Page 14 of Taken By the Outlaw

I can't focuson a damn word Dex is saying. The diamonds from the heist are spread across the table—three million worth of sparkle that should have my full attention. But all I can think about is another kind of treasure, currently wandering my compound with that stubborn tilt to her chin.Emilia.Even her name in my mind sends a jolt of possession through me. I've had her body, claimed her in the most primal way, but it wasn't enough. One night was a fucking joke. I need more—need all of her. My fist clenches on the table, and Dex pauses mid-sentence, eyeing me warily. The crew thinks I'm losing it. Maybe I am. But I'm not letting her go, not when the mere thought of her walking away makes something violent rise in my chest.

"Boss?" Mick's gruff voice pulls me back to the moment. "Did you hear what I said?"

I straighten, forcing my attention to the business at hand. "Repeat it."

Mick exchanges a glance with Dex, both clearly noting my distraction. "I said our buyer's getting antsy. Wants to move up the exchange to tomorrow night."

"No." My response is immediate, instinctive. "The original plan stands. Three days from now."

"Why wait?" Dex asks, pushing his luck. "The longer we sit on these rocks, the more risk. Let's move them and be done."

What he's saying makes sense. It's what I would normally do—get the merchandise moved, collect payment, close the job. Clean, efficient, minimal risk. But the thought of dealing with the exchange tomorrow sends a spike of unease through me. Tomorrow means leaving the compound, leaving Emilia. Or bringing her along, exposing her to more danger, more criminals. Neither option sits right.

"Three days," I repeat firmly. "The buyer can wait."

Mick leans forward, lowering his voice though we're alone in the office. "This about the girl?"

My eyes snap to his face, warning clear in my expression. "Careful."

But Mick's been with me longer than the others, has earned the right to speak his mind. "The crew's talking, Clark. Wondering why she's still here. Why you brought her in the first place."

"Let them wonder." I gather the diamonds, returning them to their velvet pouch. "My decisions aren't up for debate."

"Since when do we keep witnesses?" Dex persists, either braver or stupider than I gave him credit for. "That's never been our way."

My hands still on the pouch, something cold settling in my chest. "Are you questioning me, Dex?"

He swallows visibly but doesn't back down. "I'm questioning the risk. She's seen our faces, our operation. She knows where our compound is. If she talks?—"

"She won't." The certainty in my voice surprises even me.

"You can't know that," Mick says quietly.

"I do know that." I rise to my feet, reminding them both who's in charge here. "And even if I didn't, she's not going anywhere. Not until I'm certain she's not a threat."

"And when will that be?" Dex pushes.

Never.The answer rises unbidden in my mind, startling in its clarity. I'll never be ready to let her walk away. But I can't say that aloud, can't admit that what started as a strategic move has become something else entirely.

"When I say so," I answer instead. "Until then, she stays. Under my protection. Is that understood?"

Both men nod, though I can see the reservation in their eyes. They think I'm compromised. Maybe I am. But I'm still the leader of this MC, still the one who built this operation from nothing, still The Wolf. They'll follow my orders, even if they don't understand them.

"What about the Vipers?" Mick asks, changing the subject. "They've been sniffing around since the job. Probably heard about the score."

The Vipers—a rival MC with a grudge against us that goes back years. The mention of them sends a different kind of tension through me. If they know about the diamonds, if they're watching us...

"Double the security," I order. "No one gets within a mile of this place without us knowing."

"Already done," Mick confirms. "But if they're determined?—"

"They won't get past us." I cut him off, not wanting to consider the alternative. Not with Emilia here.

The meeting concludes, both men filing out with backward glances that speak volumes. I'm losing their confidence. All for a librarian with wide eyes and soft skin who's crawled under my defenses like no one else ever has.

I should care more about that. The MC is everything I've built, my life's work, my family. But as I catch a glimpse of Emilia through the window, walking in the enclosed yard with a book in her hand, something shifts in my priorities.

I move to the window, watching her. She's removed her cardigan in the afternoon sun, exposing slim arms and the gentle curve of her neck. Her hair lifts slightly in the breeze, catching the light, turning from chestnut to gold at the edges. She reads as she walks, completely absorbed, occasionally lifting her head to glance at the fence line, calculating, measuring. Looking for escape.

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