We track through the field and into the forested mountain in silence. The clouds darken the further we go and it’s not long before I feel the first raindrops fall. There’s a flash of lightning followed quickly by the rolling sound of thunder. 

“What do you make of those clouds?” I ask Kayce. He turns his sight upwards.

“I think we better find shelter. We’re vulnerable here.” 

“Should we head home?” 

“That’s going to take too long.” Kayce says as he shakes his head. “I know there’s an old hunting cabin about a mile that way.” He motions to the mountains ahead of us. 

“A mile? Are you sure?”

“I know these mountains.” I look at him unconvincingly. “You can trust me.” 

“Alright. Lead the way.” 

Kayce pulls ahead and I follow close behind as the rain starts pelting down. Another crack of lighting lights up the sky and I know we have to find shelter soon. 

“Come on, this way.” Kayce yells over the roaring sound of rain and thunder. I shield my eyes from the downpour and notice a small cabin coming into view. 

“Is that it?” I yell back. Kayce leads his horse to a loafing shed and gets off. My horse stops next to his, I swing my leg over to get down and tie the reins to a wooden hitching bar. 

Kayce grabs my hand and pulls me behind him to the door of the cabin. He tries the handle a couple of times and when nothing happens he sets his shoulder and charges at the door. The door swings open and we rush inside. 

At this point I am soaked to the bone and shivering violently. “Here.” Kayce mutters softly. He opens the zipper of my jackets and helps me get out of it. Then he grabs a blanket from one of the chairs and drapes it over my shoulders. “I’ll get a fire going.” 

I watch as Kayce grabs a couple of logs and places them in the hearth. He pats his jean pockets until he comes up with a lighter and uses the paper from a magazine that lay on the coffee table to start a fire. 

As Kayce prods at the fire to get it going I look around the cabin. There is a flannel shirt hanging from a hook and it gives me an idea. 

“Kayce, I need you to keep your eyes on the fire.” 

“Yeah. I know what I’m doing.”

“No, I mean. You can’t take your eyes off of it.”

“What are you-...” He argues as he looks back at me. 

“Eyes on the fire.” I say as I drop the blanket and start taking off my wet shirt. 

Kayce’s eyebrows raise as he looks at me with his mouth wide open. I make a turn around motion with my fingers and wait for him to divert his gaze before I take off my bra and quickly slip into the flannel. It’s big and easily comes to my things, which makes me decide to take off my soaked pants as well. 

I grab the blanket from the floor and wrap it around myself again before walking over to the hearth. “You can look.” I mumbles softly. Kayce’s eyes immediately roam over my body as he takes me in. “You should also get out of those clothes.” I point out to him. 

“Right.” He says. “The fire should be fine now.” 

He stands up and wanting to give him some privacy I sit down in front of the hearth and warm my fingers to the flames. I notice his footsteps on the creaky floor and hear him shiver loudly. I glance at him from my spot on the floor and I manage to keep in a squeak when he walks towards me in just his boxers. I stare at his hard chest and strong arms before I cough to hide my embarrassment and open the blanket to him.

“Come here. You must be freezing.” I tell him. He plops down next to me and I drape the blanket over both our shoulders. I avert my eyes back to the fire, feeling extremely awkward sitting so close to him. 

Kayce’s hand brushes against my thigh and I feel warm tingles going up all over my body. “You’re still extremely cold.” He says, grabbing my right hand to warm it in his own. 

“You’re like a freaking furnace. How are you that hot already, we’ve been here fifteen minutes.” 

“I always run hot.” He explains. This time he is the one to open his arms for me. “Here. I’ll warm you up.” That comment should not make me flush as badly as it did. I shift myself so I can curl up into his arms and feel the immediate heat engulfing my body. His hands roam up and down my arms and it makes me melt into him even more. 

I stare into the fire as my body slowly comes back to its normal temperature. It’s then that I feel soft lips on the spot between my jaw and neck. I stiffen at the action and Kayce pulls back immediately. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He stutters. His arms leave my body and he wraps the blanket around me to keep me warm. 

“Did I say you could stop?” I ask, one eyebrow raised. It takes a second for him to understand what I had just said, but then a smirk comes over his face and he moves forward. Both of his hands come up to cup my cheeks and he dips his head until our lips meet. His lips are rough and his movements erratic, like he can’t get enough. 

My hands run up his hard chest and up to his neck, keeping him right where I want him. His lips open and his tongue brushes against mine, making me sigh at the feeling. His hands roam over my body and end up on my hips. I sit up on my knees and move forward until I straddle his legs, the blanket falling on the floor in the process. 

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He mutters against my lips. I pull back and smile at him.

“How ‘bout you prove it.” I retort as my hand travels lower until I skim the waistband of his boxers. He grips my hips and lifts me up, cradling my back before carefully laying me down on the floor. He lays heavily between my legs and I can feel all of him. 

Kayce’s lips move from my lips, to my cheek, and down my neck. He kisses over a particular sensitive area and I feel myself shiver under his touch. My hands move up to his hair, where my fingers scrape over his scalp and I pull slightly on the ends of the strands. The action elicits me a groan and it sounds incredibly sexy when he does. 

Kayce’s hands travel up the inside of the flannel I’m wearing and stop when he reaches my boobs. He squeezes and plays with my nipples, before retracting his hands and tearing the buttons of the flannel open. 

“Kayce!” I gasp. “What if this belongs to someone?”

“I know it does.” 

“Will they not mind what you just did to the buttons?”

“No, ‘cause it’s mine. And you look fucking great in my shirt.” My cheeks flush at his admission. 

His lips find mine again as his hands travel lower. He plays with the waistband of my panties and breaks the kiss to look at me. “Still okay with this?” 

“If you don’t touch me I will-...”

“Okay, okay! I get it.” He says with a sly smile. He reaches for my panties and pulls them down excessively slow. 

“Kayce, I swear…” 

“What? I like to take my time.” 

“Well, my patience is running real thin here.” He bends down and our lips lock in a heated and passionate kiss, while he removes my panties the rest of the way.

Kayce’s fingers run between my folds, the slick from my wetness making the movement deliciously pleasant. I moan into his mouth when his fingers find my clit and he strokes it ever so slowly. I need more. I need so much more. 

My hand glides over his taut chest and down to his boxers. I glide my hand up and down his still clothes cock, feeling how incredibly hard he already is. When I feel the wet patch from his pre-cum I push at Kayce’s chest, trying to get him onto his back. He lets me move him around until he is sitting on the ground and I sit between his legs. I pull his boxers off in one smooth motion, my mouth watering at the sight before me. 

I spit in my hand and use it to lube up his cock while I’m stroking him. I run my thumb over the slit and a groan escapes past Kayce’s lips. Then I’m taking him in my mouth, slowly moving up and down, while pumping him with my hand at the same time. I take him deep, making him hit the back of my throat and only pulling back when I really need to breathe. 

“God, you’re so good.” He moans. “So, so good.” It’s then that he grabs my chin with his hand and moves me away from his dick. I look at him quizzically. 

“I’m not going to last if you keep going.” He wipes my lips with his thumb. “Besides, it’s your turn.” I flush red again at the idea and let him lay me down on the blanket. 

He maneuvers himself between my legs, kissing up my thighs until he finally reaches my core. He licks a tentative stripe between my folds, ending up at my clit, which he sucks on lightly. I throw my head back and try to keep my moans from escaping past my lips, but it’s no use. The moans fumble out of my mouth like an avalanche of words. 

