Chapter 4 - Rage #2
I ignore the implied question and pull out my phone to call Jenny.
Beast knows me too well. He can see that my concern for Claire goes beyond professional duty.
But he's wrong if he thinks it's anything more than that.
I don't do relationships. Not since Mariah left me and Eli.
And especially not with traumatized women running from psychotic exes.
Jenny answers on the third ring. "What's up, Rage?"
"Need a favor," I say, keeping my voice low. "We've got a woman at the clubhouse who needs some clothes. Think you could bring some over? Luna says you're about the right size."
"A woman?" Jenny's voice is instantly curious. "Who is she? What's going on?"
"I'll explain when you get here. Just grab whatever basics you can spare—couple changes of clothes, pajamas, that kind of thing."
"Fine, keep your secrets," she says, but I can hear the smile in her voice. "I'll be there in thirty."
"Thanks, Jenny." I hang up and turn to find King standing behind me, his face serious.
"Walk with me," he says, not waiting for a response before heading toward his office.
I follow, already knowing what this conversation will be about. King doesn't miss anything, especially not when it comes to his club or his town.
Once inside his office, King closes the door and leans against his desk, arms crossed.
"You believe her," he states.
"I do," I confirm. "Everything about her story checks out with what we already know or suspect about the Eagles' movements."
King nods slowly. "Her information about Cherry Street matches Steel's surveillance. He spotted increased activity at the foreclosed property three days ago."
"Right after Vincent died," I note.
"Exactly." King's eyes narrow slightly. "But that doesn't mean she's telling us everything. Or that her presence here is as coincidental as she claims."
I bristle at the implication. "You think she's working an angle?"
"I think everyone has angles, Rage. Even desperate women running from abusive boyfriends."
I can't argue with his logic, but something in me still wants to defend Claire. "You didn't see her when I found her, King. She was terrified, hurt, had nowhere to go. That's not an act."
"I'm not saying the abuse is fake," King clarifies. "I'm saying we need to consider all possibilities. Including that she might be telling us what we want to hear to secure protection."
"So, verify her intel," I suggest. "But treat her with basic human decency in the meantime."
"You're taking this personally."
It's not a question, and there's no point denying it. King can read me too well.
"Maybe I am," I admit. "Seeing what that bastard did to her... it hits close to home."
King knows what I mean without me having to spell it out. He's one of the few who knows about my father, and how he used to beat my mother, how I was too young to stop it, how she died never escaping his control.
"Just keep your perspective," King advises, his voice less stern now. "We help her if her information checks out. But the club comes first. Always."
"I know that," I say, perhaps too quickly.
King gives me a long look, then nods once. "Arrangements for tonight?"
Grateful for the change of subject, I outline what we've already put in place—additional security, strategic positioning of brothers around the perimeter, weapons distribution. King listens, occasionally suggesting modifications to the plan.
"What about Eli?" he asks when I finish.
The question catches me off guard. "What about him?"
"If this goes sideways, you need a contingency plan for your son."
He's right, of course. As always. "He's at the Winters' until noon," I say. "I'll call and see if he can stay another night. Mrs. Winters has kept him during club emergencies before."
King nods, satisfied. "Do it now. Then get some rest before the church meeting. You look like shit."
"Thanks, brother," I say dryly, but I know he's right. I've been up for over almost twenty-four hours, running on adrenaline and coffee.
I leave King's office and head to a quiet corner to call Mrs. Winters, the retired kindergarten teacher who's become Eli's regular babysitter. She agrees to keep him another night without pressing for details, one of the many reasons I trust her with my son.
She understands the club lifestyle enough to know when not to ask questions. And, although I'd rather have him here with me, it's too risky if the Eagles really attack the clubhouse.
With that arranged, I should follow King's advice and get some sleep. Instead, I find myself heading back toward the conference room. Luna and Claire are gone, probably to the residential area to sort out clothes and necessities.
I hesitate in the empty hallway, torn between checking on Claire and giving her space. There's no logical reason for me to seek her out now. Luna will handle her immediate needs far better than I could, but something keeps pulling me in her direction.
"You look like you're having an argument with yourself," a voice says behind me.
I turn to find Luna, a knowing smile on her face. She's holding a towel and what looks like a toiletry bag.
"Just trying to decide if I should crash here or head home for a few hours," I lie.
Luna's smile suggests she sees right through me. "Claire's using the shower in the guest quarters. She'll be fine, Rage. I'm taking care of her."
"I know that," I say, feeling suddenly defensive. "I just wanted to check if she needed anything else."
"Like what? Your personal bodyguard services?" Luna's teasing is gentle but pointed.
I run a hand over my short hair, frustrated by my own transparency. "She's had a rough time, that's all. Just want to make sure she feels safe here."
Luna's expression softens. "She does. Especially knowing you're looking out for her." She pauses, "But she needs space right now. Time to process everything that's happened. You hovering won't help with that."
She's right, of course. Trauma doesn't heal with more attention, especially male attention, no matter how well-intentioned.
"Get some sleep," Luna advises, echoing King. "You'll be more help to everyone, including Claire, if you're not dead on your feet."
I nod, accepting the wisdom in her words. "Jenny's bringing some clothes," I tell her. "Should be here soon."
"Perfect. I'll meet her at the gate." Luna gives my arm a gentle squeeze as she passes. "Everything's going to work out, Rage. It always does."
I watch her head toward the guest quarters, wondering how she maintains that optimism despite everything she's seen and experienced since meeting King. It's one of the things that makes her special. Her ability to believe in the good, even while preparing for the bad.
I decide to take everyone's advice and find a quiet room to crash in for a few hours. As I'm heading to one of the unused crash rooms, my phone vibrates with a group text from Steel:
*Movement at Cherry St property. 4 bikes arriving, 1 van. Heavily armed. Will continue surveillance from distance.*
Sleep will have to wait. If the Eagles are moving pieces into position already, we need to accelerate our preparations.
As I head toward the armory, I can't help glancing down the hallway toward the guest quarters where Claire is showering. She came to us for protection, but she may have brought a war to our doorstep in the process.
Either way, I'm going to make damn sure Tommy Reeves never lays hands on her again, even if I have to put him in the ground to ensure it.