Page 107 of Boulder's Weight

"For believing me about Sam. For not dismissing what I know about my own brother."

He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I close my eyes, breathing in his manly scent. "You're the expert on your family, Montana. If you say Sam's on our side, I believe you."

I pull back to look at him, searching his face. "And if he does make contact? What then?"

"Then we bring him in. Talk to him. Figure out what he knows about Benji's plans."

I nod, but worry gnaws at me. "Benji will kill him if he finds out Sam's helping me."

"That's why we need to find him first," Boulder says with determination. "Keep him safe, just like we're keeping you safe."

I take a shaky breath, "Safe. I'm still getting used to that concept."

Boulder cups my cheek, his thumb tracing my jawline in that way that always makes my pulse quicken. "Get used to it, Montana. As long as I'm breathing, you’d best remember nothing touches you. Or the people you care about."

Something shifts in my chest at his words, a deep ache that's both painful and sweet.

No one except Sam has ever been this fiercely protective of me, and it solidifies the fact I’m falling hard for Boulder.

I know I’m going to end up telling him soon, but I’m so afraid he doesn’t feel as strongly as I do.

***

Two days later, there's still no sign of Sam.

I've checked every face at the café, scanned the streets during my shifts, asked Astra to be on the lookout.

Nothing.

Boulder assures me the club has eyes everywhere, but as each hour passes without news, anxiety gnaws deeper in my gut.

I'm helping Astra close up the café when my phone buzzes.

Boulder's name flashes on the screen, and I answer immediately, heart in my throat.

"We found him," Boulder immediately says, not even saying a quick hello. "Brick spotted him at the bus station on Fifth. We're bringing him in now."

My legs nearly give out, and I grab the counter for support. "Is he okay? Is it really him?"

"It's him. He's...banged up. But alive. Meet me at the clubhouse. We'll be there in twenty."

The line goes dead before I can ask more questions.

I look up to find Astra watching me, obviously concerned.

"Sam?" she asks simply.

I nod, unable to find the words.

"Go," she says, already reaching for my apron. "Python's outside. He'll get you to the clubhouse."

I've never been more grateful for the club watching over us.

Within minutes, I'm on the back of Python's bike, racing toward the compound.

Sam's alive. He's here… but "banged up" could mean anything from a few bruises to critical injuries.

By the time we arrive, the clubhouse is in high alert mode.

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