“It’s not about you, kiddo, I promise. We’ve just got some stuff to work out, married people things. Plus, Vik is worried about some big changes coming to the club. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
He doesn’t look convinced. Only time will offer him the assurance he’s craving, the safety he’s never felt, or the support he’s never received. But no matter where Vik and I land in all of this, he’s Haley’s half-brother, and he’ll always be in our lives.
“All I want you to worry about right now is what you’re going to let me do to the mop on your head that you call hair.”
“You want to cut my hair?”
“Desperately. Let’s go. Then, when I’m done, we can head over and get you some new clothes for school.” I offer, sliding out of the booth.
The wind knocks from my lungs when his towering frame smacks into mine, wrapping me up in his lengthy limbs.
“Thanks, Josie,” his whisper hits my ear.
I hold back the tears welling quickly at the unexpected show of appreciation, not wanting to scare him off when he finally pulls away. His pale cheeks tinge pink, but I give him a quick nod and lead him back to my salon chair.
SORRY, YOU WEREN’T INVITED
VIKING
This isn’tthe type of distraction I need when my marriage feels like it’s one wrong comment away from dissolving into nothing. Six years together and an unexpected bump in the road—albeit a kid popping up out of nowhere is a bit more than a bump—has almost been enough to derail us completely. I thought we were stronger than this, but something about Josie’s reaction isn’t sitting right. It has me wondering if I’m missing something, and I’m just too overwhelmed to figure it out.
She’s back home, but I might as well be living with a ghost. Every night, she falls asleep in Haley’s room, leaving me to stew in our bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating whether dragging her to her rightful spot would make things better or worse.
Worse. It would definitely make things worse, which is why I’ve maybe gotten ten hours of sleep over the last few days. By the time I peel my aching body free in the morning, she’s already out the door.
No matter how tense things are between us, Haley and Trenton’s lives have meshed seamlessly. Hales still doesn’tknow the scope of things. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. Maybe for her mom to broach the subject. Offer us a united front, even if it’s fake.
Watching my kids together knocks the air from my lungs every time I catch Haley conning Trenton into doing something I’m sure he couldn’t care less about. He might not have experience with siblings or demanding little sisters, but he’s playing the role of dutiful older brother without misstep.
“Get your head in the game, man.” Si swipes my shoulder as we cross paths.
My mind refocuses on tonight. He’s right, I need to get it together. The last thing we need is something stupid, like my distracted mood spooking Steel.
The rhythm of my pacing is swallowed by half the crew as they ready the merchandise for transport. Two more are camped outside watching the perimeter, and another four are spread out along the route from town to make sure we know of anything unexpected headed our way.
“How much longer?” I bark out, not sure who I’m actually demanding the answer from.
“Ten,” Chopper calls back from somewhere behind a stack of crates, his voice pinging off the metal walls as he and the guys do a final check.
The warehouse feels tighter than it should, like the walls are inching in with every passing second. Just a few more and we’ll all be squashed into nothing.
“I want this done,” I snap, dragging a hand down my face.
Silas huffs a soft laugh under his breath, but doesn’t push it. He goes back to quietly observing the flurry of activity before us.
I turn toward the open warehouse door just as the sound of fine-tuned engines rolls in from the distance. It’s a perfectmatch for the incoming storm. Another reason I’m ready to get this shit loaded and out of here.
Every head in the place tilts, attention snapping toward the sound as it grows closer, until the first set of headlights cuts through the dark outside and spills in through the warehouse’s bay door.
“Positions,” Silas calls out, already moving to meet the Covington crew.
They roll to a stop behind our parked bikes without any hesitation, a box truck following close behind. It backs in slowly, clearing the edges of steel, the warehouse is made out of.
“Let’s get it loaded,” Si calls out, while one of the prospects steps forward, rolling the door to the top before their driver even has the chance to hop out of the truck.
A small group, led by Steel and his second, slips into the warehouse, the rest staying clear outside to join my guys and keep an eye out for anything that might cause this meeting to go sideways.
I step forward to meet them halfway. “Steel.”
