by Aiden Bates
He ran one hand through his hair and sighed. “It won’t happen again.”
“Damn right it won’t,” I said. “You’re under my personal protection, now.”
“I know that, too,” Raven said.
“What?”
“Yeah. You’ve been lurking around nonstop. And Logan told me Priest asked you to keep an eye on me.” He grimaced. “You’re stuck watching over the boss’s kid again, huh?”
“He didn’t need to ask me. I was planning on being on duty regardless.”
“Why?” Raven stared down at his shoes. “I know you don’t really want to be around me. This is just part of your job.”
I wanted to be around him every second of every day. And if I were a better man, and if Raven wasn’t so bright and ambitious and on his way to something great—if I were a little less terrified of what it would mean—I’d tell him that.
“No,” I said. “I want to keep you safe. Not as your sergeant. As your friend.”
Raven bit his lower lip, unconvinced.
“I’m sorry about Ankh.” I reached out and touched Raven’s arm. “You shouldn’t have had to face that alone.”
“I handled it until the very end there,” Raven said.
“I know you’re capable,” I said. “We all do. No one else in the club could’ve figured out as much as you did. But asking for help doesn’t make you weak.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Raven finally met my eyes.
I touched his bruised, swollen cheek.
“I miss Ankh, too,” I said. “He gave me a second chance at life with this club. I just—I don’t think I can provide any real assistance to your investigation beyond kicking any Viper’s ass who tries to enter our territory.”
Raven smiled weakly. He didn’t pull away from my touch.
“But I don’t want you to have to carry all that pain alone,” I said.
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone else,” he said.
He said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were that simple. He didn’t want any other members to feel the pain of confusion and betrayal that he felt. His selflessness stunned me, even when it led to such idiotic decisions. My heart clenched in my chest. I wanted suddenly and powerfully to embrace him, to wrap him in my arms and pull him close to me, and give him a safe place to release some of the pain he was so clearly keeping dammed up inside.
Our eyes met.
Raven’s tongue wet his lower lip.
I stepped closer. Raven’s dark blue eyes flickered shut. In the space between us, I heard his breath catch as I leaned in.
“Yo!” Blade called as he stepped back across the threshold. “Logan’s heading into town to restock the med kits, and we need to talk about timelines.”
I leaped backwards. Raven’s cheeks turned cherry-red.
Blade stared at me, eyebrows raised, and gave me a little downward head-tilt that I knew meant he’d be grilling me later. I brushed it off, but I couldn’t ignore him forever.
Taking advantage of Blade’s distraction, Raven darted up the stairs.
Blade sighed and scrubbed his hand across his forehead. “Everything okay?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You know what I mean.”
The rush of attraction I’d felt standing so close to Raven disappeared like a flame suddenly smothered. Blade had known me for as long as I’d been in the club—he could probably read my desire for Raven on my face. I steeled my expression into an impassive stare. If I suffered from some bout of insanity and actually ever pursued a relationship with Raven, Blade’s nose would forever be in my business.
“He seems to be handling it well, all things considered,” I said. “Seems like he really understands why everyone was so pissed about his solo act there. Shouldn’t happen again. And I know he’s really struggling with learning about the murder, you know, more than the rest of us are. Which is understandable. But he’s hanging in there.”
Blade raised an eyebrow. “I meant between you and him.”
“It’s fine,” I said, not suspiciously at all.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Our plan for dealing with the Vipers.”
Blade snorted then clapped me on the shoulder. “Fine. Just know my door’s always open. But until then, I do need your professional advice: I think I’m going to ask Logan to contact Rebel.”
I started. My worries about Blade catching me and Raven flew from my mind instantly as I began calculating the risks of reaching out to the Vipers. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t know,” Blade admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know where else to start. If Raven can’t dig up any more leads, how the hell are we supposed to?”
He was right about that. Raven was the best investigator we had. I doubted any boots-on-the-ground investigation would outweigh whatever information Raven had been able to dig up online.
“And I just…” Blade paused and pressed his lips together in thought. “I have a feeling about Rebel. Ever since he helped us after Crave shot Logan. He doesn’t seem like the rest of the Vipers. It might be worth the risk.”
“You know you’re biased, right? Just because he helped his brother doesn’t mean he’s disloyal to the Vipers. And if Logan does reach out to him, then the Vipers will know we’re sniffing around. And they’ll have the upper hand again.”
Blade grimaced. “Good point.”
“Don’t ask Logan about it yet,” I said. “Let’s talk about it at church. You got the next meeting set up?”
We worked out a few more logistical details to inform the members of the upcoming meetings. Then Blade’s phone went off with a message from Logan, and Blade was out the door like he had a literal viper striking at his heels.
The clubhouse was suddenly very quiet.
After the meeting that morning, the members had dispersed to attend to their own private rituals of grief: Siren and Maverick to Ankhor Works, Coop to his room, Tex and Heath to the bar. Priest to his empty home. We were usually such a noisy, rowdy bunch that the calmness was unnerving. It reminded me of the days after Ankh’s funeral. And in a way, we were reliving those days now.
