Page 25

CLOVER

The next morning, I wake to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the broken ceiling and the warm weight of Dracula curled against my side. For a moment, I’m disoriented—the unfamiliar surroundings, the hard floor beneath the sleeping bag—but then yesterday’s events come rushing back.

The abandoned water park.

The truck breaking down.

Phoenix.

I turn my head slowly, careful not to disturb the cat. Phoenix is still asleep beside me, one arm thrown over his face, his chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. I don’t know what it is about the calm in his face when he sleeps. The hard lines soften, making him look younger and less burdened. The weight of years of struggle vanishes, and he seems at peace.

I wish there was a way I could unburden the load he carries. There’s so much inner hate he holds on himself when he doesn’t need to. I wish I could show him the way I see him.

That he isn’t a product of how he was raised.

He can be any kind of man he wants to be. He just has to believe that he can be.

As I continue to stare at him, last night replays in my mind

The way he looked at me, the feel of his fingertips against my cheek, the way his lips felt against mine. The way his hard cock felt grinding into me—how close we came to crossing a line we probably shouldn’t.

Part of me wishes Dracula hadn’t interrupted us.

The more sensible part knows it was probably for the best.

Maverick would absolutely lose his shit if he knew.

And there is one tiny, little important thing I haven’t told Phoenix, that to me is not a big deal, but to him, it might be—technically, if we did have sex last night, it would have been my first time.

Yeah, it's probably a good idea that Dracula stopped us.

Sighing quietly, I carefully extract myself from the sleeping bag, trying not to wake either Phoenix or the cat. I need a moment alone to gather my thoughts and process everything that’s happening between us.

Stepping outside, the desert is beautiful in the early morning light. The abandoned water park looks less creepy and more melancholy in the soft golden glow. I walk a short distance from our makeshift shelter, stretching my stiff muscles and trying to sort through the tangle of feelings inside me.

I’ve always thought Phoenix was attractive—that was never in question. But what I’m feeling now goes beyond simple attraction. There’s a connection between us that I didn’t expect, an understanding that makes me feel seen in a way I rarely do.

Everyone else in my life—Maverick, Haven, the whole club—they see me as someone to protect, someone fragile. Phoenix started that way, too, but I don’t know, it’s almost like he saw how that annoyed me, so he flipped the switch.

He sees my strengths, not just my weaknesses.

And that’s intoxicating.

I hear movement behind me and turn to see Phoenix emerging from the building, hair mussed from sleep, eyes squinting against the morning light. My heart does a stupid little flip at the sight of him.

“Morning,” he says, his voice still rough with sleep. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. Just getting some fresh air.”

He lifts his arm, sniffing underneath. “Do I smell that bad?” he teases, and I grin at him.

“I mean, I didn’t want to say anything, it was hot yesterday,” I joke back.

With a big smile, he comes to stand beside me, close but not touching. Neither of us mentions last night’s almost, but it hangs in the air between us, an unacknowledged current.

“I tried the truck again earlier,” he says after a moment. “No luck. I’ll call for a mechanic once it’s a decent hour.”

“So, we’re stuck here a while longer?”

He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Afraid so. That a problem?”

“No,” I chime, perhaps too quickly. “Not at all.”

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “You should check your blood sugar. I’ll go grab your kit.”

“Thanks.”

He returns with my testing supplies and a piece of jerky, just in case. I’m touched by his thoughtfulness and by how much he’s paying attention to my needs.

As I check my levels, he paces the area, surveying our surroundings in the daylight. Something about the way he moves—always alert, always scanning for threats—reminds me that beneath his casual demeanor, he’s a man who’s lived through danger.

Who’s clearly caused some too.

“All good?” he asks, nodding toward my monitor.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I pack away my supplies. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Wait for the mechanic, I guess. Not much else we can do.”

I nod, glancing back at the abandoned park. “At least the light is perfect for more photos. I could get some morning shots to complement yesterday’s sunset ones.”

“Always working.” He grins, but there’s a warmth in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“It’s a good distraction,” I admit. “Keeps me from overthinking everything.”

“Like what?”

