Chapter 2 ✦ʚ♡ɞ✦

The first thing I heard inside the Devil’s Crown clubhouse was a huge man telling Knox Maddox that escorting me across the country was worth giving up his new VP patch to avoid.

“No,” the man growled from somewhere beyond the half-open office door. “Find somebody else.”

I stopped in the hallway.

The woman who had shown me in—a silver-haired biker named Maeve—halted beside me and gave the closed portion of the door a long look.

“Excellent timing,” she murmured.

I shifted the leather folder under my arm. “Should I come back?”

Maeve’s mouth twitched. “Absolutely not.”

Inside the office, Knox answered with maddening calm. “Wayne requested someone from the Crown. You knew him better than anyone left here.”

“That doesn’t make this my job.” The man’s voice was lower than Knox’s, rough enough that I could almost feel it through the door. “I took VP three days ago. You want me gone for weeks?”

Knox’s voice stayed level. “I want you to honor a dead brother’s request.”

A chair scraped.

The man pushed back from the chair. “Then send a brother who wants to.”

Maeve glanced at me.

I kept my face neutral, though irritation had already settled comfortably beneath my ribs. Wayne had been dead for four months and was still arranging my schedule, my route, my transportation, and apparently which enormous hostile stranger would accompany me while I scattered what remained of him across half the country.

That was very Wayne.

He had always believed planning was another word for caring.

Sometimes it had been.

Sometimes it had been a cage with good intentions.

Maeve pushed the door open before I could reconsider entering.

Knox stood behind a broad wooden desk. I recognized him from photographs and from the brief meeting after Wayne’s funeral, though he looked less like a club president in person than I expected. Harder, maybe. Tired around the eyes.

The other man stood with his back partly toward me.

Huge was not an exaggeration.

He was tall enough that the room seemed built a little too small for him, broad through the shoulders, dark hair cut shorter than Wayne used to wear his, beard trimmed close. Black ink covered one arm from shoulder to wrist, dense lines disappearing beneath the sleeve of his shirt and continuing over the back of one hand.

His leather cut carried a fresh rectangular patch near the front.

VP.

Below it, another patch read ENFORCER.

He turned when Maeve entered.

His eyes moved over her first.

Then they landed on me.

The change in his face was small but unmistakable.

Recognition before introduction.

Not of my face.

Of what I represented.

Knox came around the desk. “Serena Parton.”

The man kept looking at me.

I gave Knox a short nod. “That’s me.”

Knox gestured toward him. “Brick Hemmingway.”

So this was Brick.

Wayne had mentioned him exactly enough times to make his absence from our life noticeable. Never stories in full. Never photographs. Just pieces.

Brick used to rebuild those.

Brick could fix that in his sleep.

Brick once rode through a storm worse than this.

Whenever I pushed, Wayne found some reason to change the subject.

Standing in front of Brick now, I understood at least one thing.

Wayne had not exaggerated his size.

Brick’s stare stayed fixed on me. “You’re Serena.”

His tone made my name sound like an accusation.

I tightened my grip on the folder. “You seem disappointed.”

Maeve leaned against the wall beside the door, clearly planning to enjoy herself.

Brick looked toward Knox. “You didn’t tell me she was already here.”

Knox folded his arms. “Would that have changed your answer?”

Brick’s answer came immediately. “No.”

Knox lifted one shoulder. “Then it didn’t seem relevant.”

I looked between them. “I’m getting the impression I interrupted something.”

Brick faced me again. “You did.”

Knox gave him a warning look. “Brick.”

I held up a hand before Knox could smooth anything over. “No, that’s fine. I’d rather know now if the person Wayne picked for this would prefer dental surgery.”

Brick’s brow pulled together. “Wayne didn’t pick me.”

That caught me.

I turned toward Knox. “He didn’t?”

Knox shook his head. “Wayne requested a representative from Devil’s Crown. He left the choice to the club.”

“Which means you picked him.” I pointed lightly toward Brick with the folder.

Knox nodded. “I did.”

Brick’s jaw shifted, but he kept his attention on Knox rather than me. “And I told you to pick somebody else.”

I exhaled and looked at the ceiling for a second.

Of course Wayne had done this.

He had not only created a cross-country itinerary after his death. He had managed to leave one final clause vague enough to create a power struggle in a biker clubhouse before I had even unpacked the ashes from my car.

I lowered the folder to my side. “I don’t need an escort.”

Brick gave a humorless huff. “Finally, something we agree on.”

“I’m a thirty-six-year-old woman with a driver’s license, a nursing license, and enough common sense to cross state lines without supervision.” I looked toward Knox. “If Wayne’s instructions only require a Crown representative for specific stops, somebody can meet me there.”

Knox’s expression remained frustratingly composed. “The instructions require one representative to accompany the journey.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

Wayne.

Even dead, he had found a way to assign me a man.

When I opened my eyes, Brick was watching me differently.

Not softer.

More carefully.

Maybe he had expected a grieving widow desperate for protection. Maybe he had expected me to cling to Wayne’s last instruction simply because it came from Wayne.

He was going to be disappointed there too.

“I’ll speak to the executor,” I told Knox. “If the language allows another arrangement, I’ll make one.”

Brick gave a single nod. “Good.”

Knox looked at him. “You’re not dismissed from this because Serena finds a loophole.”

Brick’s shoulders squared. “Then take the patch back.”

The room changed.

Maeve straightened from the wall.

Knox’s expression finally lost some of its patience. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not.” Brick reached to the front of his cut and tore the new VP patch free with a hard rip of Velcro. He tossed it onto Knox’s desk. “You want a vice president who disappears on command for a dead man’s road trip, pick somebody who wants the job.”

I stared at the patch.

Then at him.

So this was not merely about me.

Whatever Wayne had left behind, he had stepped directly into something already strained.

Knox glanced at the patch but did not touch it. “You finished?”

Brick’s eyes stayed on him. “For now.”

I stepped fully into the office.

Both men looked at me.

I tucked Wayne’s folder against my hip and met Brick’s stare.

“For what it’s worth,” I told him, “I don’t want you either.”