Page 15

Torrent

Tessa stands beside me, arms outstretched, breathing steadily as she fires off her last round. I watch the way her body moves, controlled, focused, powerful. When she lowers the Hellcat and hits the button to bring the target forward, I catch the proud little smile that tugs at her lips.

Center mass. Tight grouping.

She’s getting better every time.

“Damn, baby,” I say, stepping up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist. “You keep this up and I’m gonna have to start watching my back.”

She laughs softly, leaning into me. “Guess you taught me well.”

I kiss her cheek and take my Glock out, then step up to the line to empty my own clip. By the time I finish, she’s already started reloading her mags, her brow furrowed in concentration.

We’ve been out here for a couple of hours. It’s one of my favorite things to do with her. It’s quiet, intense, no bullshit. Just her and me. And I like knowing she can handle herself, especially if she’s gonna keep walking deeper into my world.

But as much as I don’t want to cut this short, duty calls.

I pull off my ear protection and glance toward her. “I need to take you home. Club business.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even pause her reloading. “Okay. I’ll give Em a call, maybe we’ll hang out for a bit.”

She starts to pack her gear, calm as ever. And it hits me again how rare she is. How easy she makes things feel.

But something’s been clawing at the back of my mind, and before I can stop myself, I speak.

“You’ve never once asked about the club,” I say, stepping in front of her. “Not what we do. Not what I mean when I say ‘business.’ You don’t flinch, don’t push, don’t question. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, it’s refreshing, actually, but why have you never asked?”

She blinks up at me, the sunlight cutting across her face, catching in those sea-glass eyes of hers. She lifts a hand and pushes her sunglasses up into her hair, expression unreadable.

“Because I know better,” she says simply.

I stare at her. “What does that mean?”

Before she can answer, the range door swings open and Drift strides in, tension all over him. “We need to get going. Now.”

My whole body tightens, but I force myself to look back at Tessa. “You good?”

She nods, already slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll walk.”

“Oh, hell no,” I say, stepping closer. “Gideon will give you a ride home.”

She just nods again, no argument, no drama, and turns to head toward the clubhouse without another word.

Drift’s watching me with a tight expression. “You good?”

I stare at her walking away and something twists deep in my chest.

“I don’t know,” I mutter.

Because I trust her more than I should.

And something about the way she said ‘I know better’ is still sitting like a loaded round in my gut, unfired, but dangerous.

And now I’ve got club business, and my girl is walking into the clubhouse with thoughts in her head I don’t know how to read.

And that scares me more than anything waiting on the other side of this ride.

“Let’s go.”

The salty stench of the port hits my nose the second I climb off my bike. The sound of cranes humming and metal containers clanking echoes around me like a war drum. But the only thing I hear is blood rushing in my ears.

This shipment was supposed to land hours ago. And now I’m standing in a fucking maze of steel and lies, and some asshole is telling me it never arrived?

I stalk toward the dock man, a guy we pay good money to, every step fueled by the fire burning in my gut.

“I know the shipment came,” I growl, fists clenched at my sides. “So why don’t you pull your head out of your ass and tell me where the container is?”

The guy flinches, eyes darting around like he’s hoping someone will swoop in and save him.

Drift steps up beside me, ever the calmer half of the storm. “Look, we know how crazy busy it is here, and I’m sure it’s an honest mistake. Just take another look at the log and tell us where it is.”

His voice is cool, measured. Me? I’m past that point.

This isn’t a small run. This is one of our biggest shipments this quarter. Guns, parts, custom jobs, everything is riding on this landing smooth. And this fuckup? It puts my guys in danger. That’s what has me seeing red.

“That’s the thing,” the dockworker stammers. “It’s not here yet. It’s, uh, late. Supposed to come in tonight.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I snarl, stepping in until we’re nearly nose to nose. “Do you have any idea how this fucks with my plan? How now I’ve got to reroute everything. The drivers, lookouts, escorts? My guys have homes, families, lives, and you just tossed all that into the fire.”

“Torrent,” Drift says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Calm down. It’s not his fault the shipment’s late. He doesn’t control the ships.”

I pull in a breath, jaw grinding as I stare at the dockworker. He’s sweating bullets. Good.

I point a finger in his face. “Looks like someone’s working late. I want you right here when that shipment comes in. You don’t fucking leave until my guys have it in hand and you’ve seen their goddamn taillights disappearing into the night. You got me?”

He nods frantically and scurries off like a rat who just spotted the trap.

Drift waits a beat, then glances over. “This about the shipment or about Tessa?”

I don’t answer right away. Instead, I stare out at the water. The cranes. The metal containers that now feel like goddamn bricks on my chest.

Drift keeps pushing. “’Cause I gotta be honest, Prez, if you’re letting your love life get mixed up with business, it’s a dangerous game.”

He’s not wrong.

But I don’t know how to separate it anymore.

Tessa’s got me fucked up.

She said she “knows better.” She didn’t flinch when I brought her into the clubhouse. She knew what the club bunnies were. Didn’t need to ask what kind of “business” the club did.

That should’ve raised a flag, but I was too caught up in how she feels in my bed. Too wrapped around her smile, her laugh, her goddamn loyalty.

She’s got history in this world. I never asked. But maybe I should’ve.

And the thought of her being with someone else in this life? In this world? It twists something sharp in my chest, something ugly.

Jealousy? Maybe.

Fear? Probably.

