8. Somebody Hurt Her?
Somebody Hurt Her?
Arlo
‘H ey, Mrs. C.’ I smile at the familiar face approaching, grabbing a rag to wipe the oil from my hands as she opens her arms to me, undeterred by my dirty coveralls as she wraps me up tight, just like she always does.
‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Arlo Harper.’ She releases me from her hug and reaches up to pat my cheek with her hand. ‘You’re getting more handsome. It’s not fair on the rest of them.’
Laughing, I step back. ‘What can I do for you today?’ I look behind her, seeing her car parked out on the lot, wondering if it’s an oil change or new tires.
‘Well, I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time?’ She nods towards the office. ‘To talk.’
The look in her eyes tells me what I need to know about this conversation. She doesn’t need my skills as a mechanic. She needs me for something she can’t talk about out in the open.
Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, I consider where I’m at. I have tried to stay on the right side of the law since I got out of prison twelve years ago, but if Mrs. C needs something, anything, I can’t say no.
I grew up in a world without affection. My dad loved me. I never doubted that for a second, but he loved from a distance, without soft words or hugs. He encouraged me, sure, and he was proud of me for growing up to be good with my fists, for being able to ride a motorcycle before I hit puberty, for being able to take apart and put back together an engine, hold my liquor better than men twice my age, and being able to talk any woman I wanted into my bed and have them begging to stay there. My grades didn’t matter to him because I wouldn’t need them to succeed in the club. I had a legacy to uphold, after all. My dad would have taken a bullet and sent them flying for me, but Mrs. C was the one to pat my cheek and hug me the way I always imagined a mom or a grandma would. She was the one to lift me up when I couldn’t get any lower and tell me I could make something more of myself than what was expected of me. I love her, so I turn, holding out my arm for her to lead the way.
I follow Mrs. C up the stairs, and we head into my small office. I close the door, and the click of the latch seems to reverberate in my head as I wait to find out what she needs—what she needs me to do.
‘I’m sorry to come to you, honey, but I’m kind of at a loss here.’
She sits, and I lean against the desk.
‘What do you need?’
‘Protection.’ My eyes widen, and I stiffen. I know she’s still under the protection of the motorcycle club I used to call home, or at least she should be.
‘Somebody threatening you?’ They’ll wish they were never fuckin’ born if they are.
‘Not me,’ she holds my gaze, ‘my granddaughter.’
My jaw ticks, and I clench my back teeth together as she presses her lips into a hard line and waits for my reaction.
‘Which one?’ The expression in her eyes says it all, and I push off the desk to pace away from her. ‘ Mrs. C .’ I groan as I turn to look at her.
‘I know, honey. I know.’
‘She’s a cop.’
‘So is he.’
He , fuckin’ who? Protectiveness I wish I still didn’t feel bubbles up inside me as my mind runs ahead of what she’s saying.
The worried look in her eyes is one I haven’t ever seen on her. This woman is as tough as steel. Nothing shakes her.
‘Somebody hurt her?’ My back teeth grind together. I have my issues with Bree Campbell, but the idea of someone putting their hands on her... I can’t let that slide.
‘Not physically. She’s being stalked.’
‘By a cop?’ I ask, my voice pitching in surprise, and she nods, and my blood boils.
‘She has hardly slept in months, Arlo. She’s exhausted. She’s terrified. He knows where she lives and has no issues letting her know he’s watching her.’
It’s been a long time since I laid eyes on Breanne Campbell, but she doesn’t do terrified . She’s got a bigger pair than all the men I grew up with in the club, so if this son of a bitch has her scared, there’s a reason, and the thought alone has me wanting to bury the bastard alive.
‘She’s not going to let me help her.’ I lean back against the desk and shake my head. We didn’t part on good terms at all.
‘She’s desperate, Arlo. She’s breaking.’
I don’t want to do this. I made a promise to myself and Mrs. C that I’d stay on the right side of the law, and I don’t ever want to see Bree again. I promised myself I never would, but I know can’t say no to this. Mrs. C needs me. Bree needs me.
