Page 32 of My 3 Naughty Valentines

Dex nods in agreement. "We've got to tighten our security. And maybe... maybe it's time we take the fight to them."

Liam's analytical mind kicks in. "We need a plan, a solid one. This isn't just about the club anymore; it's about protecting our own."

10

EMMA

Mornings in the clubhouse are usually peaceful, but not this morning. This morning, we strategize. We gather for an impromptu meeting. Jake, Dex, and Liam stand in a loose circle, their expressions solemn. I lean against the doorway, watching Jake's determined face and Dex's intense gaze.

Jake breaks the silence, his voice low and resolute. "We've got to act, but carefully. They think they've scared us; we need to show them they're wrong."

Dex nods, his gaze flickering to me for a moment. "Jake's right. This isn't about muscle; it's strategy. They're playing dirty, and we need to be one step ahead."

Liam interjects, "First thing's tracing that email. We find the source; we find our leverage."

Their words hang in the air, each suggestion a piece of the puzzle we're rapidly trying to solve. I push off from the door, stepping into the circle. "And we can't forget the human element. This isn't just about the club; it's personal now. They've dragged us into their game."

Jake meets my eyes, a flicker of appreciation in his. "Emma's right. We keep our guard up, not just for the club, but for each other."

The conversation shifts, focusing on practical steps. The need for increased vigilance, to understand the enemy's moves. It's a tactical dance, and we're all learning the steps as we go.

Dex's voice is firm, and decisive. "We stay low, gather what intel we can. No unnecessary risks."

"And we watch each other's backs," Liam adds, his gaze sweeping over us. "No one goes anywhere alone."

I can feel the bond that ties us together strengthening, a silent vow to protect each other against whatever threats lie ahead. "We're stronger together," I say, my voice steady. "Whatever comes, we face it as one."

Jake nods, a determined set to his jaw. "We'll get through this. Together."

As the meeting disperses, the plan is etched in our minds. We're a team now, more than just a club and a journalist. We're united against a common enemy, and I'm right there with them, ready to face whatever the day brings.

* * *

I'm sittingat my makeshift desk in the corner of my room, laptop open and a fresh cup of coffee by my side. Today's mission? Craft an article so captivating that it turns the Angel Riders MC into the town's golden boys. It's a tall order, but I've got a plan. If I can make the club too popular, too public, it'll be like wrapping them in a protective bubble. No way the southern chapter can touch them without causing a scene.

I start typing, words flowing like a river after a storm. I'm detailing every smile, every laugh from our Valentine's Day visit to the orphanage. The bikers, these supposed tough guys, turned into heroes in leather jackets. I paint a picture so vivid, anyone reading it would think they're saints on Harleys.

Halfway through, there's a soft knock at my door. It's Dex, leaning against the doorframe, a curious mix of concern and mischief in his eyes.

"You're quiet in here. Everything okay?" he asks, his voice low and soothing.

I spin in my chair, facing him with a grin. "Just working on making you guys famous. You ready to be the town's poster boy?"

Dex chuckles, sauntering in. "As long as it keeps us out of trouble, I'm all for it."

I tap a finger on my chin, pretending to ponder. "I'll make sure to mention your charming smile and your knack for fixing anything on two wheels."

He grins, pride flashes in his eyes. "Don't forget my irresistible charm."

"Impossible to forget," I quip, turning back to my laptop. "Now let me work my magic."

Dex lingers for a moment, watching me type. "You're really good at this, you know. Turning words into shields."

I pause, considering his words. "Never thought my writing would be a weapon in a biker war. But hey, life's full of surprises."

After Dex leaves, I dive back into the article. It's not just fluff – it’s a lifeline, a protective spell. If I can draw enough positive attention to the club, it might just be enough to keep the southern chapter at bay.

Hours pass, and my article takes shape – a heartwarming tale of bikers with big hearts. It’s almost too good. I lean back, scanning my work. This could really work. It could change everything.

---