Page 26 of Claimed By Lock

"I'm going to find him."

The Sons of Ruin clubhouse looks different in daylight.

I've never been here before — never had a reason to, never had an invitation. It's bigger than I expected — a sprawling concrete building with a fenced lot, bikes lined up out front like soldiers at attention. A prospect is leaning against the wall by the door, smoking a cigarette. He straightens up when he sees me coming.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Lock."

He looks me over. Takes in the determination on my face, the set of my jaw. Something flickers in his expression — recognition, maybe. Word travels fast.

"He know you're coming?"

"No."

The prospect considers this. Then he shrugs and pushes open the door.

"Bar's straight back. Good luck."

I walk inside.

The main room is bigger than I expected. Pool table in the corner, tables scattered around, a long wooden bar against theback wall. A few guys are scattered around — playing cards, nursing beers, shooting the shit. They all look up when I walk in.

I ignore them. My eyes are already scanning the room, searching for?—

There.

He's at the bar, his back to me, talking to a massive guy with a thick chest and a Road Captain patch. Lock's got a beer in front of him, his shoulders relaxed, and he hasn't noticed me yet.

I cross the room. My boots are loud on the wooden floor. Conversations die as I pass, heads turning to track my progress. I don't care. Let them look.

I'm almost at the bar when Lock turns around.

The surprise on his face is subtle — just a flicker, a slight widening of his eyes — but I catch it. For a man who never shows anything, it's practically a billboard.

"Josie." He's already moving toward me. "What are you doing here?"

"You fixed it." I stop a foot away from him. "You went to their bar. You faced down Colt. You didn't tell me."

His expression shutters. That careful blankness I've seen before, the one he uses when he doesn't want to show what he's feeling.

"It's handled," he says. "That's all that matters."

"No." I step closer. "That's not all that matters."

"Josie—"

"Don't." I reach up, cup his face in my hands, force him to look at me. "Don't make this small. Don't shrug it off like it was nothing. You walked into enemy territory alone for me. You risked a war for me. You—" My voice cracks. I hate that it cracks. "You did that. For me."

The Road Captain glances between us, reads the room, and picks up his beer. "I'll be over there," he says to Lock, alreadymoving toward the pool table. Lock doesn't even acknowledge him. His eyes are locked on mine.

He's very still. That preternatural stillness I've come to recognize, the one that means something big is happening under the surface.

"I'd do it again," he says quietly. "I'd do worse."

"I know you would." I hold his gaze. "That's what scares me. That's what— that's what makes me trust you."

Something shifts in his eyes. Something gives way.