Page 8

In the mirror, I saw Chase’s eyes narrow at the mention of school.

Kid probably hadn’t had much stability, at least from what we’d heard from Scratch.

Living with an abusive asshole wouldn’t have been easy on any of them.

He had to know enrolling in a school could make it easier for his dad to find them.

“How far is it from the apartment?” Amelia asked, her voice soft but steady.

“About a mile,” Saint answered. “Walkable, but the club can arrange transportation if needed.”

I grunted in agreement, earning a quick glance from Chase. His wariness was like a physical thing, filling the car with invisible barbed wire. Couldn’t blame him. Trust was a luxury they couldn’t afford.

We drove through the center of town, past the courthouse with its white columns and the row of storefronts that hadn’t changed much since I’d first ridden into this town decades ago.

Small-town Alabama, frozen in time in some ways, changing in others.

The hardware store where Pop Jenkins had sold nails by the pound was now some kind of artsy coffee shop, but the barber pole still spun outside Floyd’s, where three generations of men had gotten the same crew cut.

“Grocery store’s there,” Saint pointed out. “Pharmacy’s next door. Doc Miller’s office is around the corner if you need medical attention.”

I watched Amelia taking mental notes of each location, mapping out their new territory. Survival skills. Woman had learned to be prepared.

The younger boy, Levi, leaned forward slightly. “Is there a library?”

“Two blocks past the courthouse,” I answered, surprising myself by speaking. “Open till eight on weekdays.”

Levi nodded, a flicker of something like hope crossing his face. Books were safe havens for kids like him.

“The diner where you’ll be working gets busy for breakfast and lunch,” Saint continued, addressing Amelia.

“Dinner crowd’s smaller, mostly regulars.

Owner’s name is Jessie. She’s good people.

Lost her husband in Afghanistan about ten years back.

When the diner went up for sale last year, she bought it. ”

I noted the slight relaxation in Amelia’s shoulders at this information. A widow rather than a man running the place. One less thing to worry about.

Chase hadn’t taken his gaze off me, watching my every move. Testing me, maybe. Waiting for the mask to slip, for the monster to emerge. I met his gaze steadily, neither challenging nor backing down.

“Club’s on the outskirts of town,” Saint said, turning onto Main Street. “But there’s usually at least a couple members around town at any given time. Any problems, day or night, you call the number Scratch gave you.”

I shifted my attention back to the road as we passed the police department. Officer out front raised a hand in greeting, which Saint returned with a nod. Good to have law enforcement who understood the arrangement. Didn’t always happen that way.

“Local cops know about us?” Chase asked sharply, catching the exchange.

Smart question. Again.

“Chief Anderson and the club have an understanding,” Saint explained. “We keep the peace; he doesn’t hassle us. He knows you’re under our protection.”

“And if my ex comes looking?” Amelia’s voice was barely audible, fear threading through the words.

Saint’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Then he’ll have a problem bigger than the law. Devil’s Minions aren’t welcome in our town.”

I nodded in silent agreement. Piece of shit like Piston would find himself surrounded by men who specialized in solving problems permanently if he showed his face here.

At least, as long as the Pres let us handle it.

We might be lending a hand right now, but truth was, this little family wasn’t ours.

If Savior thought the club would be in danger, he’d take a step back and reassess.

The SUV slowed as we approached a two-story building with weather-beaten clapboard siding freshly painted a pale blue. The sign over the door read Jessie’s Diner in cursive neon that would light up after dark.

“Here we are,” Saint announced, pulling into a parking space at the side of the building. “Diner’s downstairs, your apartment’s upstairs. There’s a private entrance around back.”

I watched the family’s reaction, noting the way Chase’s body tensed further while Levi’s eyes widened with cautious hope. Amelia stared at the building like she couldn’t quite believe it was real.

“It’s not much,” I said gruffly, “but it’s clean. Safe.”

Amelia’s eyes met mine in the mirror. “Thank you,” she said simply.

I nodded once, then opened my door and stepped out into the heat. I scanned the street out of habit, checking for unfamiliar vehicles or faces. Nothing seemed out of place.

