Page 34 of Her Savior Biker
When she nods, when she chooses to trust me with her heart, I know I’ll move heaven and earth to keep that promise. Shannon Cole is mine. And I protect what’s mine.
Reyes
Thesixo’clockdeadlinearrives like a death sentence.
I’m standing in the parking lot of The Black Crown with Tank, Grizz, Hawk, and four other brothers, watching the road for headlights. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the asphalt, and the air is so charged it’s hard to draw a clean breath. Shannon stands beside me, Aiden’s small hand clutched in hers. I didn’t want her here, wanted her safe in the truck with Rector, already miles down the highway. But she insisted. Despite the plan. Despite our goodbye, she couldn't do it.
“I need to face him,” she’d said. “I need to tell him my choice so there’s no mistake. No claims of kidnapping.”
She was right, much as I hated it. This needed to end clean, with witnesses, leaving no room for Mason to twist the narrative.
Aiden presses closer to Shannon’s leg, his too-old eyes scanning the assembled bikers with curiosity instead of fear. Three weeks ago, he would have been terrified. Now he wavesat Diesel, who winks back from his position near the bar’s entrance.
“Mama, why everyone look mad?” Aiden asks.
“They’re not mad, baby. They’re just… serious.” Shannon’s voice is steady, but the tension is a rigid line in her shoulders.
“Savior serious too?”
I crouch to his level, meeting the dark eyes so much like his mother’s. “Yeah, buddy. I’m serious. But not at you, okay? Never at you.”
He nods solemnly, then surprises me by stepping closer and wrapping his good arm around my neck in a quick hug. “I love you, Savior.”
The simple declaration is a punch to the gut. This kid, who’s been hurt by men and learned to fear uniforms, trusts me.
“I love you too, buddy,” I manage, my throat tight.
Shannon’s eyes glisten, but before either of us can speak, the rumble of approaching vehicles cuts through the evening air.
“Here we go,” Tank mutters, his hand moving instinctively to the gun at his hip.
But it’s not Mason’s convoy. A black pickup with Michigan plates pulls in, followed by three Harleys.Rector.
He climbs out of the truck—six-foot-two, graying beard, arms covered in ink that speaks of decades in the life. But his eyes are kind when they land on Shannon.
“Tank,” Rector says, approaching with a slight limp. “Been too long, brother.”
“Rector.” Tank clasps his hand. “Appreciate you getting staged nearby.”
“No problem. You said you had a feeling it would go sideways.” Rector’s gaze shifts to Shannon and Aiden. “Besides, Grace’s already planning which bedroom to put the little man in.”
The three Roarers with him spread out, a silent reinforcement. Now we’re eight Savage Kings, four Roarers, and one very determined woman against whatever Mason brings.
We don’t wait long.
Three black SUVs roll into the lot with federal precision. The lead vehicle doors open, and Mason emerges, with two military police officers at his sides. The other SUVs produce four more men in tactical gear—CID agents, their expressions grim.
Mason surveys the assembled bikers. When his gaze lands on Shannon, a predatory flicker crosses his face.
“Shannon,” he calls. “Time to go home.”
She steps forward, and I force myself to stay put. This is her moment.
“I’m here to tell you my choice, Mason,” she says, her voice steady and strong. “So there’s no mistake.”
“Choice?” His laugh is ugly. “You don’t get a choice, sweetheart. You’re a fugitive, and I’m here to bring you home.”
“I belong here,” she says, her voice carrying across the lot. “With him. With them. This is my family now.”
