we’ll hit them hard.”
His family.
Zane had never had a real family. But he didn’t correct Jagger. Evie and Ty were his to protect. He would fight for them. He would die for them. And if that meant they were family, then he’d found something he’d been looking for all his life. But goddammit the MC was no place for them. Not if they were constantly in danger.
“Zane! I got ’em.” Gunner bulldozed his way toward them, Ty on his shoulders, Evie under one arm. “They were looking for you in the ambulances.”
Zane had no words, no thoughts, no ability even to move. He’d been through a lot of shit in his life, seen things no man should ever see, experienced the full range of emotions, but nothing compared to the sight of Evie—his Evie—running toward him, her face streaked with tears and soot, the most beautiful goddamn sight he had ever seen.
With a cry that dispelled the last of his doubt about how she truly felt about him, she threw herself into his arms, and buried her face in his chest. Zane wrapped his arms around her, held her to him, grounded in her warmth. Never in his life had he felt such a complete and utter conviction that he was exactly where he was meant to be.
“Me, too,” Ty said.
With Gunner’s help, Ty slid off his shoulders and pushed his way between Evie and Zane, hugging them both. Zane could think of no more perfect moment.
“Zane?”
“Yeah, bud.”
“Mom’s going to need her coffee now.”
* * *
“This is your clubhouse?” Evie stared at the grand country house nestled at the foot of the Bridger Mountains. “It looks like something out of the movies where rich people go for the weekend to get away from it all.”
Zane reached over and unfastened her seat belt, a small but courteous gesture, and one she hadn’t expected of an outlaw biker. But then, so far Zane had defied pretty much every expectation she had of who he had become.
Except one. When faced with overwhelming emotion, he still shut down. And the scene at the café definitely fell into the overwhelming category. For both of them.
“We had another clubhouse but the Jacks burned it down,” Tank said from the backseat of the SUV where he’d taken up guard duty and spent the ride cursing about Zane’s driving, to Ty’s utter delight.
“We got this place from a drug dealer who tried to cheat us,” he continued. “It’s isolated and big enough to accommodate the club, so we decided to fix it up. It’s not so pretty inside. Get a buncha brothers together, and you’re not gonna get any fancy decorating.”
After helping Ty out of the vehicle, Zane put an arm around Evie’s waist and led her up the steps. He hadn’t said a word since they’d found each other outside the café, and she was glad for the chance to collect her thoughts. She couldn’t get Viper’s words out of her head. She’d sensed Zane was holding something back when he told her about her father’s death, but had he lied? And what about the other men he allegedly killed? And the woman in the dungeon? Had she been naive about the Sinners and what they did? And what about the Jacks? Who were the monsters and who were the men?
“Stop.” She paused on the threshold. “Is it … kid friendly inside?”
Tank laughed. “I called ahead. Made sure Sherry, our house mama, understood we needed a PG environment. She sent all the girls home, cleaned up the booze, disposed of the … wrappers. We’re good.”
Evie supposed that should make her feel better, but the thought of Zane hanging out here where girls, booze and “wrappers” made it a constant non-PG environment, sent a strange flutter through her belly. How many women had he been with? How many biker parties had he attended where he’d taken women into the shadowy corners and—
“None,” he whispered, his voice a sensual rumble in her ear.
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” She didn’t even pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about because she wanted the answer.
“Because I know you.” His arm tightened around her, and his words spilled out. “I spent a lifetime learning everything about you, the way you tense when you’re stressed, the way your brow crinkles when you’re confused, and how your lips tighten when you’re jealous. Good thing we don’t have any pink soda in the kitchen, or any girls named Melissa.”
Shocked that he remembered