The back door of the SUV opened, and Chase emerged first, standing protectively as his mother and brother got out.

I noted again the way his gaze never stopped moving, cataloging every detail of their surroundings.

Kid would make a good soldier. Or a good outlaw.

Paths weren’t so different when it came to the skills that kept you alive.

Saint led the way toward the stairs at the back of the building, keys jingling in his hand. I brought up the rear, giving the family space while keeping an eye on our six.

As we approached the stairs, I noticed Chase glance back at me, measuring the distance between us and his family. Preparing for a potential threat. I deliberately slowed my pace, letting him see I understood his concern.

The kid’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. Not trust, not yet. But maybe a beginning.

The wooden stairs creaked under our weight as we climbed to the second floor.

The stairwell was narrow, the walls freshly painted a neutral cream that couldn’t quite hide decades of lives lived and left behind…

a few dings here and there no one had bothered to patch, and a deep scratch in another spot.

At the top landing, a single door stood closed, a new deadbolt gleaming in the afternoon sun that slanted through a small window.

Saint unlocked it, pushing it open with a slight flourish that didn’t match the wariness in the family’s posture as they hesitated on the threshold of their new beginning.

“Here we are,” Saint said, stepping aside to let them enter first. “It’s not the Ritz, but it’s yours for as long as you need it.”

I remained by the top of the stairs, giving them space. Crowding frightened people into new territory was never smart. Besides, from here I could watch their reactions, gauge their comfort level without looming over them.

Amelia stepped inside first, her movements tentative, like she expected a trap. Chase followed right behind, gaze sweeping the room for threats or hidden dangers. Levi entered last, his gaze more curious than fearful as he took in their new surroundings.

The apartment wasn’t much, but the club had made sure it was decent.

Living room with a worn but clean sofa and armchair.

Small TV mounted on the wall. Kitchenette with appliances older than the boys but scrubbed spotless.

Down a short hallway, two bedrooms and a bathroom.

Windows overlooking Main Street, with new blinds for privacy. Everything basic but functional.

The place smelled of fresh paint and pine cleaner, with undertones of the diner below -- coffee and grilled onions and something sweet. Not unpleasant. Lived-in smell.

“Bedrooms are through there,” Saint explained, pointing down the hall. “Bathroom’s been updated, got a new water heater last month.”

Chase moved into the center of the living room, positioning himself where he could see both the entrance and his family. Kid moved like someone who’d learned to fight from necessity, not training. Stance slightly off-balance but ready, weight on the balls of his feet.

“Who lived here before?” he asked, suspicion still edging his voice.

“Waitress named Darla,” I answered from my position by the door. “Moved to Birmingham last month to be near her daughter. Place has been empty since, except for the cleaning crew the club sent in.”

Levi had wandered toward the kitchenette, opening a cabinet cautiously. “There’s food,” he said, surprise evident in his tone.

“Basic supplies,” Saint confirmed. “Enough to get you through a few days. Club took care of it.”

Amelia stood in the middle of the living room, looking lost and overwhelmed. Her fingers twisted the strap of her purse, knuckles white with tension. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she began, voice unsteady.

“Don’t need thanks,” I cut in, not unkindly. “Just doing what’s right.”

Saint moved to the refrigerator, tacking a piece of paper to it with a magnet shaped like a coffee cup. “Emergency numbers,” he explained. “Club, police, fire department. Jessie’s direct line downstairs. My cell and Hammer’s are at the top.”

Chase moved closer to read the list, and I wondered if he was memorizing the numbers. He glanced back at me, then at Saint. “Scratch said Piston won’t find us here.”

“Not if we can help it,” Saint assured him. “Devil’s Minions know better than to ride into Dixie Reapers’ territory without invitation. And Piston specifically has been warned to stay out of Alabama altogether.”

Of course, neither of us said that while they shouldn’t enter our territory, it didn’t mean they wouldn’t.

If Piston discovered they were here, I wasn’t sure he’d care about any warnings he’d received.

He’d likely come for them, and I couldn’t be entirely sure what Savior would do. Reaper families came first.

