Page 10

CHAPTER TEN

THE SMELL OF coffee cut through the lingering fog of my restless night, wafting through the clubhouse kitchen. Josie stood at the stove, a spatula in hand, flipping eggs like it was second nature. It was strange, seeing a real kitchen like this in a biker clubhouse, complete with a cook.

An anomaly.

Dragon Fire didn’t have anything like this. Sure, they had a kitchen, but it was self-serve. Dirty as hell. You could’ve waves a suitcase full of cash in my face, and I’d still rather lick a gas station floor than eat there.

I sat at the corner of the long, scarred table, nursing a mug of coffee that had gone lukewarm while I wrestled with my thoughts. The nightmares from the night before still clung to me like cobwebs—sticky, suffocating, impossible to shake. They left behind a vulnerability I despised. I hated how they made me feel—small, weak, exposed.

Spinner turned from the counter, flashing me a lopsided grin that sent warmth creeping into my chest. “You ready for the best damn eggs this side of South Carolina?”

“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite stick. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate him. I did —more than he probably realized. But the closer he got, the more he pushed into the corners of my life I kept hidden, the stronger my instinct was to pull back. Vulnerability wasn’t just dangerous—it was an open target.

He slid a plate in front of me and dropped into the seat beside me, his knee brushing mine. “You’re quiet this mornin’,” he said, voice low, like he was afraid to spook me. “You good?”

I nodded, poking at the eggs with my fork. “Just tired.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

Across the room, movement snagged my attention. A cluster of club women had gathered by the coffee pot, their heads bent together, whispering. Every so often, one of them would glance my way. One blonde, in particular, didn’t bother pretending she wasn’t staring. She stood there in shorts that might as well have been underwear, her eyes flicked between me and Spinner, narrowing slightly, like she was connecting the dots and didn’t like the picture forming.

Spinner either didn’t notice or didn’t care. His focus was locked on me, his gaze heavy with concern. “You sure that’s all it is?”

I forced my eyes away from the blonde’s smirk, already burning a hole in my nerves. “Yeah,” I said, managing another tight smile. “I just need to shake it off.”

The scrape of a chair dragged my attention back to Spinner. He leaned closer, his hand brushing lightly against mine. “You know you don’t have to shake anythin’ off alone, yeah?”

I wanted to believe him. Part of me already did. But the other part—the part that had been burned by people who meant well—couldn’t let go of the walls I’d built. I pulled my hand back, wrapping it around my coffee mug like a shield.

“I know,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure I did.

Laughter broke the tension. I glanced up just in time to see the blonde toss her hair and lean into one of the other women, her gaze flicking toward Spinner. Whatever she said only made them laugh harder, and my jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder my teeth didn’t crack.

Spinner’s jaw tightened as he finally noticed. His glare cut across the room, severe enough to sober the women. They looked away, but the blonde held onto her smirk a beat too long.

I tilted my head toward him, muttering, “I take it those giggling bed warmers live here?”

He shook his head, his lips curling into a grim smile. “Ignore ‘em. They’re just bored.”

Bored wasn’t the right word for her. She was calculating, her eyes daring me to react. I didn’t know her game yet, but I could feel the air shift—thickening, charged.

I drew in a deep breath, pushing past the shadows of my nightmares, replacing them with something fiercer. Vulnerability could be a crack in the armor—or the sharpest blade in the right hands. I had to remember that. And I sure as hell wasn’t backing down for her—or anyone.

Spinner reached for my hand again, his fingers grazing mine. “Lucy...”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, standing and sitting my mug on the table. His eyes followed me as I moved toward the door, but I didn’t look back. My chest felt raw, hollow from the memories the nightmares had dragged to the surface.

The men here might play at being better—and to a point, they were. But the presence of those women told me all I needed to know. Men like Spinner couldn’t be faithful, couldn’t be secure. I’d heard the same line too many times in my line of work. I love my wife. This doesn’t mean anything. But to a woman, it means everything .

THE DOOR SWUNG shut behind Lucy, her soft floral scent still hanging in the air, a fleeting trace of softness against the friction that had been stirred up. My eyes locked onto the empty chair she’d just vacated, her coffee mug still sitting there like a goddamn reminder. Heat from her fingers lingered on the wood, a ghost of a touch that had no business getting under my skin since she was gone.

