Page 5 of Pearl

I threw myself into my job, and by the time I blinked, the years had gone by.

Elizabeth was my best friend, and though we had our ups and downs, marriage is for better or worse. Separated or not, I said those vows, and I meant them.

I don’t think I’ll get married again, but there’s the dream of someone else. I threw myself into work because of my grief. In return, I inadvertently pushed my daughters away. I’m here to rectify that now.

God willing, I’ll be here a long time.

I’ve only been in Saddle for a few days, but it already feels like home.

I’m where I need to be, and that in itself is a damn miracle for a lost soul like me.

CHAPTER 3

PEARL

Present Day

“Looks great, Pearl, thank you,” Decker says when I place his usual breakfast in front of him.

Since he came in the day after seeing him at Phoebe’s, he’s been a regular in here ever since. He always orders the same thing: maple syrup pancakes with bacon on the side. Personally, it’s my favorite, too, but I am a little biased. “How is everythin’ goin’ at the clubhouse? I heard you had some trouble there recently.”

The entire town knows about Lanzetti Farms; the greedy developer next door who tried to buy Rustic Grove, our clubhouse, and our damn livelihoods. The fallout has swept over town, and everyone has their hackles up because they not only want to build a resort—something that will kill small business in Saddle—but we believe they’re up to something far more sinister.

Lanzetti even hired the help of a rival MC, the Dirty Crows—a nomad club that runs guns, drugs, and anything else they can get their hands on—to scare us off. Somehow, the other all-female MC in Texas—the Devilheads—are also involved, but we don’t know to what extent.

“It’s nothing we can’t handle,” I tell him, plastering a smile on. What I don’t tell him is we have Fury, the Devilheads Prez, tied up in the basement at Rustic Grove.

When Ruby, our VP, got the call from her old man Drifter—the spy over at Lanzetti’s—we kidnapped her. Right now, Fury is only giving us small pieces of information, and that’s probably because Ruby branded her with a Rustic Grove prong, but it’s only a matter of time before her club realizes she’s missing. I’m going over there with Sapphire and Ruby after work—and no, I don’t plan on burning her flesh. I have a different approach than the other women. It’s not that I’m not tough. I grew up rough. I know how to stand up for myself, but I’m way better at playing Mrs. Nice Guy than I am at being a badass. It usually gets me what I want.

Decker gives me a pointed look that tells me he doesn’t believe me, and I shift my stance. I don’t like lying to him. For some odd reason, it’s as if he sees right through me. The man came and fixed my damn washing machine…

“I hope I’m not intrudin’,” he says, waving a spanner at me as I open the door. “Phoebe put me up to it. She said there’s only one handyman in town, and he’s booked up.”

Holy crap. He’s come to fix my washer? My mouth runs dry.

He’s wearing a plaid button-up, those same well-fitting sexy jeans, and a baseball cap. I don’t know if I just forgot how drop-dead gorgeous he is, or if I made myself forget, but here he is in the flesh, and I’m like a damn blowfish again, unable to speak.

“Oh, of course you’re not.” I usher him inside. “But this is too much⁠—”

When I grab my phone off the counter, I see Phoebe’s text, telling me her dad was coming over. Must have missed that one.

“It’s nothing. I just hope I can fix it.”

“Well, that’s awfully kind.”

“Hey, what are neighbors for?”

Technically, he lives across town, but I get his point.

Half an hour later, he had my machine running, and I got an eyeful of him on his haunches as he pulled my machine apart…

I snap out of my reverie and the way he smelled, like pine and tobacco. For the past month or so, he’s come into the café twice a week for breakfast. And then he’s had brunch with his girls on Sundays. All those times we’ve been pleasant to one another, but I’ve noticed him looking at me when he thinks I don’t notice. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking. I’m not gonna lie, the man is fucking gorgeous, and turns every woman’s head in Saddle. A few weeks ago at the Founders Remembrance Parade in town, he’d been witness to the Crows, with Fury on the back of one of their motorcycles, tearing up the lawn as they knocked people over and ruined the celebrations. The sheriff, Nash Calloway—he’s also Diamond, my President’s, old man—wants his head on a platter. The trouble is, Lanzetti is cunning, and nothing has led back to him so far.

Something tells me Decker smells a rat, too, and he’d be right. We’re holding a woman against her will, torturing her, and discussing what we do with her body in case she doesn’t make it.

Of course, he doesn’t know any of that.

His eyebrows narrow. “You sure?”