I hesitate, weighing how honest to be. “Like the club. What might be happening back home. Whether we’ll have anything to go back to.”

His expression sobers. “They’re gonna be okay, Clo.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” he concedes. “But I know they’re fighting like hell. And I know your brother. He doesn’t give up easy.”

I smile faintly. “Yeah, stubborn as they come.”

“Wonder where you got it from?” he teases, and just like that, the tension eases.

I retrieve my camera from our shelter, careful not to disturb Dracula, who’s now stretched out like he owns the entire sleeping bag. Phoenix watches from a distance as I move through the park, capturing the morning light as it plays across the abandoned structures.

Eventually, he disappears back into our shelter. When he emerges, he’s changed his shirt, and I nearly drop my camera at the sight of him.

His chest is bare, muscles defined in the morning light, skin tanned and marked with scars and tattoos I’ve only glimpsed before. The Roman numerals stand out on his chest, along with the tiger with bright blue eyes he described last night. There are others, too—symbols and words I can’t make out from this distance.

He catches me staring and freezes, T-shirt in hand. “Shit, sorry. Thought you were on the other side of the park.”

I swallow hard, trying to appear unaffected. “It’s fine. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

It’s a lie.

I’ve never seen anything like this man before me.

He pulls on his shirt, but the image is already seared into my memory—the strength in his shoulders, the lean muscles of his abdomen, the scattered scars that hint at stories he hasn’t told me.

“Found my jacket,” he says, holding it up. “You were cold last night. Thought you might want it again.”

He crosses to where I stand, holding out the leather like a peace offering, and I take it gratefully, trying to ignore the way my fingers brush against his in the exchange.

“Thanks.” I slip it on over my T-shirt, immediately enveloped in its warmth and his scent—engine oil, desert dust, and something distinctly him. “It helps.”

His eyes linger on me for a moment too long, and I feel the heat rising to my face under his gaze. “What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Just, you look good in it.”

The simple compliment shouldn’t affect me as much as it does, but I feel a flush of pleasure warming my cheeks. “Thank you.”

We stand awkwardly for a moment, neither of us sure what to say next. In the daylight, whatever almost happened between us last night feels both more real and more impossible.

Finally, Phoenix clears his throat. “I should try calling that mechanic. The sooner we get back on the road, the better.”

I nod, trying not to feel disappointed. “Oh, yeah, of course.”

He heads back toward the truck while I continue taking photos, though my heart isn’t in it anymore. I’m too distracted by thoughts of him, by the memory of his face inches from mine in the darkness, by the feel of his body rocking against mine, by what might have happened if Dracula hadn’t intervened.

When I return to our shelter to pack up my gear, the cat is gone, the sleeping bag empty. I gather our things methodically, my mind still wandering.

I shouldn’t be feeling this way. Phoenix is Sadie’s brother. He’s a member of the club. He’s been assigned to protect me, not whatever this is becoming.

And yet, I can’t ignore the pull between us. The way my heart races when he’s near. The way I find myself looking for him, even when I should be focused on other things.

“Clover?” His voice startles me from my thoughts. “Mechanic’s on his way. Should be here in about an hour.”

“Great,” I say, forcing enthusiasm I don’t entirely feel. “I’ll finish packing up.”

He nods, then hesitates. “About last night…”

My heart skips. “What about it?” I blurt a little too forcefully.

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I’m beginning to recognize as a sign of his nervousness. “The thing is… what almost happened—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupt, not sure I want to hear him say it was a mistake. “It was just the situation, right? Being stranded, the adrenaline, whatever. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Something flickers across his face— disappointment? Relief? I can’t tell.

“Right,” he says finally. “Yeah, right. Just the situation.”

We look at each other for a long moment, and I have the distinct feeling we’re both lying.

To each other, to ourselves.

“I should finish getting the stuff from the truck,” he says, turning away, my heart leaping out of my chest to go with him.

“Phoenix?” I call after him, not sure what I’m going to say until the words are leaving my mouth. “For what it’s worth, I don’t regret it. Almost happening, I mean,” the last words come out as a whisper as I lose my confidence halfway through speaking.

