Chapter 5 #2
CB’s calm had a quality she couldn’t name until the lunch rush was over. She was standing at the bar with nothing immediately requiring her attention, watching him clean up tables.
Structural , she thought. That was the word for it. It wasn’t sexy on the surface, but it was to her underneath. His calmness and confidence felt like a new foundation under her feet. Solid, strong, reliable. She’d been breathing differently the whole morning and hadn’t noticed until now.
“You seem like yourself today,” Lucy said, appearing at her elbow in the post-rush lull. “After everything that happened last night, it’s good to see.”
“I got some sleep.”
“Mm.” Lucy’s eyes drifted toward CB, who passed by them on his way to carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen. He gave them both a lopsided grin. “Is it the sleep, or something else?”
“Mom.”
“I’m just asking.” She was not just asking. She was meddling. “He’s very good with the customers.”
“He is.”
“George looked startled when his beer appeared before he asked for it.”
“George always looks startled.”
“CB said he tipped twenty percent.” Lucy raised her eyebrows. “George has never tipped twenty percent in his life.”
Regan opened her mouth.
“I think we should keep him.” Lucy winked. “For the bar, I mean.”
Regan felt heat climb her neck. “Go balance the ledger, Mom.”
“I balanced it this morning.”
“Balance it again.”
Lucy went, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Regan did not look at CB when he returned. She looked at the middle distance and forced herself to think about inventory.
The rest of the day and evening went just as smoothly. Her neck was sore, but not horrible. Closing time came, and Regan started the sequence.
She was aware of CB watching her, but this part was hers. The glasses, the register, the sweep. The rhythm her father had given her. She needed to do it, and in the way she always did. Having someone watch felt like an interruption of something private.
“You did good today,” she said, not looking up from the register. “Take a break. I’ve got this.”
“I know you do.”
He was still watching her. She briefly met his eyes. Her pulse kicked up again. Dammit . “What?”
“I want to watch the steps to close up.”
He was leaning on the far end of the bar, looking sexy as hell, while her hair was frizzy and her underarms were damp from sweat. “This is my job,” she said. “You won’t need to close. Ever.”
A beat. “Why does it have to be you?”
The question caught her off guard. She avoided his eyes. “It just does.”
He let the silence sit for a moment. Then, he said, “Rule eight.”
Don’t tell me you’re fine when you’re not .
She was annoyed that he was forcing her to defend herself. “That’s not even a real rule. My bar. My rules.”
“You’re big on rules, aren’t you?”
She blinked. “Rules are important.”
“They make you feel in control.”
“Are you playing psychologist?”
His lopsided grin appeared. “Guess Doc is rubbing off on me.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I like control, too, but I’ve learned that rules just give the illusion of it.
You can’t control people or situations or outcomes, no matter how many rules you impose on them.
The only thing you can control is your reaction to those people and situations. ”
She took a step back, hesitated. He’d hit the nail on the head. Still, she could control this. “If I do the closing,” she said, finally, “I know it’s done right. I know the bar is locked right. I know exactly what state this place is in when I walk out the door.”
He gave a nod. “Okay,” he said.
That was all. Okay. No reframe, no more lecture on control. Just okay .
“After you finish,” he said, “I’ll show you the security app. You run it with your phone—every camera, every alert, every door sensor. You’ll know everything the system does the moment it knows it.”
She thought about what that would mean. To walk out of this bar and know that if anyone came within a hundred yards of it, her phone would tell her before they reached the door.
“That sounds good,” she said, mildly impressed.
He showed her when she was done. Stood beside her while she worked through the app, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him. He patiently walked her through each camera, each sensor, each alert category.
She set the final alert preference and motioned for him to follow her upstairs.
The room above the bar had been storage for two years. She’d cleared it out last week, and it had occurred to her during the day that it was the obvious solution.
“It’s not big,” she said, pushing the door open and reaching for the light. “But there’s a couch, and a bathroom down the hall.”
CB stood in the doorway and looked at the room. “I didn’t expect to stay here,” he said.
“It makes sense. You’re already here for closing. No point in driving back to the compound every—” She stopped.
He was looking at her with an amused expression.
Oh.
“You can’t protect my mother from here,” she said, wanting to face palm herself, “if she’s at the house.” Another thought dawned. “And you can’t be at the house and the bar at the same time.”
“I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
It was meant to make her laugh. It didn’t.
Dammit . Everything came crashing down on her. Her throat was sore, she was starving because she hadn’t eaten since lunch, and she still didn’t know how exactly she was going to handle the looming Friday deadline. There was such a roar in her head, she couldn’t think right.
She sat down on the couch and ran a hand over her face. “I’m not that good either,” she admitted. “At least not at this.”
CB came into the room and sat beside her.