Kayce slowly pushes in a finger and I claw at the strands of hair I can reach, wanting him to stay right there and keep doing that thing with his tongue for as long as possible. He adds another finger. He ups his tempo, fucking me with his fingers while I’m a babbling mess underneath him. 

“You good, baby?” He asks me huskily. I nod at him.

“Yeah, but I need more, Kayce.” I tell him. “I need you.” 

“Give me a second.” And he stands up and walks towards our earlier discarded clothes. 

“Is this really the time to do whatever you’re about to do?” I ask as I sit back on my elbows.

“I need something.” He says as he rummages through his pockets. “Aha!” He says, holding up a condom excitedly. 

“Alright, fair enough. Now get over here!” 

He rips the condom open with his teeth, which on its own is already extremely hot. He then quickly rolls on the condom and kneels between my legs once more. 

“You alright?”

“If you ask me that one more time…” I threaten him. He holds up his hands in surrender. He grabs his cock and aligns it with my entrance, gliding it up and down my folds, before finally sliding in. He’s girthy and fills me up so well. I arch my back when he bottoms out and whine when he pulls out again. I’m about to open my mouth when he pushes in once more, this time keeping a good rhythm going and I mewl underneath him. 

“Oh, you’re tight. You feel so good.” 

He sets a brutal pace and I claw at his back, because I need to hold onto something. I can hardly breathe with the amount of pleasure I feel. I hold tight on his back and push myself upward with the other hand. I am now straddling him and bouncing up and down on his cock like my life depends on it. I grind my hips down and do a little half moon rotation that elicits a moan from his mouth. 

I can feel my high coming and by the sloppy thrusts of Kayce I know he is close as well. He helps me move up and down as he grips my ass. There is no other sound than our heavy breathing, our moans and the slapping of skin on skin. 

“Kayce!” I yell as a white hot flash courses through me and I start to shake uncontrollably. My walls shudder and tighten on their own accord. Kayce slams into me a couple more times, before he bites down on my shoulder softly and lets his own orgasm roll through him. He nips at the skin of my neck, while I’m still trying to catch my breath. 

“That was…” I try to speak.

“Incredible.” He finishes my sentence. He pulls out of me, and I feel empty without him, but I sit down next to the fire. He kisses my forehead lovingly and places the blanket around my body. 

“I was gonna say unexpected. But incredible works too.” I smirk at him. He shakes his head laughing at me. Then he makes a makeshift pillow out of our now dried clothes. 

“Lay down. The storm’s still going and I think we can do with a little sleep, don’t you think so?”

“I do say we’re properly tired out.” I lay my head down on the pillow and Kayce comes up behind me, draping the blanket over both our bodies. His hand reaches over me and intertwines with my fingers, locking me into place. 

“Sleep, you need it.” I nod in response and close my eyes for the night. Tomorrow we can figure the rest out.

Angel loves being rough. Especially when stressed. Think manhandling, fingers digging into your skin, hair pulling, choking. Even spitting in your mouth.

Angel is an ass man, and he loves nothing more than taking you from behind, spanking your ass, as he fucks your pussy.

Angel also loves anal.

On the odd occasion Angel is very attentive. Taking care of your own needs above his own. He loves the feeling of your hands gripping his hair as he’s eating your pussy.

Aftercare involves him holding you close to his chest.

Angel loves watching his come dripping from your pussy.

Angel loves marking you. He loves leaving hickeys on your neck and your chest.

Angel gets off on you calling him “Papi”

Quickies against the wall, or bent over his bike.

Loves, praising and degrading you during sex. Uses a mixture of English and Spanish.

Angel loves to edge you. He loves to see your legs shaking, as you beg him.

Angel loves to force you onto your knees and suck his cock, when you’ve been a bad girl. He loves fucking your face.

Somehow...

The song had become part of the clubhouse.

The realization remained deeply unfortunate.

Which was precisely why Bishop found himself walking toward Lex that afternoon with a set of motorcycle keys twirling lazily around one finger.

She sat beneath the shade structure.

Sketchbook balanced across her lap.

Pencil moving in slow, thoughtful strokes.

She looked up when his shadow crossed the page.

"Hey."

"Hey."

His eyes dropped briefly to the sketchbook.

She closed it immediately.

"Nope."

"I wasn't lookin'."

"You were about to."

"I was curious."

"So was Eve."

He frowned.

"...Who?"

She blinked.

"The apple?"

Realization dawned.

"...Smartass."

"I've been called worse."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She noticed.

Of course she did.

"You smiled."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"I twitched."

"Liar."

He sighed dramatically.

She nodded to his hand.

"So..."

"So?"

"What's with the keys?"

He held them up.

The sunlight caught the worn metal.

"Thought we'd go for a ride."

Her eyebrows lifted.

"Anywhere specific?"

He shrugged.

"West."

She looked toward the horizon.

Toward where the afternoon sun already leaned lower in the sky.

"The beach?"

"Yeah."

The answer came almost shyly.

As though he wasn't entirely certain she'd say yes.

She stood before he'd finished lowering the keys.

"When do we leave?"

He looked at her.

Really looked.

At the excitement already brightening her face.

At the complete absence of hesitation.

Something warm settled quietly in his chest.

"Now."

---

The ride out of Santo Padre felt different.

Not because the roads had changed.

They hadn't.

The same desert stretched endlessly beneath a wide California sky.

The same heat shimmered above cracked pavement.

The same familiar turns carried them steadily west.

The difference sat behind him.

Lex's arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

Comfortable.

Relaxed.

She wasn't gripping him anymore.

Not like those first rides.

Back then she'd held on because she was afraid of falling.

Now...

Now she leaned into the curves before he did.

Trusted the motorcycle.

Trusted him.

The realization made him smile.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

The miles slipped past quietly.

Neither of them felt any need to interrupt the rhythm of the road.

Sometimes silence wasn't empty.

Sometimes...

It was its own conversation.

Eventually the dry heat gave way to cooler air.

The smell changed first.

Dust surrendered to salt.

Then came the wind.

Then the distant cry of gulls.

Finally...

The ocean appeared.

Endless.

Blue.

Stretching farther than the eye could follow.

Bishop felt Lex sit up slightly behind him.

The tiny shift carried through the motorcycle.

She always did that.

Every single time.

Like she'd forgotten the Pacific existed until it suddenly appeared again.

He found himself looking forward to that little movement.

Every ride.

Every time.

Without realizing it...

Somewhere along the way...

He'd begun collecting these tiny pieces of her.

The way she tilted her head while drawing.

The wrinkle between her eyebrows when she concentrated.

The way she laughed before she realized she was about to laugh.

The little gasp she made every time the ocean came into view.

Tiny things.

Ordinary things.

The kind that quietly became important before a man noticed they had.

He wasn't sure when that had happened.

Only that it had.

And there wasn't a damn thing he intended to do about it.

The beach wasn't crowded.

One of the benefits of going on a weekday.

Only a handful of people wandered the shoreline.

A couple walking hand in hand near the water's edge.

Two children chasing gulls farther down the beach.

An older man sitting beneath an umbrella with a paperback balanced against one knee.

Far enough away that the world felt quiet.

Close enough that life still existed around them.

Bishop parked next to a weathered stretch of fencing overlooking the sand.

The engine rumbled once.

Twice.

Then settled into silence.

For a moment neither of them moved.

Lex pulled off her helmet.

The wind immediately stole several loose strands of hair, whipping them across her face.

She laughed softly as she tried to push them back into place.

"Every time."

"What?"

"My hair loses the fight."

