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"That’s why this isn’t just another assignment for me," I continue, feeling a warmth kindle within at their silent acknowledgment. "It's personal. And it's why I’ll do everything I can to portray your club honestly and with respect."
A hush falls over our corner of the diner as my declaration settles between us. The rain outside seems to have let up, a metaphorical reflection of the shift happening indoors.
"I'm not here to sensationalize your lives or exploit your kindness for headlines," I assure them. "I'm here to shine a light on the truth—the generosity and strength that bind you together and how that extends beyond this club."
Jake leans his elbows on the table, bridging the distance between us with his steady gaze.
"You're asking for trust," he says slowly. "That’s not given lightly around here."
I nod because he’s right—trust is earned.
"I don’t expect it to be handed to me," I reply earnestly. "But I’m willing to work for it."
Silence hangs thickly as they exchange glances—a silent conversation among them that leaves me momentarily on the outside looking in.
Finally, Jake nods once, decisively.
"Alright, Emma," he says with a cautious note of respect in his voice. "We’ll take you up on your offer.”
As we talk, their guards begins to slip, revealing glimpses of the men behind the myth. I take notes, but my senses are acutely aware of the undercurrent between us. Each shared look, each casual brush of the hand, sends a jolt of awareness through me.
The conversation ebbs and flows, with moments where our eyes lock a little too long, or a smile lingers with unspoken meaning. It’s professional, yet charged with an energy that blurs the lines.
After an hour, they start to wrap up. But I’m left with more questions than answers. An idea sparks in my mind. "Can I see where you all hang out?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. "It might help me get a better feel for the story."
There's a moment of hesitation. The men exchange glances, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Then Jake finally nods. "Follow us," he says. The rain starts up again as soon as we step outside, setting the tone for the rest of the evening. I follow their bikes, my car winding down roads that snake deeper into the Redwood forest.
We finally arrive at a secluded compound nestled in the heart of the forest. It’s an impressive setup – a collection of buildings that exude a rustic charm, surrounded by the imposing beauty of the redwoods. It’s clear this is the heart of the Angel Riders MC, their sanctuary. Their safe haven.
As I step out of my car, the storm unleashes its fury. The rain pours down in sheets, and thunder rumbles ominously in the distance. Jake approaches me, his expression serious. "You can't head back in this weather. It's too risky with the roads flooding."
I know he's right, even as a professional voice in my head screams about boundaries, the journalist in me, sees an opportunity. "I'll stay, then." I say with a nod. Dex grins, his earlier charm now laced with a hint of something more – something like excitement. "Welcome to our world, Emma."
Inside the clubhouse, the atmosphere is lively and jovial. The warmth of a crackling fire, booming laughter, and the easy camaraderie of the MC members envelop me. I'm an outsider, yet there's a sense of being welcomed into a private, guarded world.
After an evening of listening and observing, I retreat to my room, the weight of the day's revelations pressing heavily on my mind. Despite the exhaustion, sleep eludes me, and I find myself staring out the window, watching the raging storm. A sudden movement outside catches my eye. It's hard to make out what it is, through the rain-lashed window, but there's definitely someone out there, moving stealthily between the trees. I watch, my curiosity piqued, as the figure stops near one of the outbuildings, appearing to fiddle with something in the dark.
The situation feels odd, out of place amidst the relative calm of the clubhouse. Who would be wandering outside in this storm, and why? I'm about to turn away when a flash of lightning illuminates the scene, casting a brief, stark light on the figure. It's one of the club members, but I can't tell who. What's more alarming is what they're doing - it looks like they're hiding something, a package or a box, under the floorboards of the outbuilding.
Before I can process the scene fully, another bolt of lightning startles me, and in that brief moment of distraction, the figure disappears into the night.
In the eerie silence that follows, I'm left alone with the ghost of what I've just seen. My mind races, piecing together the fleeting images — the secretive figure, the hidden object, the tension in the air. A shiver runs down my spine, not from the cold, but from the realization that there's a layer to the Angel Riders MC that I hadn't even begun to uncover.
The room feels smaller, almost claustrophobic, as if the secrets of the clubhouse are closing in on me. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill of uncertainty. My gaze drifts back towards the window.
Doubts swirl in my mind, mingled with my journalistic instinct and innate curiosity. What was so important that it had to be hidden under the cover of night and storm? Is this the real story of the Angel Riders MC, lurking just beneath the surface of their charitable facade? And more importantly, what does this mean for me, now that I've glimpsed something I was fairly certain I was not meant to see?
Do I confront the club with my midnight discovery, or do I keep it to myself and search for answers alone?
Either way, I knew I had stepped into a world far more complicated and potentially dangerous than I'd imagined.
2
EMMA
The first light of dawn filters through the curtains stirring me awake. The room is unfamiliar but feels oddly comforting, a gentle reminder of the night spent in the MC's compound. I lie still for a moment, allowing the reality of my surroundings to sink in. The storm has passed, leaving a hushed calm in its wake.
A soft knock at my door startles me. "Yeah?" I croak out, clutching the blanket up to my chin like some kind of shield. The door inches open, and there's Liam. He's got my suitcase from the motel. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. What was he doing with my things?
