Chapter 4
Sloane
Jessy clings to me as I walk back toward the clubhouse, lifting her head from my shoulder, still half asleep, hair tangled across her face. “Mommy?” she says, bleary and confused.
“We’re here, sweetheart. We’re going to go inside and meet some of your grandpa’s friends.”
She mumbles something I don’t catch. As we walk inside the Iron Vale clubhouse, her eyes blink open slowly, adjusting to the dim light.
The three men stand near the long table we just left. Jessy studies them carefully. Children have an instinct for reading people that most adults lose somewhere along the way, so I watch her reaction closely. If my baby is scared, we’re turning right back around.
“Are these the bikers?” she whispers, holding her hand up against my cheek to cover her mouth.
I suppress a smile. “Yes.”
Rook pushes away from the table and walks toward us.
Up close again, he’s… distracting, which is deeply inconvenient.
He’s easily six foot three, broad shoulders filling out a worn black T-shirt like the fabric might surrender and fall off his muscular frame at any moment.
Dark hair pushed back from his face, short beard outlining a jaw that looks like he stepped out of a magazine.
He has sharp, observant gray eyes that are currently studying me with a faint hint of amusement.
I absolutely refuse to react to him, meeting his gaze with my best poker face.
“This is your kid?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Jessy slides down from my arms and immediately goes up to Rook. “I’m Jessy,” she announces, holding out her hand to shake the way she’s seen me do countless times. She knows all about stranger danger, and normally she’s shy around people she doesn’t know, so I’m a bit taken aback by her response.
“Well, Jessy,” Rook says, bending down to her height and shaking her hand. His giant baseball mitt hands dwarf hers, but he’s surprisingly gentle. “Welcome to the Iron Vale clubhouse.”
Jessy beams as the other two men introduce themselves.
Now that I’m looking properly, I notice how different the three men are.
Cruz is leaner than the others, built more like a fighter than a mechanic.
He has dark, cropped hair and sharp features, with intelligent eyes that seem to be constantly solving puzzles.
He’s attractive in a polished, dangerous way, like the kind of man who knows exactly the effect he has on women when he smiles, which he does a lot.
Then there’s Boone. He’s barely said two words since I got here, just quietly observing.
He’s a giant of a man. Not just tall but wide and solid.
The kind of man who looks like he could lift a motorcycle without particularly trying, and probably does.
His beard is thick and dark blond, his light hair a little longer than the others, and his forearms are covered in faded tattoos.
Grease stains his hands, the hands of a working man, and a fighter. In short, he looks intimidating.
That is, until Jessy walks toward him. “Do you like dinosaurs?” she asks, scrunching up her face and tilting her head as she studies him.
Boone blinks, as if surprised to be addressed. He considers the question, and, understanding its importance to Jessy, he crouches down so they’re at eye level. “Yeah,” he says calmly. “Dinosaurs are pretty cool. My favorite is the Brachiosaurus.”
The fact that he didn’t say T. rex just won him major points. Jessy immediately lights up like someone flipped a switch. “I love dinosaurs! I have twelve.”
“Twelve?”
“I brought my twelve bestest. Mommy made me leave the rest at home.”
Boone nods solemnly. “Sounds pretty smart, can’t have too many dinosaurs in one place, they might fight.”
“Oh, they’ll still fight,” Jessy assures him.
To my surprise, she takes his massive paw in her tiny hand and drags him over to a table, babbling about her dinosaurs and proceeding to take them out of her backpack in turn, showing him each one and telling him their names and what they like to eat.
Boone listens intently, asking questions as if he truly cares.
I watch the interaction with something close to disbelief.
My six-year-old has known this man for about thirty seconds and has already decided he’s trustworthy, which, annoyingly, makes me want to trust him, too.
Despite my worries about being here, it’s hard not to find the way he interacts with her endearing.
Rook notices me watching, but I can’t decipher his expression. “Rooms are upstairs,” he says.
“Good. Jessy, come on, you can show him your dinosaurs later.” Jessy grumbles, but I give her my don’t-mess-with-me-glare, and Boone quietly distracts her with promises of something interesting upstairs, so she stops protesting.
Rook gestures toward a wide staircase along the wall. “Come on.”
Jessy grabs my hand with one hand and drags Boone along with the other. “You still have to see my Velociraptor,” she informs him.
Boone glances at me like he’s asking permission. I nod, and he lets Jessy tow him up the stairs.