"It never had much of a chance."

She looked at him.

"...Was that a joke?"

"No."

"It sounded suspiciously like one."

"I was makin' an observation."

"You smiled again."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"I twitched."

"Liar."

He shook his head.

She climbed off the bike.

The sand shifted beneath her boots.

The breeze carried the familiar scent of salt and kelp.

Cooler here.

Softer.

Different.

She closed her eyes for just a second.

Breathing it in.

Then smiled.

Not at him.

Not at anything.

Just...

Because.

Bishop watched her.

Again.

The habit had become embarrassingly automatic.

She started toward the beach.

Then stopped.

Looked back.

"You coming?"

He realized he'd been standing there.

Watching.

…Again.

"Yeah."

The sand gave beneath their boots as they walked.

The tide rolled lazily against the shore.

Retreated.

Returned.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Steady.

Patient.

The ocean had all the time in the world.

Lex slipped off her boots without a word.

Carried them by the laces.

Eventually she abandoned them altogether beside a weathered piece of driftwood.

Her toes disappeared into the cool sand.

She wiggled them once.

Smiled.

"Better?"  Bishop asked.

"Mhm."  She looked out across the water.  "I forgot how much I missed the beach."

"You went a lot?"

"As a kid."  She nodded.  "Dad used to take me."  A small smile touched her face.  "When things got... loud."

Bishop glanced at her.

"At home?"

She shook her head.

"No."  Another smile.  "At the clubhouse."

That surprised a laugh out of him.

She looked over immediately.  "There it is."

"What?"

"The laugh."

"I did not laugh."

"You absolutely laughed."

The laughter faded naturally.

Leaving something quieter behind.

They stood, side by side, watching the waves as they broke against the shore.

Bishop's hands tucked into his pockets.

Eyes on the horizon.

Or pretending they were.

The silence returned.

Different this time.

Comfortable.

The kind of silence earned instead of endured.

Minutes slipped by.

Neither seemed particularly interested in interrupting them.

The wind shifted.

A gull cried somewhere overhead.

Farther down the shoreline, the children finally caught one of the gulls...

Only to discover that gulls objected loudly to being caught.

Lex laughed.

The sound carried out over the water.

Bishop found himself smiling again.

She noticed.

Of course she did.

"There."

He sighed.  "What now?"

"You smiled."

"I keep makin' that mistake."

"You really do."

"It'll never happen again."

"Liar."

He looked out toward the ocean.

"...Probably."

She laughed again.

Then...

Gradually...

The laughter faded.

The easy teasing drifted away with the tide.

Leaving something quieter in its place.

Lex watched another wave roll onto the sand.

Disappear.

Another followed.

Then another.

Finally...

She spoke. 

"Thank you."

The words were almost carried away by the wind.

Bishop turned toward her.

"For what?"

She shrugged.

The answer felt too big.

Too complicated.

So she chose the smallest piece.

"The ride."

A pause.

"The beach."

Another.

Then, almost too quietly to hear...

"...Everything."

The word disappeared into the breeze.

Bishop didn't answer.

Not because he didn't have one.

Because there wasn't a simple answer.

Not one he trusted himself to give.

His gaze drifted toward the ocean.

Waves rolled steadily onto the sand.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He watched them longer than he needed to.

Like maybe the right words were somewhere beyond the horizon.

When he finally looked back...

Lex was already watching him.

Really watching him.

Not as the Presidente.

Not as the man who had rescued her.

Just...

Him.

She took one slow step closer.

His eyes followed her automatically.

"You told me once I wasn't imagining things."

His expression softened.

She continued.   "You remember that?"

"I remember everything."

A tiny smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

"You told me I wasn't imagining the way you looked at me."

Another step.

"And then..."

She glanced down briefly before meeting his eyes again.

"...everything happened."

A quiet laugh escaped her.

Not amused.

Just honest.

"The investigation.  The meetings.  The club."  She shrugged lightly.  "We just..."  Her voice softened.  "...left everything sitting in a 'what if.'"

Silence settled between them.

Neither looked away.

Lex drew a slow breath.  "Can we stop doing that?"

Bishop's brow furrowed slightly.

"Doing what?"

"Dancing around each other."

Another step.

"So..."  She searched his face.  "Be honest with me."

Her voice was barely above a whisper now.

"Am I wrong..."

A pause.

"...or do you want something more between us?"

His jaw flexed.

The words hung between them.

Heavy.

Irrevocable.

Bishop closed his eyes for the briefest moment.

When he opened them again...

There was nowhere left to hide.

"It's never been about what I want."

His voice was rough.

Quiet.

"It stopped bein' about me the second I met you."

Lex's heart stuttered.

He looked away for only a second before forcing himself back to her.

"I've wanted..."

He swallowed.

"...more."

The admission almost seemed to cost him.

"For a long time."

Silence.

"But wanting it… doesn't make it right."

He shook his head once.

"You came here broken."

He paused.

"I wasn't gonna be another man who took somethin' from you because I wanted it."

Lex felt tears prick unexpectedly.

Bishop continued before she could speak.

"I needed to know."

His voice cracked just slightly.

"Needed to know that if anything ever happened between us..."

He held her gaze.

"...it was because you chose it.  Not because you felt like you owed me.  Not because I had rescued you.  Not because you were grateful.”  He paused, visibly strained.  “Because. You. Chose. It.”

The realization hit her all at once.

Every time he'd stopped himself.

Every time he'd stepped back.

Every time he'd looked away.

It hadn't been rejection.

It had been respect.

She took the last step between them.

Close enough now that she could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes.

Close enough that his breathing changed.

Just slightly.

She reached up slowly.

Rested one hand against his jaw.

Warm.

Solid.

Real.

"You've never taken anything from me."

Her thumb brushed lightly across the edge of his beard.

"You've only ever given me pieces of myself back."

His breath hitched.

She smiled.

Small.

Certain.

"This..."

Another inch closer.

"...is my choice."

Bishop inhaled sharply.

“Lex..”

She gripped the front of his kutte, rose up on her toes and kissed him.

There was nothing hesitant about it.

Nothing uncertain.

No opportunity for retreat.

The second her mouth touched his, Bishop responded.

One hand finding her waist.

The other softly tangling in her hair.

Pulling her closer.

Gentle.

Certain.

Like she was something precious.

Something he was still afraid to break.

When she shifted even closer instead of away, warmth spread quietly through his chest.

And he kissed her back.

Slowly.

With every ounce of restraint he'd been holding onto for months.

For the briefest moment, Bishop forgot how to breathe.

His lips barely moved against hers.

Almost afraid to.

When they parted, it was only by an inch.

His forehead rested lightly against hers.

Just enough to look at her.

To make sure.

Her eyes were still closed.

A small smile curved her lips.

When she opened them again, every doubt he'd been clinging to quietly fell away.

She wasn't pulling back.

She wasn't second-guessing herself.

She leaned in again.

Another feather-soft kiss.

Then another.

Patient.

Unhurried.

As though she was learning him one heartbeat at a time.

His hands remained exactly where they were.

Still holding himself in check.

Until she sighed, a soft sound escaped her.

The noise seemed to snap the last thread of his self-control.

It was barely a sound.

More breath than voice.

So quiet he almost wondered if he'd imagined it.

But it undid him anyway.

The battle he'd been fighting for months finally gave way.

Not completely.

Never completely.

Just enough.

Carefully.

Then he kissed her again.

Deeper this time.

Not rushed.

Not demanding.

Simply honest.

Everything he'd buried.

