She understands the gravity of my words. She lived in this world. When the president of an MC calls everyone in, you don’t ask questions. You go.
“Is it the Crimson Warriors?”
“Yeah.”
She inhales a shaky breath. “How bad?”
“Bad enough that we’re not sleeping at home tonight.”
She twists in her seat and looks at Leo. He’s mid-song, kicking the seat, oblivious. She faces forward and doesn’t ask another question.
I drive to the house. They will need some things.
We don’t talk. Violet is out of the truck before I kill the engine. She grabs Leo, and we rush to grab a few things we’ll need. I have clothes and necessities in my room at the clubhouse. I grab the pack-and-play, Leo’s blanket, and pull-ups. Violet packs some clothes. We’re back in the truck in under five minutes.
And then we are off.
The clubhouse is just outside of Ash Valley town limits, on a dirt road off the state highway. I pull through the gate, and Trapper waves me in. The lot is already filling up—bikes, trucks, and a few cars.
Old Ladies and kids are filing through the front door.
I park. Cut the engine. My hands stay on the wheel for ten extra seconds.
In twenty minutes, I’ve gone from a grocery store where a stranger told me my son looks like me, to a lockdown where I’m about to spend the night in a room with the woman who kept that son from me.
One room. One bed. Leo’s pack-and-play crammed in the corner. That’s all the space the clubhouse will have with every member and every family packed into this building.
Her hand touches my arm. “Are we going to be okay?”
I look at her. Those blue eyes. Darker than mine. Darker than Leo’s.
“Yes. Nobody is going to fucking touch you or Leo.” I open my door. “Take him inside. I’ll grab your things.”
She unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs out. She opens Leo’s door and lifts our son out of the car seat, tucks his face against her neck, and holds him with both arms. He wraps his little fingers in her hair.
I grab the pack-and-play and the diaper bag and follow them through the front door of the clubhouse. Down the hallway. Past Joker, who nods. Past Shelby, who’s helping set up extra cots in the common area. She gives Violet a tired smile.
Saber meets me at the end of the hall. He’s coiled tight, and the look on his face is the one he wears before bad orders.
“Church in ten minutes. Duke, leave them in your room.”
I nod.
The room is mine. Has been for years. Clean, because I keep it that way. A bed, a dresser, extra clothes in the bottom drawer, a bottle of whiskey in the top. I set up the pack-and-play against the wall and drop the diaper bag next to the whiskey.
Violet puts Leo down, and he immediately toddles to the bed and tries to climb it. She catches him. Sets him on the mattress. He bounces twice and falls sideways into the pillow.
“One bed,” she says.
I nod.
She looks at me. I look at the door.
“Church,” I say. “I’ll be back.”
I walk out and close the door. I stand in the hallway with my spine against the wall, my hands in fists, and my teeth locked together.
I need time to process that I have a kid. I need time to process what this means for Violet and me.