The engines fire. The headlights sweep north.
I stand in the road and watch until the taillights shrink to red dots and disappear.
Razor is beside me. He holsters his weapon and spits into the gravel.
“Your Old Lady?”
“Yeah.”
He chuckles. “Does she know that?”
“Not yet.”
He doesn’t say anything else.
I walk back to my bike. My hands are shaking—adrenaline, not regret. I grip the handlebars until my knuckles go white and the shaking burns itself out.
By morning, every MC in the southwest will know what happened at this county line. They’ll know the Prez of the Hellborn Kings shot two men for standing on his road. They’ll know he pressed a gun to the Crimson Warriors’ VP’s face and threatened to burn their clubhouse to the ground.
And they’ll know he did it over a woman.
Good.
Let them know.
It’s almost six when I get back. The sky is going gray-pink at the edges, and the clubhouse is quiet.
I head to the kitchen.
Four eggs. Scrambled. Buttered toast. Hot sauce on the side. I set the plate on the counter and pour coffee.
I’m standing there with the mug halfway to my mouth when the kitchen door opens.
Shelby. She’s in pajamas, and her hair is messy, creased from the pillow. Her green eyes are half-open, squinting against the overhead light.
“I heard bikes. Unusual for so early in the morning.” Her voice is rough from sleep. “What happened?”
“Handled.”
She wraps her arms around herself and leans against the doorframe. Her pajama shirt rides up. I look at the bare skin on her midriff, then I look at the coffee.
“Saber. What happened?”
I set the mug down. “Crimson Warriors sent four men to the county line. They wanted Bull back, and they wanted you. I said no. They left.”
She’s awake now. All the way. Her green eyes are locked on mine, and the sleep is gone, replaced by something sharper.
“They came for me.” Her voice cracks on the last word.
“They won’t come again.”
“You don’t know that.”
I push the plate toward her. “Eat.”
She doesn’t move toward the plate. She moves toward me. Three steps across the kitchen until she’s standing right in front of me, close enough that I can smell my soap on her skin and see the pillow crease on her left cheek.
“What did you tell them?”