Every glance held a second too long.

Every almost-confession.

Every moment he'd convinced himself to walk away.

It all found its way into that kiss.

There wasn't an ounce of uncertainty left in her.

She wasn't kissing him because she'd survived.

She wasn't kissing him because she'd been rescued.

She was kissing him because she wanted to.

Because she wanted him.

She met the kiss completely.

Her hand settled against his chest.

His heartbeat hammered beneath her palm.

Fast.

Steady.

Just as overwhelmed as she was.

The realization made her smile against his lips.

He felt it.

A quiet huff of laughter escaped him.

The sound only widened her smile.

When they finally drew apart, it wasn't because either of them wanted to.

It was because breathing had become a necessity.

His forehead settled against hers once more.

A quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped him.

"Querida," he murmured.

The corner of Lex's mouth lifted.

A real smile spread across his face.

Warm.

Unguarded.

She laughed.

Light.

Warm.

Free.

It was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

Lex glanced down at the front of his kutte.

Realized she was still holding onto it.

Slowly...

She let go.

Only to have his fingers quietly find hers.

She looked up.

His hand had slipped into hers so naturally she wasn't entirely certain when it had happened.

He wasn't gripping.

Wasn't holding tightly.

Just...

Holding her hand.

Like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Her fingers laced with his without conscious thought.

Choice.

Again.

Always choice.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

She looked out across the Pacific.

The waves.

The sky.

The endless horizon.

Then back at him.

She answered without doubt.

"Yeah."

The word came easily.

Because this time...

It wasn't reassurance.

It was the truth.

She was.

Not completely.

Not every day.

Healing wasn't that simple.

But in this moment...

Standing barefoot on a California beach.

Hand in Bishop's.

The wind carrying salt instead of fear.

The future no longer looked like something waiting to happen to her.

It looked like something she could choose.

Bishop squeezed her hand once.

Gentle.

Certain.

No words.

None were needed.

Together they turned toward the water.

The sun settled lower against the horizon.

Painting the ocean in gold.

Copper.

Fire.

For just a little while longer...

The world allowed them this.

One quiet evening.

One first kiss.

One perfect moment.

------

PART 51

SET BEFORE:

No Regrets - You can never say no when Dominique Luca turns up at your door.

Thirty Minutes (NSFW) - It takes Luca just thirty minutes to break every single rule you have.

Luca doesn’t know when the attraction started.

The two of you have always had great chemistry.

In the field. Off the field.

But these feelings he’s having lately… They go far beyond that whole hearted platonic love he has for every member of this team. They’re raw, passionate, the kind of thing that leaves him with a raging hard on when he’s helping you unzip your wet suit because the mechanism got stuck after you both hit the surf.

He tries to be a gentleman, to keep his gaze locked on the wisps of damp hair that have escaped your bun, but his eyes drop to the trio of freckles on your bare shoulder, the ones he now wants to brush his lips over.

The zipper lowers even further, revealing the delicate curve of your back and the thin string of the sunshine yellow bikini you’re wearing underneath. He steps away as you as you push the wetsuit down along your arms, freeing yourself from its grasp. You shove the neoprene down along your waist, leaving it pooling around your hips as you turn to face him.

Don’t take the rest of it off, he begs, scrubbing his rough palm across his lips.

But of course, you don’t hear his silent plea.

You shimmy the wetsuit down past your hips, along those biteable thighs he’s envisioned wrapped around his waist every single night since he’s started staying at your place. Your bikini clings to you, nipples tightening under the fabric as the sea breeze blows across the beach, cooling your skin.

He imagines warming them with his mouth, taking those sweet buds between his teeth, his tongue flicking over them as your hands run through his hair, moaning his name.

“Are you going to give me my towel?” Your voice cuts through his thoughts as you jab your finger at the waterproof backpack residing near his feet. “Or are you just going to keep zoning out over there?”

“Uh, yeah.” He snatches up your towel, practically throwing it at you.

You catch it, patting dry the droplets of water that are running into the valley of your breasts. His cock twitches, stirring underneath the neoprene. He’s in hell, literal and figurative hell.

“Do you need help with your wet suit?” You ask, gesturing to the fact he hasn’t even begun to remove it.

He flusters, jerking his gaze away before reaching for the mechanism on the back. “Nah, I’ve had this one a while so I’m pretty practiced.”

He pushes down the zipper to prove his point. The neoprene comes away from his skin, and he glances up to find your gaze on him as he peels it away from his damp flesh. The look in your eyes… it tells him that this thing he’s feeling, it might just go both ways after all.

He sits with that for the entire day. Through breakfast at Aca Aca as you talk with your hands, describing how you pegged Rocker in the ass with the new bean bag gun. Through your terrible singing in the shower as you rinse the salt and sand from your skin. Through you falling asleep on the couch, nestled against up against him as you watch Demolition Man for the millionth time, his arm draped over your shoulder, thumb skimming over the inked tarot card woven underneath your skin.

This is what it could be like, that treacherous part of his brain whispers, if you took that risk.

And he wants to, he really fucking wants to.

But then the group chat activates and he remembers 20 Squad, the rules on fraternization.

“It’s time to go to bed.” He murmurs into your hairline with the intention of extracting himself from the situation.

You grumble, tilting your head to look up at him with blurry eyes. Your nose bumps against his, his breath quickening as your lips linger dangerously close. You look so beautiful in that moment, and he can’t seem to tear himself away as he looks into those eyes of yours, wild as a storm, fierce as the sea.

“Luca.” You whisper, your velvet soft lips almost brushing over his. “I’m about to do something really fucking stupid.”

“I know.” He whispers back, his entire body igniting under your touch. “And I’m about to let you.”

Like My Work? - Tip your friendly fan fic writer here! Or be a sweetheart and drop me comment or reblog.

CHIBS

You'd tried polite.

You'd tried dismissive.

You'd tried turning your entire body away from the man currently leaning against the bar beside you like your lack of interest was simply an obstacle he hadn't overcome yet.

“Come on, sweetheart. One drink.”

“No, thanks.”

“You here alone?”

“No.”

That wasn't technically a lie.

Half of SAMCRO was scattered throughout the clubhouse behind you.

You just weren't with any of them.

The man's eyes dragged over you.

“Don't see anybody.”

You clenched your jaw.

“My boyfriend's here.”

“Oh yeah?”

His smile widened.

“Where's he?”

Fuck.

Your eyes swept the room.

And landed on Chibs.

He was leaning against the wall near the pool table, beer in one hand, talking to Tig.

Until his eyes found yours.

You didn't think.

You just walked.

Chibs watched you coming, brow furrowing slightly when you didn't slow down.

“Hey, baby.”

His eyebrows lifted.

You stepped directly into his space and slid an arm around his waist.

For one horrible second, Chibs simply stared down at you.

You widened your eyes.

Please.

His gaze flicked over your shoulder.

Saw the man at the bar.

And everything in his expression changed.

“Aye, sweetheart.”

His arm settled around your waist like it had been there a thousand times.

Easy.

Natural.

His thumb brushed once against your side.

“Was wonderin' where ye'd gotten off to.”

The relief nearly made your knees buckle.

“Sorry.”

You smiled up at him.

“Got distracted.”

“Aye?”

His eyes lifted.

The creep was still watching.

Chibs noticed.

Of course he fucking noticed.

His free hand came up, fingertips brushing your jaw.

Your smile faltered.

“Chibs...”

He leaned down.

The kiss was gentle.

Almost unbearably so.

Just the soft press of his mouth against yours.