The kitchen island was where Ankh and Priest had sat side-by-side for so many years. I’d seen them fix coffee in the morning, share slices of cake at members’ patching-ins, knock shoulders together as they pored over territory maps. To think we could’ve had that a little bit longer… It made my stomach churn painfully.
I’d organized my life in such a way that death was always only a few paces away. Always visible in the side mirrors of my bike or at the sharp end of my weapon. Ever since Afghanistan, I’d considered myself to be buddy-buddy with death: not seeking it out, but ready for it. Prepared.
But apparently I was only ready if death occurred on my terms. This murder—so long unknown—shook me.
Maybe that’s what had me acting so recklessly. The reminder that all of this could change at any moment. Could be snuffed out. That’s the life I chose, wasn’t it?
And yet I really had almost kissed Raven, right in the middle of the clubhouse kitchen.
Blade’s entrance should’ve been a rescue, a way of preventing me from making a huge mistake. But it didn’t feel that way. It felt like… It felt like an interrupted moment.
I didn’t kiss. And if I did, it was always an afterthought in the bedroom—like a baseball player giving a teammate a slap on the ass. A ‘good game’ sort of gesture after the heat of the moment. But just kissing? Kissing that didn’t lead to anything else? It just didn’t happen.
But I wanted it to. I wanted it with Raven.
I climbed the clubhouse stairs. I needed to rest, review my notes, and prepare the information I had for church tomorrow.
Instead, I found myself standing outside Raven’s door. The same place I’d stood when he’d clocked me hard in the face a few weeks back. I grinned and rubbed my jaw at the
memory.
“Raven?” I turned the doorknob and found it unlocked. I opened the door. “You there??”
The room was empty. I closed the door behind me.
Then the door to Raven’s attached bathroom opened, releasing a flood of steam. Raven stepped into the bedroom with nothing but a towel hanging loose off his narrow hips. His pale skin was flushed pink with the heat from his shower, a pink glow on his chest and cheeks. He’d messily towel-dried his dark hair and it hung loose into his eyes. When our eyes met, his mouth dropped open the barest amount and his tongue wet his lower lip.
“Jeez, Gunnar,” Raven said without anger. “What do you want?”
A dangerous question.
God, this was a bad idea. It was bad for me, and bad for Raven. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to walk back out the door. There was something between us, something I couldn’t ignore any longer. My gaze traveled slowly down his lean, muscled body, lingering on the subtle definition of his abs, his narrow fingers holding the towel, the curve of his ass, even his endearingly knobby knees.
“Gunnar,” Raven said again, softly this time. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Say something.”
Heat built low in my gut as we stood facing each other. The space between us was both unbearable and insurmountable. Raven’s cheeks pinked further, and it wasn’t from the heat of the shower. God, I wanted him—physically my fingers itched to wrap around his narrow hips and pull him flush against me.
But it wasn’t just that. The endearing way he squirmed under my gaze like he was embarrassed or shy sent a bolt of desire through me—it was so unlike the casual, introverted confidence he usually displayed. He was such a delicious contradiction. Smart, self-sufficient, snarky—but at the same time anxious and unsure.
Or maybe it was just me who made him unsure.
“I’m sorry.”
I hadn’t meant to say it; it just spilled out. I looked away.
“For what?” Raven asked with some confusion.
Honesty, openness… Supposedly these were the things that kept the club strong. That’s what we’d all told Raven, at least, as we took turns chewing him out for keeping us in the dark.
But I was just as bad. I was worse. Raven was brave enough to come clean, while I crept around in the shadows, hiding my own truth. Even if I’d waited too long—even if we couldn’t be together, not really—it was idiotic to pretend like there wasn’t anything simmering between us.
“I’m such a fucking coward,” I muttered.
Raven reached out and touched my wrist. His fingers brushed gently over my racing pulse. Even the barest contact was a jolt, a spark I couldn’t deny.
“I haven’t been telling you the truth.” I finally met his gaze, and his blue eyes were wide and curious.
“What truth?” Raven’s voice was just above a whisper. He bit his lower lip.
“’Course I want you,” I said. Saying it out loud released a pressure inside me and I huffed out a breath. “I’ve wanted you for years.”
Raven stood stunned silent in front of me. His hand was still wrapped around my wrist.
“I just—you know I couldn’t just—act on it. Not when I’m your sergeant. And I’m an old fucking dog,” I said. I didn’t mention anything about my past; I couldn’t handle any questions right now. “So I had to push you away a little bit. Make sure you had your own life. I didn’t want to keep you from growing up independently. I knew you had a crush on me when you were younger, but I would’ve sooner let Ankh shoot me than take advantage of you.”
I pulled my hand away, and then traced the curve of his jawline. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. It wasn’t trying to make you think you weren’t… good enough, or something stupid like that. If anything, you’re too good for someone like me. I was just trying to put the brakes on before I…”
“Did something like this?” Raven asked with a sly smile.
No, I thought, before I admitted I—
Wanted him? Liked him? Was attracted to him?
It was more than that, and I knew it.
But I couldn’t say that word. Not even to myself.
