Page 19 of Emmy's Ride

Rusty’s was no place for a man like Luke to be—unless he was there for trouble. It was a known hangout for the Vultures, a club that had been a thorn in the Kings’ side for years. What didn’tmake sense was that Luke wasn’t a troublemaker. So why was he there? If I found the answer to that puzzle piece, I felt like I’d find Luke, so into the Vultures' nest I’d go.

Which meant this was dangerous as hell. Emmy sure as shit wasn’t coming.

I told her exactly that when I found her in the clubhouse’s common room, waiting for me like she already knew where I was headed. This damn club spread gossip like old women at a church potluck—fast and with a flair for dramatics.

“No.” My tone was firm. Absolute.

She didn’t blink. “Not your call.”

“The fuck it isn’t.” I took a step toward her, “You’re not coming, Em.”

“Luke’s my brother.”

I exhaled through my nose, forcing myself to stay calm. “Yeah? And you getting caught in the crossfire helps him how?”

Her arms tightened over her chest, defiance clear in every line of her body. “I can handle myself.”

“Jesus Christ. You’re impossible.”

Her chin lifted. “And you’re an overbearing asshole.”

I dragged a hand down my face. Stubborn as ever. I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. I knew this fight was coming the second Emmy squared her shoulders and set her obstinate ass in my path. I’d been through enough battles with her over the years to know when her stubbornness took hold, nothing or no one could keep her from what she wanted.

She’d decided the moment she heard Luke had been at Rusty’s. Still, I had to try. “Fine,” I bit out. “You can go, but you’re not coming inside, and you ride with me.”

Her hesitation was brief—a split second of uncertainty—but it was enough. I felt it like a punch to the ribs. That pause told me everything.

I waited for her to agree, for her to do the right thing. To trust me.

“Fine. I’ll wait outside, but I’m not riding on your bike,” she said finally. “I’m taking my car.”

The words landed like a fucking slap, and a strained silence stretched between us. I felt that hit. The rejection. The refusal. And fuck if it didn’t sting.

That seat on my bike wasn’t just a ride. It wasn’t just a way to get from point A to point B. It was sacred. A biker’s old lady sat there. A sign of trust. A mark of possession. A declaration of belonging. At one time, that was her place. No one but her had ever occupied that seat.

Emmy knew that. She’d known it the moment the words left my mouth, and she’d still refused.

My hands fisted, nails digging into my palms. I forced myself to swallow the bitter taste in my mouth, to shove down the feeling of betrayal that had no right to exist.

She wasn’t mine anymore. She’d just made that damn clear. So instead of arguing—because I already knew I’d lose—I let out a wry laugh and shook my head. “Drive your damn car and stay in it with the doors locked when we get there.”

Then I turned on my heel, stalked outside, and straddled my bike, ignoring the way my chest burned as I fired up the engine. The familiar roar drowned out the sound of my own thoughts, but it didn’t stop the unease building in my gut.

I barely spared a glance in my mirror as Emmy slid into her car. For the first time in my life, I had to ride away from the woman who should have been sitting behind me.

We reached Rusty’s just as the last light of day bled into the horizon, streaking the sky with bruised purples and dull reds. Shadows stretched long across the cracked pavement of the lot, stretching like clawed fingers over rusted-out pickups and a handful of bikes that thankfully didn’t belong to my crew.

I killed the engine and swung a leg over, rolling my shoulders as I took in the bar.

A shithole. Barely standing. A rotting corpse of a bar, half its neon sign flickering, the other half burned out entirely. Rusted metal chairs littered the entrance, cigarette butts scattered like they’d been stomped out in a hurry. Dirty needles and condoms had been tossed in what used to be a shrub.

I’d been here once before—years ago, during a brief truce with the Vultures that hadn’t lasted long. Rusty’s had never been our kind of place. A hole in the wall, perfect for backdoor deals, hiding out, and making people disappear.

A perfect place to get into trouble. A perfect place for someone like Luke to vanish.

I ran a hand over my jaw, scanning the lot before glancing over my shoulder. Emmy climbed out of her car, slamming the door harder than warranted. She eyed the bar, brow furrowed like she already hated what she was seeing.

“Hell of a joint,” she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her. “You sure about this place?”

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