But it lasted long enough to make the point.

And long enough to make you forget why the fuck you were doing this.

When he pulled back, his forehead nearly touched yours.

“Still watchin'?” you whispered.

Chibs glanced over your shoulder.

“Nah.”

You exhaled.

“Thank God.”

His arm remained around you.

You looked down at it.

Then back up at him.

“Thanks.”

“Aye.”

A beat passed.

Neither of you moved.

Then that familiar glint appeared in his eyes.

“Ye wanna explain why your boyfriend had to find out he was your boyfriend from across the bloody clubhouse?”

You shoved at his chest.

Chibs laughed.

But his hand caught yours before you could step away.

And for just a second...

His thumb moved slowly over your knuckles.

Neither of you laughed then.

---

JUICE

This was a terrible idea.

You knew it before you even reached him.

Unfortunately, the guy behind you apparently thought no meant keep fucking trying, and Juice was the closest person you trusted.

So.

Terrible idea it was.

“Hey, babe.”

Juice looked up from his phone.

“Hey...”

You kissed his cheek.

His entire body froze.

You wrapped your arm around his.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to disappear on you.”

Juice stared at you.

“...What?”

You smiled brightly.

Through clenched teeth, you whispered:

“Go with it.”

“What?”

“My boyfriend.”

“What boyfriend?”

“You.”

His eyes widened.

“Me?!”

“Jesus Christ, Juice.”

His head snapped up.

Finally, he noticed the guy standing several feet behind you.

Understanding dawned.

“Oh.”

Then...

“OH.”

You wanted the floor to swallow you.

Juice's arm immediately wrapped around your waist.

“Hey, baby.”

You stared at him.

He smiled far too widely.

“How are you?”

“Act normal.”

“I am acting normal.”

“You look like you're being held hostage.”

“I wasn't prepared for this!”

The creep approached anyway.

Of fucking course.

“So this is your boyfriend?”

Before you could answer, Juice did.

“Yeah.”

Something about his voice had changed.

The nervousness disappeared.

His arm tightened around you.

The man looked between you.

“She didn't mention you before.”

Juice's expression hardened.

“She told you she had a boyfriend, right?”

The guy shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you still over here?”

Oh.

You looked up at him.

Juice wasn't looking at you anymore.

His attention was entirely on the man.

“She said no. She told you she was with somebody. Either one should've been enough.”

The creep muttered something under his breath and finally walked away.

Silence.

You looked at Juice.

He looked at you.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

His arm was still around you.

You glanced down.

He followed your gaze.

“Oh. Shit.”

He immediately released you.

“Sorry.”

“No, you're fine.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

Another silence.

Then Juice rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, uh…”

“Don't.”

“I was just gonna say...”

“You called me baby, Juice.”

“You started it!”

You burst out laughing.

His cheeks turned red.

And neither of you mentioned that for approximately thirty seconds, having his arm around you hadn't felt like pretending at all.

---

HAPPY

You had exactly one option.

Unfortunately, that option was Happy Lowman.

You crossed the clubhouse before you could reconsider.

Happy saw you approaching.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

You stopped directly in front of him.

“Hi, baby.”

One eyebrow moved.

Barely.

But it moved.

You stepped closer.

“Please just go with it.”

Happy's gaze shifted past you.

The man who'd been bothering you was watching.

Happy looked back at you.

You watched the exact moment he understood.

His hand caught your waist.

You expected him to pull you against his side.

Maybe glare at the guy.

Maybe say something appropriately Happy-like that would send him running.

Instead...

Happy pulled you into him and kissed you.

Your brain emptied.

Completely.

One second you were standing there.

The next, Happy's mouth was on yours and his hand was firm against your lower back.

You grabbed his shirt instinctively.

Which apparently Happy took as permission to make the kiss slightly less pretend.

By the time he pulled away, you had forgotten there was another human being in the room.

Happy hadn't.

His eyes flicked past you.

“Gone.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“The guy.”

“Oh.”

Right.

The guy.

You stared up at him.

Happy stared back.

“You could've just put your arm around me.”

“I know.”

Your mouth fell open.

He released your waist.

Slowly.

“Happy.”

“What?”

“You...”

“You wanted him to believe it.”

“Yes, but...”

“He believed it.”

“That is not the fucking point.”

The corner of Happy's mouth twitched.

You pointed at him.

“Don't.”

He caught your finger.

Then, without breaking eye contact, lowered your hand.

“Anytime, baby girl.”

Your stomach fucking flipped.

Happy walked away.

You remained exactly where you were.

Well.

Fuck.

---

TIG

This was going to be a mistake.

You knew that.

You knew it with absolute certainty.

But the creep had followed you halfway across the clubhouse after you'd already told him no three fucking times.

And there was Tig.

God help you.

“Tig!”

He turned.

You plastered on your brightest smile.

“Baby!”

Tig's face did something extraordinary.

“...Baby?”

You reached him and threw your arms around his neck.

His hands automatically landed on your hips.

You leaned close to his ear.

“Creep behind me. Told him my boyfriend was here. Please go with it.”

Tig's eyes moved over your shoulder.

Then back to you.

And his face fucking lit up.

Oh no.

“There you are, gorgeous.”

“Tig...”

“Been lookin' all over for you.”

His arms wrapped around your waist.

“Tig.”

He kissed your cheek.

Then the other one.

“Tig.”

“What?”

“Dial it the fuck back.”

“You wanted a boyfriend.”

“I wanted believable.”

“I am believable.”

“You're being a fucking Hallmark movie.”

He gasped.

“You wound me.”

You fought a laugh.

“Is he gone?”

Tig glanced behind you.

“Nope.”

“Shit.”

His grin turned wicked.

Before you could stop him, he pulled you tighter.

“Guess we're gonna have to sell it.”

“Tig, don't you fucking...”

His mouth landed on yours.

You made a startled noise against him.

The bastard smiled into the kiss.

And that...

That was unacceptable.

So you kissed him back.

Just to wipe the smugness off his face.

Obviously.

When you separated, Tig looked considerably less amused.

His eyes were darker.

You swallowed.

“Gone?”

“What?”

“The guy.”

“Oh.”

Tig looked over your shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Great.”

You started to step away.

His arm tightened.

You looked down.

Then up.

“Tig.”

“Whoa.”

His expression became solemn.

“Where's my girlfriend going?”

“Your girlfriend?”

“We've been together almost a full minute.”

“Oh my God.”

“You can't just throw away what we have.”

You shoved him.

Tig laughed.

“Come back, baby! We can work this out!”

Half the clubhouse turned to look.

“TIG!”

---

BISHOP

You slid onto the stool beside him.

“Hey, honey.”

Bishop slowly turned his head.

You smiled.

He stared at you.

You smiled harder.

His eyebrow lifted.

“Everything okay?”

“Perfect.”

Your tilted your head meaningfully toward the man lingering behind you.

Bishop followed the movement.

Saw him.

Looked back at you.

And understood instantly.

His hand settled against your lower back.

“Was wondering where you went, querida.”

Oh.

Oh, that was...

You hadn't prepared for querida.

“Sorry.”  You recovered.  “Got caught up.”

The creep moved closer.

“Didn't realize you were actually with somebody.”

Bishop didn't even look at him.

His thumb moved once against your back.

“She told you she was.”

The man shifted.

“Yeah, but...”

Bishop finally turned.

“Then what's the fuckin' confusion?”

His voice wasn't loud.

Didn't need to be.

The man glanced at the kutte.

At Bishop.

