Page 16 of Siren's Salvation

On the other, every moment we're not actively looking for answers feels like a moment wasted.

"Look," I interject, unable to stay silent any longer, "I get the whole 'mi casa es su casa' thing, but Kade's right. We didn't come all this way for a scenic tour and a few brewskis. There's business to be done."

Zane's gaze shifts to me, and I fight the urge to shrink under his scrutiny.

But instead of annoyance, I see a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "You're a ballsy little fucker, aren’t ya?"

I’m about to respond when my stomach lets out a growl so loud it could rival a Harley's engine.

Zane chuckles deeply, a smirk playing on his lips. "See, your prospect’s starvin'. We'd better get him some good food."

Cobra, never one to miss an opportunity to rib me, chimes in with a chuckle.

"Little buck over here isn't the only one starvin'! Who's cookin'? Alexa? Ashley? Octavia?"

Just as the words leave Cobra's mouth, the side door to the garage swings open.

Bull, a mountain of a man with a beard that could hide a small child, steps inside.

His eyes sweep over us, taking in the new arrivals.

"Alexa," he says, his deep voice rumbling through the space. "My wife prepped enough lasagna, ziti, salad, and made enough homemade garlic bread to feed a damn army. Come on in and get some grub, and hurry before she yells at ya."

The mention of food has my mouth watering instantly.

As we file out of the garage and into the clubhouse, I'm hit with a wall of noise and warmth.

The main room is packed, bodies everywhere, some familiar faces and many I don't recognize.

A few guys look up as we enter, their expressions a mix of curiosity and wariness.

"Kade! You ugly son of a bitch!" A voice booms from across the room, followed by a burst of laughter and a round of greetings.

I hang back a bit, taking in the scene.

It's strange, being in a different charter's clubhouse.

The layout is similar to ours back in Vegas, but the energy is... different.

Not better or worse, just not home.

Kade, Cobra, and I start making our way toward the kitchen, my stomach urging me forward with another embarrassing growl.

But before we can get there, a woman rounds the corner, her presence commanding attention.

"Uh-uh," she says, her voice stern but not unkind. "You'd best sit your asses down and take a load off. I'll bring some plates out for y'all here in a minute."

I recognize her as Octavia, Zane’s ol’ lady.

It’s not hard to realize who she is with her fiery red hair. It’s as bright as they say.

Her no-nonsense attitude reminds me of my mama back in Sharp, and for a moment, a pang of homesickness hits me.

"Yes, ma'am," I find myself saying, a reflex from my Texas upbringing.

Cobra snickers beside me, but I ignore him, too hungry to care about his teasing.

As we settle into a nearby booth, I can't help but think about how the next couple of days will go.

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