Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Spark

I swing my leg off my bike and pocket the keys. "Let's make this quick, Doc."

The sun's dipping low, casting long shadows across the parking lot as we head toward the coffee shop.

My stomach growls a reminder that caffeine is not dinner, but it'll have to do for now.

Doc stretches his back with a groan. "Yeah, yeah."

His red beard catches the last light of day, giving him an almost fiery halo. "Just need something strong to keep me going."

We push open the door, the scent of freshly ground beans hitting us like a welcoming punch.

The place is quiet, just a few patrons scattered around, nursing their drinks or tapping away on laptops.

We blend in easily enough, part of the background noise.

"Two black coffees," I tell the barista, flashing her a grin that doesn't quite reach my eyes.

She nods and starts working on our order, her movements mechanical.

People like us don't usually get much more than a polite smile here—too many tattoos and leather jackets tend to set folks on edge.

"Go grab us a table," I tell Doc, jerking my chin toward an empty booth near the window.

He grunts in agreement and wanders off, leaving me to lean against the counter, watching the barista's efficient dance around the espresso machine.

"Name?" she asks, glancing up at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Spark," I reply automatically, out of habit more than anything else.

Tyler McCollough only exists on government papers and childhood memories.

"Interesting name," she mutters, scribbling it down before moving on to the next customer.

"I've lived an interesting life," I quip, though she's already turned away.

Not everyone appreciates the humor of a biker.

I step aside, feeling the hum of the shop settle into my bones.

It's a rare moment of calm, and I take it in, knowing it won't last long.

Life in the Reapers Rejects MC is anything but peaceful, and errands like these are the closest we get to normalcy.

"Spark," Doc calls from the booth, waving a hand to catch my attention.

I nod and start making my way over, weaving through the small clusters of tables and chairs.

"Got us a good spot," he says when I slide into the seat opposite him. "Perfect view of the door."

"Always thinkin' ahead," I reply, leaning back and letting the faux leather of the seat creak under my weight. "With the shit goin' on in the club, things aren't settlin' right with me."

"Damn straight. There's too much shit goin' down," Doc agrees, his face darkening for a moment.

It's just a flicker, quickly replaced by his usual easygoing demeanor.

But it's there, and it reminds me why we're here — why we've been running errands all day instead of enjoying a lazy afternoon.

"Yeah," I murmur, eyes scanning the room out of habit. "Gotta keep our eyes open."

The barista calls out our names, and I get up to grab our coffees.

As I walk back, the warmth of the cups seeps into my fingers, grounding me.

This might be just a pit stop, but in our world, even pit stops can turn into battlegrounds.

I slide one of the cups over to Doc. "Here you go,"

He takes it with a grateful nod, blowing on the surface before taking a cautious sip.

Shit, I forgot some creamer.

Taking my coffee cup I rise from the booth. "I'll be right back. You need cream or sugar?"

Doc shakes his head, "Nah, I take my coffee just like my soul—pitch black and hot."

I chuckle to myself while making my way up to the area where there's a variety of sugars, creamers, and even milk options.

"Excuse me," a familiar voice says as someone bumps into me gently.

I look down and there she is—Zoe, her medium brown hair cascading down her shoulders with that striking blonde ombre catching the light.

"Well, well," I smirk, taking a step back so we're face to face. "You just can't seem to stay away from me, can you?"

A small smile tugs at her lips, but there's something serious in her eyes. "I can't," she admits softly, glancing around like she's checking to make sure no one's watching us. "And I don't want to... but we can't let anyone know."

"Ah, so you want us to be a secret," I tease, leaning in slightly. My voice lowers, just for her. "That makes it even more exciting, doesn't it?"

Her cheeks flush, a subtle pink that makes my heart race. "Yes," she breathes out, barely audible. "I think about you all the time, Spark. I just... don't want anyone else getting involved."

"Understood," I say, giving her a wink.

On the inside, I'm thrilled.

This might be exactly what I've been waiting for.

Her dominance, her willingness to keep things under wraps—it only makes me want her more.

The rawness of her words hits me like a punch to the gut, igniting something primal inside me.

Damn, I've always wanted her, and now she's practically giving herself to me on a silver platter.

Nothing will stand in my way now.

"How long are we keeping this under wraps?" I ask, my tone huskier than I intended.

"Until I say otherwise," she replies, a spark of dominance flickering in her eyes. It's intoxicating, making me crave her even more.

"Got it," I say, a smirk tugging at my lips.

She has no idea how much I love this shit—her wanting me, needing me, and the thrill of our secret.

I pick up two creams and two sugars, toss them in my coffee and swirl them around. "I'm not even gonna lie, it was nice running into you here."

Zoe smirks sweetly, "Yeah, it was."

Doc's voice slices through the intimate bubble Zoe and I have created. "Spark, we need to get going."

He strolls up, casual as ever, but his eyes are sharp, taking in everything.

"Give me a sec," I reply, still feeling the lingering heat from my conversation with Zoe.