Then apparently discovered an urgent appointment somewhere the fuck else.

You waited until he disappeared.

Then exhaled.

“Thank you.”

Bishop looked at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“He touch you?”

“No.”

“Threaten you?”

“No. Just wouldn't leave me alone.”

His jaw flexed.

“But I'm fine.”

You started to move away.

His hand was still at your back.

You both noticed at the same time.

Bishop slowly withdrew it.

“Sorry.”

“No.”

Too fast.

His eyes met yours.

You cleared your throat.

“I mean…you don't have to apologize.”

Something shifted in his expression.

“Good to know.”

Your stomach dropped directly into your shoes.

“I'm getting another drink.”

Bishop's mouth twitched.

“Sure you are, querida.”

Fuck.

---

ANGEL

“My boyfriend's here.”

The man looked around.

“Where?”

Your eyes landed on Angel.

Well.

This could only go spectacularly.

You marched over.

“Hey, babe.”

Angel turned.

“...Babe?”

You wrapped both arms around his waist.

His eyes nearly fell out of his head.

“Hi.”

“Hi?”

“Play along.”

“What?”

You tilted your head toward the guy.

Angel looked.

Then looked back.

His entire face changed.

“Ohhh.”

“No.”

You already knew that expression.

“Angel, don't...”

“BABY!”

“Oh my fucking God.”

He wrapped you in a dramatic hug.

“I missed you so much.”

“I was gone five minutes.”

“Longest five minutes of my life.”

“You're an idiot.”

“You love me.”

You glared at him.

Angel grinned.

Then the creep walked past.

“Didn't know you were together.”

Angel opened his mouth.

The man's skeptical expression pissed you off enough that you made another impulsive decision.

You grabbed Angel's shirt.

And kissed him.

It was supposed to be quick.

A peck.

Proof.

Except Angel went completely still.

And when you started pulling back...

His hand came up to your waist.

The kiss lasted one second longer.

Maybe two.

Then you separated.

The creep was already leaving.

But Angel wasn't looking at him.

Angel was looking at you.

You released his shirt.

“Thanks.”

A slow grin spread across his face.

“No problem, baby.”

“Stop.”

“That's my girl.”

“Angel.”

“You kissed me.”

“It was tactical.”

“Tactical?”

“Yes.”

“Wanna tactically do it again?”

You shoved him away.

He laughed.

But when you turned to leave...

“Hey.”

You looked back.

The teasing had softened.

“You know you can come get me anytime some asshole's bothering you, right?”

Your smile came easier.

“Yeah.”

Then the grin returned.

“Boyfriend services are twenty-four-seven.”

“Fuck off, Reyes.”

---

COCO

You didn't say anything at first.

You simply walked over and took his hand.

Coco looked down.

Then at you.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

You stepped closer.  “Sorry I took so long.”

His eyebrows pulled together.

You gave the smallest tilt of your head.

Coco followed it.

Saw the man standing near the bar.

Looked at your joined hands again.

Then everything clicked.

His fingers threaded through yours.

“Was wonderin' where you went.”

Relief loosened something in your chest.

“Got stuck talking.”

“Yeah?”  His thumb brushed across your knuckles.  “Everything good?”

“Now it is.”

The guy hovered another moment.

Coco didn't glare.

Didn't posture.

He simply shifted closer until your shoulders touched and kept your hand tucked securely in his.

Eventually, the man left.

You let out a breath.

“Thank you.”

Coco shrugged.

“Ain't shit.”

You smiled.

A few seconds passed.

Then a few more.

Coco looked down.

You followed his gaze.

Your hands were still linked.

Neither of you had let go.

“You gonna want this back?”

You frowned.

“What?”

“Your hand.”

A laugh escaped you.

“Eventually.”

“Cool.”

He looked straight ahead again.

Still holding it.

You looked at him.

“You know he's gone, right?”

“Yep.”

“And we're still holding hands.”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

Coco's mouth twitched.

“You complaining?”

You looked down at your intertwined fingers.

“No.”

“Then quit fuckin' up a good thing.”

You did.

---

HANK

You spotted Hank near the edge of the yard.

Thank God.

Of everyone here, Hank was probably the safest choice.

Calm.

Reliable.

Not likely to turn this into some enormous spectacle you'd never live down.

You crossed toward him.

“Hank.”

He turned immediately.

Something in your face must have given you away.

His expression changed.

“You good?”

You reached him and slipped your hand around his arm.

“Yep.”

Hank went very still.

Only for a second.

Then his eyes moved past you.

The man had followed.

Hank understood.

His entire body relaxed.

His hand covered yours where it rested against his arm.

“There you are.”

That was it.

No overacting.

No questions.

He simply drew you a little closer.

The creep stopped several feet away.

“This your boyfriend?”

You opened your mouth.

Hank beat you to it.

“Yeah.”

So easy.

So certain.

Like the answer had never been anything else.

The man looked at you.

“You could've just said so.”

Your stomach tightened.

“I did.”

Hank's expression changed.

Barely.

But his voice dropped.

“She said no before she ever mentioned me.”

The man scoffed.

Hank didn't move.

“She shouldn't need a boyfriend for you to respect it.”

Silence.

The creep looked at Hank.

Then at you.

And left.

Your shoulders sagged.

“Thank you.”

Hank looked down at you.

“You sure you're okay?”

“Yeah.”

“He bother you before tonight?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

His hand was still covering yours.

Warm.

Steady.

You became painfully aware of how close you were standing.

“You're very good at that.”

“At what?”

“Pretending.”

Hank's eyes held yours.

Something unreadable moved through them.

“Wasn't hard.”

Oh.

Your breath caught.

Hank seemed to realize what he'd said at exactly the same moment you did.

Neither of you moved.

Then someone across the yard called his name.

Hank looked toward the sound.

His hand slipped away from yours.

“Should probably...”

“Yeah.”

He took two steps.

Stopped.

Turned back.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“If it happens again…”

His gaze settled on you.

“You don't have to pretend I'm your boyfriend.”

You blinked.

Hank walked away.

You stood there for several seconds.

Then...

“Wait.”

Your brain finally caught up.

“HANK.”

He didn't turn around.

But you could've sworn you saw him smile.

Extra patrols.

More check-ins.

Templo's light burned late into the night.

Every unfamiliar car.

Every strange feeling.

Every face that lingered a little too long.

It got checked.

Every time.

Weeks passed.

Nothing.

No more vans.

No more cameras.

No more wrong feelings that turned out to be right.

Little by little...

Life reclaimed the ground fear had stolen.

The nightmares came less often.

The laughter came easier.

The investigation settled into the steady rhythm of clubhouse life.

Always there.

Always moving.

Never forgotten.

And somewhere along the way...

Without anyone realizing exactly when...

Lex stopped waiting for the next bad thing.

Not because the danger was gone.

Because she was finally starting to live anyway.

---

The first thing Bishop noticed was the singing.

Which was unfortunate.

Because Lex couldn't sing.

Not in a charming way.

Not in an endearing way.

She was, objectively...

Terrible.

Unfortunately...

Nobody had informed Lex.

Or maybe they had.

She simply didn't care.

That seemed far more likely.

"Soon may the Wellerman come..."

The off-key voice drifted down the hallway before he reached the kitchen.

A spoon clanged against a pot.

Something metallic crashed onto the floor.

Silence.

One beat.

Two.

"I'm okay!"

Bishop closed his eyes.

Of course she was.

The response had come far too fast.

He rounded the corner.