Cruz chuckles as he follows behind. “You realize,” he says to me, “That your kid just adopted Boone.”
I frown. “That seems likely.” As nice as it is for her to feel safe here, I don’t know how comfortable I am yet with her being too attached to them. Hopefully, this isn’t a permanent solution.
Rook walks beside me up the stairs, standing too close for my comfort, though with anyone else it would be perfectly fine. I can feel the heat from his arm through the sleeve of my jacket. “Your cheeks are pink,” he tells me, his voice smug.
“I’m hot,” I snap, we both know it’s a lie.
He smiles faintly. “Sure you are.” His words make me blush even deeper.
We reach the top of the stairs and step into a long hallway with several doors.
The wood floors creak slightly under our feet.
Jessy immediately bursts into the first room Boone opens.
“Oh!” The room is simple but clean, with two beds, a dresser, and a window overlooking the compound yard.
Jessy runs straight to the window, pressing her nose against the glass, leaving a smudge, then pulls back to face us, beaming. “I can see motorcycles!”
Boone leans against the wall beside the door, arms folded loosely. “Yeah,” he says. “There are a lot around here.” He says this without sounding sarcastic, a small miracle.
Jessy pulls her favorite dinosaur from her backpack and shows it to him. “This is Trixy.”
Boone studies the toy seriously. “Good name. Everyone else calls T. rexes boring names, like Rex.”
Jessy positively glows at the compliment.
Cruz leans in the doorway. “You’re stuck playing babysitter now, brother,” he tells Boone.
“I don’t mind,” he says with a shrug, which further serves to endear him to me, not that I show it.
I step further into the room, taking in the details. It’s functional and clean, but most importantly, it’s safe, which matters more than comfort right now.
Rook gestures toward the next door down the hall. “That one’s yours.”
I blink at him in surprise. I’d expected Jessy and me to be sharing a room.
I follow Cruz, who leads the way. He opens the door, and I tentatively step inside.
This room is larger, with a queen-sized bed against one wall and a small dresser under the window.
There’s even a bookshelf that currently holds nothing but a few motorcycle manuals.
I exhale slowly with relief, a bed, a desk, a door that locks. It’s more than I expected.
“I need a workspace,” I say, being difficult despite my gratitude. I don’t know why, but I can’t help myself.
Rook raps his knuckles on the desk. “You have one.”
“I need an actual desk, not a dresser.”
Rook leans against the doorframe. “What exactly are you planning to do up here? You’re hiding from a cartel, and you quit your job.”
“I’m still a lawyer.”
“And?” he asks, an eyebrow quirking. He’s enjoying this, the bastard.
“And my clients still exist.”
Cruz whistles softly from the hallway. “This should be good.” His amusement only serves to piss me off more.
I turn back to Rook. “I need a real desk and a desk chair, strong, reliable internet access, secure file storage, a shredder, and space for documents.”
“You’re not running a damn law firm out of my clubhouse.”
For some reason Rook’s attitude annoys me. I know I should feel grateful that they’ve agreed to help me. But at what price? Having all of my decisions taken from me is why I didn’t want to go into witness protection. “I’m not abandoning my career either.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “You’re under our protection. That means certain adjustments.”
“That doesn’t mean surrendering autonomy. If I’m going to provide you with legal services, I need a place I can actually work from.”
The silence stretches. Jessy’s voice drifts from the other room. “Boone, this one’s a Triceratops!”
Boone responds with quiet seriousness. “Yeah, they’ve got the horns.”
I glance toward the doorway. Something in my chest softens as I watch Boone with her.
Rook notices. “You like him?” he asks. I glance up. There’s something in his tone that sounds almost like jealousy.
“That’s irrelevant to my needing a desk,” I reply dryly, refusing to back down.
Rook ignores my snarky response. “Boone’s good with kids.”
“Yes, that is apparent.”
I don’t know whether he says this next part to scare me or to reassure me that he’ll protect Jessy. “He’s also very dangerous.”
I stare at Rook, refusing to show fear or intimidation. Dealing with him feels like dealing with the hardened criminals at work. You can’t show any sign of weakness. “So am I.”
Cruz guffaws, his face breaking into that maddeningly handsome grin again as he tilts back his head and laughs delightedly.
Rook’s mouth twitches as he tries to smother a smile. He runs his hand through his hair, lifting his shirt slightly and giving me a peek of the contours pointing down to an area I refuse to let myself imagine. “You’re stubborn.”
“You told me that already.”