‘What do you need me to do?’
‘Date her.’ I drop my head, releasing a single humorless laugh. ‘Don’t get your panties bunched, I don’t mean for real. Pretend to date her.’ Raising my head, I meet her worried gaze. ‘Arlo, you haven’t seen the messages. He thinks she’s his, calls her princess, and he’s watching her all the time. He scolds her if she leaves a window open and even left a birthday gift for my great-granddaughter. He’s getting too close, and she’s terrified of what’s next if he truly believes she’s his. If he sees her with you, it’ll draw him out of the goddam shadows, I know it, and we can stop the son of a bitch.’
‘Why me? She’s not going to agree to this, not with me.’ My history with Bree is ancient and ruined, and I know neither of us wants to revisit the past.
‘Because look at you, you’re a goddam mountain.’ She shakes her head and drops her gaze. ‘You’re the only one I trust to keep her safe, Arlo. I can’t let her brother know about this. He has a family, and if he knows about this, he’ll act impulsively to protect her, but he has two little girls to think about. You’re smart, you’re strong and unafraid, and you may not have given me too many details of your life back then, but I know you can do whatever needs to be done. I hate asking this of you, but the only other option I have is to drive up to that club you used to call home and ask them.’
‘ No .’ I pinch out as little more than a growl. I may not want to do this, but I want a member of the club to get up close with Bree even less. Taking a deep breath, I consider this... fuck .
‘The law won’t help her. She’s given years of her life to protecting and serving, but they aren’t protecting her. They’re protecting him, their buddy.’ Mrs. C’s voice trembles, and I swallow hard. I’ve never heard her like that, and it hits me in the chest.
‘Does she know you’re here?’
The expression on her face says everything I need to know. Bree doesn’t even know her grandmother is still in contact with me at all, let alone in my office right now.
‘You can’t tell her.’ My words draw her eyes up to mine, and I continue. ‘If I go in there when she’s tired and scared and expect her to just accept me in her life and put on a performance, it won’t work. She’ll overthink it and be nervous. He won’t believe it. She needs to think it’s real, too.’
‘ Arlo ,’ I hear her apprehension, and I get it. She’s trying to protect her granddaughter, not set her up to get hurt, but I know I’m right on this.
‘I won’t let it go too far,’ I assure, as memories of going far enough with Bree come at me fast, and I push away from my desk once more, moving to sit in my chair. ‘I won’t let her get hurt by anyone.’
‘I need her to be safe, Arlo. I trust that you know what you’re doing. That’s why I came to you with this.’
‘I won’t let you down, Mrs. C, you know that.’ I hold her gaze once more, then pull out my phone to check on the distance between my place and Forest Falls. ‘Now I just need to figure out how to make this happen when she’s three hours away.’
‘Well,’ looking up from my phone, I meet her smiling eyes, full of mischief, ‘about that…’
Nineteen Years Ago
‘W ait, you want me to babysit some grandma?’
‘That grandma is like a mother to me, and she could kick your ass in a heartbeat.’ I dropped my gaze to stare at the table. ‘This is important, Arlo. We keep her safe, always, and you do what I say you do.’
I knew this. I had always known the club protected Mrs. Campbell because I had been around long enough to see it. I was just never given the task myself.
‘I know it’s not glamourous or dangerous, and it stops you from getting your dick sucked multiple times a fucking day.’ I met Viking’s eyes, and he shook his head. The girls on tap were a part of club life, and I was twenty, tall, built, and as pretty as a picture—what could I say? ‘But it’s club business, we do this, always. No questions.’
I nodded, accepting the job given to me, knowing I didn’t have a choice in this. Viking was president of Bone Roses MC, and I did what the fuck he told me to do.
‘That all then?’ I asked, and he nodded, so I stood and turned to leave the room.
‘Arlo.’ I turned back to see Viking holding up a finger to me. ‘Stay away from the kid.’
‘What kid?’ I shrugged.