She's standing there, looking like she just stepped out of a dream.

"Hey, Zoe," Doc greets her, leaning against the counter. "How's life treating you?"

"Could be better," she says, shooting me a quick, secretive glance that makes my heart race. "How about you, Doc? How's the club handling all this... brothel drama?"

Doc sighs heavily, running a hand through his short hair. "Not good. Damon's about to lose his shit."

"It could be worse. At least it's not a physical attack against the club," Zoe points out, trying to find a silver lining, though her tone suggests she knows it's a weak one.

"You think it's not worse, but trust me, it is," I interject, crossing my arms over my chest. "Whoever's behind this is trying to fuck up the club's money. That hits us where it hurts most."

Zoe's eyes narrow, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "What do you think is going on?"

"There's a theory that it's personal," I say slowly, measuring my words. "Someone wants to cripple us financially. And when the money stops flowing, everything else falls apart."

She nods, absorbing my words, and I can see the wheels turning in her head.

She's smart—one of the many reasons I've been drawn to her from the start.

"Who could hate you guys that much?" she asks, almost to herself, as if trying to piece together a puzzle.

Before I can answer, Doc's phone rings, cutting through the tension.

"Hold up, gotta take this call," he mutters, stepping away for some privacy.

I turn back to Zoe, seeing the concern etched on her face.

There's so much more I want to tell her, to share with her, but the secrecy of our budding relationship hangs between us like a veil.

"Don't worry," I murmur, leaning in close enough that only she can hear. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

"Yeah, we will," she whispers back, her eyes softening for a moment before they harden again with determination. "Just promise me you'll stay safe. I know Damon is sending you guys on a lot more runs right now… and that just means shit's gonna pop off soon."

"I'm always safe, babycakes," I reply, wishing I could pull her into my arms right here, right now. But instead, I give her a reassuring nod, hoping it's enough for now.

I glance at Zoe, and her eyes dart to the right.

Narrowing my eyes, "What's going on?"

Her face goes pale, and she whispers urgently, "Jacob's walking over."

I snicker, my lips curling into a grin. "Is that so?"

Internally, I'm already getting a kick out of this.

Jacob says, a sickly sweet smile spreading across his face as he steps right in front of us, cutting off any avenue of escape. "Zoe, wow, you look amazing."

"Jacob," Zoe replies, her voice dripping with venom. "You look like the same slimy bastard who cheated on me."

"Come on, Zoe," he drawls, shifting his weight and trying to appear nonchalant. "I was drunk. It was a mistake. Nothing like that would ever happen again."

"Yeah, you're right," I interject, seizing the moment to throw my arm around Zoe's shoulder.

Her body stiffens for a split second before she relaxes into my side.

I lock eyes with Jacob, letting him see the fire burning behind my gaze. "Nothing like that will ever happen again."

Jacob's smirk falters, replaced by a flicker of something darker.

His eyes narrow as he looks between Zoe and me, but I don't give him an inch.

My grip tightens protectively around her, making it clear she's not alone anymore.

"Better get used to it," I say, my tone low and dangerous. "She's moved on."

Jacob sneers, his eyes glinting with malice. "Why am I not surprised? You're nothing but a dumb biker slut."

Before Zoe can lunge at him, my fist flies, connecting squarely with his jaw.

The satisfying crunch of impact reverberates through my knuckles as Jacob stumbles back, clutching his face in shock.

"Get out of here!" a nearby patron shouts, their voice slicing through the tension like a knife.

Jacob retorts, his voice muffled by his hand, anger and humiliation swirling in his eyes. "Yeah, you should get out of here."

"Not him, you." The patron steps closer, pointing an accusing finger at Jacob. "You should never speak to a lady like that."

Jacob huffs, his bravado faltering as the room turns against him.

A barista moves from behind the counter, her expression stern. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she says firmly.

Jacob's shoulders tense before he finally storms out, muttering curses under his breath.

The door swings shut behind him, leaving a charged silence in his wake.

Zoe's fingers brush the faint bruise forming on my knuckles, her touch feather-light. "Thank you for that," she says, her voice warm and sincere.

"Anytime," I reply, unable to suppress the smirk creeping across my lips.

The adrenaline from punching Jacob still thrums through my veins, making me feel invincible.

But as I slide my arm away from around her shoulders, a cold emptiness seeps in where her warmth used to be.

"Tyler," she murmurs, using my real name, a rare intimacy between us.

Her eyes, a mix of gratitude and something deeper lock onto mine, and for a moment, the noisy café fades into oblivion.

I arch a brow at her. "How do you know my name?"

She licks her lips and snickers, "I might have snuck into Damon's office and pulled out the file he has on you."

Any normal man would be pissed at her for doing something like that, but her determination only drives me wild. "I guess you know all of my deep, dark secrets then, huh?"

Zoe chuckles, "A few, but not all of them."

My fingers twitch, wanting to pull her close again, but I force myself to stay cool.

She smiles then, a real smile that reaches her eyes and lights up her face.

It makes the whole mess worth it.