Chapter Four.
Constance paced the floor, every step tightening the knot in her chest as she second-guessed the call to Jinx. Fear crept in quietly, reshaping her thoughts before she realized it was there. She had never been the kind of woman who startled easily. Confrontation had never scared her.
There had been something in his eyes. Not anger. Not desire. Calculation. The way his gaze tracked her had felt deliberate, as if he were memorizing her—measuring distances, weighing outcomes.
Her skin had prickled under that look, instinct screaming where logic failed.
This wasn’t the casual possessiveness women laughed about, not the hollow thrill of being watched by someone who wanted you. This was the awareness of someone noticing a problem. One they might be able to help with.
She felt like there was more to the harassment. Someone else watching and calling the shots. A snake hidden beneath stone, motionless and patient, waiting for the moment she forgot to be afraid waiting for her to move.
Tearing her thoughts away from the man, Constance straightened a few of the boxes with shaking hands. The motion was pointless—busywork—but she needed something to anchor her before the fear swallowed her whole.
She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the cool cardboard, closing her eyes. For a moment, she focused on breathing, on the solid resistance beneath her skin, on not unraveling.
She didn’t feel safe enough to fall apart.
Not yet.
The sound of motorcycles snapped her head up.
Constance moved quietly toward the door, pulse skidding as flashes of color and chrome rolled past the storefront. Engines idled low and menacing before cutting out one by one. When she reached the door, she stared as Jinx and five other men swung off their Harleys.
They didn’t bunch together. They spread out. Each of them scanned the street, while Jinx and three others headed straight for her store.
Constance opened the door just as Jinx stepped onto the sidewalk. She retreated instinctively, letting him and the others inside before easing the door shut behind them, the click of the lock sounding far too loud in the quiet.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, her gaze flicking to one of the men flanking him.
He stood apart.
She noticed him immediately, broad stance, shoulders set like he was carved out of stone. His dark hair was threaded with silver, not age so much as experience. His light eyes swept the room once, sharp and assessing, like he cataloged everything in a single glance.
It made her straighten without realizing she’d slouched.
“How many came in?” Jinx asked.
“This time? Two.” Her voice wavered despite her effort to steady it. “One of them… made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t what he said. It was the way he looked at me. Like he was deciding something.”
Jinx’s jaw tightened.
“What did they want?” the broody biker in the back asked, his voice low and rough, cutting clean through the room.
“Money. It’s always money,” she said. “But this time they opened the bagged meals. One of them ate some right there, then threw the rest on the floor. They dumped all the bags and stomped on them.”
Silence followed. The heavy kind.
“Constance, this is Frost,” Jinx said. “These two are Rev and Wolf.”
She nodded to each of them. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry you had to drop everything because of me.”
Jinx waved it off. “You did the right thing by calling.”
He started walking the space, eyes lifting to corners, doorways, blind spots. It was a good location for what she was doing—but it was tucked back, making it easily targeted.
He thought she needed cameras for safety reasons. “You need cameras.”
“When I first opened, I didn’t have any issues,” Constance said. “But I’m starting to think this is why all the other businesses moved out.”
Her gaze drifted from Jinx to Frost without her meaning to. He was distracting—not in a way that unsettled her, but in the opposite. Watching him methodically assess the store, checking corners and sightlines, made her breathing slow. Like someone had finally taken the threat seriously.
“I’ll get cameras, Jinx,” she added.
He nodded once, approval clear.
“Now,” Jinx said, “who are these guys?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. They never say if they’re part of a gang or some kind of group. But so far, I’ve had between three and five different men come in here, all of them pushing.”
The number landed heavy in the room.
“I’ve told them we don’t make money. That we don’t have money.” Her mouth curved in a humorless smile. “They don’t seem to understand what a non-profit is—or they just don’t care.”
Frost’s eyes lifted to hers then, sharp and unreadable. Either way, she had the distinct sense it had just become their problem.
“What time do you open the doors every day?” Frost asked, his gaze fixed on Constance.
There was something about her that caught under his skin.
She wasn’t polished or softened into something easy.
Her hair was a riot of curls barely grazing her collarbone—honey-blonde and unapologetically wild, chaos worn like intention.
Those deep green eyes didn’t just land on him; they searched, like she was reading past the surface and deciding what was worth keeping.
Even now, cornered, uneasy, she carried herself with quiet purpose. No shrinking. No apology. She was a different kind of trouble. One he’d take his time with.
“I get here at seven every morning,” Constance said. “That’s when I bring in the pre-made meals. Then I start setting up boxes.”
She crossed to a small table and gathered a stack of papers, returning to hold them out to Frost and Jinx. “These are requests. Boxes for babies, kids, the elderly. The meals are for people who don’t have any other way to get fed.”
Saying it out loud did something to her. The fear that had been curling in her chest burned down into something hotter. Sharper. Anger settled in her stomach. How dare they come into her place…into something she’d built with her own hands, and demand what they hadn’t earned.
“Maybe I should get a gun,” she muttered.
“Let’s hold off on the gun,” Jinx said carefully, watching the tension roll through her.
Constance planted her hands on her hips. “I bet every one of you is armed.”
Her gaze swept them, unapologetic. “It’s Texas. You’re all cowboys.” She jerked her thumb toward the parking lot. “Some of you just ride steel horses instead.”
Her mouth curved, sharp and daring. “Still cowboys.”
She watched as they all smirked.
“Let’s get you home,” Jinx said. “Where do you live?”
“I live out by Big Star Ranch.”
“Undertakers place.”
“Who?”
“Sorry, Ethan Cole. He’s our chapter president. He goes by Undertaker.” Jinx explained.
“So, Jinx is your nickname.” She asked as she heard snickering from Rev and Wolf.
“It’s called a road name, but yes Jinx is my road name. My government name is Jason Bauer.”
“And your’s, Frost?” She asked, staring at him.
“Grant Voss.”
More snickering came from the two men standing by the door. She watched as Frost glared at them. “Why are the two of you snickering over there like two little girls?”
Her question was met by shocked stares as Frost and Jinx chuckled.
“His name sounds like a cologne ad.” Wolf said with a chuckle.
“And what’s your government name? Both of you?”
Rev, sighed, “Ryan Donovan.”
“Oh that’s such a sweet, nice little Irish boy.” She said picking on the man.
“William Harper.” Wolf said.
Constance giggled, “Yours sounds stuffy, Professor Harper.”
“I’ll be outside.” Wolf said, shoving the door open.
“This is one of those moments where, ‘if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen’ applies.” She asked, shoving a hand into the thick mass of curls causing it to just get wilder.
Jinx and Frost just nodded as she grabbed her things where they could leave. If the other store owners were still around, they were probably wondering why she was being escorted by bikers.
Well, they could just keep wondering, Constance thought as she stepped outside and locked the door.