IRON & ROSES: A Black Iron Knights MC Romance

Chapter 5

Next Morning: Clubhouse Garage

Evie found Reaper in the garage behind the clubhouse, working on a Harley with methodical precision. His hands moved with the same surgical care he’d shown when carrying his brother—competent, confident, controlled. She’d spent the night in the club bedroom, unable to sleep, replaying his words over and over. You’re ours now. We protect our own. But protection came with a price.

It always did.

“I need to talk to you,” she said.

“Talk,” Reaper didn’t look up from the engine.

“I’m not a charity case.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“I won’t be someone’s burden. I’ve spent five years being dependent on a man, and I won’t—” her voice cracked even though she was trying to be tough, “I won’t do that again.”

Reaper set down his wrench and finally looked at her. Those grey-green eyes assessed her with the same clinical precision she’d used on his brother, “What are you proposing?”

“A deal,” Evie stepped closer, her chin lifted high, “Your men get shot, stabbed, beaten. Going to ERs creates a paper trail. Records. Questions. I’ll be your off-the-books medic. I’ll patch up your brothers, teach them first aid, handle emergencies. In exchange, you give me shelter and let me work the bar.”

“That’s it? Medical services for room and board?”

“That’s it. No strings. No obligations beyond the work.”

Reaper wiped his hands on a rag, his expression unreadable, “You’re a nurse.”

“Was. I can’t practice legally anymore; my license is tied to my real name, and if I use it…he’ll find me within hours.” She met his gaze without flinching, “But I know what I’m doing. I can save lives. That has to be worth something.”

“It’s worth everything,” Reaper stood, his full height suddenly intimidating in the confined space, “But you need to understand what you’re asking for. This club—we don’t do things halfway. If you’re our medic, you’re family. And family means we protect you. All the way. No matter what. And for things you can’t handle on your own…we still have doc we can call.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yeah, you do.” His voice was firm but not unkind, “This Geoffrey Hale—real estate developer, right? Political connections? The kind of man who makes problems disappear?”

Evie’s breath caught, “Yeah, I tried to tell you…what all do you know?”

“Preacher ran your name. Found nothing, which tells us everything,” Reaper crossed his arms, “A man with that kind of power doesn’t just let his wife walk away… as you told me. He’s coming for you, and when he does, you need to be under club protection, or you’re dead.”

“I can’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you how this works,” Reaper’s eyes were ice, “You saved Viper’s life. That creates a debt. In this club, debts are sacred. We owe you. And we pay our debts by keeping you alive.”

Evie felt her carefully constructed walls beginning to crack, “What if I don’t want to be someone’s debt?”

“Then think of it as a transaction,” Reaper’s voice softened slightly, “You work for us, we protect you. Simple as that. You’re not a burden—you’re an asset. There’s a difference.”

“And if Geoffrey comes with lawyers, private investigators, and cops on his payroll?”

“Then we deal with it,” Reaper’s smile was cold and sharp, “I’ve dealt with worse than corrupt cops and hired muscle. Trust me.”

Evie wanted to argue, to insist she could handle this alone. But the truth was, she couldn’t. Geoffrey had resources she couldn’t even imagine. And these men—these dangerous, violent men—were offering her something she hadn’t had in five years. A chance.

“Okay,” she said quietly, “Deal. But I work with you, not for you. I’m not anyone’s property.”

“Agreed,” Reaper extended his hand, “You work with us. You’re part of the family. And nobody—nobody—touches family.”

Evie shook his hand, feeling the calluses, the strength, the surprising gentleness. When he released her hand, she felt the absence like a physical loss.

“One more thing,” Reaper said, “You said he’s used cops to track you and bring you back two other times you tried to leave. But I promise you this third time will be different. And it’ll be the last time you have to run and hide from him.”

“He’ll do everything in his power to destroy you, this club…this town if he has to.”

“Let him try,” Reaper picked up his wrench, returning to the engine, “I’ve been waiting for a good fight.”

Evie learned quickly that bartending in a biker bar was 90% reading people and 10% pouring drinks. She watched how Roxy handled the brothers—firm but affectionate, never taking s**t but always showing respect. She learned names, drink preferences, the subtle hierarchies within the club. The blonde man who’d toasted her was Viper, now recovering remarkably fast. The Asian man was Ghost, silent and watchful. The Puerto Rican with the wild grin was Havoc, the club’s resident comedian and flirt. And then there was Reaper, who sat at the end of the bar nursing whiskey and watching everything with those cold grey-green eyes. Evie was refilling the ice bin when a woman approached the bar—mid-twenties, blonde, wearing a tight dress that left little to the imagination. She had the look of someone who’d spent years perfecting her appearance, every detail calculated for maximum effect.

“You’re the new girl,” The woman’s voice was sugar-sweet and poisonous, “Evie, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m Lacey,” she leaned against the bar, her eyes sharp, “I’ve been coming to this bar for three years. I know everyone here. And I’m just wondering…what makes you so special?”

Evie recognized the game immediately. Territorial. Threatened. Probably had her eyes set on one of the brothers—likely Reaper, given how her eyes kept drifting toward him.

“I’m not special,” Evie said evenly, “I’m just working.”

“Right. Working,” Lacey’s smile was razor-sharp, “Is that what we’re calling it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re playing the victim card pretty hard. “ Show up bleeding, get the big bad bikers to protect you, move right into their clubhouse…” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper, “How long before you’re warming someone’s bed?” That the plan?”

“I’m here to work,” Evie repeated, her voice steady despite the rage building in her chest.

“Sure you are. Just like all the other damaged girls who come through here looking for a savior,” Lacey’s laugh was cruel, “Let me guess—abusive ex-boyfriend? Ran away from home? Got yourself in trouble and need big strong men to fix it for you?”

“Lacey—” Roxy’s warning voice came from across the bar.

But she was on a roll now, her jealousy and insecurity spilling out in waves, “You think you’re the first woman to show up here with a sob story? You think Reaper’s going to save you? Newsflash, honey—he doesn’t save anyone. He’s a killer. That’s what he does. And once he’s done with you, you’ll be just another—”

“Enough,” Evie’s voice cut through the bar like a blade.

The room went silent.