“Yeah,” I dropped my hand. “Before I did something like this.”
“So you’ve apologized,” Raven said. “What now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where do you want it to go?”
“Your bed,” I said without thinking.
“Horndog.” Raven bit back a smile.
“Well,” I said as I finally let my gaze draw down his bare chest, slow and indulgent. “How am I supposed to help it?”
15
Raven
Gunnar stood in front of me, nearly vibrating with nerves. I’d never seen him like this—he always wore a mask of some kind; he always had a role to play, be it sergeant or best friend or bachelor.
I’d fantasized about this moment for so long, never really thinking it would happen. In my imagination Gunnar was always straightforward and intense, the confession dramatic and passionate. It was never so honest as to be anxiety-inducing.
This was real.
And what was I supposed to do with it? I could collapse into his arms and let him ravish me. But then what?
Why this? Why now?
For years I’d watched him fix his piercing gaze on men and women at club parties, luring them close to him with an easy smile and a low, sultry laugh. It was masterful—the same moves seemed to work on everyone. Gunnar was magnetic that way. And every time I watched him take some gullible nobody’s hand and lead them upstairs, it was like a piece of my heart got chipped off.
This whole time he’d known I wanted him, and he did all of that bullshit anyway, in front of me, in some backward attempt to… protect me? Anger churned in my stomach like a hangover. Possibly it was seeing me hurt that caused this change of heart. Maybe he finally realized that I had a life, too—I had plans, and ideas, and pain, too.
Well, I wasn’t a kid anymore. And I wasn’t going to let Gunnar call all the shots.
“Sucks to be you, but getting into my bed isn’t in the cards.” Suddenly very aware I was still only wearing my towel, I tightened my grip and pulled it higher on my hips.
“Right,” Gunnar said. “Sorry. I—I know that.”
“You can’t just come in here and say a few nice things and expect me to just fall into bed with you,” I said. “I’m not that easy anymore.”
Gunnar’s eyebrows twitched upwards. “Anymore?”
“You gave me that blowjob a few days ago, and then you just… Started avoiding me again, like it meant nothing. Same as you always have. I can’t keep up with you.” I pushed my hair out of my eyes with a frustrated sigh. “I never know which Gunnar I’m going to get. The one who wants me, or the one who wants me gone.”
Gunnar rocked back on his heels as if he’d been struck. “You… You’re right.”
I started. Those were two words I was not used to hearing from Gunnar. “Sorry, what?”
“I’ve been trying to do right by you, and by Ankh, and by the club. And I keep fucking it up. Because I thought the right thing to do was get out of your way. But I can’t. I can’t keep away from you.”
I cleared my throat hard, willing the lump forming there down. “It wasn’t the right thing. It’s not.”
“I know that now. So I’m not going to try to stay away anymore.”
I wanted to believe him. Seeing his face so twisted with regret pulled at my heart and part of me desperately wanted to soothe that expression away. I’d never seen him like this, open and vulnerable, like he needed something from me. He never, ever acted like he needed me.
But another part of me worried that this was just another swing of the pendulum, and he’d be back to ignoring me just as quickly. “I just don’t understand what you want from me.”
“I don’t want anything. I’m just trying to be honest. For once.”
“Just this once?”
“From now on.”
“Okay.” The anger started t
o melt just a little, and it was replaced by something warm and ominous—hope. I wanted so badly for this to be real. I’d give him a chance to prove himself, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook entirely. “I like this new Gunnar.”
“Good,” Gunnar said in a low voice. “Because he’s not going anywhere.”
I huffed a laugh and raised my eyebrows incredulously. That was a hint of the flirtatious Gunnar I’d seen scoop up people in bars. If this more honest version of Gunnar was here to stay, I’d believe it when I saw it.
“Except now,” Gunnar amended. He took a step back. “I’m leaving your room. I meant more like, the general honesty. Is a thing I’m working on now. But yes, I’m physically leaving your space.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as I watched Gunnar fumble with the doorknob. I liked this awkward, endearing guy more than the smooth charmer. And despite my frustrations, I wanted to get to know him better. Wherever that may lead.
“I was just going to relax and watch television,” I said. “If you wanted to. Stay. For a while.”
Gunnar blinked. “I probably can’t keep up with whatever high-brow drama you watch for fun.”
“It’s just Bake-Off,” I said. Then slammed my mouth shut as I felt my cheeks redden. Of course I made a stink about being so mature, and then admitted I wind down with baking competition shows.
To my surprise a slow, open smile spread across Gunnar’s face. I’d spent a lot of time in my life cataloging Gunnar’s expressions: the sultry smirk he gave strangers at the bar, the fierce set of his jaw when handling a rival club, the relaxed attentiveness in his eyes on a casual ride. I’d never seen him smile like this before.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll stay.”
I nodded towards the loveseat in the corner of my room. It was a ratty old thing, its navy blue fabric overstuffed and well-worn, awkwardly positioned so I could see my computer setup from its cushy middle. In that way my desktop doubled as a television. I was nothing if not efficient.
Gunnar glanced at the couch and then back to me. “Why don’t you, uh, put some pants on first.”
