Chapter Nine

Cullen

Whenever I called church, I liked to be there early. I rode down the deserted pier, toward a setting sun, sinking beneath clouds. The massive white warehouse, once a place for storing shipping containers, loomed in the distance. As I approached, I saw two bikes already lined up outside.

I parked beside them and went in to the clubhouse.

The first thing I saw was Hart running his hands through his red hair. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me,” he kept saying, over and over again as he paced the room. Jet was there as well, slumped on a chair, looking equally spooked.

“Dude. Thanks for the invitation, but I’ll pass,” I said, striding in and dropping my shit at the table in front of the room, where I usually sat when I conducted church. “What the fuck’s going on?”

They looked at each other. Then Hart pulled out his laptop. Hart, our tech guy, had that laptop more attached to him than his own ass. He opened it and showed me a picture. I leaned forward, looking close at two men, who appeared to be in heavy discussion. “That’s Bruiser from the Fury.”

He nodded and pointed to the other guy. “That’s Walsh.”

Walsh dealt in stolen arms from overseas. “So they’re buying up weapons.”

Hart nodded. “A lot of weapons from the looks of it. I heard a couple of people online say that Bruiser’s been getting in huge shipments. If those are guns, then they’re prepping for an all-out war.”

Just then, Drake and Nix showed up. I checked my phone. As usual, Zain was late. I paced the floor as Hart filled the other guys in. “So what does this mean?” Jet asked.

“It means just what we said,” Nix grumbled. “That we should’ve wiped ‘em off the face of the fucking earth when we had the chance.”

I held out my hands. “Now hold on. Yeah. But look at it this way. They’re building up their defenses probably because they expect us to go in there and rain hell on them.”

Jet frowned. “They had another choice. They could’ve disbanded.”

I shook my head. “After what happened last month, they still had more members than we did. They’d never just disband. Even without Blaze to lead them.”

“But the point is, they’re gathering strength,” Drake said. “And we’re the first targets they’re gonna go after.”

“No. Now listen. I don’t know Slade like I knew Blaze,” I said, hopping up onto the table and resting my hands on my knees. “But we still don’t know what we’re up against. Maybe Slade’s just out to protect his guys.”

Jet raised a doubtful eyebrow.

“Hell, it’s what I’d do for you. If the Fury was on our asses, I’d make damned sure I’d built up our reserves to make sure they didn’t try anything. That might be all Slade’s trying to do.”

Nix leaned back in his chair. “So what are you proposing? You proposing you meet with him?”

I nodded.

Zain walked in just then, as all four of the other guys were staring at me like I was insane. Zain frowned. “Shit. I missed something big again, didn’t I?”

Drake hung his head. “Our esteemed leader is going to try to make nice with the enemy.”

I shot Zane a hard look. “When I say eight, I mean eight. Not eight o five. Not eight thirty. Eight.” I turned to Drake who looked surprised at my firmness. “Not make nice. But if we can avoid an all-out war, we ought to. I don’t want to lose any of you. I don’t want to put any of you guys in a bloodbath if I don’t have to, got it?”

Nix nodded. “Makes sense.”

Thank fuck I had him on my side. Now the rest of the club would agree. As I slipped off the table, it hit me. I’d have to somehow find a way to communicate with their new president. A guy I barely knew. What I knew of Slade was that he was from overseas and did a lot of travelling. He hadn’t even been at the altercation last month. People called him cocky, smooth, elusive, quiet. Unlike, Blaze, he liked to fly under the radar.

“Hart,” I said. “How do I get in front of him?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to do something face to face, Cullen,” Hart warned. “He’d insist it be on his turf and it’d be too risky. I’ll get a message to them that you want to have a call.”

“All right. Do it soon. This can’t wait. The sooner we put out these sparks, the sooner we can go back to the way things were,” I said, thinking of Grace.

The way things were? It was funny how people never knew they were in the good old days until after they’d passed. I might never have had truly good days before, but when I thought about those months with Grace, I knew something for sure.

That was as close as I’d ever gotten.

