Page 23 of Nitro
The words poured out of her in stilted starts and ragged stops. About the single mom who did her best, and a father in a cut who showed up late to the party just long enough to swagger in and upend her life. The once-a-month visits where a little girl was paraded through a clubhouse for a man’s ego, not because anybody wanted to know her favorite cereal or how she’d done on a spelling test. The training she’d learned too young: don’t make eye contact, don’t show weakness, always have an exit.
Her voice shook when she spoke about her brother, five years older, once her shield, her anchor, the only good part of those forced weekends. How he’d been her hero until she turned eighteen and finally walked away. Until he patched into the Broken Skulls, the second she was free of them. A twisted kind of love that left her gutted.
She stared at her fingers when she said that. Like the lines in her palm might explain how a person could be a shield one year and a stranger in colors the next.
“I haven’t spoken to him in a year,” she finished, voice barely above the grind of the A/C. “My father, not since I was eighteen. Honestly, it didn’t even cross my mind to say anything about them because I never thought it mattered. I wasn’t born into that life. I ran from it. But then I heard something about the Broken Skulls and the Redline Kings. I didn’t want to lose—I didn’t want to ruin…I mean…”
I didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. When she finally met my gaze, braced for judgment, I pulled her into my lap like she weighed nothing. She settled there awkwardly, eyes searching mine. Her pulse beat hard where her throat brushed my mouth.
“You already knew, didn’t you?” she murmured.
I nodded.
“You… don’t care?” Disbelief made her voice wobble.
I kissed her—nothing like the rough I usually put on her, but deep and steady, until I felt the fight bleed out of her shoulders. When I lifted my head, my thumb traced the freckles on her cheekbone one by one, as though I could memorize them by touch. “You didn’t choose blood. You chose speed. Us. That’s enough for me.”
The change in her was audible—a small sound in her chest, relief loosening something I hadn’t realized was wound that tight. She melted against me, tucking herself into my chest like she finally believed she had a place there. My hand splayed over her back, my fingers tracing the line of her spine.
We sat like that for a beat, breaths syncing, the clock ticking from the dresser like it had all the time in the world.
But honesty was a blade, and the truth was jagged. “I can’t keep this from my brothers.”
She stilled. Her relief threatened to snap back into panic as she pulled back just enough to see my face. Fear flashed in her eyes, raw and sharp. “If Kane hears, he’ll kick me off the team. I—” She cut herself off, jaw working. “I can’t lose the track.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I promised. “And he already knows.”
Jana’s expression crumpled. I knew she respected Kane and was worried he was disappointed in her.
“Trust me, baby.” My palm flattened at the base of her spine. “You’re not losing this. Not to him. Not to anyone.”
Then I let my mouth tip into the crooked smile that made prospects rethink their life choices but made her pulse race. “And if the prez becomes a problem, I’ll go through Savannah to get my way.”
Her brows lifted at that, but the corner of her mouth twitched despite herself. She didn’t know Savannah well yet, but she’d seen the way Kane bent when his old lady had an opinion. Her voice could move mountains that Kane would otherwise make a man climb alone.
Jana took a deep breath, long and shaky, then gave me a short nod that said she was borrowing my certainty until hers came back.
I kissed her again, then slid out of bed and grabbed my jeans. “Come on. I’ll drop you with Savannah and Ashlynn. I need to call a meeting.”
“Club business?”
“Club business,” I confirmed with a wink.
Instead of being upset by my secrecy, like a lot of women were with their old men, Jana’s mouth quirked because she knew exactly what that meant this time. We’d talked about what I could and couldn’t tell her about the club. But she knew I would never lie to her or keep shit to myself if it concerned her, which was why she got to know about the “club business” today.
“Then hurry up,” she shot back, brave again because she’d decided to be. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“That’s my girl.” The way her eyes lit at the phrase put jet fuel straight in my veins and down to my cock that I had to ignore for now.
The clubhouse was humming when we arrived—coffee and leather, the low rumble of laughter layered over a blues guitar line bleeding out of the bar speakers. Savannah and Ashlynn were curled up on one of the couches in the lounge. Savannahspotted us first and stood, her blond hair in a loose braid, her eyes warming when she saw Jana.
“Hey, you.” Savannah pulled her in for a hug like they’d known each other for years. “I was just saying that Ashlynn and I needed a partner for the sacred art of telling our men when they’re being idiots.”
Ashlynn grinned, one hand sliding absently to her very large belly like she couldn’t stop checking she was still whole. “A tradition. We take turns, but sometimes it’s a team sport.”
Jana’s shoulders unclenched another notch under that welcome. Some things blood couldn’t buy, and women who decided you belonged were one of them.
“We’re borrowing her,” Savannah told me, mock stern, hand on hip. “And I will feed her, so don’t start.”
