Page 34 of Claimed By The Club
By the time we roll through the gates of the clubhouse, it’s late. A few lights glow in the windows, silhouettes moving inside. Viper parks near the others, killing the engine. He helps me off, a gentle hand on my elbow as I remove my helmet. We share a lingering look, the tension from the ride still buzzing under my skin.
“I guess this is goodnight,” he says softly.
I nod, swallowing. “Yeah. Thanks again.”
He tips his head. “Anytime, Ms. King.”
I walk toward the safe house with unsteady steps, the echo of our kiss replaying in my head. Uncertainty thrums in my chest—about Frost’s reaction if I tell him, about Ghost, about the entire club. But a spark of hope glimmers, too. I can see a future that doesn’t force me to choose between ambition and love, or between different men who all protect me in their own ways. Maybe they’re right. Maybe there’s room to figure this out, as long as we stay honest.
Reaching the safe house door, I slip inside, setting my jacket on a nearby chair. My phone buzzes with a new message, but I don’t check it yet. Instead, I stand in the small kitchen, pressing my palms to the counter, letting the quiet surroundings soothe my racing thoughts. The night’s events spin in my mind—Viper’s laughter, the moonlit desert, the gentle confession that they’re not as rigid as I assume.
A shaky breath escapes me. The club’s finances are improving, members are beginning to trust me, and the men I’m drawn to might not demand I choose. It’s crazy, unconventional, and I’m not sure how to handle it. But I can’t deny how my heart feels lighter, even with the Reapers looming.
Exhaustion seeps in. I flip off the kitchen light, moving to the small bedroom. A lamp casts a muted glow on rumpled sheets and a half-finished business plan on the nightstand. Dropping onto the bed, I exhale. My body is alive with lingering adrenaline from the ride, from Viper’s touch, from the conversation about possibilities. Sleep might not come easy, but I’ll try.
As I settle under the thin blanket, I think of Frost, how he’ll react if I mention Viper’s words. The idea sends a flutter of nerves through my stomach. I recall Ghost, his quiet presence whenever I’m in trouble. Then there’s Viper who just invited me into a whole new way of seeing the world. My life has changed so drastically that it barely resembles what I had in the city, yet I can’t bring myself to regret it.
I close my eyes, the hum of the night outside lulling me, the memory of the moon-soaked desert and Viper’s confident smile warming my thoughts. Whatever tomorrow holds—rival gangs, expanding businesses, complicated relationships, I’m not facing it alone anymore. And that realization feels like a single, steady light in a world that’s otherwise swirling with danger.
12
VIPER
Itwist the throttle on my bike a little harder than necessary, letting the engine’s roar fill my ears. It’s midday, scorching hot, and I’ve just spent the last few hours sweeping a desert back road with two prospects, searching for signs of the Iron Reapers. Coming up empty leaves me on edge, tension coiling under my skin. If they’re laying low, it likely means they’re plotting something serious. And the last thing we need is for them to launch a sneak attack on Sierra or the club.
As I roll through the gates of the Renegade Cross compound, I notice Ghost—Luke—leaning against the chain-link fence. His ash-blond hair catches the sun, and there’s a certain rigidness in his stance that suggests bad news. I ease my Harley to a stop nearby, cutting the engine.
He flicks a glance in my direction. “Got something for you,” he says, voice low.
I swing my leg off the bike, removing my half-helmet. “Lay it on me.”
He steps away from the fence, speaking quietly. “I intercepted a coded message that might point to someone inside our ranks feeding the Reapers intel. Lance brought it to myattention, said he overheard bits of a phone call. A name was dropped—Sierra’s name.”
My stomach drops. “She was specifically mentioned?”
Ghost gives a short nod. “Yeah. Hard to tell if it’s coincidence, but I’m not one for coincidences.”
A spike of anger flares in my chest. “If we’ve got a traitor…” I let the sentence trail off. Retribution within MC culture is swift. “You tell Frost?”
He crosses his arms. “He’s in a meeting with Knox right now. I’ll brief him as soon as he’s done. Wanted to give you a heads-up first.”
I run a hand over my short ponytail, tension tightening on the back of my skull. “Thanks. Keep your ear to the ground. If there’s a mole, we can’t let them slip away.”
Ghost inclines his head, stepping aside. As I pass him, I see a flicker of worry in his usually stoic eyes. He’s protective of Sierra in his own quiet way, and this news is personal for him too. We need to figure out who’s selling us out before the Reapers take advantage.
I walk my bike to its spot under the tin awning, forcing my mind to shift gears. The immediate danger is intangible—someone leaking info—so we can’t confront them without proof. Meanwhile, we have daily business to handle, and Sierra’s smack in the middle of all the planning. A weight settles at my chest at the thought of her. It’s only been a few days since that ride under the moon, where she opened up about her uncertainties, and I let her see a piece of me I usually keep guarded.
The memory of our kiss flashes through my mind, stirring an unexpected warmth. We parted ways that night, her expression a mixture of hope and trepidation, especially when I hinted that the club might be more open-minded about relationships than she realized. A voice inside me questions if she believed me, or if she’s still wrestling with the idea.
I head inside the clubhouse, the stale air offering a break from the relentless heat. The main lounge is sparsely populated—a couple of guys playing pool, a prospect sweeping the floor. I move down the hallway to check if Sierra’s in the makeshift office, but her spot at the desk is empty, the chair askew and a few files left open. My pulse picks up, the urge to see her overshadowing everything else.
A muffled sound from the far corridor draws my attention. I follow it, recognizing her voice mingled with female laughter. Rounding a corner, I find her chatting with Marian outside a storage closet. They’re discussing some inventory for the Bluelight bar, from the sound of it. Sierra’s cheeks flush as she notices me approaching.
Marian gives me a quick nod, then returns to whatever she’s doing, leaving Sierra and me alone in the hallway. The overhead light buzzes, flickering once. Sierra crosses her arms, a small smile ghosting her lips. She’s wearing fitted jeans and a black top that highlights the curves that got my heart racing the first time I saw her.
“Hey,” she says, soft but clear.
I lean against the wall, hooking my thumbs in my belt loops. “Busy day?”
