Chapter Eighteen
They called it church.
Penny had heard the word a dozen times since arriving at the compound, always spoken with a weight that suggested something more than the religious connotation. Now, standing outside the reinforced door at the back of the lodge, she finally understood.
This was where the Ridgerunners made decisions. Where they planned wars and settled scores and determined who lived and who died.
And today, she had a seat at the table.
"You ready?" Eddy asked.
She looked at him—leather cut, hard jaw, eyes that held both violence and tenderness in equal measure.
The man who'd drowned three men for threatening her.
Who'd told her he loved her in the dark of his cabin.
Who was about to ask his brothers to go to war for a woman they'd known less than a month.
"Ready," she said.
He pushed open the door.
The chapel was smaller than she'd expected.
A heavy wooden table dominated the room, surrounded by chairs that had clearly seen better days. The walls were bare except for a single Ridgerunner patch, mounted and framed, hanging behind the president's seat.
Every officer was there.
Still sat at the head, weathered hands wrapped around a coffee mug, his bootlegger's patience evident in the set of his shoulders.
Limestone flanked his right, quarry-built and stone-faced.
Cottonmouth sat opposite, cold eyes sweeping over Penny like she was a threat to be assessed.
Current, Proof, Tailwater, Spillway—she'd met them all by now, learned their names and their temperaments.
They were men who solved problems with violence. And today, they were planning the final solution to the problem named Duane Kirby.
"Sit," Still said, nodding toward an empty chair beside Eddy.
Penny sat.
The room went quiet. Eight pairs of eyes fixed on her, waiting. She'd faced down five of Kirby's men with grooming shears. Had stood in a locked cabin with a fire extinguisher while a battle raged outside. Had walked through the destruction of everything she'd built without breaking.
This shouldn't be harder than any of that.
It was.
"You know why you're here," Still said. It wasn't a question.
"Kirby. The lake house. Thursday."
"That's right." Still set down his mug. "We've got intel from Welch's phone. We know where he operates, who his supplier is, when they meet. What we don't know is the inside of that house."
"That's where I come in."
"That's where you come in." Still's eyes were steady, assessing. "Your mother's been living with him for eight months. You've talked to her, visited, seen the property. What can you tell us?"
Penny took a breath. This was the hard part—not the danger, not the violence, but laying out everything she knew about the man who'd terrorized her and trapped her mother.
"The lake house is on a private cove, about fifteen minutes from the main strip. Single road in, water access on three sides. He bought it about a year ago, uses it for meetings with suppliers because it's isolated."
"Security?"
"Two men during supplier meetings. That's consistent—my mom mentioned he doesn't like crowds around when he's discussing business. The rest of the time, it varies. Sometimes four or five, sometimes just him and my mother."
Cottonmouth leaned forward. "Your mother—she's inside?"
"Yes." Penny's jaw tightened. "He keeps her there most of the time. Lets her out for groceries, appointments, but always with someone watching. She's not a prisoner on paper, but she can't leave."
"Will she fight back if we breach?"
"No." The word came out certain. Absolute. "She's scared, not loyal. The moment she sees a way out, she'll take it."
Still nodded slowly, processing. "What else?"
"The house layout. Two stories, main entrance faces the road, sliding doors on the lake side.
Kirby's office is upstairs, corner room with a view of the cove.
" She paused, remembering her mother's whispered descriptions during stolen phone calls.
"He keeps his product in the basement. Coded lock, but my mother's seen him use it—four digits, his birthday. "
"Predictable," Limestone muttered.
"Arrogant." Penny met his eyes. "He doesn't think anyone can touch him. Never has. That's why he makes mistakes."
Eddy spoke for the first time since entering the room. "Thursday's the best window. Supplier meeting means minimal security and Kirby focused on business instead of defense. We hit fast, extract Penny's mother first, then handle Kirby."
"Handle," Cottonmouth echoed. "That's one word for it."
"You got a better one?"
The Sergeant at Arms smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "I've got several."
Still raised a hand, cutting off the exchange. "Eddy leads the strike. Water approach—his specialty. Cottonmouth and Spillway take the front. Current holds the road in case anyone tries to run. Proof, Limestone, Tailwater—you're backup."
"Full club?" Limestone asked.
"Full club." Still's gaze swept the table. "This is personal. Kirby hit our compound, threatened one of our own, used her mother as leverage. We don't leave that unanswered."
"And the woman's mother?" Current asked. "Extraction protocol?"
Penny spoke before anyone else could. "I want to be there."
Silence.
"Absolutely not," Eddy said.
"She's my mother. She won't trust strangers—men with guns breaking down doors. But if I'm there, if she sees my face—"
"You're not going into a firefight."
"I'm not asking to carry a weapon." Penny held his gaze, refusing to back down. "I'm asking to be in the extraction vehicle. Close enough to talk to her when you bring her out. Close enough to tell her it's over."
The tension in the room shifted. Brothers exchanged glances, reading the situation, watching the standoff between Eddy and his woman.
Still broke the silence. "She's got a point."
