The biker's ex returns

I knew coming back to Redemption Creek was a mistake the second my battered Honda coughed its last breath on Main Street.

Ten years. Ten years of running, hiding, surviving. And now I was back where it all began, with seventeen dollars in my wallet and bruises I could not explain away anymore.

The engine ticked as it cooled. I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel, tasting blood where I had bitten my lip too hard. My ribs screamed with every breath-courtesy of Derek's boots three nights ago in that motel parking lot outside Tucson.

"You cannot run forever, Jenna," he had said, his voice cold as winter. "I will find you again."

But I had run. Again.

A rumble split the air. Deep. Mechanical. The kind that made your bones vibrate.

I lifted my head and saw them. Six motorcycles rolling down Main Street like they owned it. Leather. Chrome. The devil's head patch on their backs-red eyes, fangs bared.

Devil's Reign MC.

My blood turned to ice.

The lead bike pulled up beside my car. The rider kicked down the stand and swung off in one fluid motion. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair touching his collar. When he pulled off his helmet, the world tilted sideways.

Colt Richardson.

Those steel-gray eyes locked onto mine through the windshield, and for three heartbeats, neither of us moved. His jaw was harder now, shadowed with stubble. Scars traced his knuckles. The boy I had loved wore a man's face now-all sharp edges and controlled fury.

He crossed to my door and yanked it open. "Get out."

Not "Hello." Not "Jenna, is that you?"

Just a command.

I stumbled out on shaky legs. The other riders had stopped, engines idling, watching us like wolves circling prey.

"Colt-"

"Ten years." His voice was granite. "Ten years, Jenna. Not a word. Not a letter. Nothing."

"I can explain-"

"You ran." He stepped closer, and I backed against the car. "The night before our wedding. You ran."

The wedding. God, I had almost forgotten. White dress bought on layaway. His grandmother's ring. Promises I could not keep because my father-

"My father said he would kill you," I whispered. "He said if I married you, he would put a bullet in your head."

Colt's expression did not change. "Your father's been dead for five years."

The words hit like a slap. "What?"

"Heart attack. Died in his club's garage." He tilted his head, studying me like I was something broken. "You did not know."

I could not breathe. Could not think. My father-dead. The man who had controlled every second of my life. The man whose threats had chased me across state lines.

Gone.

"You are wearing Devil's Reign colors," I said, my voice cracking. "My father's enemies."

"Your father's club fell apart after he died. We absorbed what was left." Colt's smile was sharp. Dangerous. "I run Redemption Creek now, Jenna. Every street. Every back road. Every person who walks through here answers to