He stops, back still to me, and I see his shoulders tense. For a heartbeat, I think he’s going to keep walking. Then he turns, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

“Neither do I,” he admits quietly. “And that’s a big fucking problem, Clover.”

Before I can respond, he’s gone, striding back toward the truck with purpose, leaving me standing here with my heart pounding and my thoughts in chaos.

My breathing comes in hard and heavy as I spin and slump down, sitting heavily on the sleeping bag and trying to process what just happened.

We’ve acknowledged it—this thing between us—but we’ve also acknowledged why it can’t happen.

And yet, I can’t help wondering if it’s already too late to go back to how things were before.

The sun climbs higher in the sky as we finish packing up our makeshift camp.

Phoenix seems determined to maintain a safe distance, keeping the conversation light and impersonal. I follow his lead, not pushing for more, though every part of me wants to.

When the mechanic finally arrives—a grizzly older man in a tow truck who eyes the abandoned water park with suspicion—I’m almost relieved by the distraction.

“Coolant line’s shot,” he confirms after examining the truck. “Gonna need a new one. I can fix it here, but it’ll take a couple of hours.”

Phoenix nods. “Whatever it takes. We need to get back on the road.”

While the mechanic works, we wait in the shade of what was once a concession stand. Phoenix sits with his back against the wall, eyes closed, though I don’t think he’s actually sleeping. I browse through my photos from the past two days, amazed at how much we’ve already experienced.

“Found something,” I say, showing him a photo I took at Roy’s—him looking back over his shoulder, face half in shadow, eyes intense.

He studies it for a moment. “It’s good. You should do more shots like this for your club account. Get the guys to do more poses like this so you don’t have to blank their faces out.”

The compliment warms me. “Thanks. That’s actually a good idea.”

“This campaign’s lucky to have you,” he states.

I smile, pleased by his acknowledgment of my work as something valuable, not just a silly hobby. “I hope they think so too.”

He smiles weakly and then leans back against the wall, eyes closed again. We lapse back into silence, but it’s more comfortable now. The tension between us hasn’t disappeared, but it’s shifted into something almost familiar—an awareness we’re both carrying but not acting on.

Suddenly, I spot a small black shape watching from atop one of the slides—Dracula, sentinel of the forgotten park.

“Look,” I say, pointing. “He came to say goodbye.”

Phoenix follows my gaze, then shakes his head with a small smile. “Weird little stalker.”

“I’m gonna miss him.”

“Seriously? That cat cockblocked me so hard last night,” he mutters, then freezes, clearly not having meant to say that aloud.

I burst into laughter, the tension broken by his unexpected candor. “Did you just say ‘cockblocked?’ What are you, sixteen?”

His face flushes, but he’s laughing too. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” I admit, still smiling. “And for the record, I was thinking the same thing.”

Our eyes meet briefly, and there it is again—that current of awareness, of possibility. But this time, there’s an understanding, maybe. That whatever this is between us, we’re both feeling it.

Both wanting it.

Both knowing we shouldn’t.

Phoenix returns his attention to the mechanic working on the truck, but I catch the small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You think we should check in with the club before we hit the road? I’m sure Mav is worried about you, seeing as we’re out of service and have been for hours now?” he asks.

Widening my eyes, I let out a small chuckle. “I thought the satellite phone was only for emergencies?”

He groans, shaking his head but still smiling at me. “You wanna call your brother or not?”

Bouncing happily, I clap my hands in excitement. “Yes, please!”

Phoenix chuckles, pulling the sat phone out of his pocket. “You are far too happy for this time of the morning and for our current situation,” he states, placing the phone in my hand.

Shrugging, I begin dialing Maverick’s cell number. “Or maybe you’re just far too cynical, and you need to lighten the hell up.”

The phone begins to ring on the other end as Phoenix replies, “Don’t tell Maverick about the cat cockblocking me.”

I widen my eyes. “Oh, no, he didn’t say cockblocking, Mav, he said—”

Phoenix’s face turns pale white as he stares at me, and I burst into a fit of laughing as the phone continues to ring on the other end. “He hasn’t picked up yet, you’re safe.”

