Page 20 of Piston

The Iron Reapers were counting on me. And I sure as hell wasn't going to let them down.

My thoughts drifted to Jenny as the miles flew by, the roar of the engine filling my ears. That dinner, the way she looked at me, the softness of her skin under my fingers... it was something special, something real.

But the timing couldn't be worse. Here I was, riding off into the night, chasing down a lead that could blow up in my face. No telling when, or if, I'd make it back.

I shook my head, trying to clear the image of her face from my mind. I couldn't afford distractions, not now. This mission, it was bigger than me, bigger than whatever future I might want with Jenny.

The only way to make sure we even had a chance was to focus, to put all my energy into hunting down this traitor and putting an end to the Russian threat. I had to believe that if I could just get this done, if I could keep the club safe, then maybe, just maybe, I'd have a shot at something more.

The road stretched on, empty and endless, the headlight of my bike cutting through the darkness like a blade. I leaned into the curves, the familiar rush of adrenaline sharpening my senses, pushing back the fatigue, the doubts, the what-ifs.

This was what I was trained for, what I was built for. The hunt, the chase, the knowledge that I was the last line of defense between the club and those who would destroy it.

I accelerated, the engine screaming as I pushed harder, faster, the wind battering against my helmet, my leather jacket. The burner phone was a solid weight in my pocket, a lifeline to the club, to the mission.

Everything else fell away, the past, the future, the could-bes and might-have-beens. All that mattered was the road ahead, the mission, the knowledge that failure was not an option.

I was a lone wolf, a ghost in the night, a brother of the Iron Reapers. And I would not rest until the job was done, until my family was safe.

The darkness swallowed me whole, and I disappeared into the night, ready for whatever lay ahead.

The club was counting on me, and by the founders, I would not let them down.

Yes, there was a girl waiting for me, but now wasn't the time to think about her. Now was the time to ride, to fight, to bleed if necessary.

For the Reapers, I'd do anything. For the club, my brothers, and maybe, just maybe, for a chance at something more.

I gripped the handlebars tighter, my knuckles white, and rode on into the night, a lone figure on a mission that could change everything.

SEVEN

JENNY

The Harley'sengine rumbles between my legs as I rocket down the highway, wind whipping my hair into a frenzy. My heart beats in rhythm with the bike, a chaotic pulse of anticipation and nerves. After that night with Piston, I can't stop thinking about him. The way his rough hands moved over my skin, surprisingly gentle. The hunger in his eyes when he looked at me. I need to know if it was real, if he felt that connection too.

Perdition's neon sign glows up ahead, a beacon in the night. I pull into the lot, gravel crunching under my tires. The heavy bass of the music thrums through the walls. Home sweet home.

I cut the engine and swing my leg over the seat. Tugging my jacket straight, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the anxious swirl in my gut. Time to see what the night brings.

The smell of stale beer, sweat, and smoke envelops me as I push through the doors. Raucous laughter and clinking bottles mingle with the jukebox belting out Skynyrd. I scan the bar, nodding to a few familiar faces. But something's off - a weird tension hangs in the air.

I shrug it off and elbow my way to the bar. Just need a shot of liquid courage. Maybe two. Then I'll go find Piston and get someanswers, one way or another. I'm done playing games. Tonight, I'll find out if this thing between us is the real deal or just another damn dead end.

My eyes dart around the room, searching for that familiar leather cut with the VP patch. The one I've traced with my fingers, felt the heat of his skin through. But there's no sign of Piston.

Disappointment sinks like a stone in my stomach. Where the hell is he? A dozen possibilities race through my mind, each worse than the last. Maybe he's out on a run. Maybe he's with another woman, already forgotten about our night together. Or maybe I just imagined the whole damn thing.

I'm so caught up in my spiraling thoughts, I almost don't notice Mason until he's right in front of me.

"Hey, darlin'." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Haven't seen you 'round much lately."

"Been busy," I mutter, trying to read his expression. "Hey, you seen Piston tonight?"

Mason's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "Nah, not tonight."

He turns to greet a hang-around, effectively ending the conversation. I frown, watching him walk away. Mason's usually the life of the party, always ready with a dirty joke or a flirty wink. But tonight, he seems...distant.

I spot Dagger and Tank by the pool table, nursing beers and talking in low voices. They glance my way, then quickly look away. What the hell?

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