Page 15 of Baby for the Bikers

I know exactly what he means. Rowan Callahan. Her wide eyes when we broke in. The way she stood her ground despite being clearly terrified. Those cupcakes that tasted like legitimate heaven.

“Could’ve handled it better.” I take a sip, letting the burn settle in my chest. “Breaking down her door wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“Since when do we do subtle?” Maddox laughs. “Besides, the way she was looking at us? Pretty sure property damage was the last thing on her mind.”

I can’t argue with that. Even cornered in her kitchen, there was something in her eyes that wasn’t just fear. Something that made all three of us notice her as more than just the woman who wrecked our bikes.

“She’s running from something.” I stare into my whiskey, seeing her face reflected there. “Something big.”

“Aren’t we all?” Maddox drains his glass, signaling for another. “Question is, does it matter? She owes us five grand and makes cupcakes good enough to make Ryder actually speak. I say that’s a win.”

The bar fills up around us as locals get off their evening shifts. Some nod in our direction. Others pointedly look away. We’ve been back six months, but five years leave marks not easily forgiven.

“Remember when Tank used to hold court here on Friday nights?” Maddox’s voice softens. “Half the town showing up just to hear what he had to say.”

“And the other half staying away because they were scared of him.” I can still see Tank at the bar—bigger than life, commanding every room just by existing.

“Good times.” Maddox raises his glass.

“Different times,” I correct him. “We’re not that anymore.”

His smile fades slightly. “No, we’re not.”

The weight of those words sits between us. Three years of hunting the worst monsters humanity has to offer will change a man, change brothers, and change everything.

“To the diner.” I raise my glass. “To something new.”

“To something normal.” Maddox clinks his glass against mine.

We’re halfway through our third round when I feel it—the shift in the room’s energy, eyes cutting in our direction.

“Kane brothers.”

The voice comes from near the bar. Male. Bitter, and drunk enough to be dangerous.

Maddox tenses beside me. I put a hand on his arm.

“Big shots,” the voice continues. “Coming back like they own the place. Building their little kingdom again.”

“Ignore it.” I keep my voice low. “Not worth it.”

But Maddox is already half-turning, eyes narrowing on a man at the bar. Middle-aged. Angry. Vaguely familiar.

“Everyone else might kiss your asses.” The man’s volume increases, clearly playing to the crowd. “Acting like you’re saviors bringing business back. But I remember when you left this town to rot.”

Maddox moves to stand. I tighten my grip on his arm. “Don’t.”

“You hear this shit?” Maddox’s jaw clenches. “After everything we’ve done?”

And there it is—the wound that never quite healed. Everything we’ve done that no one will ever know about.

Three years infiltrating trafficking rings that specialized in young girls. Two more dismantling a drug pipeline that pumped poison into small towns just like Wolf Pike. The organ-harvesting operation we burned to the ground in Mexico.

The faces of every person we saved. The faces of those we couldn’t.

All the blood and nightmares and medals locked in boxes that will never see daylight. All the good we did that Wolf Pike will never know about.

Because that was the deal when we joined Cerberus—our work stays buried. Our town never learns what their prodigal sons actually did during those five years away.

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