Page 27 of The Biker and His Bride

Someone was watching us. Someone was hunting.

I didn’t sleep that night. I sat on the porch with my shotgun across my lap, Riley asleep inside, one hand curled in the sheet like she was still dreaming of us tangled up together. Every creak of the wind set my teeth on edge. Every shadow in the tree line made me reach for my weapon. We were being hunted in our own territory, and that didn’t sit right.

By morning, I knew what I had to do.

“Caleb’s not the only problem,” I told Trigger and Nash. “Reaper’s Pride won’t quit. And Brielle… I don’t trust that snake not to slither back in.”

I was right.

She rolled in like a queen returning from exile—tight jeans, low blouse, hair curled to perfection, big sunglasses that hid zero shame. She strolled past Rookie Nate at the gate like she still owned the place.

“You look good, Logan,” she purred when she found me in the garage. “Tighter. Rougher. That new girl must be giving you hell.”

I wiped my hands on a rag, not bothering to look up. “You’re wasting gas, Brielle.”

She leaned against the tool bench, breasts pushed up, lips painted peach. “I’ve got a proposal. Take me back. Let me back into the fold, and I’ll hand you Reaper’s Pride on a silver platter.”

I stared at her a long beat. “What makes you think I need your help?”

“Because I know things. I’ve been in bed—figuratively and literally—with the people who want you dead.”

“And now you want back in?” I laughed, bitter. “You’re a day late and a dozen bullets short.”

She stepped closer. “Logan… don’t pretend. You still feel something.”

I met her gaze cold. “I feel a lot of things. Regret. Disgust. Gratitude you showed me who you really are before I put a ring on your finger.”

She flinched like I’d slapped her.

“You want to help?” I asked. “Leave town. Stay gone.”

“You’ll regret this,” she spat.

“No,” I said. “I already did. I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

When she was gone, I called an emergency meet in the war room.

“Caleb’s pushing from the top,” I said. “But Pride’s pressing from the flanks. We can’t set the trap at the cabin until we secure our backyard.”

Nash cracked his knuckles. “So we take the fight to them.”

Trigger nodded. “About damn time.”

Diesel mapped the location—an abandoned quarry ten miles east where Pride had set up temporary shelter. Half their crew had been crashing there since the last raid, licking wounds, rebuilding arms. We knew they were storing crates of smuggled rifles in a buried boxcar at the south end. That made it a high-value hit.

“Tonight,” I said. “We ride. We hit fast and hard, burn their toys, send a message.”

Riley tried to stop me when I told her. “You don’t have to do this tonight.”

“I do,” I said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “They won’t stop coming. And if I wait, it’ll be our front gate they breach.”

She swallowed hard. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“That you’ll come back. Whole.”

I kissed her forehead, then her lips. “You’re the reason I will.”

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