than need.

She wasn’t here. But the scent of her still clung to the walls—vanilla, lavender, and something warm.

I stood by the door, chest tight, heart thudding like it was waiting for a fight.

I didn’t know what I was looking for. Closure?

Another letter? A fucking explanation? Something—anything—that said this wasn’t just a job to her.

That it wasn’t all one long, elaborate lie.

That she had meant it. Meant every touch.

Every word. Every look. But the silence screamed at me.

I closed my eyes like I could will her back—will back what we had.

I moved to the kitchen, opened a drawer.

Just silverware. Moved to the bookshelf.

Ran my fingers over the spines. Hemingway.

A worn paperback with a cracked spine and a folded page—the same book she’d given Dalton.

I froze. It was a stark reminder that I wasn’t the only one she had betrayed.

My brother was back at the clubhouse, and I left him to deal with everything alone.

But I wanted answers. Needed them. So I kept looking.

The moment came sudden. I bumped the potted fern in the corner with my boot.

The thing had already begun to wilt, and I paused to spare it a glance.

But then something shifted in the soil. I stilled completely.

Leaned down. Moved the leaves aside. A sliver of black plastic, barely visible.

A mic. A fucking mic. My blood ran cold as I pried it free.

And then the next twenty minutes disappeared in a blur of rage and pain.

I ripped apart every inch of the apartment.

Yanking books off shelves. Tearing through drawers.

Dragging the mattress from the frame. I pulled down the vent cover, hands shaking so bad it took three tries.

Another mic. And another. Five in total, laid out like sins on the coffee table.

I sat on the couch. Barely able to move.

To think. I just stared at them. Breathing like I’d run miles.

Nothing had been sacred .

Every word, every laugh, every moan… recorded . Every whisper against her skin. Every fucking heartbeat. Just a part of her mission.

“Goddamn you,” I muttered, voice raw. “Goddamn you, woman.”

I slammed my fist into the table before me, the mics jumping from the impact. Before I could stop myself, I rose and threw the whole table against the wall. Still, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. I sank back onto the couch, elbows on my knees, and buried my face in my hands.

“I loved you,” I whispered to no one. “I fucking loved you.”

*

After the debriefing, I had been all but been dragged to a surprise interview with a local news station.

I had protested, using every excuse in the book to get out of it.

My pleas fell on deaf ears. So, there I was.

In my crisp, carefully pressed uniform. Lieutenant Hartwell had thought to surprise me with it.

My hair back to its true auburn, my eyes no longer brown but a vivid green.

I had hesitated to take out my contacts, to redo my hair.

But I wasn’t her anymore. I had to.

I couldn’t help but tug uncomfortably at my sleeves.

Part of me longed for a certain someone’s black leather jacket.

Or my comfy slip-on sneakers. I was zoned out when the news anchor turned to me, asking a question I’d barely registered.

Lieutenant Hartwell gently nudged me forward.

I had once been proud of my badge, but now it felt like it was going to drag me down.

When the lady kept talking about me like I had personally brought down the DiAngelos, I felt physically sick.

“They’re the heroes, not me,” I’d said. God knows, it wasn’t me.

Hartwell offered me a ride home, but there was only one place I actually wanted to go.

That wasn’t an option, so I opted for the next best thing.

Shelly had picked me up at the airport, bringing me to the precinct, and since then, I had been staying at a hotel.

However, the thought of being alone now made me feel sick.

Thankfully, she hadn’t moved and, when I knocked on her apartment door, she opened it a second later.

I didn’t say a word, just couldn’t. Just collapsed into my best friend’s arms and sobbed.

Shelly held me tightly, arms strong and grounding.

She had been my rock before I went under, and she still was.

She didn’t even seem to mind as I soaked her shirt.

Instead, she just joked, “Jesus, KitKat. So much for the emotionally suppressed cop you used to be.”

I let out a shaky laugh through her tears, the old nickname bringing back fond memories. I hiccupped and said, “I screwed everything up, Shelly. Like, bad.”

“Like worse than that one time you forgot to park the shop and it rolled downhill into a roadside fruit stand bad?”

“Worse.”

