“We have a problem inside the club,” I say low. “And now we have her. Gunny’s daughter. Someone’s stalking her. The timing lines up too clean with the shipment and the driver.”
Mace nods. His beard scratches against his shirt. “You think it’s connected?”
“Maybe.”
Ghost’s eyes stay cold. “She’s a liability.”
She’s more than that. She’s a fucking distraction I can’t afford. Her smile and soft voice keep replaying in my head. The way she looked at me like I was both terrifying and fascinating. I want to own that look. I want to make her say my name while I bury myself deep inside her. The thoughts rage through me. I slam the glass down harder than I mean to. Whiskey sloshes over the side.
“Keep eyes on her at all times,” I order. “She doesn’t leave the compound. She doesn’t talk to anyone without me present. She’s under my protection now.”
The words feel heavy. I mean them more than I should. Gunny left fifteen minutes ago after I promised to keep her safe. The club locks down tighter. Brothers patrol the perimeter. Engines rumble low in the night. I walk the fence line myself. The air carries salt and distant rain. Mud sucks at my boots. Every shadow makes me think of her. Her injured ankle. Her nervous laugh. The way her body felt under my hand.
I stop near the west gate. The razor wire glints under the lights. Somewhere out there enemies circle closer. They took our shipment. They hung our driver like meat. Now they watch Gunny’s daughter. My fists clench. No one touches what’s mine. And Tia feels like mine already. The realization burns. I shouldn’t want her. She’s soft where my world is hard. Cute where everything around me stays brutal. Yet every word out of her mouth makes me want to drag her into the darkness and keep her there.
I return to the clubhouse. My boots carry me back to the office. Screens glow with shipment logs and perimeter feeds. The numbers blur. All I see is Tia’s face. Her wide eyes. The flush on her cheeks when she called my forearms nice. A low roar builds in my chest. I slam a fist on the desk. The wood cracks under the force.
Mace appears in the doorway. “Prez. We got movement on the outer road. Two vehicles. Holding position.”
I straighten. The distraction pulls me back into the war. Good. I need it. “Send Ghost and two prospects. Watch them close. No engagement unless they cross the line.”
He nods and leaves. I sit behind the desk. The chair groans under my weight. Hours pass slow. I review logs until my eyes burn. Every few minutes my mind drifts back to her. The way she limped beside me. The ridiculous stories she spills when nervous. I should focus on the threat. The missing shipment. Odin. The possibility of a rat inside my club. Instead I keep seeing her small hand tracing that cartoon kraken on her backpack.
Dawn creeps across the compound. Gray light filters through the windows. I stand and stretch. My muscles ache from the long night. I walk to her room again. The door opens quietly. She sleeps curled on her side. One sock has slipped off. Her bare foot peeks out from the blanket. Her chest rises and falls in soft rhythm. She looks peaceful.
I close the door softly. The hallway air feels cooler against my heated skin. Brothers stir in the main room. Coffee brews bitter and strong. I pour a cup and stand at the window. The compound wakes slowly. Engines rumble to life. Men move with purpose. The war waits outside our gates. But inside these walls Tia November has already started changing things. She makes me feel possessive in ways I’ve never allowed. She makes me hard with nothing but a nervous smile and dancing taco socks.
As I drink my coffee the compound stirs fully awake. Orders go out. Perimeter checks double. I keep her in my sight as much as possible. She moves through the space like a bright spot in the darkness. Her laughter carries down the hall when she talks to one of the old ladies about houseplants. The sound pulls at me. I watch from the doorway. Her hands gesture wild as she explains something about emotional support succulents. The old lady chuckles. Tia beams like she won a prize.
My chest tightens. She shouldn’t fit here. Yet she does. In small ways that make my blood run hot. I want to drag her away from everyone. I want her smiles for myself. Her quirks. Her nervous energy. All of it. I turn away before she catches me staring. The attraction wars with duty. With the knowledge that enemies circle closer.
The day drags heavy. Meetings blur together. Logs. Timestamps. Suspect names. Every lead circles back to the same dark possibility. Someone inside. Someone who knew the route. Someone who might now watch Tia through my own walls. The thought makes my fists clench until knuckles crack. I’ll find them. I’ll rip answers from their throats. And I’ll keep her safe while I do it.
Evening falls again. The compound lights buzz on. I bring her food myself. A plate of grilled meat and rice from the kitchen. She sits cross legged on the bed when I enter. Her hair falls messy around her face. She looks up and smiles that bright smile that hits me like a punch.
“You brought me dinner? That’s surprisingly domestic for a big scary president. Do you also do laundry? Because I have trust issues with laundromats after an unfortunate sock eating incident last year.”
I set the plate down. Her fingers brush mine when she takes it. The contact burns. “Eat. Then sleep. No wandering the halls.”
She nods but her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Yes sir. Though full disclosure I’m terrible at following rules. I once got detention for drawing smiley faces on all the test answers. The teacher did not appreciate my artistic interpretation of algebra.”
I fight the smile that wants to break free. She’s dangerous. Not because of who hunts her. Because of how easily she slips past my defenses. I leave before I do something stupid like sit on the bed beside her and pull her into my lap. The night stretches long. I patrol the perimeter again.
Hours later I return inside. The clubhouse quiets. I stop outside her door once more. No sound. Just the steady rhythm of her breathing I imagine through the wood. My hand rests on the knob. I could go in. I could wake her with my mouth on her skin. I could make her moan my name until the only danger she knows is how deep I can bury myself inside her.
I pull my hand back. The restraint costs me. My body stays hard and aching as I walk away. She’s a light in my dark world that I can’t afford to touch.
The war outside waits. The threat inside my club festers. But the real battle rages in my chest. Between duty and desire. Between what I should do and what every dark part of me demands.
I head to my own room. The bed feels cold and empty. Sleep comes slow. When it does her face fills my dreams. Soft, porcelain skin. Dancing socks. That bright smile begging me to claim it. I wake hard and frustrated. The sun rises on another day of war. Another day of keeping her close while fighting the need to make her belong to me.
5
Tia
The compound feels like a beautiful cage wrapped in razor wire and leather. I’ve been here less than forty-eight hours and already the walls press in with all that testosterone and the low rumble of engines that never quite stop. There’s only so much pacing around my borrowed room I can do before my brain starts inventing new ways to talk to the potted plant in the corner. I named him Kevin. He seems supportive but not very conversational.
I dig through my backpack and pull out the little red bikini I threw in at the last second. It’s the kind of swimsuit that makes me feel brave on good days and slightly scandalous on every other day. The fabric feels cool and slippery against my fingers. I change quickly in the small bathroom attached to my room. When I look at myself I tug at the strings and adjust the top. My cheeks flush pink.
