Page 39 of Spinner's Luck

My temper snapped. “That’s not true,” I bit out. “None of the men at this table would ever leave a mistreated woman behind.”

She tilted her head, her expression softening just enough to cut through my anger. “Maybe not. But I’m not going to sit back and do nothing.”

“You being involved puts a target on your back.” The weight of how I felt written all over my face. “And I can’t…” My jaw tightened as the words snagged in my throat, my gaze dropping to the map like it held some kind of answer to this mess.

“You can’t what?” she asked, softer now, coaxing the words out of me.

I turned back to her, frustration mixing with something I didn’t want to name. “I can’t let you get hurt,” I admitted, raw and too damn honest.

The air between us thickened with everything we weren’t saying. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t back down. And that only made it worse.

“I can take care of myself.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “I know you think that, Lucy, but dammit, the cartel isn’t a joke.”

“Trust me, I know,” she shot back, frustration flickering in her eyes. “But I can’t sit this out.”

I didn’t answer. The weight of it all settled over me like a lead blanket. The others were waiting. The plan wasn’t going to hold for my personal shit.

I folded the map, tucking it under my arm. “Let’s go.”

She didn’t say anything, just followed. But as we walked, her words stuck with me.

Damn her for making it so damn hard to protect her stubborn ass.

“DAMN IT,” Imuttered under my breath, pushingopen the door and stepping into the thick, humid air. The slap of the screen door sounded behind me as I headed for the worn path leading to the old dock. My shoes crunched against the dirt, the sound barely cutting through the dull roar of my thoughts.

Devil and men like him pissed me off. They thought that just because I was a woman, I couldn’t contribute, couldn’t hold my own in their world. They never came right out and said it, but it was in their actions, the patronizing tone in their voices. I wasn’t blind, and I damn sure wasn’t stupid.

No, I didn’t have the strength to take on men like the Dragon Fire trash.

I knew that much.

A hard lesson learned.

Flashes of that day flickered at the edges of my mind, a broken reel of film threatening to play. I clenched my fists and shoved it back. I didn’t want to see those images in my head.

Not now. Not ever.

But I knew those bastards. I knew how they thought, the twisted games they played, the depths they’d sink to. I’d spent a year embedded in their cesspool of a club, earning their trust, gathering intel. Every bruise, every sleepless night, every moment of holding my cover—it had all been for one purpose: stopping them before they moved their latest shipment. And now, it felt like it was all slipping through my fingers.

The dock came into view, weathered and warped from years of salt air and storms. It stretched over the still water, a ghostly silhouette against the fading light. I walked to the edge and leaned against a wooden post, the rough grain biting into my palms. The water rippled faintly, catching the streaks of orange and pink from the sunset.

There was something about this place, quiet, peaceful, removed from the chaos, that settled my mind when everything else felt too damn loud.

I exhaled slowly, eyes locked on the water. This whole property still caught me off guard. The towering trees swayed in the breeze, the air smelled fresh, untouched. It didn’t seem like the kind of place a biker clubhouse should exist. It was beautiful, serene even, and completely at odds with the lives these men led.

Dragon Fire was the opposite. They were always on the move, scuttling from one dive to the next like cockroaches ducking for cover. Their hideouts were filthy, reeking of sweat, smoke, and desperation. I’d seen things in my time with them that would make most people sick to their stomachs. And at the top of that rotting pile? Drago and Fang. They’d do anything—or hurt anyone—for a paycheck.

Devil thought he was better than them. Thought his club was different. Maybe he was right, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. He got one over on me today, but Lucy Luck doesn’t fall for the same trick twice.

The sound of voices pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced over my shoulder. Two figures emerged from the treeline—Rune and Amy. They walked side by side, heads close together, lost in quiet conversation. They didn’t even notice me standing on the dock.

I watched them for a moment, studying the way Rune looked at her, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it. Amy laughed, her hand brushing his arm. It was easy, natural.

Something real. Something solid.

Rune wasn’t like the others. He didn’t talk much, didn’t throw his weight around. He observed more than he spoke, but there was an edge to him, something that said he could handle himself if it came down to it. I’d passed by his cabin once, tucked behind the clubhouse, barely noticeable. What had stood out was the garden—lush, carefully tended, a mix of flowers and vegetables.

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