Page 16 of Victorious, Part 2 (The LA Defiance MC #6)

CLOVER

The tires crunch against gravel as we pull into Kelso Dunes, the sun slanting low across a horizon that gleams with liquid gold. We’ve already journeyed through the Mojave and past miles of Joshua trees stretching their twisted limbs like otherworldly dancers mid-twirl.

That whole stretch felt as though we’d stepped into a surreal dream, the trees casting long, skeletal shadows over sunbaked earth. But now, the dunes rise before us, monumental waves of sand frozen in time, sculpted by centuries of wind, shimmering with possibility.

Phoenix cuts the engine, and the truck rocks slightly before settling into stillness. He turns to glance at me, a longing question in his eyes he doesn’t need to speak aloud.

We’re alone out here, and we’re both fighting our desires so fucking hard.

Dracula, our stowaway menace of a cat, lets out a long, dramatic meow from the back seat, breaking our lustful stare.

He’s wedged himself in his makeshift carrier, which is a battered cardboard box lined with one of Phoenix’s T-shirts, and he’s clearly fed up with confinement.

A loud hiss interrupts us as Dracula decides this is the perfect moment to escape his carrier and explore the desert.

The psychotic cat bolts, his black fur a stark contrast against the pale sand as he rushes past Phoenix, straight out his window.

“Shit,” Phoenix mutters, pushing open his door, jogging after him. “Come here, you little demon.”

I can’t help laughing as I watch this tough biker chase a cat around in ankle-deep sand. Dracula seems to think it’s a game, always staying just out of reach, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Maybe leave him,” I call out. “He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

“And let him become coyote food? Hell no!” Phoenix dives for the cat and misses spectacularly, face-planting in the sand while Dracula sits nearby, cleaning his paws like he’s judging Phoenix’s technique.

I try my hardest to hold in my laugh, but I’m failing, barely holding my camera steady. Though somehow, I manage to capture the moment. Phoenix sprawled in the sand, glaring at a completely unbothered cat.

It’s perfect.

It’s real.

The kind of content that shows actual life instead of the carefully curated version most people post.

“You getting this?” Phoenix grumbles, spitting sand out of his mouth.

“Every gloriously, embarrassing second of it.” I lower my camera, grinning. “Your dignity is seriously suffering on this trip.”

“What dignity? I lost that the moment I agreed to travel with a fucking cat named Dracula.”

As if he knows we’re talking about him, Dracula saunters over and rubs against Phoenix’s leg, purring loudly and proudly.

“Now you’re friendly, you little shit?” Phoenix groans, but he scratches behind the cat’s ears. “Psychotic little bastard,” he mumbles under his breath, rolling on his back with a huff.

Grinning as I watch Phoenix lying on the sand with our pet cat, while I set up for some landscape shots, moving between different angles and compositions.

The preserve is massive, and everywhere I look, there’s something new to capture—the way the light filters through the sand, the endless expanse of desert stretching to the mountains.

It is simply breathtaking.

We work in comfortable silence for a while, me taking pictures and video clips while Phoenix pretends to keep watch, but I know he’s secretly playing with Dracula.

Phoenix spots a hawk circling overhead and points it out so I can capture it. When the wind picks up and starts messing with my tripod, he steadies it without being asked.

It strikes me how natural this feels.

How easy it is to work alongside him.

A perfect team.

“Can I ask you something?” I say, adjusting my lens for a macro shot of a flowering cactus.

“Shoot.”

“Your mother. Is she why you’re so protective? Not just of Sadie, but in general?”

Phoenix considers the question, absently petting Dracula, who has decided to use his boot as a pillow. “Maybe. Watching someone you love suffer, knowing there’s nothing you can do, it changes you. Makes you want to fight harder for the people who are still here.”

I nod, understanding more than he knows. “I still think about that night when you told me about your mom. How she dealt with her diabetes on top of everything else she was going through. It makes me realize how lucky I am to have the support system I do.”

“Your family’s incredible, Clo,” Phoenix agrees. “The way Maverick stepped up when you were diagnosed, the way he fought for you. I know he’s tough. He’s protective. But it’s only because he adores the ground you walk on. Like I do with Sadie.”

“He did step up. But he also sacrificed so much …” I pause, the familiar guilt washing over me.

