Dante (Hell's Ankhor #6) - Aiden Bates Page 0,100

turn him down.

I snuggled close to him and kissed him again as fireworks exploded in my chest. I was almost breathlessly happy in a way I’d never really felt before. “You want me to move in?” I asked between kisses.

“Do you want to?” Dante asked. “Eventually?”

I pictured the apartment, with its big bed and big kitchen and all the extra space in the closet. Like he was waiting for someone else.

And maybe that someone was me.

“Yeah, definitely. One day.” I kissed him again. “I love you.”

Dante slumped with relief and then gathered me tight into his arms. “I love you too.”

Hell’s Ankhor was my first foundation, the same way the Crew was Dante’s. And now, together, we were going to build a life not separate from the clubs, but still a life of our own. For the first time in my life I had a true future, all my own.

A future I couldn’t wait to begin.

30

Dante

“All right, guys,” Beau said, casting his serious gray eyes around the wreckage of the bakery. “Let me take one more quick look through before I let you in.”

I nodded gratefully. Tru, Heath, and I were standing near the entrance to the bakery, while members from both our clubs idled and chatted a few paces away. Beau—the fire chief who’d responded to the call the morning of the attack, and had been assisting with the investigation since—had made it clear he wasn’t super comfortable with having more bikers around than he had fingers, but no one was causing any trouble. Everyone had shown up to help pick through the wreckage now that the official investigation was finally over.

Three weeks had passed since the fire—and they’d simultaneously dragged and flown by. There were so many tiny little details to stay on top of, and so many big picture things that went over my head. I’d spent days with the police, giving statements about the fire as well as Ryder, Baxter, and Trip’s history with the Crew. And then there was the insurance piece: thank God Heath had digitized my books, or else I would’ve been really fucked.

Heath had even digitized records of all the equipment and inventory, so with those documents I was able to claim everything that’d been destroyed by the fire, on top of the damage to the building.

But it wasn’t easy, seeing my life’s work laid out in a spreadsheet and itemized into a number. It was so sterile. The monetary value didn’t capture the time and the love I’d put into Stella’s. It couldn’t capture the amount of time I spent picking out the perfect bread oven. It couldn’t reflect the way the handle of my favorite bench knife had worn into the shape of my palm. It couldn’t reflect the faded ink and familiar stains on the pages of my grandmother’s cookbook, now lost to the ashes.

But I was so fucking grateful to have Heath at my side. Just having him in my arms at night settled some of the pain inside me. And along the way I’d realized he didn’t need me to take care of him—he let me do that.

And I could lean on him a little, too, in a way I’d never felt comfortable doing with anyone else. Tru was my rock in the club, but his support was all about action. He took things off my plate, handled some of the more painful conversations with the police, and cleared up some of the more confusing details with the insurance company. Heath was just… there for me. With a listening ear and a gentle touch and his sweet soothing kiss.

And because of him, I was beginning to believe that I might make it through this.

Beau switched his headlamp on and shined it directly in Tru’s face.

“Thanks, Beau,” Tru chirped, squinting as he shielded his face. “I know you’ll do an extra thorough job for us.”

Beau barely suppressed an eyeroll and he stepped through the empty frame where the front window once was, flashlight in hand to survey the remaining wreckage that hadn’t yet been set aside.

I tugged Heath a little closer into my side and raised my eyebrows at Tru.

Heath wrapped his arms around my waist. “So,” he said to Tru, “what’s up with that?”

“With what?” Tru said with his eyes fixed directly on Beau’s retreating back.

“Uh, that,” Heath said. “Exactly what you’re doing right this second.”

“What?” Tru glanced over and made a face at our reactions. “Look, we all have our coping mechanisms—why can’t mine include a

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