"Where the hell are you?" Hellfire's rough voice comes through the speaker, decades of cigarettes and whiskey having turned it to gravel. "You get to your sister's town yet? Everything alright?"
I should have called when I arrived. Club protocol is clear—check in when you reach your destination, especially when traveling alone. But between meeting Lilly at the fair, encountering Dylan, and... everything with Katty, it slipped my mind.
"Yeah, I'm here," I confirm, leaning against the counter. "Got here this afternoon. Sorry I didn't call earlier."
"You had me worried, brother," Hellfire says, and beneath the gruffness, I can hear genuine concern. The club might be toughas nails in most respects, but we look out for our own. "What's the situation with your sister?"
I fill him in quickly. Dylan's stalking, the ineffective local law enforcement, tonight's confrontation at the fair.
"Got him to back off for now," I conclude. "But it's temporary. Guy like that, with his daddy's money and influence behind him, he'll be back with a new approach."
Hellfire hums thoughtfully. "Sounds like you might need a few days to sort this out proper."
"Yeah. I hate to be away from the club, but—"
"Family comes first," he cuts me off. "Always has, always will. You need backup? I can send Wrath and Crow your way. They can be there by tomorrow afternoon."
The offer is tempting. Wrath and Crow are two of our most intimidating members, capable of making problems disappear with brutal efficiency. Having them here would certainly send a message to Dylan and his father.
But something holds me back. Maybe it's not wanting to escalate this beyond what's necessary. Maybe it's not wanting to bring club business directly into Lilly's life. Or maybe, if I'm honest with myself, it's not wanting to complicate whatever's happening with Katty by introducing her to more MC members.
"I appreciate the offer," I say sincerely. "But I think I need to handle this myself for now. If things escalate, I'll make the call."
"Your call, brother," Hellfire agrees. "But remember, the club stands with you. One phone call, and we'll rain hell down on anyone who threatens your family."
"I know," I say, gratitude warming my voice. "And I appreciate it more than I can say."
"How's your sister holding up?" he asks.
I think of Lilly. Her bravery in the face of Dylan's intimidation, her relief when I showed up, her exhaustion as she finally felt safe enough to sleep.
"She's tough," I answer. "Tougher than she gives herself credit for. She'll be okay once this is resolved."
"Good." There's a pause. "Anything else I should know?"
My mind flashes to Katty. Her green eyes challenging me on the Ferris wheel, her steady presence beside me when confronting Dylan, the way she looked at me in this very kitchen just minutes ago.
Should I tell him? Hellfire's been like a father to me since I joined the club, has guided me through more than I can count. But what would I even say? That I've known this woman for less than a day and she's already gotten under my skin in ways I can't explain?
No. I don't need to look like some lovesick prospect falling for the first pretty smile thrown my way.
Besides, what future could there possibly be? Katty is younger. At least ten years by my estimate. She belongs in this town with its fairs and traditions and simple rhythms. Not in Cedar Falls with its competing clubs, territorial disputes, and the constant undercurrent of danger that comes with MC life.
"Nothing else to report," I say finally. "I'll check in tomorrow with an update."
"See that you do," Hellfire responds. "And Tank? Take care of yourself along with your sister. You're important to the club."
"Thanks, boss."
The call ends, leaving me alone in the quiet kitchen. I run a hand through my hair, suddenly tired from the day's events and the weight of responsibilities—to my sister, to the club, and now, somehow, to the woman waiting in the next room.
I take a deep breath and head back to the living room, moving slowly, trying to organize my thoughts. What am I going to say to Katty? How do I explain that whatever's happening between us, however real it feels, has nowhere to go?
I turn the corner into the living room and stop dead in my tracks.
Katty stands by the bookshelf, her back partially to me. She's changed clothes, or rather, removed some. The button-up shirt she wore at the fair is gone, replaced by a simple black tank top that clings to every curve of her body. Her arms are bare, revealing the full sleeve tattoo I'd only glimpsed earlier—intricate roses and thorns that wind from her shoulder to just above her elbow.
But it's the shape of her that stops my breath. The generous curve of her hips, and breasts that strain against the thin fabric of her top. She turns at the sound of my footsteps, and the movement sends a subtle bounce through her chest that makes my mouth go dry.