“The medical bills after Mom died were crushing. Dad had already left when I was really young, so when I was diagnosed, it was just Mom working multiple jobs to pay for my insulin and supplies. She died when I was thirteen, and Maverick was only eighteen, so he found himself suddenly responsible for a diabetic kid.”

“And you feel guilty about it,” he states. It’s not a question. Because he knows it’s true.

“Every damn day,” I admit. “He gave up everything for me. College, his own teenage years, probably a dozen relationships, because dating gets complicated when you’re raising your diabetic sister.

And now here I am, pursuing this dream career that takes me away from him right when he needs me the most.”

“Clover.” Phoenix stops walking and turns to face me. “You know that’s not how family works, right? Love isn’t a debt you have to repay.”

“Isn’t it?” The words come out sharper than I intended. “Because it sure feels like it sometimes.”

“Aaron never would have wanted me to spend my life feeling guilty about being here when he isn’t.

About having a life with Mom when he couldn’t.

What little time I had with her,” Phoenix says quietly, and I see him still processing his own grief over his older brother.

“Just like Maverick doesn’t want you to feel guilty for having dreams.”

The words hit me harder than they should.

My eyes shift to Phoenix with a questioning gaze. “Did you? Feel guilty, I mean?”

Phoenix looks out over the desert, his jaw tight.

“For a long time, yeah. After Mom basically abandoned us for drugs, I did some really stupid shit. I joined the Steel Serpents partially because I was angry and looking for a fight. I felt as if Mom had this perfect life before us, and she was angry it was taken, and that Sadie and I weren’t good enough to fight for.

Took me a long time to realize that being reckless wasn’t honoring Aaron’s memory… it was pissing on it.”

My stomach clenches at the thought that this amazing man ever felt like he wasn’t good enough.

That he wasn’t wanted.

“Is that when you cleaned up your act?”

“When I realized Sadie was in real danger at the Serpents, I knew I had two choices. I could keep being the angry, destructive asshole I’d become, or I could be the kind of man Aaron and my grandma would have been proud of.

Someone who protects the people he loves without losing himself in the process. ”

We stand in comfortable silence, both lost in our own thoughts.

The sun is starting to lower in the sky, turning everything golden and warm.

The Kelso Dunes rise from the desert floor like golden mountains, their curves sculpted by wind and time into something that looks almost too perfect to be real.

The late afternoon sun turns the sand shiny, resembling liquid gold.

“Holy shit!” Phoenix breathes, echoing my earlier reaction to the preserve. “This is…”

“I know, right?” I smile, shifting to his side, taking his lead, knowing he is done with that part of our conversation.

He glances back out to the dunes as we begin to walk toward them. “How high are they?” Phoenix asks, shouldering my tripod bag.

“The tallest is about 650 feet. Which means we’d better start hiking if we want to get to the top before sunset.”

The climb is harder than I expected. Sand is deceiving. It looks stable but shifts under your feet with every step, making progress frustratingly slow. Phoenix stays close behind me, ready to help if I need it, but not hovering.

Halfway up, we stop to rest, and I check my blood sugar.

“You okay?” Phoenix asks, his tone is casual, not worried.

“Perfect. Though I’m definitely feeling this climb.”

“Want me to carry your camera bag too?”

“I’ve got it.” I adjust the strap and start climbing again. “Besides, you’re already carrying half my equipment. I’m not completely helpless.”

“Never said you were.” His voice carries a note of admiration. “Actually, you’re pretty badass for someone with a chronic illness.”

“Pretty badass for someone, period,” I correct him.

He chuckles, nodding in agreement. “From here, I can tell you, you most definitely have a bad ass.” I hear the smile in his voice.

I stop walking abruptly and spin with a huge smile crossing my face, but I cross my arms over my chest. “Was that your way of flirting, or are you giving my ass a negative review right now as we drag ourselves up a sandy hill with no witnesses?”

He snorts out a laugh, continuing past me, hoisting my equipment up his shoulder.

“So, my delivery needs some work, but Clover, I could never leave a negative review on your ass. It’s all gold stars and Michelin reviews from me, Reel Girl.

” He winks, then takes off ahead of me, Dracula following him as a flush crosses my cheeks.

But then I jerk my head back in realization of what he said, and take off after him. “Wait, Michelin is for eating!”