‘The granddaughter. She’s staying for the summer. Eyes, hands, and every other part of your body, off .’
‘Jesus, what do you take me for?’
‘I mean it, Arlo. Stay away.’
Shaking my head, I walked out and got ready for babysitting duty.
‘Y ou’re younger than the last one.’
The woman approaching the van was not what I expected. I had this idea of a frail old woman, but this person did not fit the bill. Doris Campbell didn’t look like she needed protecting at all. She couldn’t have been more than sixty, and her curled hair was more brown than gray, and she had a sparkle in her eyes as she handed me a glass of lemonade and a plate with a freshly made sandwich.
I knew confusion must have been etched across my features by the way she giggled as she reached in to pat my cheek.
‘Honey, you and your brothers ,’ she said with a roll of her eyes, ‘have been taking it in turns to sit in this van or another just like it, parked outside my house for eighteen goddam years. Now, I’ve come to accept that my son made a call that can’t be undone, that landed us under some kind of protection from your club, protection that I do not need, by the way, but if you think I’m going to pretend I don’t see y’all or know that you’re here, you are sorely mistaken. So here are the ground rules. You need to go to the bathroom, you come into the house. You need a drink, something to eat, five minutes outside of this tin can, you come into the house. I might not be your grandma, but I am a grandma, and once you get that title, you can’t switch it off, so,’ she held out her hand for mine, and I took it, ‘you can call me Doris, or Mrs. Campbell if you prefer, and I can call you ?’ the way she elongated the word and tipped her head let me know it was a question.
‘Um, Arlo, Ma’am.’
‘ Uh uh ,’ she shook her head, ‘ma’am wasn’t on my list, Arlo.’ She winked and released my hand. ‘You’re welcome in my home, son, anything you need, you holler.’
And with that, she walked back up to her front porch and inside the small suburban home I would be sitting out front of for the foreseeable future.
F ive days.
I leaned my head back against the headrest and sighed. It was a hot day. I had the AC on in the van, and my music playing—at the level Viking told me was acceptable given that I needed to be keeping my eyes and ears out for any threats—but I was bored.
Mrs. C had been pretty fucking cool. There was no sign of any kid granddaughter here, so I had no idea who or what Viking was referring to, but it hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as I was expecting. She invited me to sit on the porch with her for lunch, told me to help myself to food and drinks from her fridge, and made me eat an apple or a banana every now and again. My mom shipped out when I was three, and I never knew my grandparents. My dad tried, but the truth was, I was raised by the revolving door of whatever woman he was fucking. Nobody had ever shown me this kind of care before, and I couldn’t help but think this was turning out to be the best job the club ever gave me.
I reached forward, about to risk turning up my music a little more, and then stopped as the VW Beetle, 1978 by my estimation, pulled, at speed, into Mrs. C’s driveway. My hand flew to the door handle, and I opened it, rushing out of the van and rounding the front, then freezing at the sight of the bare legs in jean shorts that swung out of the driver’s seat of the car, before the rest of her emerged—baggy, oversized plaid shirt, long straight brown hair—words failed me as her caramel eyes met mine, then narrowed, suspiciously.
‘Who are you?’ she asked, unfazed by my size, appearance, or presence.
‘Who are you?’ I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest and noticing the way her nostrils flared as she took in my biceps.
‘This is my grandma’s house. Do I need to ask you again, or are you going to answer?’
My eyes widened, and I couldn’t help my grin. I liked that sass.
‘Bree, heel.’ Mrs. C chuckled as she approached. ‘Down, girl.’
‘ Grandma .’ The girl, Bree, scowled at Mrs. C, and I raised my hand to cover my smirk.
‘Arlo, you’ll have to excuse my granddaughter. She’s more protective than you boys.’
‘Oh, of course, he’s one of them .’ Bree looked at the van and took a step back.
The granddaughter. Now I understood why Viking warned me off. She was fucking beautiful. Feisty, petite, and an air of something that I knew could push my buttons. She must have been nineteen, twenty at a push. This job just got a whole lot more interesting.
