Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
The air smells like dew and pine, and something about the light, the way it hits his jaw, makes everything feel deeper.
He watches me, and I feel it like a touch—warm, wondering, a little amused. “You’re thinking too much.”
“I’m not,” I lie, softly.
“You are. You get that crease between your eyebrows when you’re trying not to.”
I smooth it away without thinking. “Maybe I just don’t know how to sit still in something good.”
Little Foot turns to face me fully now, his eyes serious under the playfulness. “You don’t have to know how. Just stay in it with me. That’s enough.”
My heart trips over itself. Stupid, soft thing.
I nod. It’s barely more than a breath, but he sees it. He feels it.
And then he leans in.
No warning. No dramatic music cue. Just the two of us and the early morning and the quiet press of his mouth against mine.
It’s slow. Gentle. Not asking for anything more than the moment. His lips are warm, his hand grazing my jaw like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he holds on too tight.
I don’t disappear. I lean in. I kiss him back.
The world doesn’t stop turning, but it feels like it does. Just for a second. Just for us.
When we pull apart, he doesn’t say anything. He just brushes his thumb along my cheek, barely there, and gives me that smile—the one that says he’s already sure of me. Of this.
“I don’t know what this means yet,” I whisper, because I have to say it. “But I want to find out.”
Little Foot nods once. “Together.”
And just like that, the morning feels a little warmer.
The fake marriage. The real chemistry. And now... the beginning of the lie that’s about to take on a life of its own.
Ready or not, I’m all in.
And I’m not looking back.
SEVEN
DREW
When the lines blur things become clear somehow.
The lie is starting to feel real.
Cambria fits. Better than I ever expected. She walks the compound like she was born into it—head high, eyes sharp, mouth smarter than most of the patched men around here. They test her, sure. Subtle digs. Half-serious challenges. But she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t cower.
And when she’s standing next to me?
No one says shit.
Still, I know the clock is ticking.
Fake marriages don’t last forever. Not in a world like this. Not when secrets rot from the inside out. But I’m not thinking about the future yet. Not when the present finally feels like something I built with my own damn hands.
The clubhouse is quiet when I walk in that morning. The last of the beer from Hawk’s party still clings to the floors, and Bug is scrubbing blood off the wall from a punch that went too far. I nod to him, and he nods back, eyes wide. The kid’s eager. Maybe too eager.
Toon’s waiting for me in the garage.
“Big run coming,” he says, tossing me a set of keys. “Rex wants you on point.”
My eyebrows lift. “Me? Not Axel?”
Toon shrugs. “Axel’s busy with the west line. You’re up.”
A strange feeling rushes through me—somewhere between pride and dread.
This is the moment I’ve been working for. Responsibility. Trust.
But it comes with eyes. Lots of them.
“Where we headed?”
“Memphis. Some new supplier wants to meet face-to-face. We run the shipment back. Easy in, easy out.”
“Right.”
Nothing’s ever easy.
I check the bikes, run through the plan twice, then once more for good measure. I can’t afford mistakes—not now. Not with the entire club watching how I carry this load.
Back at home, Cambria’s folding clothes when I walk in. She’s wearing one of my shirts again, sleeves rolled up, legs bare except for a pair of old socks. It’s too domestic. Too perfect.
It makes my chest ache and my cock harden.
“You’re going?” she asks without looking up.
“Memphis. Couple days, tops. Club business.”
She nods. “You need me to pack anything?”
That question. The casual way she says it, like we’ve been doing this for years—it nearly knocks me flat.
“No,” I say. “But come here.”
She walks over and slides into my arms like she was made to fit there.
And maybe she was.
“You gonna be okay here?” I ask.
“I’m not the one you need to worry about.” She kisses my jaw and steps back. “Bring you back home safe,” she says.
I will.
For her.
The run kicks off at dawn.
Three bikes. Two trucks. I’m leading the front with Toon riding to my right, and two patched brothers, Mack and Bishop, rolling tail in the rear behind the box trucks. The shipment’s split between the trucks—small crates, all marked with bullshit labels. No one’s saying exactly what’s inside, which tells me all I need to know.
Rex trusts me to deliver, but he’s not about to hand over all the cards. He didn’t say it was a nine-one-oh which is an off the books club run. Either way, I treat them all that way. As for him not telling me. Good. I don’t want to know. I just want the win. Truth is, Rex may not know if the transport came down from Tripp, the Haywood’s Landing President.