Chapter Four #2
The clubhouse enveloped me in warmth when we stepped inside. Coffee scents mingled with leather and old wood. Voices hummed in the background while blues played low from the jukebox. The building seemed to breathe with its own rhythm.
Three women turned toward us at once.
“There she is,” said the dark-haired one, stepping forward with a smile carrying both softness and steel. “Our new little hurricane.”
I felt Kane’s hand brush my lower back. “Jade, meet Marci, Casey, and Solena.”
Marci approached first. Her long dark hair framed sharp eyes and a calm face. She kept enough distance to respect my space while standing close enough to feel protective.
“I’m Marci.” Her gaze took in my bruises without making me feel exposed. “Ace’s old lady.”
“Thank you,” I managed. “For… welcoming me.”
Marci waved it off. “We save our best glares for men and women who deserve them. You’re not one of those.”
A hug came fast, brief, careful around my sore spots. My body tensed on reflex. Marci pulled back immediately, eyes narrowing with understanding instead of offense.
“Okay?” Her voice softened.
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “Not used to people touching me unless they want something.”
Marci’s expression hardened. “We’ll work on that.”
Casey approached next with blonde hair in a messy ponytail and a sweatshirt reading MAMA BEAR. She carried a mug in one hand while confidence radiated from her stance.
“I’m Casey. Maui’s old lady. When you hear a tiny tornado screaming somewhere, my kids have probably escaped. Especially the oldest. Two screams means Solena’s daughter joined the chaos. Three or more? Run for your life.”
Solena snorted from her perch on a barstool, owning every inch of space around her. Dark curls piled atop her head complemented her perfect eyeliner and razor-sharp smile. “I take offense to such accusations.”
Casey bumped her shoulder. “You love it.”
Solena leaned forward, eyes assessing me with a quick, clinical sweep. Not judgment. Evaluation. “Welcome to the madhouse.”
Kane shifted, like he planned to stay within reach. Marci looped an arm loosely around my shoulders, careful of bruises.
“Come on.” She steered me toward the bar. “Manville awaits. We’ll bring her back in one piece.”
Kane looked at me, eyes steady. “I’ll be in the back with Atilla. If you need me, send one of them.”
I nodded, throat tight.
His hand squeezed mine, quick and grounding. Then he disappeared down the hall, and the air changed. Less heavy. More conspiratorial.
Marci slid a mug toward me. “Coffee. Cream? Sugar?”
“Little cream. No sugar.”
Casey poured. Solena swung one leg with complete indifference to anyone watching.
“Okay.” Solena’s grin turned wicked. “Basics. When someone stays longer than a day, we get them set up. Clothes. Toiletries. Everything.”
“I wasn’t expecting to move in,” I said carefully.
“None of us were.” Marci’s tone carried history. “We improvise.”
My stomach twisted at the thought of them spending money on me. “I can’t --”
Casey held up a hand, her smile gentle but firm. “Nope. Don’t finish whatever sentence involves the word ‘burden.’ We’ve recycled those speeches so many times we could recite them in our sleep.”
“I don’t have money to pay you back.” Heat crawled up my neck.
Solena’s eyes widened like I’d just told the world’s worst joke. “Good thing we’re not a store. You’re under club protection. That means no wearing the same underwear for a week.”
I snorted so hard my coffee almost shot out my nose. “Oh, my God.”
Casey leaned back, satisfied. “Look at her. We broke her.”
Marci cut through their teasing at once. “You sleep?”
“Some.” I traced the chipped rim of my mug. “Nightmare. Kane talked me down. Stayed until I fell asleep again.”
Casey’s grin softened. “Yep. He’s hooked.”
“Hooked?” I frowned.
Solena answered without mercy. “Doomed. That man watched you come in bruised and scared and turned into a guard dog.”
“He’s just being kind,” I blurted out. “He’d do it for anyone.”
“All of them would,” Marci agreed. “But he did it for you. And the way he looks at you? Sweetheart, you’re not a paperwork problem to him.”
Heat pooled low in my belly -- half embarrassing, half terrifying. “It’s too soon to talk about… any of that.”
Casey cocked her head. “Too soon or too scary?”
“Both.” I exhaled before I could stop it. “I don’t know what to do with a good man. The last guy I dated was controlling. Before that were teenage disasters.”
Marci nodded. “I get that. Trust comes from actions, not words. Watch what a man does when it costs him something. That’s how you know.”
Solena leaned forward, voice sharp. “Which brings us to rules. Not Atilla’s rules. Ours.”
“You have your own?” I tried to joke, but my curiosity snapped upward.
“Of course.” Casey flashed a grin. “We handle this place. They handle bullets and deals. We handle everything else.”
