Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
storm
Camryn Fletcher is nothing like I expected.
From Blaze's stories, I'd imagined someone fragile, maybe a little broken. A woman in need of protection, cowering in fear. But the woman standing in front of me, throwing clothes into a duffel bag while firing off instructions about her daughter's bedtime routine, is anything but broken.
She's fucking beautiful, for one thing, with long brown hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail and curves in all the right places despite the simple jeans and t-shirt she's wearing.
But it's her eyes that get me: hazel with flecks of gold, sharp and intelligent, assessing me with a wariness that tells me she's seen enough shit in her life to know better than to trust a stranger.
Even if that stranger is supposed to be her boyfriend.
"Emily needs her stuffed rabbit to sleep," she's saying now, pulling said rabbit from her daughter's bed and stuffing it into a backpack covered in butterflies.
"And she has to brush her teeth for exactly two minutes.
She'll try to convince you one minute is enough, but don't let her get away with it. "
I lean against the doorframe of the kid's room, watching her move with efficient purpose. "I think I can handle a bedtime routine," I tell her.
She pauses, fixing me with a look that's half skepticism, half amusement. "Have you ever put a child to bed before?"
"No," I admit. "But I've negotiated with drug dealers and Russian mobsters. How much harder can a seven-year-old be?"
A reluctant smile tugs at her lips. "You're in for a rude awakening."
I shrug, trying to ignore the way that small smile transforms her face. "I'm a quick learner."
She goes back to packing, but I notice her shoulders are a little less tense. Small victory.
"Where, exactly, are we going?" she asks, zipping up the backpack.
"The clubhouse," I tell her. "It's the safest place right now. Full of brothers who'll make sure nothing happens to you or Emily."
Her movements falter. "A motorcycle clubhouse? With a child?"
"It's not what you're thinking," I say. "We've got families there. Kids too. There are plenty of empty rooms above the main floor. You and Emily can stay there."
She doesn't look convinced. "I don't know... Is that really the best environment for Emily?"
"Better than somewhere her father can get to her," I say bluntly. "The clubhouse is like a fortress. No one gets in without us knowing about it."
She considers this, her protective instincts warring with practicality. Finally, she nods. "Alright. But I have conditions."
"Name 'em."
"No drugs around Emily. No weapons where she can see them. And no... club activities while we're there."
I bite back a smile at her delicate phrasing. "You mean no whores and wild parties?"
Color stains her cheeks. "Exactly."
"Done," I say easily. "The club knows this is serious business. They'll behave."
"Uncle Blaze says you're scary," a small voice pipes up from behind me.
I turn to find Emily standing there, clutching a book to her chest, her big hazel eyes, just like her mother's, staring up at me with unabashed curiosity.
"Emily!" Camryn admonishes, shooting her brother a glare where he stands down the hall.
I crouch down to the kid's level, meeting her gaze directly. "Your uncle's right," I tell her seriously. "I can be scary when I need to be. But you know what?"
She shakes her head, eyes wide.
"I'm only scary to people who deserve it," I say, keeping my voice gentle. "People who try to hurt others. People who don't play fair."
She considers this, her little face screwed up in concentration. "Like bad guys?"
"Exactly like bad guys."
"Mom says there are no such things as bad guys," she informs me. "Just people who make bad choices."
I glance up at Camryn, who's watching our interaction with an expression I can't quite read. "Your mom's a smart lady," I say, turning back to Emily. "But sometimes, people make really, really bad choices, and when that happens, someone needs to step in and make sure they don't hurt anyone."
"Is that what you do?" she asks. "Step in?"
"Sometimes," I say, deciding honesty is the best approach with this perceptive kid. "When I'm needed."
She nods solemnly then holds out her book to me. "Can you read this? Mom says we're going on an adventure, and I always read this when we go on adventures."
I take the book, it’s some story about a princess who rescues herself, and nod. "Sure thing, kiddo. We can read it when we get there."
She beams at me, and something in my chest tightens unexpectedly. I've never been particularly drawn to kids, but there's something about this little girl that gets to me. Maybe it's knowing what she came from, or maybe it's just her inherent brightness, untouched by the darkness of her origins.
"Emily, honey, go with Uncle Blaze and get your toothbrush and hairbrush from the bathroom," Camryn says. "We need to finish packing."
