I parked the bike outside the warehouse, the hum of the engine fading into the night. The street smelled of wet asphalt and grease from the old docks. I should have felt relief being back in familiar territory, but my chest still throbbed with that ache I couldn’t shake. Mel. Her image lingered, stubborn, dangerous. I shook my head, forcing the thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time. Now was for the Club.
The warehouse door groaned as I pushed it open, stepping into the cavernous space. Shadows swallowed the corners, broken only by the yellow halo of hanging bulbs and the faint glimmer of chrome and leather. Bear was already there, leaning against the office doorframe with a cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes narrowed as if he could read the storm inside me.
“You’re late,” he said, voic
