Burnout_ A Legal Heat Novella - Sarah Castille Page 0,52

gave it a squeeze. “Think of it as a business opportunity. Everyone is doing home renos. Now that you’ve got your journeyman certificate, they’ll be beating down your door.”

“Our door.” He winced as they mounted the steps, and a sliver of guilt speared through Sophie’s chest. Although it had been six months since his injury, Ace felt everything in his leg—from car doors slamming to intense emotions—and he still walked with a limp. But hard work, dedication, and intense rehab meant he was healing fast. He rode his bike a few hundred miles a week, worked out at the gym every day, and loved her hard at night.

Our door.

After leaving the clubhouse, Ace had rented a small apartment a few blocks away from Sophie. But after three months of carrying her clothes around in a plastic shopping bag, she’d decided they might as well move in together. What was the point of paying rent for two places when they slept together every night? Besides, Ace still needed help and he couldn’t drive. Although she’d shot him at his request, she still felt responsible. And then there were the nightmares.

Her shot had been clean and deadly accurate, piercing his upper thigh without hitting any major arteries or bones. But she still woke up at night, heart pounding, caught in a nightmare where her bullet had been a few centimeters off target and Ace was dead.

Ace’s strong arms and soft words beat back her fears, but she still found it hard to believe he felt only gratitude for what she had done and not even a sliver of resentment. As good as his word, Ryder had promptly kicked Ace out of the club because he couldn’t ride. The MC had held a good-bye party for him that involved inspecting his injury and making offers on his bike. After he’d sold it to Kickstand for only a fraction of the cost, the party had devolved into a drunken orgy, and Sophie had beat a fast retreat, only to discover Ace was right behind. There was only one woman he wanted, he’d said. And only one place he wanted to be.

Taking a deep breath, she walked into the house and Ace followed her in. The X Ambassadors’ “Renegades” played through the speakers, and the soft hum of conversation filled the living room, decorated in muted taupe and beige. She hesitated in the doorway, remembering her first night in Vancouver and the party that had started her new life. She’d been so unsure about the move, desperate to find her way again, uncertain whether she’d made the right decision to return to law enforcement after losing her faith in herself. She wished she could go back to that moment and tell the old Sophie she’d done the right thing. And she wished she could have told Jason good-bye. Sometimes she missed him so much she ached inside, but she took comfort in the knowledge he was safe and living a new life—just like her.

She walked through the house looking for Sam. If memory served, he would be with Gary in the kitchen, pouring drinks and swapping war stories with his police buddies.

A smile tugged at her lips when she caught sight of him. There was no doubt he and Ace were brothers. Although an inch or two shorter than Ace, Sam had the same broad build, chiselled jaw, dark hair, and rich brown eyes. But the differences stopped there. Sam had been adopted by a warm, loving family, and raised in a stable home. He had trained as a police officer straight out of high school, and now worked as a staff sergeant in the VPD Canine Unit.

“Ace!” Sam greeted him with a hug and a clap on the back. Skinner had kept his word and managed to track Sam down through old adoption records. He’d laughed when he handed her Sam’s details. Three months of searching and Sam was working only a few blocks away.

After a very emotional reunion, Ace and Sam had been inseparable, although Ace often grumbled about the irony of an outlaw biker now being surrounded by cops.

“Hey, partner. Glad you guys could make it.” Gary handed her a beer. “Did you see my new bike parked outside? I got a Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14 at a sweet price from a dealer out in Surrey.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ace muttered. “You bought a fucking crotch rocket. That’s not a real bike. It’s a toy.”

“Be nice, bro,” Sam warned. “I’ve got the same bike.”

Gary, now