Page 54 of Riding the Line (Steel Saints MC #1)

Time passed—not in days, but in moments.

I worked like a woman possessed, doing all the jobs I had done before with a renewed zest. I showed up to every club gathering, cooked every meal until every biker looked a bit more rotund around the waist, and wore my heart on my sleeve.

I helped Jackson fix up bikes. I babysat Jewel and Diego Jr., who still called me Aunt Nicky despite my best efforts.

I cleaned blood off floors after messy rescue ops, took stitches from Diego with nothing but a wince when things went south, kept the motel rooms ready for anyone who needed one, and threw everything I had into redeeming myself.

At first, no one quite knew what to do with me.

Holly still gave me death glares, sharp as a blade, but the venom dulled with every batch of fried chicken and every laugh that slipped out.

Maria was cautious, but I caught her smiling during yet another dumb cop story.

Baby steps. I would happily take them. I was determined to get my friends back and, with each passing day, the hope that I sheltered like a flame in the wind grew stronger.

The brothers were harder. Dalton barely spoke to me.

Mac spoke even less. But sometimes… I caught them watching.

A hand brushing mine when passing a plate at the dinner table.

A lingering look across the garage. One night, Mac called me “Katie” instead of “her.” And I sobbed like a baby in the bathroom the first time Dalton called me “Vixen.”

I didn’t push. Didn’t beg. I just stayed. I kept cooking. Kept cleaning. Kept helping. Kept loving them from a careful distance. Giving them the time they needed. I could be patient. I owed them that much .

One warm evening, a song drifted from my phone speaker—some old bluesy tune with a beat that made my hips sway and my heart feel light.

I was barefoot, spinning around the kitchen, singing off-key, and waving a spoon around like a baton.

Dancing like I hadn’t a care in the world.

It might have been pretend, but it sure felt good.

For a moment, I felt like myself again. As the chorus filled the room, I did one last elaborate spin and stopped halfway through, nearly falling on my ass.

Dalton stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes locked on me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything. But he moved first.

Dalton crossed the space in three long strides, took my face between his hands like I might disappear if he let go—and kissed me.

Long. Slow. It felt like coming home. Full of hope and heartache and something that tasted an awful lot like forgiveness. When we came up for air, he rested his forehead against mine and said, “Promise me you’ll never leave again, Vixen.”

I didn’t even have to think—there was no hesitation.

“Never. I promise.”

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. The only person who still eyed me with a hint of distrust was Mac.

I knew he would come to me when he was ready.

So, I lost myself in my work and in my friends.

Dalton and I tried to keep everything lowkey.

Our relationship was still very much on shaky ground, nothing like it had been when I left.

But, for the first time in a long time, I had hope that it would get there. Everything was going right.

Until it wasn’t.

One day, I pulled into the parking lot on my Triumph. I knew something was wrong about two seconds later. The club was chaos. Shouting. Guns drawn. Maria crying. Holly pale. I grabbed the first person who ran past me, which just so happened to be Rodney.

“What is happening?”

Rodney looked at me, eyes wild.

“Some guy showed up, he had a gun to Maria’s head. Said either Mac went with him or he was going to set the bomb he put on her off. They pulled out not even five minutes ago—you probably passed them on the road.”

Holy fucking shit. I had passed a speeding truck, but I didn’t think anything of it.

“Where is she? Where’s Maria?”

Rodney pointed towards the kitchen and I all but ran that way.

Inside, Maria sat at the island, tears streaking her makeup, and Diego doing his best to console her.

Holly was on the phone, furiously yelling at someone to do their job.

Jackson had apparently already disarmed the bomb vest, or it had been a dud.

Dalton whirled in my direction as soon as I walked in.

The look in his eyes answered my question.

Mac was gone. Holly threw her phone at the wall, cursing angrily. It was pure chaos.

Holly turned to me, and her next words threatened to shatter everything I had rebuilt.

“Your buddy Braxton stopped by for a visit. And we can’t fucking find him or where we took Mac.”

Dalton snapped at her, “This is not her fault.”

Jackson stepped in Dalton’s face. “Don’t you raise your voice at her.”

Diego froze, watching his two friends as the tension rose. Holly was pacing, and I knew I had to do something. Where would we take him? Where would they go? Then it hit me. And while everyone was distracted by worry and fear, I slipped out the door.

Holly was right—I had started this, and I damn well was going to finish it.

That bastard had come back from whatever dark corner he’d been hiding in, still obsessed. Still dangerous. Still convinced I belonged to him. I was about to show him just how wrong he was.

I pulled up to the giant storage units, parking several buildings away from the one I knew Braxton had used for a sort of operation base.

Most people used these units to store boats and RVs, meaning they weren’t here too often.

Braxton had taken full advantage of that.

I had swung by my house and grabbed my Colt.

Swinging a leg over my bike, I pulled it from the holster as I made my way towards Braxton’s unit.

The door was just barely open. Inside, Braxton paced in front of Mac, who was tied to a chair and bleeding from the mouth, but smirking anyway. I took a minute to get my bearings and figure out a game plan.