“Warned by who?” Amelia asked, a tremor in her voice.

“By men who don’t make idle threats,” I said simply.

The family exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Levi had moved to the window, peering out at the street below through the slats of the blinds. “There’s a bookstore across the street,” he noted, a hint of excitement breaking through his caution.

“Owner’s daughter is a friend of the club,” I told him. “She’ll give you a decent discount if you mention you’re under our protection.”

Levi’s eyes widened slightly behind his glasses. Good to know. Kid liked books.

Saint set the keys on the counter. “Two sets of keys. Figured you’d want a set and leave one for the boys. Deadbolt was changed yesterday.”

Chase picked up one set, testing their weight in his palm like he was weighing a weapon. “And the job?” he asked, looking at his mother.

“Jessie’s expecting you tomorrow morning at seven,” Saint explained to Amelia. “She’ll train you on the breakfast shift. The apartment comes with the job, for a discounted rate. Like I said, club paid the first three months. You want to stay after that, you’ll have to pay Jessie.”

A weight seemed to lift from Amelia’s shoulders at those words. Financial independence -- the first step toward real freedom.

“Boys can start school Monday,” I added. “Principal’s been notified to expect you. No questions asked about transcripts or previous schools.”

Chase’s jaw tightened at that, but he nodded once.

“The club will check in regularly,” Saint said, moving toward the door where I still stood. “Not to intrude, just to make sure you’re settling in, have what you need. Piston finds you, or contacts you in some way, tell us.”

I noticed Amelia’s hand trembling slightly as she reached out to touch the back of the sofa, as if confirming it was real. Too many promises had been broken for them before. Words meant little without actions to back them up.

“Things get rough,” I said quietly, meeting her eyes directly, “day or night, you call. We come. That’s how it works here.”

Something flickered in her expression -- not quite trust, but the shadow of relief. She nodded. “Thank you, Hammer.”

Hearing my name from her lips startled me slightly. Most people outside the club used it reluctantly, intimidated by what it represented. She’d said it simply, with dignity.

“We’ll leave you to get settled,” Saint said, sensing the family needed space more than company now. “Jessie will probably pop up to introduce herself later, but otherwise, you’ve got privacy.”

I stepped back into the hallway, giving them room. Chase followed us to the door, still on guard. As Saint headed down the stairs, I paused, turning back to the boy.

“You did good,” I told him quietly. “Got your family here safe. Not many could’ve managed that.”

Surprise flickered across his face, followed by the faintest hint of pride before suspicion closed over it again. “We’re not safe yet,” he countered.

“Safer than yesterday,” I replied. “Trust comes with time.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. I understood his wariness better than he knew. I’d been around long enough to recognize the look of someone who’d been betrayed by everyone who should have protected them.

I descended the stairs, hearing the click of the deadbolt behind me. Good. Kid was taking security seriously.

Outside, the heat hit me like a physical blow after the air-conditioned apartment. Saint was already in the SUV, engine running. I climbed into the passenger side, settling my bulk against the leather seat with a grunt.

“Think they’ll stay?” Saint asked as we pulled away.

I watched the apartment window in the side mirror, caught a glimpse of the younger boy peering out through the blinds. “Depends if they learn to trust.”

“That boy -- Chase -- he’s wound tight as a spring.”

I nodded. “Got reason to be. Protecting his family from a monster ain’t easy at any age.”

The SUV turned onto Main Street, the diner fading into the background. The club would keep its word, keep the family safe. Whether they’d ever believe that, whether they’d ever stop looking over their shoulders -- that was harder to guarantee.

“Some people never learn to trust men in cuts,” I said after a moment. “Can’t blame them, given what they’ve seen.”

Saint shrugged, philosophical as always. “We’re not all Piston.”

“No,” I agreed quietly. “But to them, we all look the same at first. Takes time to see the difference.”

As we drove away, I couldn’t help wondering if that family would find peace here, or if the shadows of their past would keep them running forever. Some ghosts weren’t so easy to outrun.

But at least for tonight, they were safe. Sometimes, that had to be enough.