Chapter 19
Morning at the clubhouse starts the same way most mornings do.
Too early.
Too loud.
I’m halfway through a cup of the sludge Fresh calls coffee when Dodge walks into the kitchen and tosses a newspaper onto the table like it personally offended him.
“You break a table at Crystal’s last night?” he asks even though he knows the damn answer. Crystal is his old lady so I am sure that was part of the pillow talk last night.
I take another sip. “Already paid for it.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Then yes.”
Saged snorts and pulls a chair out across from me. “Guy must’ve been stupid.”
“Drunk.”
“Same thing.” Dodge reaches for the coffee pot, pours himself a cup, and grimaces after the first sip. “Christ. Fresh make this?”
“Yeah before he went on his morning run.”
Saged shakes his head. “That man should be banned from kitchens and coffee pots.”
From the other room, Fresh yells, “I heard that!”
Saged grins into his cup. “You didn’t say he was back already.”
The clubhouse kitchen is small but functional—scarred wooden table, mismatched chairs, cabinets that have been slammed shut more times than anyone could count. Sunlight creeps through the dusty window over the sink, cutting across the floor in pale stripes.
I slept about four hours. Which is four more than I expected after last night. Lucy Coe kept popping into my head every time I closed my eyes. Didn’t matter how many times I told myself it was nothing. Doesn’t matter that I barely know her.
My brain kept circling back.
Saged watches me over the rim of his mug.
“You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
Dodge eyes me now too. “You thinking about the girl?”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus, is everyone in my business today? Fucking reading tarot cards, my palms, or are we calling a damn psychic?”
“No,” he says calmly. “You’re just obvious.”
Apparently that’s the theme of the week. “Guy grabbed her,” I share. “I handled it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s it.” I double down.
Saged leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. “Woman local?”
“I think so. New to town possibly.”
“You think so.” Dodge challenges.
“I didn’t interrogate her, Dodge.” I take another drink of the liquid mud.
“You interrogate everyone.” Saged counters studying me more.
“Not last night.”
“Which is exactly my point.” I stare at him. He grins. “You like her.”
“I met her for three minutes.”
“Seconds. That’s all it took for me with Crystal. Three minutes is a damn lifetime, brother,” Dodge states with a proud smirk.
“Not how that works.”
“Sure it is.”
I shove my chair back and stand before this conversation can get more annoying. “I’m heading into town.”
Saged raises an eyebrow. “For what?”
“Parts run.” That part is actually true.
The club needs a piece for a fork lift that broke yesterday at the ship yard, and the parts place in town opens early. But if I’m honest? There’s another reason.
Saged knows it. He doesn’t say it. Just smirks over his coffee as I grab my cut from the back of the chair.
“Don’t scare her,” he calls after me. I flip him off on my way out.
The ride into the center of Freedom Falls is short. Ten minutes if you take it slow. Five if you don’t.
Morning air off the Gulf carries that salty humidity Alabama does so well. The roads are already waking up—pickup trucks heading toward job sites, fishermen hauling boats toward the water, a few early joggers sweating their way through the heat that hasn’t fully arrived yet.
Freedom Falls isn’t big. One main strip. A couple side roads. Shops that have been here longer than I’ve been alive. Everyone knows everyone.
And everyone knows the Kings.
Some folks like that. Some don’t. Doesn’t change much.
I park outside the entry to Ironside Mercantile, dropping my kickstand and killing my engine.
Walking in, the community hardware and lumber store is like a step back in time. Well-worn floors, uneven shelves, and every part, tool, or accessory someone could think of tucked away somewhere here.
“Well look who decided to grace us with his presence.” Nitro teases me.
“Morning.” I greet.
“Morning,” he repeats, putting down the chainsaw in his hand.
Then he studies me. Uh oh. “You get in a fight last night?”
I flex my hand automatically. “How’d you know?”
“Your knuckles look like you punched a mailbox.”
“Not a mailbox.”
“Better story?” He smirks and raises his eyebrows wanting more.
“Drunk guy.”
Nitro nods slowly. “That tracks.” He tosses a rag onto the workbench.
“Girl involved?”
I groan. “Why does everyone assume that?”
I lets out a huff of frustration. “Come on brother. You know why. Everyone knows why. You got a temper and mean streak, but you don’t throw hands over spilled beer with a stranger.”
Fair point. I lean against the tool chest on the back wall. “He grabbed her.”
Nitro’s expression shifts. His eyes grow dark. Harder. “Where?”
“Black Rose.”
“That’s dumb.” And he is right. Everyone knows Crystal and Dodge are together even if they aren’t married.
The Black Rose is one hundred percent her bar, her life, and not part of the club even if we make up the majority of her business.
That bar was her granddad’s left to her and Dodge doesn’t dare step on her toes about her hustle.
“Very.” I nod.
He studies me more. “What happened?”
“He met a table.” I explain with a shrug.
Nitro huffs out a laugh. “Crystal’s gonna love that.” That woman cherishes every chance she gets to bust any of our balls.
“Already paid her.”
“Good.” He turns his head when the door chimes that another customer has entered. Then casually asks, “She cute?”
I glare at him. “You too? Really, Nitro. Come on.”
“What?”
“I say a woman was getting harassed and suddenly everyone wants a description. Or they are sending out fucking wedding invitations or some shit.”
Nitro grins. “So she was.”
I shake my head. “She was scared.”
That wipes the grin off his face. “Bad scared?”
“Yeah. Frozen scared.”
He nods once. “Did she say anything about the guy?”