Eddy's head snapped toward the president. "Still—"
"Her mother sees a bunch of bikers in the middle of a gunfight, she's going to panic. Might try to run, might get caught in crossfire." Still's voice was measured, reasonable. "But if Penny's waiting in a secure vehicle, ready to receive her—that changes things."
"It's too dangerous."
"Everything about this life is dangerous." Still met Eddy's eyes. "You brought her into club business. She's proven herself. Now you need to trust her to handle the rest."
Penny watched the struggle play out on Eddy's face. The protective instinct warring with the knowledge that Still was right. That she'd earned this. That treating her like something fragile would be an insult to everything she'd survived.
"Secure vehicle," he said finally. "A hundred yards back from the property. You don't move until I signal."
"Agreed."
"And you wear the vest."
"I'll wear the vest."
Something passed between them—understanding, acceptance, the negotiation of two people who loved each other and had to find a way to do that while the world burned around them.
Still nodded once. "Then it's settled. Thursday night, we end this."
The meeting broke up with the scrape of chairs and the murmur of voices.
Brothers filed out, conversations already turning to logistics—weapons, vehicles, timing. The machinery of war grinding into motion with the casual efficiency of men who'd done this before.
Penny stayed at the table, needing a moment to process.
Maggie appeared in the doorway.
"Walk with me," the silver-haired woman said. It wasn't a request.
They walked through the compound in silence, past the pavilion where Penny had run her impromptu grooming clinic, past the dock where she and Eddy had sat in the darkness holding hands. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the gravel paths.
"You're scared," Maggie said finally.
"Terrified."
"Good. Fear keeps you smart." Maggie stopped at a bench overlooking the water and sat. Penny joined her. "The first time Still went into something like this—a real fight, the kind where people die—I thought I'd lose my mind waiting."
"How did you handle it?"
"Badly." A ghost of a smile crossed Maggie's weathered face. "But I learned. You learn that worrying doesn't change outcomes. You learn that these men know what they're doing. You learn to trust the brotherhood, even when trusting feels impossible."
"And if something goes wrong?"
"Then you deal with it. Together." Maggie's hand covered hers on the bench. "That's what being an old lady means. Not waiting helplessly while they fight. Standing with them, holding things together when they can't. Being the reason they come home."
Penny stared at the lake, watching the light play across the water.
"I never wanted this life," she admitted. "Never imagined myself with a man who..." She trailed off, not sure how to finish.
"Who kills people?" Maggie's voice was matter-of-fact.
"Neither did I. Neither did any of us." She squeezed Penny's hand.
"But then you meet someone who sees you.
Really sees you. And you realize that the violence isn't the whole person—it's just one part of a complicated, broken, beautiful human being who would move heaven and earth to keep you safe. "
"Eddy's not broken."
"We're all broken, honey. Some of us just hide it better." Maggie released her hand and stood. "Thursday's going to be hard. But you'll get through it. And when it's over, you'll have a chance to build something real."
She walked away, leaving Penny alone with the water and her thoughts.
The brothers were gearing up when she returned to the main compound.
Penny watched from a distance as weapons were checked and distributed. Vests fitted. Vehicles inspected. The preparations for violence carried out with the same casual competence as any other task.
Her feet carried her to the kennel area without conscious thought.
The compound dogs had learned to expect her. They crowded around as she entered, tails wagging, bodies pressing against her legs. She crouched and let them surround her, drawing comfort from their simple, uncomplicated affection.
Professor was here, sprawled in a sunny spot by the fence. Ginger patrolled the perimeter with her usual intensity. Waffle had somehow commandeered a spot on top of the feed bin, watching everything with his one good eye.
Home, Penny thought. Against all odds, this chaotic place had become home.
She heard footsteps behind her.
"Found you."
She didn't turn around. "I needed a minute."
Eddy walked up and crouched beside her, his hand finding hers among the sea of dogs. "Scared?"
"You asked me that before the meeting."
"And you lied."
She huffed a laugh. "Maybe."
They stayed like that for a moment, surrounded by dogs, hands intertwined. The compound sounds drifted around them—engines being tested, brothers calling to each other, the everyday rhythms of a life that was about to change.
"Thursday," she said quietly.
"Thursday."
"You're going to kill him."
"Yes."
She turned to face him then, rising from her crouch until they were eye to eye. The man who'd pulled her from chaos. Who'd given her his real name and his body and his heart.
Who was about to go to war for her.
She reached up and took his face in her hands, cradling his jaw, feeling the stubble against her palms.
"Come back to me," she said.
His hands covered hers. "Always."
"I mean it, Eddy. I don't care what happens to Kirby, I don't care about justice or revenge or any of it. I just need you to come back."
"I will."
"Promise me."
He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. "I promise."
She held him there, face between her hands, memorizing the feel of him. The strong jaw and the steady eyes and the calm that ran deeper than any current.
Tomorrow, the final battle.
But right now, in this moment, with the dogs at their feet and the sun on their faces and his hands warm over hers—
Right now, she had everything she needed.