Lex stood barefoot in the middle of the kitchen wearing one of his old clubhouse shirts over black leggings.

Her hair had clearly lost a fight with gravity.

One wooden spoon stirred breakfast.

The other served as a microphone.

She spun across the kitchen.

Poorly.

Very poorly.

Still singing.

Still completely unaware he was standing there.

For just a moment...

She wasn't watching the doors.

She wasn't counting exits.

She wasn't measuring every room.

She wasn't waiting for something terrible to happen.

She was simply...

Happy.

The realization hit him harder than he expected.

He remembered the first night.

The first weeks.

The girl who always chose the chair facing every exit.

Who kept her back against walls.

Who apologized for existing.

Who expected danger around every corner.

He'd expected those photographs to drag her right back there.

Instead...

She was butchering a sea shanty while making breakfast.

Hope settled quietly beneath his ribs.

Dangerous.

Expensive.

Worth every damn penny.

"One day when the tonguin' is done..."

She pointed dramatically with the spoon.

At absolutely no one.

Bishop felt a laugh threaten.

Then...

Coco walked in.

He listened for exactly three seconds.

"...No."

Lex spun toward him with a grin.

"Yes."

"It's pirate music."

"It is not pirate music."

"They're on boats."

"They're merchant sailors!"

"Pirate-adjacent."

"There is no such thing as pirate-adjacent!"

Bishop quietly took a sip of coffee.

Lex caught him immediately.

"You agree with him."

"I didn't say a word."

"You were thinking it."

"I was thinkin' my coffee was cold."

"Liar."

"I'd never give Coco that much credit."

"I'll take it," Coco said.

Before Lex could continue defending nineteenth-century maritime history...

Letty wandered into the kitchen.

She listened for all of three seconds before grabbing another wooden spoon.

"This song's awesome."

Lex pointed triumphantly.

"THANK YOU."

Coco sighed.

"There are two of them now."

"Oh, we're just getting started."

"...I don't like that look."

Angel picked exactly the wrong moment to walk in.

He stopped in the doorway.

Looked at Lex.

Looked at Letty.

Looked at Coco.

"...Am I high?"

"No," Coco answered.

"Then why are there pirates in my kitchen?"

"We're not pirates!" Lex protested.

"They're pirates," Coco corrected.

"We're merchants."

"Merchant pirates."

"There is no such thing!"

Angel shrugged.

"...Sounds pretty piratey."

Lex looked personally offended.

"You too?"

"I mean..."  He pointed toward the phone.  "...they're on a boat."

"UGH!"

A few minutes later Angel decided he wanted to learn the chorus.

It went exactly as badly as everyone expected.

"SOON MAY THE WATERMAN COME…"

Lex gasped.

"What was that?"

"The words."

"No!"

"I nailed it."

"You absolutely did not!"

Five minutes later...

"SOON MAY THE WELDERMAN COME…"

"Emotional damage."

"I'm improving."

"You're committing crimes."

By the end of the afternoon...

The song had escaped the kitchen.

Angel still didn't know the words.

Coco continued insisting it was pirate music despite quietly mouthing the chorus.

Gilly claimed he hated it while somehow always appearing during the best parts.

Within days...

The entire clubhouse knew the tune.

Whether they admitted it or not.

---

A few nights later the clubhouse buzzed with the comfortable chaos of home.

Food covered the bar.

Someone had started a card game.

The pool table had become another argument.

The television played to no one.

Boots crossed old wooden floors.

Laughter drifted from every room.

Normal.

Ordinary.

Home.

Lex sat cross-legged on the couch with her sketchbook balanced across her knees.

Mostly listening while Coco and Angel resumed their debate.

"They're pirates."

"They're merchants."

"Pirate-adjacent."

"There is no pirate-adjacent!"

"There is now."

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I leave for one meeting...and somehow we're debating Scottish maritime history."

"It's important," Lex said.

"It isn't."

"It absolutely is."

Bishop leaned against the bar.

Watching.

Not obviously.

He hoped.

She looked...

Comfortable.

Comfortable enough to argue.

Comfortable enough to tease Coco.

Comfortable enough to laugh without looking over her shoulder first.

He noticed Letty quietly slipping behind the stereo.

Phone already connected.

His mouth opened.

Too late.

The opening notes exploded through the speakers.

Dum

Dum

Dum

There once was a ship that put to sea...

Lex's head snapped toward Letty.

"Oh..."

A beat.

"You little menace."

Angel shot to his feet.

"YES!  The sea calls!"

"You live in the desert," Coco answered.

"The sea is metaphorical."

"The sea can shut up."

The chorus hit.

Lex laughed and joined in.

Letty followed.

Angel somehow managed to sing even louder and even more incorrectly.

Gilly gave up pretending he didn't know it.

Even Coco was caught mouthing the words.

"I KNEW IT!" Lex shouted.

"I wasn't singing."

"You absolutely were."

"I was breathing."

"Aggressively?" Happy deadpanned from the corner.

The room fell silent.

Every head turned toward him.

Happy looked up from his knife.

Realized what he'd said.

"...Forget it."

Laughter exploded.

Even Marcus was laughing now.

The sound filled every corner of the clubhouse.

For a little while...

Those walls heard nothing but joy.

Bishop watched Lex standing in the middle of it all.

Wooden spoon back in her hand.

Conducting an imaginary choir.

Laughing so hard she could barely stay on beat.

No fear.

No hesitation.

Just...

Joy.

Not borrowed.

Not cautious.

Real.

She hadn't simply become part of the clubhouse.

The clubhouse had become part of her.

The song hadn't spread because it was good.

It spread because she'd laughed while she sang it.

Because she'd pulled everyone else into it.

Without ever meaning to...

She'd given the clubhouse another story.

Another memory stitched into its walls.

Lex looked across the room.

Caught him watching.

She smiled.

Small.

Private.

Just for him.

He smiled back before he could stop himself.

Marcus stepped beside him.

Folded his arms.

Watched the room.

Without looking over, he said quietly,  "That's our girl."

Bishop watched Angel somehow miss every lyric while singing with complete confidence.

Watched Letty doubled over laughing.

Watched Coco complain while singing anyway.

Watched Lex dancing in the middle of all of it.

Alive.

Happy.

Home.

Finally...

He nodded.

"Yeah."

Marcus smiled.  

Bishop looked around the clubhouse one last time.

The room was louder than it had been in months.

Not because of business.

Not because of fear.

Because of one sea shanty.

And one young woman who'd walked into their lives carrying far too much darkness...

...and somehow got them all singing.

...

For forty days or even more... the line went slack then tight once more…

...

...

------

PART 50

Not because he felt sorry for him.

Not because Bishop had asked.

Not because the man had made some convincing argument about taking the wrong job.

Happy had let him go because he'd believed him.

He knew fear.

Knew what it looked like when someone lied through broken teeth.

Knew the difference between a man protecting information and a man who genuinely didn't have any left to give.

The photographer had been terrified.

Sweating.

Shaking.

Watching Happy's hands every time they moved.

But he'd answered every question.

Same answers.

Same details.

No hesitation except when he genuinely couldn't remember something.

No story changing when Happy circled back.

No carefully constructed bullshit.

Just a scared-shitless freelance photographer who had accepted an anonymous surveillance contract without bothering to ask why someone wanted pictures of a woman in Santo Padre.

Wrong contract.

Wrong woman.

Really fucking wrong family.

Happy had believed him.

So he'd let him go.

The problem was...

That left Happy with nothing to hit.

The clubhouse door opened behind him.

Hank walked in carrying two coffees.

