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CHAPTER THREE: GHOSTS AND WHISKEY
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2025-12-04 23:10:44I stared at Derek's message until the screen blurred.
He knew. Somehow, he knew exactly where I was.
My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the phone. I should tell Colt. Show him the message. But the thought of facing those cold gray eyes again made my stomach twist.
The door burst open.
I jumped, shoving the phone into my pocket.
A woman strode in—tall, blonde, curves poured into tight jeans and a leather vest. Her patch read "Property of Razor." She looked me up and down like I was something stuck to her boot.
"So you are the famous Jenna." She set a plate of food on the table. "The girl who broke our president's heart."
"I did not mean to—"
"Save it." She lit a cigarette, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. "I am Candy. I run the girls here. Colt says you are staying, so we need to establish some rules."
"Rules?"
"Rule one: You do not talk to the members without permission. Rule two: You do not leave the compound without an escort. Rule three:" Her eyes went hard. "You do not mess with Colt's head. He is finally over you. Finally running this club the way it should be run. You screw that up, and I will make your life hell."
"I am not trying to mess with anyone."
"Good. Keep it that way." She headed for the door, then paused. "The shower is upstairs. You look like you need it."
The door slammed behind her.
I sat there, frozen, until my stomach growled. The food was simple—burger and fries—but I could not remember the last time I ate. I forced down half before my ribs screamed in protest.
The phone buzzed again.
"I can see the fence from here. Nice place. Lots of security. Won't matter. —D"
Ice flooded my veins.
He was here. Outside. Watching.
I ran for the door, yanked it open, and nearly collided with a solid chest.
Colt.
His hands shot out, gripping my arms. "Where are you going?"
"He is here." My voice came out strangled. "Derek. He is outside. He sent me messages—"
"Show me."
I fumbled for the phone, hands shaking so hard I almost dropped it. Colt took it, read the messages, and his expression went deadly calm.
"Razor!" he barked.
The big man from earlier appeared within seconds. "Boss?"
"Double the guards. Lock down the compound. No one in or out without my authorization." Colt's voice was steel. "And find me a white pickup truck. Nevada plates. The driver is male, thirties, probably watching the fence line."
"On it." Razor disappeared.
Colt pulled me back inside, kicked the door shut. "Why did you not tell me the second you got that message?"
"I was going to—"
"Liar." He backed me against the wall, his body caging mine. "You were going to run again. Just like you always do."
"No, I just—" The words died when I saw his face. Fury. Raw and barely controlled.
"Do you have any idea what I went through that day?" His voice was quiet. Dangerous. "Standing in that church. Waiting. My mother is crying. Your friends are whispering. And you were just gone."
"My father threatened to kill you." Tears burned my eyes. "He showed me his gun. Told me exactly how he would do it. I could not let that happen."
"So you saved me by destroying me instead?" His laugh was bitter. "Real noble, Jenna."
"I was eighteen! I was terrified!"
"And now?" His thumb traced my jaw. "Are you still terrified of me?"
Yes. But not the way he thought.
I was terrified of how much I still wanted him. How much I still loved him, even after everything.
"Colt—"
Glass shattered somewhere outside. Shouting erupted. Gunfire cracked through the night—sharp, brutal, final.
Colt's entire body went rigid. "Stay here."
"What is happening?"
"Stay. Here." He pulled a gun from his waistband, checked the clip. "Lock this door behind me. Do not open it for anyone except me. Understand?"
"Colt, please—"
He kissed me. Hard. Desperate. Nothing like the sweet kisses we shared as teenagers. This was possession. Claim. Warning.
Then he was gone.
I locked the door with shaking hands and backed away from it. More gunfire. Shouting. The roar of engines.
My phone buzzed.
"Come outside, Jenna. Or I start killing your new friends. You have sixty seconds. —D"
No. No, no, no.
Another message.
"Fifty seconds."
I looked at the locked door. Heard more shots fired. Someone screamed.
