Iron Reapers MC: Blood Runs Iron

Chapter 3 — Welcome Wagon

Jensen's grin finally faltered, replaced by a flicker of pure, unadulterated malice. "Oh, sweetheart…" he drawled, taking a step forward, the morning sun glinting off the chrome of the truck he'd obviously driven straight here. "We'll see about that."

I leaned back, propping my elbow on the porch railing, trying to look bored. "You know, for someone who apparently 'owns' me, you're awfully pushy. Doesn't exactly scream 'loving family reunion,' does it? More like 'hostage situation'." I gave him my best, most innocent smile. "Are we sure you haven't mistaken me for someone else? Maybe someone who enjoys being dragged back to a life they spent three years trying to forget?"

Troy shifted, his arms still crossed, his expression a mask of paternal disappointment that would have been laughable if it wasn't so infuriating. "Kaelin, don't be difficult. This is family. We're here to sort things out."

"Sort things out?" I scoffed, pushing off the railing and taking a slow step down. "Last time you two 'sorted things out,' I ended up needing a new identity and a serious aversion to closing doors. So, forgive me if my enthusiasm is slightly muted." I glanced pointedly at Jensen. "And darling, you are definitely not 'family.' You're a... well, let's just say 'unwanted acquaintance' would be putting it mildly. More like a recurring nightmare I finally learned to fight off."

Jensen's eyes narrowed, the pleasant facade cracking completely. "You think you're tough now? Because of where you are? Because of who you're hiding with?" He gestured vaguely towards the bar, his lip curling. "Some biker bar, Kaelin? That's your big escape? You always did have trashy taste."

"My taste is excellent," I corrected smoothly, "and highly selective. Unlike some people's, who seem to have a penchant for… shall we say, unethical relationships." I let my gaze drift over to Elena, still quiet in the truck, a picture of passive misery. "Some people just have a type, I guess. And it apparently involves a penchant for enabling monsters."

Elena flinched, finally looking up. Her eyes met mine for a split second, and I saw the fear there, the guilt, the desperate wish that none of this was happening. Too little, too late. Always too little, too late.

"This isn't a joke, Kaelin," Troy said, his voice taking on that low, dangerous tone that used to make me freeze. It didn't anymore. Nothing about him did.

"Who's joking?" I spread my hands. "I'm just being honest. Brutally so. It's a skill I've cultivated. You know, to avoid being blindsided by people who promise you safety and deliver something far, far worse." I turned my back on them then, deliberately, and walked towards the bar door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a business to run. And unless you plan on becoming paying customers who understand the meaning of 'last call'—and I mean that quite literally for your current attitude—I suggest you take your reunion and go find a motel. Preferably one with no thin walls and very, very good locks."

As I reached for the handle, Jensen lunged, moving with a speed that was sickeningly familiar. But before he could grab me, a shadow detached itself from the bar's doorway. Rafe. He moved with a quiet, coiled power, stepping between Jensen and me as if he'd been waiting for this exact moment. He didn't even break stride, just placed himself there, a solid, unyielding barrier.

Jensen skidded to a halt, eyes wide with surprise, then burning with renewed fury as he met Rafe's calm, assessing gaze. "Get out of my way, biker," Jensen snarled, flexing his fists.

Rafe’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "She's not going anywhere with you, Jensen. Not today. Not ever. She's running a business. You're trespassing. So, you have two choices: leave, or I escort you out. And trust me," his gaze flicked over Jensen's expensive but flimsy-looking jacket, "you really don't want to see the escort service I run."

Jensen looked from Rafe’s impassive face to my own, a small, triumphant smirk playing on my lips. Troy stood there, radiating impotent rage. Elena remained a silent, miserable figure in the truck. The message was clear.

For now.

Jensen spat on the ground near Rafe’s boots. "This isn't over, Kaelin. Not by a long shot." He got back into the truck, Troy sliding in beside him, Elena shrinking back in her seat. The engine roared to life, and they peeled away, tires squealing, leaving behind only the smell of exhaust and a residue of cold dread.

I watched them go, my chest tight. Then I turned to Rafe, who hadn’t moved. "Well," I said, my voice a little shaky now that the adrenaline was starting to fade, "that was… less dramatic than I expected. Almost disappointing."

Rafe finally turned to me, his eyes holding a new depth. "Disappointing?" He let out a low chuckle. "Honey, that was just the opening act. The real show? That's just getting started." He offered a hand. "Come on. Let's get you inside before your 'family' decides to circle back for round two."