Ride Me Into Ruin: Iron Reapers MC

One Night

LEXIE

Harlow was small, the buildings along the main strip were old and sturdy, the streetlights threw down more yellow than white, and the few people still out at this hour moved like they belonged to the night and weren't in any hurry to explain themselves.

I took it all in from the back of Brick's bike and said nothing.

*Because what was there to say? "Nice town, hope the local biker gang doesn’t eat me alive"? Yeah, no thanks.*

The formation slowed and turned off the main road and that's when I saw a bar sitting at the end of a wide lot, low and broad, with warm light pushing through the windows and a sign above the door that read *Iron Reapers* in letters that had weathered more than a few storms.

Bikes lined the front in neat rows, a couple of men stood outside with drinks in their hands and watched us pull in without much expression.

Everyone dismounted. I climbed off Brick's bike and stood in the lot feeling every hour of the last few days sitting heavy in my legs.

*My thighs were screaming, my back was killing me, and my brain was running on pure stubbornness at this point.*

Chaos was already off his bike and walking toward the entrance when he stopped and looked back at me over his shoulder. "Come on."

Not an invitation exactly, not a command either. Somewhere in between, the kind of thing you just found yourself following without deciding to.

*Great. Now I’m following strange biker presidents into unknown buildings. This is definitely how smart life choices are made.*

Inside was louder than the outside suggested. Music came from somewhere in the back, low and steady, and the bar itself was long and dark-wooded with bottles lined up behind it catching the light.

A few people were scattered around, some at the bar, some at tables, and the energy was relaxed in the way that places get relaxed when everyone in them knows each other well enough to stop performing.

Heads turned when we walked in, eyes landed on me, took a quick measure, moved on. Nobody said anything.

*Wonderful. I’ve gone from invisible runaway to tonight’s main attraction. Exactly what I needed.*

Chaos led me through the main floor and toward a door at the back without stopping to talk to anyone, though a few of the men nodded at him as he passed and he acknowledged each one with something small, a look, a chin lift, nothing more. The kind of easy authority that didn't need to announce itself.

He pushed through the back door and we went up a set of stairs that were narrow but solid, and at the top was a short hallway with two doors on either side.

He stopped at the first one on the left and pushed it open and stepped back so I could see inside.

It wasn't much, a bed with a dark cover, a small window that looked out over the back lot, a lamp on a side table that gave off just enough light to see by.

A door on the far side that I assumed was a bathroom. Clean though, and quiet, and after four days of sleeping in rest stops and once in my bike gear sitting against a gas station wall, it looked like the best thing I'd seen in weeks.

"It's not fancy," he said.

"It's fine," I said, and I meant it more than he probably knew.

He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, not crowding the space, just easy and still the way he seemed to always be. "Get some sleep. We'll sort the bike in the morning."

I turned to look at him. "How early is early?"

"Early enough."

"I need a time," I said, and I kept my voice level even though what I wanted to do was say *I need to be gone before the sun is fully up, before anyone who might be looking for me has had time to check this road, before I've spent long enough in one place to be findable.* "I can't afford to lose the whole morning."

He looked at me for a second, not like the answer required thought, more like he was deciding how much of the truth to give me. "First light," he said. "Crow knows bikes. He'll be up."

"Crow?"

"You met him outside. Younger, with a tattoo on his forehead."

That tracked. "Okay," I said. "First light."

He nodded and pushed off the doorframe and that was apparently that because he turned and headed back down the hall without another word.

"Hey," I said.

He stopped but didn't turn all the way around, just enough to show me he was listening.

"Thank you," I said. "For the room. You didn't have to do any of this."

He was quiet for a moment. "Get some sleep, Sara."

And then he was gone, his footsteps quiet on the stairs, and the hallway was empty and I was alone for the first time in hours.

I stepped inside and closed the door and stood with my back against it and let out a long, slow breath that seemed to come from somewhere deep.

My bag was already up here, someone had brought it without me asking, and I didn't know whether to find that unsettling or thoughtful so I decided not to think about it either way.

*Note to self: mysterious men who move your stuff without asking are probably not on the safe list.*

I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the small room and listened, the bar sounds were muffled up here, just a distant thud of music and the occasional low rumble of voices, nothing sharp or close.

The window showed me a slice of dark sky and the rooftops of whatever sat behind the bar. Harlow at night, quiet and unbothered.

I should have felt safer than I had in days. Instead I pulled my knees up and sat there running through everything in my head the way I always did when I finally stopped moving, the thoughts that stayed patient and waited for the stillness to come flooding in.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and breathed. *Because nothing helps you relax like replaying the greatest hits of your trauma right before bed. Top tier self-care.*

Drake was not a man who let things go. I knew that better than anyone. By now he'd have noticed I was gone and by now he'd be looking.

He had people everywhere, that was the thing, not just in the city but spread out, connected in ways I'd only started to understand before everything went wrong.

Harlow was small and off the main road and that helped, but small towns talked and strangers got noticed and I had already let a dozen bikers see my face tonight, which wasn't exactly the invisible exit I'd been aiming for.

One night, I told myself. That was all this was. Crow would look at the bike at first light and either fix it or tell me what it needed and I'd figure out the rest from there. I wasn't staying. I wasn't getting comfortable.

I wasn't going to sit here and let the warmth of this room and the strange, unsettling calm of that man downstairs make me forget what was coming if I stayed in one place too long. I lay back on the bed without taking my boots off and stared at the ceiling.

Morning needed to come fast, the bike needed to start, and I needed to be back on the road before Drake's reach got anywhere close to a town called Harlow.