The Iron Son President

“God, I’m so sick of this place,” Hazel muttered, wiping her greasy hands on her coveralls. She leaned against the toolbox and blew a loose strand of hair out of her face.

Lena was under the hood of Mr. Henderson’s old Ford, laughing. “Tell me about it. Another day, another busted radiator in this dead-ass town.”

Hazel glanced around the empty shop. It was almost closing time. No customers. Just the two of them.

She lowered her voice even though nobody was around. “You know who came in yesterday? Jax. Again.”

Lena poked her head up, eyebrows raised. “Reaper? The Iron Sons guy? Shit, Hazel.”

“Yeah.” Hazel bit her lip, a small smirk tugging at her mouth. “He was wearing that tight black shirt. Arms all tatted up. I swear I almost dropped the wrench when he looked at me.”

Lena snorted. “You’ve got it bad. He’s trouble. Like, actual dangerous trouble.”

Hazel shrugged, her cheeks warming. She stepped closer, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “I don’t care. If he ever decided to kidnap me or something… I wouldn’t even fight him. Just tie me up and use me however he wants. I’d probably thank him.”

Lena burst out laughing, nearly hitting her head on the hood. “Girl, you are sick. You really said that?”

“I’m serious,” Hazel grinned, though her face was burning. “60 days locked up with him in the same room? Sign me up. He can do whatever.”

“Shut up!” Lena was still cracking up, waving her rag at her. “Don’t say shit like that out loud. What if the wrong person hears you? Jax ain’t a book boyfriend. He’s the president of a damn motorcycle club. You don’t play games with men like that.”

Hazel rolled her eyes. “Relax. It’s just us. Nobody’s listening.”

Three nights later, Hazel locked up the shop alone. Lena had left early for a date. The streetlights buzzed overhead as she started the walk home, keys digging into her palm. The cool night air felt good after sweating in the garage all day.

She was halfway down Maple when she heard it — the low rumble of a motorcycle.

It slowed behind her. Hazel didn’t turn around at first. Then the bike pulled up right beside her and stopped.

Her stomach flipped.

Before she could even think, a big hand clamped over her mouth. Strong arms lifted her clean off the ground like she weighed nothing. She kicked hard, trying to scream, but the sound died against his palm.

“Easy,” a deep, rough voice growled in her ear. “Stop fighting, baby.”

She knew that voice.

“No! Wait— what the fuck are you doing?!” she shouted, voice cracking. “Let me go! This isn’t funny!”

The engine roared and the bike shot forward. Hazel screamed again as the wind whipped her hair into her face. She yanked at the zip ties, her heart slamming so hard she thought she might pass out.

“Jax! Stop the bike! Take me back right now!” she yelled over the engine, pressing her face against his leather cut. “I was joking! I swear to God I was joking!”

He didn’t answer. His hand came back once, gripping her thigh hard, holding her in place as they flew out of town toward the hills.

By the time they pulled through the Iron Sons compound gates, Hazel’s throat hurt from shouting and her arms were burning. Jax killed the engine, got off, and dragged her inside with him. A couple of bikers watched but said nothing.

He pulled her into a room at the back and slammed the door.

Jax finally cut the zip ties. Hazel immediately shoved him in the chest with both hands.

Are you out of your fucking mind?” she shouted. “You can’t just snatch people off the street!”

Jax crossed his arms, staring down at her. That slow smirk pulled at his mouth.

“I heard you, Hazel. Every word. ‘Tie me up and use me however he wants.’ ‘Sixty days locked up with him? Sign me up.’”

Hazel’s stomach dropped. She took a step back until her shoulders hit the wall.

“That was just talk,” she said fast. “I was bullshitting with Lena. You weren’t even supposed to hear—”

“Too late.” He stepped closer. “You’re here now. Sixty days. You get to find out if your mouth wrote a check your ass can cash.”

She shook her head, breathing hard. “Take me home, Jax. Right now. I have a job. I have bills. This is crazy.”

“You had a shit life,” he said, calm as hell. “Now you’re mine for sixty days. After that… we’ll see if you still wanna leave.”

Hazel laughed, but it sounded scared even to her. “You’re actually insane. Let me go!”

She tried to push past him toward the door. Jax caught her easy, pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. He leaned in close, breath warm against her ear.

“Fight. Scream. Cry. Do all that shit if you want.” His voice dropped lower. “But before you do… you should know I’ve been watching you a lot longer than three days. I know where you keep your spare key. I know you sleep with the window cracked even when it’s cold. And I know you touch yourself thinking about me.”

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“So tell me again how this was all a joke, baby.”

Right then, someone banged hard on the door.

“Reaper! We got a problem out front.”

Jax didn’t even glance away from her. His smirk came back, darker this time.

“Looks like your sixty days just got interesting.”