I exhale hard, rubbing the back of my neck. “She knew the terms before I ever said them out loud. She knew the players, the setting, everything.”

Drift eyes me sideways. “So, what, you think she was with another club?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s not like I asked. I figured if she wanted to tell me, she would’ve.”

“Or maybe she’s just like the rest of us. Trying to leave the past the fuck behind.”

I let that sit for a moment.

Yeah. We’ve all got ghosts. But hers? I feel them creeping into my bed at night, into my thoughts, my chest. I need to know what they look like before they start pulling her away from me.

“She’s different, Drift. She’s not just some girl.”

“I know. Everyone knows. Just don’t lose your edge.”

I nod, though my jaw is still tight.

This world is chaos. But for the first time in a long time, I’ve found something good in it.

Now I just have to make sure it doesn’t slip through my fingers.

Tessa climbs onto the back of my bike like it’s second nature now, holding onto me tighter than necessary, just to be close. I love having her on the back of my bike. She fits perfectly, like she always belonged there.

Once we get back to my place, we step into the kitchen, and I grab a beer. She’s glowing, grinning as she talks about her girl’s day with Em. I nod along, sip my beer, and offer the occasional “yeah?” or “that’s good,” but my mind’s not on her words.

It’s still on the port. Still on her.

That one line from earlier keeps repeating like a scratch in my skull— “Because I know better.”

What the fuck does that mean?

She’s laughing, telling me something about Em nearly knocking over a mannequin at some vintage store, and I can’t even pretend to follow. I’m staring at her lips, but I’m not hearing a word. I want to ask. I want to demand answers. But just before I get the chance, there’s banging on the door.

I curse under my breath as I rise, beer bottle clinking against the table. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I swing the door open hard enough to rattle the frame, only to find Drift and Finch standing there, both wearing looks that tell me I’m not going to like what’s next.

“We got trouble,” Finch says.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter.

What now? I worked my ass off today to make sure this drop goes smooth. Pulled strings, called in favors, threatened that dock rat six different ways to Sunday. The last thing I need is another fire to put out.

“Scorpions are nosing around again,” Drift says, stepping inside.

I see his eyes flick toward the kitchen, toward Tessa. “Fuck. Hey, Tessa,” he adds awkwardly.

I turn on him, cold and sharp. “Can you just give us a minute?” I ask her without taking my eyes off Drift.

She nods silently, lips pressed tight. She disappears into the bedroom and closes the door behind her.

I narrow my eyes at Drift, my voice low and seething. “What the fuck, Drift? You need a refresher on who the fuck is around before you open your mouth?”

“Alright, chill,” Finch says, holding up his hands. “We’re not used to you not being here alone all the time.”

“Well, get used to it.” I grab a cigarette, light it with a flame that’s similar to the one burning under my ribs.

“What’s the problem?” I ask through a cloud of smoke.

Drift runs a hand through his hair. “Got word the Scorpions were at the dock, trying to lean on our guy. Pressure him into talking.”

“Fuck!” The word rips out of me like a growl.

“He didn’t talk,” Drift adds quickly, “but it means they know something. We need to remind them that the port belongs to us.”

“No argument there,” I say. “But let’s not fuck this up with impulse. Shipment’s coming in tonight. We keep eyes on it, get our shit locked down. After that, we hit them back. Clean, loud, and hard enough they remember why they keep their distance.”

Drift nods. “Okay. But let’s not sit on this long. You know how they are.”

“Oh, believe me. I know.”

We hash out the rest of the plan for tonight. The routes, assignments, fallback spots. It’s business. But the whole time, my thoughts are behind that closed door.

Once they leave, I take a breath, crush out my cigarette, and head back to the bedroom.

She’s pacing when I walk in. Barefoot, arms crossed, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. The tension radiating off her hits me in the chest.

“Hey, baby,” I say gently. “I’m sorry about that. Drift and Finch shouldn’t have come in here talking like that.”

She turns, eyes wide. “So, the Scorpions are here because of you?”

“No. They were here,” I answer carefully, watching her face shift with fear.

“Since when? Have they always been, or is it recent? How long exactly?”

There’s something in her voice, panic, old and raw, and I don’t like it. I step forward, pull her into my arms. She’s stiff for a beat, then melts into me, but not all the way.

“Hey,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. “What’s going on, huh? How do you know about the Scorpions? Why are you so scared of them?”

She pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. “What? I’m not.”

“Were you with one of them before?” I ask it before I can stop myself. I hate the way it sounds coming out of my mouth, but I need to know.

Her eyes go wide. “What? No! God, no.”

“Then what is it?” I ask, voice soft but firm. “Because that fear? That isn’t just nerves. That’s history.”

She exhales shakily and looks away. “I’ve just heard bad things about them. At the diner. You know, people talk.”

But that’s not all. Not even close.

And I know it.

Still, I let it go for now. She’s scared. And cornering her won’t help.

“Listen,” I say, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, they’ve been around. But they didn’t really crawl out of their hole until we rolled into town. They’ve always wanted what the Royal Bastards have.”

“Which is what exactly?” she asks, voice smaller than usual.

“Control. Territory. Respect. Shit they’ll never earn, so they try to take it.”

She nods, biting her lip again. I see the questions in her eyes. I see the past behind them, too.

I’ll get the truth. Eventually.

But for now, I just pull her close again and whisper, “I’ve got you, Tessa. No one touches what’s mine.”

And God help whoever tries.