I pulled out my spinner, letting it glide between my fingers, the rhythmic motion steadying the restless feeling inside me.

“Jesus, you’re pathetic,” Bolt muttered, his voice dragging me out of my head. He dropped into the chair across from me, stretching his legs out like he owned the damn place. His grin wasn’t as smug as it used to be, Fiona had softened some of his rough edges, but it was still there, knowing and pointed. “Look at you, sittin’ here all moony-eyed. Ain’t a good look, brother.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered, picking at the edge of my plate. Josie had made her breakfast, and now it just sat there, cold and uneaten. “It’s none of your business.”

“Yeah, it is,” Bolt shot back. “‘Cause I’ve been where you are. Thought I had all the time in the world—until I almost lost her. Fiona’s got me lookin’ at things different.”

Before I could answer, Gearhead strolled up, dropping into a chair with that easy arrogance of his. The morning light hit his dark hair, making it gleam like coal. For a guy in his thirties, lately he looked like he’d been through the wringer twice over.

“Yeah, Spinner,” Gearhead drawled, dragging out my name like he enjoyed poking the bear. “You park your ass here moonin’ over her too long, some other bastard’s gonna snatch her up.”

I leveled him with a look. “Keep talkin’, Gear. See how funny it is when I put you on your ass.”

He just laughed, unfazed as always. “Relax. Just statin’ facts. She’s got you so tangled up, you couldn’t find your way out with one of your damn roadmaps. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

My glare darkened, but Bolt cut in before I could fire back. “Gearhead’s got a point, though. The asshole tried to steal Fiona out from under me once, too. It fuckin’ happens.”

“She’s got demons,” I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “You can see it every time she pulls back. Whatever happened to her… it’s got a grip on her tight.”

Gearhead leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. “Then you prove to her you ain’t just another damn excuse to keep that guard up.”

“And how the hell do I do that?” I snapped, frustration clawing its way to the surface. “Every time I think I’m gettin’ somewhere, she slams the goddamn door shut.”

“Patience," Bolt muttered, his tone serious. “Women like that don’t give a damn about big shows or sweet talk. They want a man who don’t flinch, who proves, day in, day out, he ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

I let my head drop back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answer. “And what if that’s not enough? What if she decides it’s easier to keep runnin’?”

Bolt’s jaw tightened. “Then you make a choice, you either let her go, or you fight for her. But if you’re anythin’ like me, you ain’t lettin’ her go without a damn good reason.”

My gaze drifted back to Lucy’s empty chair, her laughter yesterday still playing in the back of my mind, too short, too fleeting. Letting her go? That wasn’t in the cards. Not when she was the first thing in years that made me feel something real—something besides the road and the club.

“She’s worth it,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

Gearhead snorted. “Then quit sittin’ here like a goddamn sap and, for fuck’s sake, stay the hell away from the sweet butts.”

His smirk came back, but there was something else in his eyes, something darker that flickered and vanished before I could pin it down. Maybe it was the memory of Fiona catching him with Tillie outside. Tillie couldn’t keep her mouth shut thinking it was funny. That little stunt had pissed Horse off something fierce. Bolt had moved on, but Horse still saw it as playing with Fiona’s head. Why Gearhead had pulled that move, I’d never understand.

Laughter rang out from the other side of the room, dragging my attention to the sweet butts huddled together, whispering. Their gazes flicked to me, their smiles wide like they smelled fresh gossip. My jaw tightened, but I forced myself to look away without reacting. Lucy knew why they existed, and she didn’t like it. Those women were poison, and Lucy knew it. Hell, she wasn’t wrong.

“You better straighten that shit out,” Bolt said, cutting through my thoughts. “Because if she walks, you’re gonna be a miserable son of a bitch, and none of us wanna deal with that.”

“She’s not walkin’,” I said flatly, standing and grabbing Lucy’s half-empty mug and untouched plate. “Not if I’ve got anythin’ to say about it.”

Their voices followed me as I moved toward the door, but my thoughts were locked on Lucy. She could run, pull back, hide behind those walls, but I wasn’t letting her go. Not until she realized what I already knew.

She was mine.