Page 11

TEN

DREW

Trouble doesn’t ask permission

.

Trouble is never polite.

It doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t knock. Never waits for an invitation. It just barrels through your front door and dares you to stand up, bare your teeth, and see who flinches first. It doesn’t care if you’re ready. Doesn’t care if you’re happy. All it cares about is the mess it leaves behind.

And this morning, trouble’s parked right where it wants to be—dead center of my world, in the shape of a black SUV parked in front of the clubhouse steps. A chrome glare cuts across the hood, sunlight bouncing into my eyes as I step out of the garage. Even from here, I know who it is. Only one man is stupid enough to come back here like this.

Frankie.

He’s back.

It’s like seeing the ghost of a nightmare you thought you’d already killed and buried in the swamp. My gut tightens, hands clench by my side. All the talk with Rex about the new supplier, about club business, falls away. It’s all noise now, like radio static when the world’s on fire.

“Little Foot,” Rex barks from under the hood, voice sharp, but I’m already moving.

“I got it,” I say, voice low and steady.

Every step across the gravel feels heavier. Cambria’s at the laundry shed, folding sheets with Yesnia for that hotel contract we have from this new laundromat business we are trying.. She hasn’t seen him yet.

Good. I plan to keep it that way.

I walk slow, hands loose at my sides, rolling my neck to ease out the tension. I look calm, but inside every muscle’s wound tight, every nerve on edge. The SUV door swings open, and there he is—Frankie, all snake-smile and cheap cologne, stepping out like he owns the damn place.

He grins. “Morning, sunshine.”

“You’re a bold son of a bitch,” I reply. My voice is flat, no heat, but he knows the threat is there.

“I’m a man of business.” He flashes a folder—thin, yellow, sealed. It looks like it belongs in a courthouse or a trash can.

“You got no business here, motherfucker.”

Frankie holds up the folder, gives it a shake. “Just came to drop off a little something. Cambria’s history. Thought you’d want to see what she’s hiding.”

I don’t flinch. Not outwardly. But inside, everything knots up. My mind races. What the hell is in there? I’ve spent weeks learning Cambria through her words and in her unspoken mannerisms.. I know she’s running from something, but I never needed to know the details. Not like this.

“You think I don’t know where she came from?”

Frankie tilts his head. “You think she told you everything?” His voice is oily, persuasive. “Come on, man. Girls like that? They lie because they have to.”

“I don’t give a fuck about a lie.” I keep my eyes on him. I mean it. People lie to survive. That’s not a crime in my book. I have lied before and will do it again. If I have to do it for my family, I will without hesitation.

He laughs. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

I step forward, making sure I block his view of the clubhouse, the women behind me, anything he could use to his advantage. “Only warning and pass you’re gonna get. You get in that fancy-ass SUV. You leave. And if you show your face here again, I won’t be talking.”

He raises his eyebrows, pretending to be amused. “You threatenin’ me?”

“I’m promising you. Since you’re the dumbass who brought this to my front door. Shoulda kept your ass in Arkansas.”

He glances over my shoulder, scanning for Cambria. He catches a glimpse—she’s just stepped out with Yesnia. I see Yesnia’s eyes go hard, and she turns Cambria, leads her straight back the way they came. Good woman.

That’s when I move.

Quick. Hard.

My fist balled up in his shirt and I slam him back into the SUV. The folder drops, forgotten, a yellow splotch on gravel. Frankie’s eyes go wide, the smirk draining away.

“You don’t look at her. You don’t talk to her. You forget she ever existed.”

He tries for bravado, but his breathing’s fast now, pulse jumping under my hand. “You hit me, and I press charges.”

“You show up again, and I won’t stop with a hit.”

Rex is behind me, arms folded, voice like gravel. “You heard the man. You’ve been warned. This is the only pass. Next time, you leave in a body bag on the way to the morgue.”

Frankie smooths his shirt, pride wounded, face pale. He leaves the folder where it fell and slides back into the SUV, silence stretched tight as wire. He doesn’t say another word. Engine starts, tires spit gravel, and then he’s gone.

But I stand there long after he leaves, boots rooted to the spot. Because trouble doesn’t just vanish.

It recedes.

Waits.

Watches for its moment. And when things get quiet? That’s when you need to worry.

I don’t tell Cambria about the folder. Not yet.

