Page 44 of Claimed By the Bikers
“And what do you want,ma belle?”
“Right now? I want you to show me those supply routes while I’m not wearing pants. Later, I want to help you plan how we’re going to protect this family from whatever the FBI sends our way.”
“In that order?”
“Definitely in that order.”
I laugh, lifting her off the ground and setting her on the workbench where she can see all the maps spread out before us. “In that case, let’s start with the medical supply distributionnetwork. But I’m warning you—if you keep looking at me like that, we’re not going to make it through the first explanation.”
“That’s okay,” she says, wrapping her legs around my waist and pulling me closer. “We have all day.”
“Chérie, we have the rest of our lives.”
14
GARRETT
The cherry woodshavings curl away from my plane in perfect spirals, each stroke revealing the grain underneath. I’ve been working on this cabinet since dawn, trying to get the door panels exactly right. Precise work, the kind that demands complete attention and leaves no room for unwanted thoughts.
My hands know this rhythm. Push, lift, reset. Push, lift, reset. Sarah used to tease me about losing myself in woodworking projects, said I disappeared into my own world when I had tools in my hands. She wasn’t wrong. There’s peace in creating something beautiful from raw materials, in building things that last.
Unlike people. People don’t last.
“That’s gorgeous work.”
I look up to find Ember in the doorway of my workshop, coffee mug in her hands, wearing one of my flannel shirts over jeans. She’s been doing that more often since choosing our side over the FBI. Taking our clothes, marking herself with our scents, claiming space in our lives like she belongs here.
Which she does. Even if the sight of her still makes something twist in my chest, part protectiveness and part pure want.
“Thanks.” I run my fingers along the smooth wood, checking for any imperfections. “Anniversary present for the Hendersons. Forty years married next month.”
“Forty years.” She steps closer, admiring the intricate joinery. “That’s incredible.”
“Aye. Not many couples make it that long these days.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I can feel her watching me work. “How long were you and Sarah married?”
“Eight years.” The words come easier now than they used to. “Would have been longer, if…”
“If the world weren’t full of evil bastards who target innocent people.”
I glance at her, surprised by the steel in her voice. “Something like that.”
“It wasn’t your fault, you know.”
“Wasn’t it?” I set down the plane and turn to face her fully. “I left them alone. Went to church business when I should have stayed home.”
“You went to protect other families. That’s who you are, Garrett. You protect people.”
“I didn’t protect them.”
“You couldn’t have known?—”
“Couldn’t I?” The old guilt rises, familiar and sharp. “I knew we had enemies. Knew the Serpents were escalating their war with us. But I went anyway because Atlas needed me, because the club needed me. Put strangers before my own family.”
Ember sets down her coffee mug and moves closer, close enough to touch. “And if you’d stayed home, they probably would have killed all three of you instead of just…” She stops, realizing how that sounds.
“Just Sarah and Katie.” I finish the sentence she couldn’t. “You’re right. If I’d been there, we’d all be dead. Doesn’t make it hurt less.”