He glances back at me with a nonchalant shrug. “Well, maybe I wanna taste every inch of you?”

I stop dead on the spot as he chuckles, spins, and keeps trudging up the hill. My heart races against my chest, and I move my hand to my watch to turn off the alert before it starts beeping this time, knowing it is going to sound at any second.

Holy. Fuck!

“C’mon, Clo, you’re gonna miss all the fun,” he calls ahead of me, breaking me from my shock-induced coma.

Letting out the breath I didn’t know I was holding, I rush to catch up to him, but I’m fighting the urge to climb him like a tree.

He simply smiles at me when I move in beside him, but says nothing.

A comfortable silence flows between us. When we’re about three-quarters of the way up, a low, haunting hum that seems to come from the dunes themselves vibrates through the air, and I stop climbing, mesmerized.

“Do you hear that?” I whisper so I don’t disturb the moment.

Phoenix stops beside me, tilting his head to listen. “What is that?”

“The singing sands. The sound happens when the sand grains slide against each other in just the right way.” I pull out my cell to record the symphony. “Scientists think it has to do with the size and shape of the sand particles, but no one knows for sure why some dunes sing and others don’t.”

The brightest smile lights Phoenix’s lips.

That, teamed with the humming dunes, is like something from a Nicholas Sparks novel.

We stand listening to the desert’s song, and I watch Phoenix’s face transform with wonder.

This tough biker who’s seen the worst of humanity is standing on a sand dune, completely captivated by a natural phenomenon most people will never experience.

I lift my camera and capture the moment. Phoenix silhouetted against the golden sand, his head tilted up toward the sky, listening to the earth sing.

He snaps his head toward me, his brow furrowed. “Did you just take a picture of me?” he asks, noticing the camera.

“Maybe?”

“I don’t put my face in pictures, Clover.”

“You just did.” I smirk, showing him the image on my camera’s LCD screen. “Look at that. You look like you’re hearing magic for the first time.”

He studies the picture, his expression softens, and he lets out a soft huff. “I guess I am.”

Phoenix settles beside me on the sand, apparently deciding he’s done being camera-shy. “Take a picture of both of us.”

“Really?” My eyes widen, while my heart gallops in excitement.

“All right, don’t go all fangirl on me, just take the photo before I change my damn mind.”

Holding in my laugh, I set the camera’s timer and position it to capture us against the sunset. We sit close together on the sand, Dracula somehow managing to wander up the dune to join us for the shot.

“This is probably going to be my favorite picture from the whole trip,” I say as the camera clicks.

“Even though we look like we’ve been through a sandstorm?” he groans.

“Especially because of that,” I reply, take the picture, then grab the camera, turn it, and show him.

Our first official picture together.

A warmth flows through my body as I watch him try to fight his smile, but he loses, his eyes finding mine.

My pulse instantly begins to race as his hand slides up, his finger sliding a strand of hair behind my ear.

Swallowing a lump down my throat, he exhales as he leans a little closer.

“Fine… you can keep the picture. But only because you look so fucking sexy in it. Can you send it to my phone?”

Smirking, I raise my brow and lean a little closer, our lips almost touching. “Why? You wanna jerk off to it like a weirdo?”

A mischievous grin lights his face as his nose slides in, grazing mine. The energy between us is firing like the damn Fourth of July. “I hadn’t thought about that, but now it’s all I’m gonna be thinking about.”

Grinning, I bite my bottom lip, letting out a soft whimper, slowly pulling back from him, seeing his breathing increase as he watches me Bluetooth the picture straight to his cell.

His cell beeps, and he pulls it out of his pocket, sees the image, then stares back at me, his eyes flaming with desire. The air between us suddenly feels charged, electric. All the careful boundaries we’ve been maintaining begin to feel fragile.

“Clover…”

“I know,” I whisper. “I know we can’t. Maverick would literally murder you.”

He growls, surging forward, his hand in my hair, gripping tight. “I don’t care about Maverick right now.”

The honesty in his voice makes my breath catch, my chest heaves. “Phoenix…”

He inches closer, close enough that the flecks of gold in his blue eyes look like they’re sparkling.

“I keep trying to do the right thing here. Keep trying to just be your protector, your friend. But you’re too fucking tempting, especially when I am trying to fight how much I…

” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but the words hang in the air between us anyway.

“How much you what?” I ask.