“Well, damn.” Shelly raised her eyebrows and pulled me down the hall towards her kitchen. “C’mon. You’re a mess. Tell me what’s got you all in your head like this.”

Ten minutes later, we were curled up on Shelly’s worn couch—I had borrowed a pair of sweats and an old Georgia State sweater.

With a blanket over my shoulders and a full glass of cabernet in my hands, I tried to figure out where to start.

Shelly sat across from me, legs crossed and holding a glass of her own.

She waited patiently, not rushing or pressuring me.

Eventually, I decided the best place to start was the most obvious place. At the beginning. I told her everything. Every feeling, every thought, every decision. Every second. Every fucking mistake.

“I loved them,” I said quietly. “I still love them. Both of them. So much it hurts.”

Shelly didn’t flinch, just refilled our glasses with the last of the wine. “I knew that part already. ”

I blinked at her. “Huh?”

“I’m your best friend, and I like to think I am of moderate intelligence. The look on your face the first time you mentioned ‘the brothers’ was practically glowing. I just didn’t realize it was both brothers. Damn. Go big or go home, huh?”

I gave her a weak smile, then rubbed my eyes.

“Well, to be fair, go home wasn’t really an option, but it’s not like I set out to fall in love with either of them—let alone both of them.

There was just something about them… Shelly, I wish you could meet them.

You and Dalton are so much alike. But you’ll probably never get the chance.

‘Cos when they find out who I really am on the news… I didn’t even say goodbye properly.

I left a note. Like a coward. The thought of facing them, of saying goodbye…

Shit, they must hate me. I would. So I ran. ”

Shelly tilted her head. “Classic emotionally repressed cop move.”

I laughed, sounding slightly hysterical, and then immediately started crying again.

Shelly scooted closer and grabbed my hand.

“Look, I’m not gonna bullshit you. You broke their trust. But you also risked everything to save kids no one else was looking for.

When you left for the assignment, we had been on the case of those poor girls and didn’t have a single fucking lead.

You took what was basically the only shot we, you, had at taking the DiAngelos down.

And from what you told me? You didn’t just fall in love while playing a part.

You became the part, became her , but the real you was always in there. ”

I looked down. “But I walked away. I chose the badge. Over them. There’s no going back from that.”

“Did you? Choose the badge?” Shelly said. “Or did you follow the orders and bury your heart like they trained us to? Because, hon… I think your heart’s been screaming at you for months. And you’ve always been a bit hard of hearing.”

“What if I go back and they slam the door in my face?”

“Then you keep knocking,” Shelly said simply.

“Because love like that? That doesn’t die so easy.

And badge or no badge, you’re still the woman who saved lives.

Still the woman they fell in love with. Mostly.

Ish.” She hesitated, her brow furrowed. “Okay, it’s complicated and more than a little confusing.

But now you’ve got this opportunity to finally have something real.

Something you don’t have to… feel guilty about, or whatever.

And maybe you could still help people. Sounds like Mac and Dalton aren’t the type to just stop being heroes.

Be the Robin to their Batman. Their sexy, badass Robin.

And maybe, not only help even more than you did before, but also have a shot at being happy. ”

I swallowed hard, processing her words. “But I wouldn’t be a cop.”

“No,” Shelly said, “but you’d still be you.

Just a new and improved version. You always held your tongue, Katie—you followed the rules and did what you were told.

But when we were alone or hanging out at the bar, I could see the real you.

Maybe being Nicole helped you shake off this idea you had of who society expected you to be.

Go back,” she said gently. “Tell them the truth. Ask for forgiveness. If they still love you—and I think they do—you build something real this time. Something free.”

I looked down at my empty wine glass, then out the window toward the horizon.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but I was so genuinely tempted by what she was suggesting.

Even if it meant throwing away everything I thought I knew.

If I did this, there would be no going back.

It was them or my badge. I considered it for all of two seconds.

“I think… I think I will. Go back, I mean.”

“Well, that’s the best idea you’ve had in a while,” Shelly said with a wink. “When you get there, and after the glorious make-up sex, see if they have a cousin or something, would you?”

She dodged the pillow I threw at her head with ease.