Page 20 of Spinner's Luck

Nightmares.

It had taken me years to force my memories away to where I didn’t fucking see them when I closed my eyes. Hell, I’d had my fair share over the years to know Lucy’s were a horror she had lived in real life.

The kind of nightmares that didn’t just come from a bad day or a stupid mistake you couldn’t fix. No, these came from something darker. Something that dug into your soul and refused to let go.

I closed my eyes, the image of her face in that moment flashing behind my eyelids. She looked so... lost. And Lucy was never lost. She was tough as hell, hard edges and stubborn pride, wrapped up in a woman who never let anyone see her cracks.

Except tonight, even if unintentional.

And whether she wanted to admit it or not, that crack was there, deep and bleeding.

I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a breath that felt like it weighed a ton. I wasn’t the kind of guy who could fix things—I knew that much. But seeing her like that? Hearing her voice break?

It did something to me.

Something I couldn’t explain.

I turned onto my side, the cot groaning in protest, and watched the faint rise and fall of her breathing from across the room.

“You’re safe,” I’d said earlier in the evening.

And I hoped those words hung true.

CHAPTER TEN

THE SMELL OFcoffee cut through the lingeringfog of my restless night, wafting through the clubhouse kitchen. Josie stood at the stove, a spatula in hand, flipping eggs like it was second nature. It was strange, seeing a real kitchen like this in a biker clubhouse, complete with a cook.

An anomaly.

Dragon Fire didn’t have anything like this. Sure, they had a kitchen, but it was self-serve. Dirty as hell. You could’ve waves a suitcase full of cash in my face, and I’d still rather lick a gas station floor than eat there.

I sat at the corner of the long, scarred table, nursing a mug of coffee that had gone lukewarm while I wrestled with my thoughts. The nightmares from the night before still clung to me like cobwebs—sticky, suffocating, impossible to shake. They left behind a vulnerability I despised. I hated how they made me feel—small, weak, exposed.

Spinner turned from the counter, flashing me a lopsided grin that sent warmth creeping into my chest. “You ready for the best damn eggs this side of South Carolina?”

“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite stick. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate him.I did—more than he probably realized. But the closer he got, the more he pushed into the corners of my life I kept hidden, the stronger my instinct was to pull back. Vulnerability wasn’t just dangerous—it was an open target.

He slid a plate in front of me and dropped into the seat beside me, his knee brushing mine. “You’re quiet this mornin’,” he said, voice low, like he was afraid to spook me. “You good?”

I nodded, poking at the eggs with my fork. “Just tired.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

Across the room, movement snagged my attention. A cluster of club women had gathered by the coffee pot, their heads bent together, whispering. Every so often, one of them would glance my way. One blonde, in particular, didn’t bother pretending she wasn’t staring. She stood there in shorts that might as well have been underwear, her eyes flicked between me and Spinner, narrowing slightly, like she was connecting the dots and didn’t like the picture forming.

Spinner either didn’t notice or didn’t care. His focus was locked on me, his gaze heavy with concern. “You sure that’s all it is?”

I forced my eyes away from the blonde’s smirk, already burning a hole in my nerves. “Yeah,” I said, managing another tight smile. “I just need to shake it off.”

The scrape of a chair dragged my attention back to Spinner. He leaned closer, his hand brushing lightly against mine. “You know you don’t have to shake anythin’ off alone, yeah?”

I wanted to believe him. Part of me already did. But the other part—the part that had been burned by people who meant well—couldn’t let go of the walls I’d built. I pulled my hand back, wrapping it around my coffee mug like a shield.

“I know,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure I did.

Laughter broke the tension. I glanced up just in time to see the blonde toss her hair and lean into one of the other women, her gaze flicking toward Spinner. Whatever she said only made them laugh harder, and my jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder my teeth didn’t crack.

Spinner’s jaw tightened as he finally noticed. His glare cut across the room, severe enough to sober the women. They looked away, but the blonde held onto her smirk a beat too long.

I tilted my head toward him, muttering, “I take it those giggling bed warmers live here?”

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