Page 37 of Halfway to Hell
He picked up the wedding band, turning it slowly in his hand. His thoughts drifted to how long he’d been alone, how long it had been since that ring had fit comfortably—or meant something.
For a moment, the weight of it settled on him heavier than any chain or medal.
“You could wear it on the chain,” Sunday said softly.
Texas glanced sideways, surprised to find her standing just beside him. Her eyes held a teasing glint.
“If you’re gonna start sneaking around,” he said with a smirk, “I’m gonna have to get you a bell.” He let out a low chuckle, the weight on his hand suddenly feeling a little lighter.
Sunday moved back to the edge of the bed where she could gather her things. “Texas, put the ring on the chain,” she said quietly, rolling up her clothes with deliberate care. “You should keep it close to you.”
Glancing casually over her shoulder, she caught him sliding the ring onto the chain. It felt like the right thing to do. She could tell it meant more to him than words could say.
If she was lucky enough to one day find someone to love her, she’d hold on to that love just as fiercely.
Zipping up her backpack, Sunday carried it over to the large waterproof piece of bike luggage. Noticing Texas hadn’t stashed his duffel inside yet, she set hers down nearby, silently inviting him to pack his things.
Chapter Fifteen
Texas had finished packingthe bike, double-checking the straps holding the SAC bag tight against the bitch bar. He was confident they could make the trip without any trouble. The morning air was crisp, the faint hum of distant traffic blending with the soft rustle of dry leaves.
As he turned, he caught sight of Sunday stepping out of the motel room, her movements calm but deliberate. She tied a bandana around her hair, the fabric brushing against her delicate features. Without thinking, Texas stepped forward and reached out to smooth a stray lock behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
Something had shifted between them since last night a quiet but undeniable change. The mission was simple: get Sunday to safety. Nothing more. Yet here he was, caught off guard by the softness in her blue eyes, the gentle curve of her smile.
His own words echoed sharply in his mind; a reminder he wasn’t supposed to feel this way. But standing there, their gazes locked, all those careful plans and walls felt suddenly fragile, like they might crumble at any second.
“I’m flattered you’d want to kiss me, but the truth is, I’m too old for you. You’re still healing from everything you went through. The last thing you need is someone like me causing you more pain.”
When he pieced those two comments together he’d said to her, it hit him that he sounded like a complete ass. An arrogant, grade-A jackass. Now, here he was, standing in a pothole-riddled parking lot in front of a run-down motel, about to eat crow in one bold move.
Ignoring every warning he’d given himself, he leaned in and did the one thing he swore he wouldn’t.
He pulled her close, pressing his mouth firmly to hers. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted Sunday up onto her toes, deepening the kiss. The taste of her lips filled the dark, empty spaces in his head and heart, flooding him with the calm he’d been searching for, for years.
Sunday saw the fire, the heat and raw passion blazing in his eyes. Texas claimed her mouth with his, fierce and urgent. There was no time to resist, no space for “what ifs” as his hands tightened around her, pulling her closer.
He felt so damn good—solid and strong beneath the worn leather and faded denim, every muscle coiled like a promise. The world around them faded, leaving only the electric charge of their connection.
The smoldering look in his eyes told her this kiss wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. Texas had thought it through and he had chosen her. And kiss her he did, with a fierce intention that left no room for doubt.
When they finally broke apart, Sunday stood there, breathless and speechless. He leaned down, planting one last, gentle kiss atop her head.
“Let’s get our asses on the road,” he said, his voice low but steady.
Straddling the bike, Texas fired it up and waited for Sunday to climb on behind him. Once she settled against his back, he slid a hand slowly over her leg, wanting to keep a quiet connection between them. He smiled as he felt her relax, her hands resting lightly on his waist.
When she tapped him on the shoulder, he shifted the bike into gear and eased forward, weaving carefully through the pothole-pocked parking lot.
The sky stretched wide and clear above them, a cool breeze brushing past as they hit the highway, heading toward Montreal. Texas had already sent a quick message to the Montreal Chapter VP, letting him know they’d be in the area briefly later that day.
The drive from Carleton Place had been uneventful, much to Texas’s relief. They’d made it to Montreal in five hours and now stood inside Laced, talking to Vicious. Texas had hoped Monday might change her mind and waited for Sunday to arrive before leaving—but no dice. Monday had already left town.
Vicious handed Texas an envelope Monday had left for her sister. After a quick thanks, Texas gently guided Sunday outof the club, the weight of the unanswered questions hanging between them.
“Did she leave you a key and directions to her place?” Texas asked.
Sunday unfolded the plain brown envelope and pulled out a single key along with a folded piece of paper. “Yeah. It’s just a few blocks from here.”