This was my fault. Derek followed me here. He was hurting these people because of me.
"Thirty seconds. Your choice, baby. You or them."
My hand reached for the lock before I could think. Before I could stop myself.
I knew what would happen if I went out there. Knew what Derek would do to me.
But I could not let innocent people die because I was a coward.
The lock clicked open.
I stepped into the hallway just as an explosion rocked the compound. The lights went out. Emergency reds kicked on, bathing everything in blood.
And at the end of the hall, silhouetted against the red glow, stood a figure I knew too well.
Derek smiled.
"There is my girl," he said softly. "Did you miss me?"
Behind him, I saw Colt round the corner, gun raised.
Their eyes met.
And I realized with horrible clarity that tonight, one of them was going to die.
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THE BIKER'S EX RETURNS CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SEVEN: WHAT MOUSE FOUND
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THE BIKER'S EX RETURNS CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX: THE NAME
Morrison sent the judge's name four days later.Tuesday morning. Seven forty-two. A text message with no preamble. Just the name. Judge Arthur Wren. Sixty-one years old. Appointed fourteen years ago. Clean record throughout. No visible connection to anything in Hale's documented network.Mouse had it on his screen within ninety seconds of me forwarding the text.I sat in the tech room with him and watched him work.He did not talk while he worked. That was always true. The talking happened before or after. During was silence and the specific sound of fingers moving across a keyboard with focused precision.Thirty minutes in he stopped.I waited."Nothing in the financial records that connects to the Cayman account network," he said. "Nothing in the federal judiciary oversight database that flags irregularity." He paused. "But.""Tell me," I said."Arthur Wren was assigned to two federal cases fourteen years ago. His first year on the bench." He pu
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I called Morrison the following Monday.He answered on the first ring."Mae came to the compound," I said. "In person. We had the conversation."A pause. Not surprise exactly. The pause of someone receiving information that fits a pattern they had been tracking."How was it?" he said."Hard and real," I said. "Which is the right combination for that conversation." I paused. "She asked about a role adjacent to the network. Not operational. As a consultative resource for organizations that encounter situations connecting to her inside knowledge."A longer pause."The cooperation agreement does not prevent that," he said slowly. "The restriction is against public statements about the federal case and contact with case parties. Consulting with organizations implementing a community protection framework that is separate from the federal case is a different category." He paused. "But Jenna. I want to think about this carefully before I give you a legal opinion.
THE BIKER'S EX RETURNS CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOUR: WHAT STAYS IN THE KITCHEN
Mae stayed for four hours.Not by plan. Not because I asked her to. The four hours happened the way significant things sometimes happen. One small continuation leading to the next until you look up and realize that a substantial amount of time has passed inside something that did not feel like time passing.Coffee led to food. Colt made eggs without asking whether anyone wanted them. He put plates in front of both of us with the quiet efficiency of someone doing the right practical thing at the right moment. Then he sat at the end of the table with his own coffee and his phone and occupied himself without disappearing. Present but not crowding. The specific quality of being beside something without being inside it.Mae ate.I watched her eat and recognized the quality of someone who had not been eating well. Not visibly unwell. But the particular way a person eats when they have been living at the compressed level that survival-mode produces and are suddenly in a spa
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最終更新日 : 2026-03-20THE BIKER'S EX RETURNS CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: THE GHOST RETURNS
Three months into my presidency, I learned that running an MC was like fighting a war on a hundred fronts.Territory disputes. Supply chain issues. Internal politics. Every day brought a new crisis.But I handled it. I had to.Because giving up meant Colt died for nothing.I sat in church—the weekl
最終更新日 : 2026-03-19THE BIKER'S EX RETURNS CHAPTER NINETEEN: ASHES AND RAGE
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最終更新日 : 2026-03-19THE BIKER'S EX RETURNS CHAPTER TWENTY: RISING FROM THE ASHES
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最終更新日 : 2026-03-19
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