Marci counted off on her fingers. “Rule one: If you’re scared, you say so. No pretending. No waiting until you’re shaking alone in a bathroom.”
My chest tightened. “I’m still trying to remember what safe feels like.”
“We’ll remind you.” Casey’s promise was firm.
“Rule two.” Marci’s tone stayed calm, but her eyes cut sharp. “If any brother gives you weird vibes, you tell us -- and Kane. Sometimes it’s easier with a woman first. We’ll handle it.”
I saw Roth’s men at the diner flash in my mind -- leaning on the counter, grinning like they owned the world. No one stepping in. No one caring.
“Rule three.” Solena smiled. “If you need space from Kane, you say so.”
I jerked upright. “Why would I need space from him?”
“Because trauma makes people cling.” She didn’t soften it. “Sometimes your brain glues itself to the one who kept you alive and forgets you still get to be yourself. We don’t want you dissolving into him out of fear.”
My neck burned, but I knew she was right. “Fair enough.”
“Rule four.” Casey raised her mug. “Eat. Sleep. Shower. Basic stuff. Trauma steals the basics first. We steal them back.”
My eyes stung. “Why are you all being so damn kind to me?”
Marci didn’t hesitate. “Because someone was kind to us. Because now you’re one of us, whether you feel it yet or not.”
My throat tightened. I blinked rapidly, nodding.
Solena hopped off the stool. “Tour time. Knowing where everything is helps your brain stop feeling trapped if you lose sight of Kane.”
They showed me the kitchen: the industrial fridge humming, shelves neatly labeled with snacks and supplies, the huge table everyone used whenever they bothered to sit.
They pointed out the bathrooms, the laundry room, the common rooms, and the corners where kids abandoned toys like evidence the world still held softness.
A photo wall halted me. Faces. Smiles. Scars. Arms around shoulders. Some frames were old and frayed, others crisp and new.
“We lose people sometimes,” Casey said softly, her fingertips brushing one frame. “Price of this life. We remember them.”
My chest squeezed. I didn’t know their stories, but I recognized those eyes -- fierce, loyal, alive.
Outside, they showed me the shop and the small playground. In daylight the compound felt bigger, less like a cage and more like a guarded little town. That comforted and terrified me in equal measure.
Solena led me to a smaller outbuilding. “Office. Where Spade hides when he does number wizardry. Although, there’s also one in the clubhouse.”
“What does he do?”
“Everything that keeps us out of prison and in the black.” Her grin was wicked. “He’s been begging for help for months. Maybe you’ll have the skills to lend a hand.”
Panic flickered. “I didn’t come here for a job.”
“No pressure.” Marci rested her hand on my arm. “But having something to do helps. Sitting alone with your thoughts will eat you alive.”
She hit home.
By the time we wove back inside, the hallway to Church felt less terrifying. Not safe, exactly. Survivable.
Kane stood outside the door, leaning against the wall. He straightened when he saw me, his eyes scanning my face. “You okay?”
“Overwhelmed.” The word tumbled out. “But in a good way.”
“It makes sense.” He brushed my elbow. “Want me in there with you?”
“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate.
He knocked twice. Atilla’s voice called, “Come in.”
The room looked the same as last night: the long table, the patches, the hard lines. Fewer men this time. Atilla sat at the head, General on his right, Spade on his left with a laptop open and a folder at hand.
Atilla’s gaze settled on me. “Sit.”
I took the chair next to Kane. He sat so close our knees touched, and neither of us moved away.
Spade slid the folder across the table. “We dug into your brother’s case.”
My stomach lurched. “Okay.”
General’s voice stayed steady. “Jason Fairmont ran product for a crew tied to a bigger player -- someone using men like Roth as middlemen.”
The word bigger chilled my blood.
“Cartel?” My voice barely registered.
“In that neighborhood.” Spade shifted in his seat. “Your brother got picked up with more than a minor charge. The DA leaned on him hard. He rolled to save his own skin.”
“You already discovered he turned on them.” My hands curled under the table.
General nodded. “Enough to reduce his time, not enough to burn the whole operation. Men like that don’t forgive betrayal.”
“And they can’t touch him in prison.” My mind snapped into place. “So they came after me.”
Atilla didn’t blink. “Yes. Although, technically, they can get to him. Just not for payment.”
Shame and terror tangled in my chest. I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about what he meant by those words. “I brought this to your doorstep.”
“Atilla already had trouble circling town,” Spade said. “You didn’t invent it. You just made it visible.”
Visible. The word was meant to soothe but only sounded hollow.
Atilla leaned forward. “They already knew your name, your address. You changed where you sleep.”
“Under your roof,” I whispered.