Page 57 of Drift
“Don’t pretend you didn’t give it a little boost,” I muttered.
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
Our comments trailed off as we reached the row of motorcycles waiting just beyond a sliver of moonlight.
Jax slung his tablet across his chest and gave one last glance back at the smoke and ash swirling in the wind. His expression was blank, but I could see the guilt in his eyes. He felt he’d failed Alanna, which was complete bullshit.
“She’s safe,” I pointed out. “That’s all that matters.”
He exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. Still feels like I missed something.”
“You didn’t,” I assured him. “You gave her peace. That’s more than most of us ever get.”
He nodded once, then followed the others to their bikes.
Kane was already astride his, helmet resting on the tank and his engine purring. “We ride straight back. Clean-up teams will handle the rest.”
Edge rolled his shoulders, swinging his leg over his seat. “You think the brokers got the message?”
“They will,” Kane said. “If not, we’ll write it louder next time.”
Taking a last look at the fire now raging in the night, the weight in my chest eased a little. Another job done. Another threat erased. The most important one ever.
Alanna was safe. That was all that mattered.
I mounted my Harley, making the leather on the seat creak as the engine growled to life beneath me. The sound rolled across the lot like thunder gathering over water. One by one, the others joined in until the air vibrated with it—a brotherhood of machines with one heartbeat.
Kane signaled, and we rode.
Our road captain, Axle, was at the front, while I took up the rear.
I was the last man anyone would see in their mirror—and the one nobody saw after that.
The night swallowed us whole, our tires slicing through wet pavement, exhaust smoke curling into the dark. And for the first time in weeks, the rage in me settled into something steady. Not peace exactly—men like me didn’t get that—but close enough to breathe.
22
ALANNA
The hum of conversation filled the clubhouse, but it did nothing to calm my nerves. I’d been pacing for the past twenty minutes, wearing a path into the wood floor.
“Girl, you’re gonna groove that board right through to the basement,” Savannah drawled from the couch.
“I can’t help it.” I twisted my fingers together, glancing toward the door again. “They should’ve been back by now.”
“I’m sure they will be soon.” Lark’s voice was steady, calm in the way only someone who’d survived her own chaos could manage. She was curled up in one of the leather chairs, her feet propped on a stool and one hand resting absently on her still-flat stomach. “Your brother is probably just being extra careful to make sure there are no trails that can point toward you later.”
“Yeah.” I raked my fingers through my hair with a sigh. “That could be it.”
“Or Jax and Drift could be in another fistfight,” Savannah teased. “Since it wasn’t club business, Kane told me all about how they duked it out in the sand over your honor.”
“Duked it out?” Callie echoed with a snort.
“Hey, it sounded good in my head.” Savannah giggled. “And you can’t convince me you weren’t as curious as me about the bruises on Jax and Drift’s faces when they brought Alanna to the clubhouse.”
“Fair point,” Callie muttered.
“I definitely asked Jaxton about it, but he tried to act like it was no big deal,” Lark murmured with a grin.