‘A ll finished, boss.’
I lift my attention from the paperwork on my desk and smile at the woman entering my office. Her gray coveralls show the tell-tale marks of a busy day in an auto shop, and the oil-covered rag she’s using to wipe her hands adds to the look. ‘Calista, you’re an angel.’
My lead mechanic laughs and shakes her head.
‘You’re not wrong.’ She drops into the seat on the other side of my desk and looks exhausted. I feel guilty for asking her to lead the ship while I’m gone.
‘Is the baby doing okay? Mara?’ I ask, and she smiles, nodding.
‘Yeah, baby’s fine, and Mara’s fine. It’s just a lot.’ Calista’s fifteen-year-old daughter having a baby was a shock for the whole family, but they’re pulling together to make it work.
‘You sure you’re okay to watch this place?’
‘Who the fuck else are you going to ask?’ She laughs again, then leans forward and places her hand on top of mine on the desk. ‘It’s fine, honey, you never go anywhere. I got it.’ She pushes herself up out of the chair and stands to leave. ‘Besides, all that extra pay you’re going to give me makes it worth it.’
She’s right. I never go anywhere. I got out of jail and was given the choice one last time: club or out. I’d earned my ticket out, but my circumstances had changed in the years I’d been locked up, and my reason for wanting to leave wasn’t a part of my life anymore, so I could have gone back, but then it would have all been for nothing. I chose out. I left, said goodbye to the only family I’d ever known, and walked. Mrs. C helped me. She got me on my feet and supported me with the shop more than I could ever repay her for. Although I guess that’s why I’m about to leave my life and my business to move to some nowhere town and pretend to date the girl who put me behind those bars in the first place.
Jesus, fuck, this is going to be torture.
I packed up my truck with my bike and the stuff I was taking to Forest Falls.
Mrs. C, ever surprising, bought me a goddam house, so I’m moving in right next door to Bree. Apparently, the owner had been meaning to sell for years but hadn’t gotten around to it, so she gave him a call, made an offer, and now I’m leaving my apartment and my business to move to a small town and into a house excruciatingly close to the woman I have tried for twenty years to forget.
The house is mostly furnished, so I didn’t need to take too much of the big stuff, but I don’t know how long I’m going to be there, and I’m not doing this without my bed.
I grew up in the club, so my childhood wasn’t comfortable. It was loud and tense.
My dad did his best, but I wasn’t his top priority. I never had a decent bed or a good night of sleep, then I was behind bars, and, well, any small comforts I might have had were a thing of the past, so when I got out and got on my feet, I promised myself I would always have a comfortable bed to lay down on at the end of the night, and I bought myself a damn good one. That’s one of the reasons that sex is never a sleepover for me. I don’t want to share my bed with anybody, and I never want to sleep anywhere else.
Once upon a time, I dreamed of sharing my bed with someone. I dreamed of waking up every day with her in my arms, but that dream went up in flames and took any hope, any desire for any kind of partnership with it… Now, I have to pretend to date her, fantastic.
Driving into Forest Falls, I sigh. I don’t want to fucking do this.
Since my conversation with Mrs. C, I went over and over what I was getting myself into, and I came up with nothing that I wanted to admit out loud. I thought I was done with Breanne Campbell. I thought if I never saw her or heard her name again, it would be too soon, but despite my resentment towards her, the thought of her in danger, the thought of this son of a bitch terrifying her into exhaustion, makes me want nothing more than to put him in the fucking ground, and I will not hesitate given the chance.
The house is nice, nicer than my apartment in the city. It’s a red brick duplex cottage with a front yard and a path leading up to the porch. I glance across to the matching house next door, Bree’s house.
It’s neat: lawn mowed, no flowers of any sort, but a splash of color in the teal-painted shutters and door. I take a breath, then reach over to pat my dog’s meaty backside as I blow it out.
‘We’re home, buddy,’ I say, trepidation sitting heavy in my gut.
No going back now. I’m here. Time to put on a show.