“You think you matter to her?” Braxton sneered. “You think you have what it takes to be the man she needs? I know her. The real her. All you know is a lie.”

Mac spat blood at his feet. “Oh, I know her. In ways you never will. And you? You’re dead the second my people walk through that door.”

“I love her!” Braxton shouted, deranged and shaking. “You and your fucking brother couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves…”

Mac’s smile was lethal. “Yeah, and neither could she.”

Braxton hit him upside the head with the butt end of the gun and, before I could even fully process what I was doing, I was inside.

Mac shook his head, clearing the fog from his head.

When he opened his eyes, he saw me and his jaw damn near dropped.

Braxton spun around, but I had my Colt . 45 raised and ready.

“Drop it.”

To absolutely no one’s surprise, he didn’t. Instead, the fucking psycho smiled at me. Like we were old friends, like I didn’t have a gun pointed at his chest. Like the man I loved didn’t have blood trickling down his face. He opened his mouth, but I didn’t give him the chance to speak.

I fired off a warning shot, straight up in the air.

Like I had hoped, he flinched from the sudden and unexpected ear-shattering noise.

I jumped forward, grabbing his hand and attempting to disarm him.

Unfortunately, the asshat was trained too.

He bent low, driving his shoulder into my abdomen and taking the breath out of me.

I stumbled back but grabbed his hair as I went, taking him with me.

My momentum, combined with his weight, caused us both to go down in a tumble onto the concrete floor.

We fought, messy and fast. Ever since Daniel had gotten the upper hand on me, I had made sure to stay in shape.

No one was taking me down like that ever again.

Braxton got in a few good shots, but I gave as good as I got.

His gun went skidding across the floor, and he slammed me into a wall.

I grabbed a pipe from the floor and cracked him across the temple.

He hit the floor, groaning, and I hurried towards my discarded gun. Picking it up, I stood above him, breathing heavy. Mac watched us with hooded eyes.

“Give me a fucking reason,” I said, sweat and blood mixing on my brow.

Braxton looked up at me and, for a second, I thought he was going to give in.

But then he scrambled across the floor like a rat, heading for his own weapon, and I fired two quick shots.

One through the head, and one center mass.

He stilled, and I exhaled sharply, lowering the weapon.

A second later, I moved quickly towards Mac, and untied the knots with trembling hands.

He started to rise, and I stepped back instinctively, giving him the space he had made clear was needed.

“I didn’t know if I’d make it in time,” I whispered, blinking back tears and trembling as the adrenaline wore off. My damn shoulder was hurting like a bitch too from where Braxton had tossed me into the wall.

Mac didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled me in, arms wrapped tight around me, like he was afraid I would disappear if he let go. “You made it with time to spare, Vixen. I would always wait for you.”

I started crying, and he wiped my tears away with a gentle hand.

“Ready to go home?”

I gave a watery smile. “Probably a good idea. I don’t even know if they noticed me walking out.”

Mac laughed, and I cherished the sound.

The clubhouse was still a wreck when we got back, but people stilled as they noticed Mac and me.

In the kitchen, Dalton barked orders, and Jackson and Diego prepped gear.

Guns were checked, phones buzzed with half-formed leads, and tension hung thick in the air like smoke.

They were still looking for Mac, still assumed Braxton had him.

Maria and Holly were nowhere to be seen, probably having gone somewhere to calm each other down.

No one noticed the door open at first. Then Diego went to walk past us and stopped dead.

He turned towards us like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Um… Dalton? I think we can cancel all that.”

Mac led me to the table, battered but upright, and we stood hand in hand as three heads turned in perfect unison.

Dalton was the first to move, his eyes sweeping over his brother, checking for blood, for broken bones, for some sign that what he was seeing wasn’t a hallucination born of stress and fear.

“Katie?” Jackson blinked. “What the hell?”

Diego looked like he wanted to sit down. Or pray. Or both.

I held up our joined hands and gave a half-smile. “Yay, we won! Surprise!”

Dalton crossed the room, eyes fixed on Mac. “You good?”

“Nothing a steak and a shower won’t fix,” Mac said with a wince. Dalton’s gaze dropped to our hands. Then rose again, brow lifting. Mac just shrugged. “What can I say? It was kinda hot watching her kick ass.”

Dalton looked between us, then finally—finally—smiled. A real one. I let out a breath I had been holding for what felt like years.

Dalton cocked his head at us. “Wait, so… how? You knew where they were and just asked for Mac back nicely or?”

“I used to be a cop, guys,” I said, brushing hair out of my face. “Kinda sorta know what I’m doing. I had a feeling Braxton was using a storage unit that he had used during the op, and I went with it. By the way, we’re gonna want to send a cleaning crew over there.”

Silence fell for a beat. Then Jackson let out a low whistle.

“Remind me never to piss you off.”

Diego just shook his head, laughing under his breath as he muttered something in Spanish that sounded suspiciously like “ mujer loca .”

Mac leaned in close, voice low in her ear. “Thank you for coming for me, Vixen.”

I squeezed his hand tighter.

“I always will.”