He set one beside Happy without asking and looked at the collection covering the table.

"Anything?"

"No."

Hank pulled out the chair across from him.

Happy pushed the phone toward him.

"Burner number."

Then the email address.

"That's how they contacted him."

Hank looked them over.

"Payment?"

"Prepaid card."

"Still have it?"

Happy slid it across the table.

Hank picked it up.

"Let me make some calls."

Happy took the coffee.

"Make them fast."

Hank looked at him.

Happy stared back.

"Yeah," Hank muttered. "Figured."

Forty minutes later, Hank had something.

Not much.

But something.

"Card was bought at a convenience store outside Calexico."

Happy was already standing.

"Where?"

Hank gave him the address.

Happy grabbed his kutte.

"Burner?"

"Working on it."

"Email?"

"Got someone looking."

Happy headed for the door.

"Hap."

He stopped.

Hank looked at the collection on the table.

"You sure about the photographer?"

Happy's expression didn't change.

"He didn't know."

Hank held his gaze for a second.

Then nodded.

That was enough.

Happy walked out.

The convenience store opened at six.

Happy walked through the door at six-oh-three.

The clerk behind the counter looked up.

Then looked at the kutte.

Then at Happy's face.

His morning immediately got worse.

Happy placed the card on the counter.

"Need to know who bought this."

The clerk blinked.

"What?"

Happy slid it closer.

"Prepaid card. Bought here."

"I don't..."

"Manager."

"He's not in until eight."

Happy stared at him.

The clerk lasted four seconds.

"I can call him."

Happy nodded once.

"Do that."

The manager arrived at six-twenty-seven.

They had cameras.

That was the good news.

The bad news was the card had been purchased almost a week ago.

The worse news was the camera directly over the register had been broken for three months.

Happy stood behind the manager in the cramped office, staring at the screen.

"Other cameras."

"There's one over the door."

"Show me."

They rewound.

Six days.

Four hours.

Thirty-two minutes.

The transaction appeared on the register log.

The manager froze the footage.

A man entered.

Baseball cap.

Sunglasses.

Plain gray hoodie.

Head down.

Happy leaned toward the monitor.

The man walked to the rack.

Picked up the card.

Paid cash.

Walked out.

Thirty-eight seconds.

"Parking lot."

The manager clicked to another camera.

Happy watched.

The man crossed the lot.

A white pickup rolled through the edge of the frame.

The man disappeared behind it.

Happy waited.

He never came out the other side.

"Back it up."

The manager did.

Happy watched again.

White.

Older.

Mud covering the plate.

No clear shot of the driver.

Happy pulled out his phone and took a picture of the screen.

At eight-fifteen, Hank called.

"Burner's dead."

Happy stood beside his bike, staring across the convenience store parking lot.

"How dead?"

"Activated two weeks ago. Used three times. All outgoing. Towers put it around Imperial County."

"That's a lot of fucking county."

"Yeah."

"Where'd they buy it?"

"Still working on that."

"Email?"

"My guy got into it."

Happy straightened.

"And?"

"Nothing useful yet."

Happy's jaw tightened.

"Keep looking."

"That's the plan."

Happy hung up.

The truck got him farther.

Barely.

A gas station nine miles away had caught it heading east.

Another camera caught what looked like the same truck forty minutes later.

Then nothing.

No plate.

No clear shot of the driver.

No destination.

Happy spent the next six hours asking questions.

People talked to Happy.

Eventually.

A bartender remembered a white truck.

Didn't remember who drove it.

A mechanic knew three guys with one like it.

Happy found all three.

Wrong trucks.

A guy who sold burners out of the back of an electronics shop swore he hadn't sold that number.

Happy believed him.

Eventually.

By late afternoon, Happy was back at the Santo Padre clubhouse.

Hank was sitting at the table when he walked in.

Happy tossed the picture of the truck in front of him.

"Dead."

Hank looked at it.

"Nothing?"

"No plate. No driver. Lost it heading east."

Hank leaned back.

"Burner's the same."

Happy stopped.

"Nothing?"

"Bought with cash. Fake information when it was activated. Three outgoing contacts and then it went dark."

"Email."

Hank shook his head.

"Guy I had look at it says whoever set it up knew what they were doing. Fake registration. VPN. Account was made for this job and nothing else."

"The messages?"

"Recovered most of them."

"And?"

"Exactly what the photographer told us."

Happy's expression flattened.

Hank continued.

"Times. Locations. What pictures they wanted. No names. Nothing personal. Nothing that tells us who's on the other end."

Happy pulled out a chair.

Sat.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Phone.

Card.

SD cards.

Picture of a truck.

Almost-clues.

Every fucking one of them.

"People fuck up," Happy finally said.

Hank looked across the table at him.

"Usually."

Happy's eyes stayed on the photograph.

That was the problem.

He'd spent the better part of a day following every thread.

Every one ended.

Not faded.

Ended.

Cash.

Burners.

Disposable accounts.

Covered plates.

No faces.

No names.

Whoever had hired the photographer hadn't simply been careful.

They'd planned for someone to come looking.

Happy's phone rang.

Chibs.

He answered.

"Yeah."

"How's it lookin'?"

"Bad."

A pause.

"Bad how?"

"Everything stops."

"And the photographer?"

"He didn't know."

"Ye sure?"

Happy went quiet.

Only for a second.

Then...

"Aye. Stupid question."

"Yeah."

Chibs exhaled.

"What about the payment?"

"Cash. Cameras caught a guy buying the card."

"Got a face?"

"No."

"Plate?"

"No."

Another pause.

Then a muffled voice somewhere near Chibs.

Tig.

Happy couldn't make out the words.

Chibs came back.

"Truck?"

"Dead end."

"Christ."

Happy stared at the picture.

Someone had hired a stranger to watch Lex.

Not approach her.

Not hurt her.

Watch.

Learn her routine.

Learn where she went.

Who she was with.

When she was alone.

Happy's expression hardened.

"Keep her close."

"Always."

A long pause.

Then Chibs sighed.

"Aye."

The call ended.

Hank was watching him.

Happy put the phone down.

"You're staying."

"Yeah."

Hank nodded.

Didn't argue.

Didn't tell him there wasn't anything else to find.

He just pulled the burner closer.

"Then we start again."

Three hours later...

Nothing.

They went through every message.

Every timestamp.

Every photograph.

Every scrap of metadata Hank's contact had managed to pull.

Nothing.

Happy sat back.

Hank rubbed a hand over his face.

"I don't like this."

Happy's eyes moved across the table.

Neither did he.

"People fuck up."

"You said that already."

"Still true."

"Yeah."

Hank looked down at the mess between them.

"They just haven't yet."

Happy's eyes lifted to his.

There it was.

That was what had been bothering him all fucking day.

Not that the trail was cold.

That it was supposed to be cold.

Someone had built it that way.

Every layer disposable.

Every connection temporary.

Every trail ending before it reached anything that mattered.

The photographer wasn't part of their operation.

He'd been insulation.

Someone they could afford to lose.

Happy stared at the SD cards.

"Keep looking."

Hank nodded.

"I will."

Happy stood.

Gathered the phone.

Folded the picture of the truck.

Picked up his helmet.

But Happy wasn't done.

Not even fucking close.

Because people made mistakes.

They got comfortable.

They got impatient.

Eventually...

They got sloppy.

Happy headed for the door.

Whoever was watching Lex hadn't yet.

That didn't mean they wouldn't.

And when they did...

Happy would be waiting.

------

PART 49