Once the kid is out of earshot, she turns to me. "Thank you for being honest with her. She hates being talked down to."
"Kids usually do," I say, standing back up to my full height. "They're smarter than we give 'em credit for."
She studies me for a moment, then returns to her packing. "So, this clubhouse... There are other children there?"
"Yeah," I confirm. "Ace has twins, though they're just babies. But there's Sera, Ruby, Elouise, and some of the other brothers have kids who visit regularly. Emily won't be the only child there."
This seems to comfort her a bit. "And she'll be safe? Really safe?"
"Camryn," I say, my voice serious enough that she looks up at me. "I swear to you, there is no safer place for your daughter than a being surrounded by a bunch of bikers who would die before letting anything happen to a child. That's a promise."
She holds my gaze for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. Finally, she nods. "Alright. I think we're about ready."
"Good," I say, checking my watch. "I've got Shadow and Digger outside keeping an eye out, but I'd rather not stay in one place too long right now."
She looks up sharply. "You think Eric's watching the house?"
"I think we need to assume he is," I say carefully. "Better safe than sorry."
She nods again, her jaw set in determination as she shoulders the duffel bag. "Emily!" she calls. "Time to go!"
The kid comes running in, backpack now filled and swinging from one arm. Blaze follows behind with a toothbrush still in its travel case.
"Forgot this," he says, handing it to Camryn.
"Thanks," she says, tucking it into the duffel. She takes a deep breath and looks around the room one last time. "Okay. Let's do this."
Outside, my brothers are leaning against their bikes, scanning the street with practiced casualness that doesn't fool me for a second. They're on high alert.
"Everything quiet?" I ask as we approach.
Shadow nods. "No sign of trouble. But there's a blue sedan parked two blocks down that's been there since we arrived. Can't see the driver from here."
Camryn tenses beside me. "What kind of car does Eric drive?" I ask her.
"I don't know," she admits. "I haven't seen him in eight years. He used to have a black pickup, but..."
"Blue sedan could be nothing," Digger says, straightening up. "But better not to take chances."
I nod in agreement. "You two lead the way and draw them off if it is someone watching. We'll follow a few minutes behind, take the back roads to the clubhouse."
"Got it," Shadow says, swinging his leg over his bike. "Meet you there in thirty?"
"Make it forty-five," I say. "Gonna take a real roundabout way just to be sure."
Digger claps me on the shoulder before mounting his own bike. "Watch your six, brother."
"Always do," I reply.
The rumble of their engines fills the quiet street as they pull away, deliberately passing the blue sedan on their way out of the neighborhood. I watch until they're out of sight then turn to Camryn and Emily.
"Your car’s out back," I tell them. "Let's move."
Camryn takes Emily's hand, and I lead them through the side gate to where Camryn’s car is parked. I toss their bags in the back seat and help Emily into her booster seat, which Camryn insists on checking herself before she's satisfied.
Once they're all settled, I slide into the driver’s side and start the engine then pull out onto a side street, deliberately avoiding the route my brothers took.
"Are we playing hide and seek?" Emily asks from the back seat, oblivious to the tension radiating from her mother beside me.
"Something like that," I say, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. "We're taking the scenic route to the clubhouse."
"I like scenic routes," she declares. "You get to see all sorts of cool things."
"Exactly," I agree, making a mental note of how easy it is to talk to this kid. Most children either annoy the hell out of me or are too intimidated to say much. Emily seems comfortable enough to chat but not so chatty that it grates on my nerves.
Camryn, on the other hand, is silent beside me, her eyes constantly scanning our surroundings, one hand gripping the door handle so tightly her knuckles are white.
"Relax," I say quietly, just for her ears. "We're good. No one's following us."
She gives a jerky nod but doesn't loosen her grip. I don't push it. Fear isn't something that can be reasoned away, especially when it's as deeply rooted as hers seems to be.
We drive in relative silence for a while. Emily eventually gets bored with the "scenic route" and pulls out a coloring book from her backpack. The scratch of her crayons is the only sound in the car until I turn onto an industrial street that leads to the clubhouse.
"Almost there," I tell them as we pass a line of warehouses. The clubhouse sits at the end of the street, a large brick building with heavy iron gates across the entrance to the compound. Two prospects are stationed at the gate, checking everyone who enters.
"That's your clubhouse?" Emily asks, pressing her face against the window. "It's so big!"