It isn’t because I don’t trust her. It’s because I need to know what’s inside before it can blow up in our faces. I’d rather be the one carrying that weight, at least until I know what the hell I’m up against.

The folder sits on my workbench all afternoon, glaring up at me every time I pass. The cover is torn at the edge, curling like an old scab that’s dying to be picked. Part of me wants to burn it, unread. The other part? I owe the club answers. I owe myself some peace.

Rex doesn’t push. He gives me space. His silence says what he won’t: whatever’s in there, it better not break me. I finally have my footing in this club. After years of feeling like the outsider, the tagalong, the brother who always came in second to Axel, I’m finally solid here. He doesn’t want to watch me unravel. Neither do I.

Cambria finds me in the garage a little before dinner. She’s quiet, eyes searching my face for clues. She knows something’s off. She always knows.

“Everything okay?” she asks. She tries to keep her tone light, but I see the worry creeping in around the edges. “He came for me, didn’t he?”

I nod. “He did. But he’s not getting you.” I try for a smile, raising my eyebrows. “Unless you want to go with him, that is.”

Her eyes go wild, panic sparking, then dying just as fast. She shakes her head, fierce. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not gonna keep you here against your will, Cambria. I want you with me. I’m willing to take this to war for you.”

She takes a step closer, voice soft. “Yesnia said that today. She said the whole club will keep me safe from him, from my past.”

“We will.”

She nods, lets herself believe it, at least for now. “You talk to him?”

“Didn’t give him much chance.”

She leans against the wall, arms folded, watching me. She doesn’t press, doesn’t prod. Maybe she’s used to men lying to her, or maybe she just knows I’ll talk when I’m ready. Either way, I’m grateful. It’s the not-pushing that makes me want to spill everything.

Back home, the night is quiet. We eat leftovers, trade a few tired jokes, try to pretend the world isn’t circling the drain outside our door. She sketches in her book while I fix a squeaky hinge. We move around each other like we’ve been doing this for years. There’s a peace in it, even when everything else is chaos.

It’s after midnight when I finally crack the folder open.

The trailer is silent, shadows stretching across the carpet. Cambria’s asleep on the couch, a blanket tucked up under her chin, sketchbook open and pencil still in her hand. Her hair falls across her cheek, one curl tangled against her mouth. The lamplight pools over her, warm and golden. She looks peaceful. Untouchable.

I feel like a traitor.

I shouldn’t open this. What we have isn’t about her past. It’s about right now—about the way she laughs when she thinks no one’s listening, the way she always finds the sunny spot to sit in, how she touches me like I’m something precious.

But I’m club first, always. I have a responsibility to protect my patch. Even from the people I love.

Inside the folder are photocopied records—juvenile files, arrest sheets, counseling notes. Most of its old. Petty theft. Loitering. A note from a school counselor saying she was found sleeping in a stairwell. My throat goes tight at that, thinking of her, small and scared, cold on a concrete floor.

And then there’s a police report.

That one stops me cold.

A minor. Injured. Witness statement clear as day. Her name listed as a victim.

My stomach twists. The skeletons in her closet aren’t her shame—they’re her scars. She didn’t make the mess. She lived through it. She survived.

I close the folder, stare at the wall, trying to find my breath. I want to burn the damn thing, to erase every piece of pain in those pages.

Instead, I kneel beside the couch, brush a strand of hair from her face.

“You did what you had to do,” I whisper. “You survived. This is behind you.”

She stirs, but doesn’t wake.

I tuck the folder deep in the bottom drawer of the catch all drawer in the kitchen, under old receipts and worn-out gloves. It doesn’t have a place out front and center here.

She doesn’t need to relive any of it. And I sure as hell don’t need to question what I already know—she’s mine, and I’ll protect her from everything.

Even her past.

The next morning, Rex calls a sit-down. Not a full sermon, just a small meet with the officers and a couple senior members. I’m there. Axel’s there, arms crossed and scowling, his own brand of support. Toon’s lounging in his seat, grinning like it’s poker night and not the kind of meeting that decides men’s fates.

Rex lays it out, no bullshit. “We’ve had Frankie on our radar since last week. According to Saint’s Outlaws, he’s nothing but a low-level dealer and pimp in Arkansas. I want to know why he’s still sniffing around.”

“He’s not just here for Cambria,” I say. “He’s making a play.”