“Nope.”
“Local?” He is not ready to throw down for the woman too.
“Didn’t seem like it.”
Nitro leans back on the counter and crosses his arms. “You gonna check on her?”
I open my mouth to say no. Then pause. “Why would I do that?”
Nitro just stares. Because he knows me. And he knows the answer.
“You already are,” he states with a smirk.
I exhale. “Maybe.”
He shrugs. “Nothing wrong with making sure someone’s okay.”
“Saged said the same thing.”
“He’s usually right.”
“Don’t tell him that.”
Nitro chuckles. “You got a name?”
“Lucy.” I answer not sure where he’s taking this.
“Last name?”
“Coe.”
Nitro’s brows lift. “Lucy Coe?”
“You know her?”
“Everybody knows Lucy.”
Of course they do. Small town.
“What’s the story? Since I don’t know a damn thing about her.”
He grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge and tosses it to me.
“Single mom. Sweet kid. Works her ass off down at Scoops.”
“What about the ex?”
Nitro’s jaw tightens slightly. “Piece of garbage. Don’t know much other than he’s got a kid, not involved. He doesn’t pay child support and Lucy came here trying to build a life away from him. That’s from Lindsey.”
That tracks too. Lindsey owns Scoops, the local ice cream shop. She has her own past and wouldn’t let just anyone come work for her. Lindsey is Nitro’s baby sister and lives for her old school shop.
“He still around?” I ask out loud even though I already have Dice doing a deep dive on Lucy.
“Wants to be. Lucy just recently started taking his calls.”
Trouble. I twist the cap off the water bottle. “She seemed nervous with the stranger at the bar, but even before that. She was on edge.”
“She probably has reason to be. Plus Lindsey says Lucy is as sweet as they come and the woman doesn’t have a wild side at all. She could be a Sunday school teacher according to my sister.”
We both stand there quietly for a second. Then Nitro wipes his hands again and nods toward the road.
“She works mornings at the diner until Lindsey opens up at noon.”
I can’t stop the way my head turns to the diner on instinct. He smirks.
“What?”
“You’re not subtle.”
“I didn’t ask about where she works.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I shake my head and take a long drink of water. “You’re all assholes. Every brother giving me shit over this woman needs a life or to find pussy to get lost in so you can all stop worrying about what I’m getting into. Fuckin’ assholes, the whole lot of you.”
“True.” He laughs, “But helpful assholes.”
I toss the empty bottle into the trash. “Give me the part for the fork lift so I can get back to work.”
Nitro hands it over. “Now what ya gettin’ into?”
“Whatever I want.”
He leans against the counter again. “Which might include breakfast.”
“Maybe.”
“At the diner.”
“Maybe.”
Nitro grins. “Try not to break any more furniture.”
“No promises.”
Ten minutes later I’m parking in front of Freedom Falls Diner. The place looks exactly like every small-town diner should—red vinyl booths, big windows, a faded neon sign in the front window that says OPEN.
I sit on the bike for a moment. Thinking. This is stupid. I don’t even know if she’s working today. And if she is? Walking in might freak her out. Last time she saw me I was throwing a man through a table. Not exactly a charming introduction.
Still…My eyes drift to the window. And there she is.
Behind the counter. Hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, wearing a pale blue diner uniform and pouring coffee for a pair of old men at the bar. She laughs at something one of them says.
The sound doesn’t reach me through the glass. But I can see it.
Bright.
Real.
Not scared at all. Something in my chest loosens. She’s okay. That should be enough. I should leave. Instead, I swing off the bike and walk toward the door. The bell over it jingles when I step inside. Lucy turns automatically. Our eyes meet. And the smile on her face freezes.
Not fear. Not exactly.
More like surprise. Intrigue even.
The diner goes a little quieter. Because people recognize the cut on my back. Kings of Anarchy. Lucy glances down at my vest. Then back at my face.
I stop a few steps from the counter. “Morning.”
She blinks. “Hello Tucker.” Her voice is softer than it was last night. Still steady though.
“That seat taken?” I ask, nodding toward the stool at the counter.
She hesitates. Then shakes her head. “No.”
I sit. The old men beside me glance back and forth between us with open curiosity. Lucy grabs a coffee pot and walks over.
“You drink coffee?”
“Yeah.” She pours a cup and slides it toward me. Our fingers brush briefly.
Warm.
She clears her throat. “Thanks again. For last night.”
I shrug. “Anyone would’ve done it.”
One of the old men beside me snorts loudly. Lucy shoots him a look. He pretends to study his eggs. I hide a smile behind my coffee cup.
She leans slightly on the counter. “You didn’t have to.”
“Didn’t mind.” Her gaze flicks to my knuckles. They’re still a little swollen.
I glance down. “He hit the table harder than I did.”
That makes her laugh softly. The sound settles something restless in my chest.
“You come in here often?” she asks.
“Sometimes.”
“Just breakfast?”
“Needed a part from across the street at Ironside.”
She nods like that explains everything. Silence settles for a moment. Not awkward. Just present.
Then she asks carefully, “So, uh, Mellow? How did that name come about?”
I sigh. “Don’t start.”
Her eyes sparkle slightly. “I was just curious. Is it because you’re the calm one?”
“Because I’m not.” I tell her the hard truth.
She studies me for a second. I wait for her to be afraid. I wait for her to run away.
Except she doesn’t. No, she smiles again. “I figured.”
And for the first time since last night, Lucy Coe doesn’t look scared of life at all. And that eases something inside me I can’t explain.