Jace The Devious Men MC

Secrets in the Pines

Emma

The morning air in Willow Point is crisp, the kind that carries the scent of pine and wet earth. I step outside with Dawson, feeling the quiet of the town press against me like a fragile shield. But even in this calm, I can feel the tension lingering.

The previous night’s chaos with the Cobras has left its mark. Windows are boarded, tire tracks scar the side streets, and the whispers of townsfolk ripple through the air. Everyone is talking, speculating. But I know — none of them know the half of it.

Dawson tugs at my hand. “Mom, can we go to the library?”

I hesitate. The thought of returning to the place where I feel both safe and exposed makes my stomach twist. But Jace is there. He’ll be waiting. He’s always waiting.

When we arrive, the library feels different. The books are comforting, but the silence is thicker, charged with secrets. I scan the room and find Jace leaning against the counter, arms folded, watching me with that same unreadable expression.

“Morning,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Morning,” he replies. But there’s an edge to his tone — alert, protective.

I catch the faintest crease in his brow, the way his jaw tightens just a fraction. I know he’s sensing it too: the past I’ve tried to bury is coming closer. And this time, it might not be something we can outrun.

⸻

Jace

The forest around Willow Point is quiet, deceptively so. I’ve been tracking movement along the outskirts for the last hour — signs of the Cobras regrouping, testing routes, finding weaknesses. But something else lingers in the pines.

Emma’s past isn’t just resurfacing. It’s moving toward her like a predator closing in. And no one — not the town, not the sheriff, not anyone — can protect her the way I can.

I glance at her across the library, seeing the faint tension in her shoulders, the way she tries to appear calm while her hands grip Dawson’s. She doesn’t know the danger lurking beyond these streets. But I do.

And I’ll make sure it never touches her.

⸻

Emma

Later, as the town starts to settle into the rhythm of the day, a stranger appears at the library door. My heart leaps — and I immediately recognize the same man from LA.

“Emma Carson,” he says, voice low, measured. “We need to talk.”

I step back, Dawson shielding behind me. “I don’t know who you are,” I say, trying to sound firm. “Leave.”

He smirks faintly. “You left a lot behind in Los Angeles. Secrets that people are very interested in.”

I feel panic rise, but I push it down. Not here, not now. I need Jace.

And before the man can step closer, the sound of a motorcycle engine cuts through the air. Jace appears, skidding to a halt outside, eyes scanning.

“Emma,” he calls, dismounting. “Step back. Now.”

The man freezes. There’s an instant tension — predator and protector. The library has never felt more like a battlefield.

⸻

Jace

The man is confident, but arrogance doesn’t protect him from the truth: he’s trespassing on my town, on my life, on Emma.

“Step away from her,” I say, voice low, deadly calm.

He smirks, but I see it — hesitation, the first crack in his armor. “I’m just here for answers,” he says.

“Answers don’t come at the cost of her safety,” I reply. “And you’re not taking her anywhere.”

My hand rests lightly on my holster. My eyes never leave his, reading his movements, anticipating the slightest attempt at aggression.

Emma watches me, wide-eyed, and my chest tightens. She doesn’t need to be afraid. Not while I’m here. Not while I can keep her safe.

⸻

Emma

Jace steps closer, placing himself between me and the man. My heart races, but not from fear alone. The closeness of him, the way his presence shields me, the warmth in his touch — it’s intoxicating.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear in the softest, fleeting kiss — a reminder, a promise.

I close my eyes, letting myself trust him completely. The danger still looms, but for this moment, I feel safe. Protected. Desired.

He pulls back slightly, keeping his focus on the man, and I know — no matter what comes next, I’ll never have to face it alone.

⸻

Jace

The man finally backs away, muttering under his breath, realizing he’s outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and outclassed. He disappears into the pines, leaving behind only the faint scent of rain and tension.

I turn to Emma, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. “You’re safe,” I say softly.

She swallows, eyes meeting mine. “Thanks,” she whispers.

But I know it’s more than thanks. It’s trust. Desire. A fragile bond that has grown stronger with every danger, every close call, every moment I’ve protected her.

And I’ll protect her again. Every time.