Rex nods. “That’s my thought too. Word is, he’s linked up with Salentino. Using your connection to Cambria and claiming she’s his daughter. That’s how he got the new ride. Moved up from low-level pimp to full-on cartel man wanting to make waves against the Hellions for Salentino.”

The room goes tight. Toon whistles low. “Didn’t think that asshole would roll in on Hellions.”

Shooter nods. “Thought he was behind us after we refused his last transport. Must’ve seen us head to Saint’s, saw you pick up Cambria. Did some digging. Frankie’s tied in with Salentino since you left with your ol’ lady. Been spotted at a few gun shows asking questions.”

“About us?” I ask, jaw tense.

“About her,” Rex says. “And by extension—about you.”

Axel leans in, voice clipped. “This thing you got with her, it matters. You ready to see it through?”

I stare him down. “You got something to say, say it.”

He shrugs. “I’m saying she brought heat. You haven’t known her long. You wanna cut her loose, we’ll back the play.”

I bite back a retort, but the words come out bitter. “Says the man who claimed a cartel boss’s daughter after a single run. A man who went toe-to-toe with her father with less than a week together. Don’t come at me, brother. She’s not a stray. She’s my wife.”

He nods. “Solid. Yesnia likes her.”

I slam my fist on the table. “I don’t give a fuck who likes her. She’s here. If anyone in this room doesn’t like it, then take my fuckin’ cut because I won’t hang her out to dry.”

Axel studies me. His stare is hard, but there’s something in it—respect, maybe even pride. “You love her?”

I don’t answer, but I don’t look away.

“She matters. We see it all the way through, got my vote,” Axel says. “And if any brother in the club doesn’t back her, they see me. I’ll personally take their cut to a vote.”

His words hit me harder than I expect. He backs her. He backs me. My big brother is willing to take on anyone going against me.

Axel continues, voice steady. “Little Foot is always a soldier. Always the one to follow an order, never get out of line. Always taking any job, got the back of anyone in the club. He claims her, that’s all I need to know. I don’t care about her past, or what Frankie or Salentino tries to bring down on us.”

He sweeps the room with his gaze, every man watching. “Anyone challenging this? You aren’t just challenging Little Foot. You’re challenging me.”

Silence falls, heavy and full.

Rex looks between me and Axel, then back to me. “You trust her?”

“With everything.”

Axel nods. “I trust my brother. I respect him. He wants her.”

Rex nods once. “Then this is on you, Double. If she becomes a liability, it’s your patch that bleeds first.”

“Understood.” My brother’s voice is steady. “I back Little Foot all the way. I mean it.”

It hits me then, hard and sharp—my brother respects me. He trusts me. He’s willing to put his cut on the line for me and my woman.

Maybe, just maybe, we’re finding our way back to what we were as kids. Maybe I can have family, love, and respect. Maybe I can have Cambria, too.

Back at the trailer, Cambria’s on the steps, sun in her hair, sketchbook in her lap. She looks up as I approach, her eyes searching mine.

“You okay?”

I drop down beside her. “Been better. Been worse.”

She closes her book, looks at me straight on. “Frankie?”

I nod. “Don’t know what he wants. I don’t like unknowns. That’s all I can tell you. Club business is for brothers only.”

She doesn’t pout. Doesn’t push. “You don’t have to protect me from him.”

I reach for her hand. “I know. But I’m going to anyway.”

She leans into me, her voice a whisper. “I can protect myself too.”

I smile, pressing my lips to her temple. “I know that, too.”

And I believe it. But it doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop trying to make the world safer for her. One fight at a time.

Night falls. Sleep is slow to come. Every creak, every gust of wind, every animal cry in the woods outside makes my heart race, my mind spin. Cambria is curled against me, her breath slow, her faith in me absolute. I’ve never felt anything so heavy—or so right.

When the house is still, I slip outside. The night is thick, the air sharp with pine and humidity. I walk the perimeter, boots crunching in the grass, scanning for any sign of trouble. There’s nothing out there but crickets and moonlight. Still, I check every shadow. I will keep her safe.

Back inside, I settle beside her, pulling her into my arms. Her hair spills over my chest, warm and soft. She fits there, perfectly.

I’m not running anymore. I’m not hiding.

This is my place. My family. My club. My woman.

And no one—Frankie, Salentino, or any ghost from our pasts—is going to take that away.

I close my eyes and hold her close. For the first time in a long time, I believe in a future. And I’m ready to fight for it. Every day, every breath, for as long as she’ll have me.