I checked my phone. It was after nine. I called an end to church, told the guys I’d see them later, and strode outside. The sun had already set, and the sea was a void of black as I straddled my bike and sped away from the docks.

I got to the Best Western motel after 9:30 and cursed at the piece of shit it was. A homeless guy wheeled a cart through the parking lot, and a group of gang-bangers were playing rap music at an ear-shattering volume in one of the rooms. I could hear their laughter and whoops over the roar of my bike when I pulled in.

“What the fuck,” I said under my breath as I slid off my bike, eyeing those assholes. How could Grace pick this shithole?

I strained to see the numbers on the doors. All the bottom rooms started with a one. I found an outdoor staircase and climbed to the second floor.

On the landing, I saw a girl sitting alone, her bare knees pulled up to her chest, tangle of hair falling in her face. She was smoking a cigarette. When I got closer, I saw it was Grace. “For the first time ever, I didn’t hear you coming,” she said miserably.

“Hey,” I said. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Don’t got many places to go, it seems,” she said softly, taking an uneasy drag of her cigarette. She blew the smoke out in a hard rush.

I walked up so that my boots were nearly touching her bare toes. “Didn’t know you smoked.”

She laughed bitterly. “I don’t. But I really needed something.”

She lifted the pack and offered it to me. I took one, tucking it in the breast pocket of my shirt. The whole building was shaking from the bass of the music playing downstairs. “No wonder. This place is shit.”

She wiped her tired eyes with the back of her hand. Her fingernails were bloodied and chewed to the quick. Her pale skin trembled. “I’m tired. Ella won’t go to sleep. She’s in there right now, crying.”

I listened but couldn’t hear with all the other noise.

“All right.” I reached for her. “You’re coming with me, baby.”

She yanked her arm away. “Like hell. I knew you didn’t like me, but you want us to get shot to death?”

“I called the security company. I’m getting twenty-four-seven monitoring put in tomorrow. No one will be able to get in. I’ll pick up anyone even hanging around the perimeter. You and the kid will be safer there.”

She shook her head. “No, Cullen. You already showed me how much you want us in your house. Did something change?”

Just then, a car backfired. I broke into a crouch, my normal fight response, as Grace eyed me suspiciously. I exhaled and leaned over the railing to see the source of the noise just as whatever party was going on downstairs spilled down into the street. “Yeah. It changed. Word’s been going around about you and the kid. If the Fury find out, they could come after you. That’s why I want you where I can see you.”

She shook her head slowly and rested her forehead on her knees. “Perfect. Just what I need,” she mumbled. “As if I didn’t have enough problems.”

“And I can solve one of them, at least. Let me call you an Uber to get you back to the house. For tonight at least. You know you can’t sleep here. We can talk about it more tomorrow.”

There was a break in the music downstairs. I heard a baby’s cry. She heard it, too, because she bristled. Then she stubbed out her cigarette on the concrete floor, pushed her back against the wall, and slid up to standing. “Fine.”

I opened my phone and ordered the Uber, surprised at how quick she agreed. That told me that stubborn Grace had to be at the end of her rope. “On the way. Get your shit.”

She pushed open the door to the shithole hotel room and I peered inside. The sliver of light from the open door shone a light on a very red-faced kid with platinum ringlets. Grace lifted her up out of a playpen and said, “Can you help me?”

She went to hand me the kid but I backed away. Hell. Fucking. No.

“She’s not a time bomb,” she said, shooting me an incredulous look. “Fine. Could you get the groceries packed up and I’ll get our bags together?”

I did as she asked, feeling stupid. She was right. It was a kid. My kid. What was I? A coward?

Ten minutes later, everything was loaded into the Uber and it was on the way to my house, carrying Grace and Ella. I followed on my bike, and by ten, we were inside. I flipped on the outside lights and armed the security system as she watched me, a sleepy kid drooping her head on Grace’s shoulder.

“You’re safe here,” I told her.

She pressed her lips together. “Cullen. I don’t know if we’ll ever be safe, anywhere.”