Phoenix lets out a relieved exhale. “Jesus Christ, way to give me a heart attack, woman.”

I giggle but furrow my brows, still waiting for Maverick to answer his cell when it goes to his voicemail. “Huh,” I murmur, ending the call.

Phoenix looks at me in confusion. “He didn’t answer?”

“No, went to voicemail,” I mumble, concern starting to seep through my veins.

Phoenix shrugs it off. “He probably just didn’t get to it in time. Try again.”

Nodding, I smile. “Yeah, you’re right.” So, I dial once more and sit listening to my brother’s unanswered phone ringing through to voicemail again.

My foot begins to tap anxiously as I turn to Phoenix, biting down on my bottom lip. He takes the phone from me and starts dialing another number without saying a single word. But the tension between us is the highest it has been since we started this trip.

He puts the phone to his ear, waiting for someone to answer as I glance out at the mechanic still working on our truck.

I turn back to him, his nostrils flaring as he clenches his eyes shut tight.

“Phoenix?” I whisper, but he doesn’t reply. He just pulls the phone from his ear, then dials the same number again, putting it back up to his ear and waiting for someone to answer.

Anxiety ripples through me like a raging torrent out of control as his knee bounces frantically, not helping my incoming panic attack in the slightest.

“ Fuuuck !” he screams, launching the satellite phone across the desert.

I jump back in fright as he stands abruptly and begins pacing like he’s freaking the hell out, his fingers in his hair as I slowly stand, already knowing deep down what’s going on, just too afraid to ask.

“Wes,” my voice is small, barely audible, but it’s enough to capture his attention.

He spins to face me, his face contorted with fear, and I shake my head. “Who did you call?” I ask.

He drops his hands to his side, defeat rolling through him now as he steps up to me, letting out a heavy exhale. “We have to face the facts, Clo. Maverick isn’t answering. Sadie isn’t answering after multiple attempts—”

“What the fuck are you saying?” I scream at him. The mechanic glances over but doesn’t say anything.

Phoenix’s face wrinkles in despair. “Clo, the Cartel must have already attacked.”

I inhale sharply, my hand rushing to my chest because I feel like my heart is breaking right through it. “No. Then we have to go back!”

Phoenix’s eyes drop to the ground. “We can’t, Clover.”

Shaking my head, tears stream down my face in rivers as I turn for the truck. “Hey! You have to fix the truck right now, mister. We have to head back to Los Angeles. Do you hear me?” I scream, storming toward him.

The mechanic throws his hands in the air at me. “I’m working as fast as I can here, lady—”

“Sorry, take your time. She doesn’t mean it,” Phoenix interjects, coming up behind me, grabbing my arm, and turning me around to face him.

I glare at him. “Yes, I do mean it! We need to go home. We have to help them.”

His somber eyes meet mine as he tries to wrap his arms around me. “Maverick told you, if there was no answer—”

I fight him off, trying to move for the truck again. My tears flow heavier now, thinking of what the Cartel could be doing to them.

To all of them—right now.

While we’re here, living it up.

“I can’t be here. I have to go back. I have to help them. I have to help my brother. My sister. Don’t you want to help Sadie, for fuck’s sake!” I scream as strong arms grip me from behind and hold me against his firm body.

“There’s no one there to h-help,” his voice cracks on the last word, and hearing Phoenix break shatters me.

The emotion completely overwhelms me, and my body goes limp in his arms, the both of us falling like lead to the sandy desert floor. I can’t control my tears that free flow, and Phoenix spins me to face him as I sit in his lap. His eyes meet mine when his hand comes out, caressing my cheek, trying to calm me down as I cling to him for dear life.

The Cartel attacked the club while we were out of range.

I may have missed calls or messages from Maverick on my cell.

But I can’t get to them until we get back on the road.

And now the club is gone.

The Cartel won, and I have no idea to what extent the damage is done.

“What are we g-gonna d-do?” I whisper the heaviness of the situation hits us both.

Phoenix rests his forehead against mine, the closeness between us not about lust but about shared grief, as he stares into my eyes.

But for the first time, he doesn’t have an answer.

And that scares the absolute hell out of me…

TO BE CONTINUED