He reached over and patted her leg. “Good thing I know how to handle it. Lucy already said yes to a system at the house, and one of my coworkers installed it earlier. I’ll sleep in my truck outside your place.
The bar’s system will alert both of us if anyone comes near it.
” He paused. “The Outlaws aren’t going to torch the bar or break it up.
Yet. It’s a potential cash cow. They need it running. ”
She let that settle. It made sense. She and her mom would be safe. The bar would be safe.
He’d barely touched her, yet the pat on the leg felt like so much more. Like he was shoring her up. Acknowledging she was still strong, even if she hadn’t thought through the logistics of his bodyguard duties. That he had her back.
At that moment, she wished she could lean on him. Just put her head on his shoulder. Let him figure out her next steps.
You’re just tired .
She stood and stepped away, needing to put distance between them before she embarrassed herself. “Okay, then. I’ll just uh…grab Mom, and we’ll head home.”
Lucy was even more gleeful as Regan drove her car with CB following behind them. “The guest room is made up,” she said. “He can stay in there.”
Regan had to admit she couldn’t stand the thought of CB sleeping in his truck. But the guest room was next to hers. “Can’t you just put him in the den on the couch?”
“Regan,” her mother said with that don’t be rude tone in her voice. “That man is a godsend. He deserves a real bed.”
Regan bit her tongue.
When they arrived, a dark SUV was parked outside. Regan eyed it suspiciously, but CB pulled in behind it, spoke to the driver while Regan and Lucy exited her car, and came away with a duffel bag.
As the SUV drove off, CB held it up. “Clean clothes. Do you need me to show you how to operate the security system? It’s the same design as the one at the bar.”
“You’re not sleeping in your truck,” Lucy informed him. “We have a guest room with a proper bed that’s all yours. The only caveat is that Desi may visit, and you’re required not to complain about dog hair.”
He grinned. “I appreciate that, Mrs. Hill, but the truck is fine?—”
“The truck is not fine.” Lucy’s tone was pleasant but absolute. “You stayed up all night keeping my daughter safe last night. You’ll sleep in a bed tonight. Come in.”
CB looked at Regan.
Regan shrugged. “It’s a waste of breath to argue when she’s like this. I learned that when I was nine.”
He came in.
Desi met them at the door. A hundred and twenty pounds of German Shepherd, gray around the muzzle but still full of energy. He sniffed CB’s hand, was apparently satisfied, and leaned his entire body weight against CB’s leg. He looked up at him with an expression of complete approval.
CB’s hand dropped to the dog’s ears without hesitation. “Hey, buddy.”
Desi made a sound that was approximately half-sigh, half-groan, and looked to Lucy.
“He’s a good judge of character,” Lucy said.
He was, but Regan forced herself not to roll her eyes. Knowing her mom, she’d probably offered Desi a treat to make a good impression.
CB complimented the house, making Lucy glow with pride, then walked them through the security system, making sure they could both operate it.
He patiently answered her mom’s questions.
Lucy asked two good ones and one that was mostly an excuse to keep him talking.
He answered all three with the same patience.
“Goodnight,” Lucy said eventually, and kissed Regan’s cheek. She patted CB’s arm in the manner of a woman who had adopted someone. “The guest room is down the hall, the second door on the right.”
She went upstairs.
The house was quiet. Desi migrated to his bed.
“Second door on the right,” Regan repeated, feeling suddenly awkward. “Just down the hall.”
“Got it.” CB picked up his duffel. “Get some sleep.”
“You too.”
She started for the hall at the same time he did, and they bumped shoulders. He was a steel wall, and she staggered as she rebounded.
He grabbed her by the elbow to steady her. “Sorry,” he said. “You okay?”
She sighed but didn’t remove her elbow from his grip. “You’re like a tank.”
He chuckled and playfully flexed a bicep. “I work out.”
She just bet he did. They stood there for a moment staring at each other, him grinning. His eyes caught the hall light, dark and warm.
“This must be hard for you,” she said quietly. “Protecting us from the Outlaws while knowing what I did to your uncle. Knowing what I plan to do to the whole organization.”
His grin faded. “Protecting you isn’t hard at all.”
“But you draw the line at helping me with the podcast.”
He rubbed his eyes and blew out a deep sigh.
“There are people in the organization who have taken what my grandfather started and turned it into something ugly. It happens everywhere. I experienced it in the Army. There are always a few bad apples. It doesn’t mean the whole organization is rotten.
It was started as a social organization, and there are plenty in the group who still see it that way.
It’s like going to church for them, or playing cards on Friday night with their best friends, only they ride motorcycles. They like to travel. Camp.”
“You’re comparing the Outlaws to a church group?”
His shoulders dropped, seemingly weighed down.
“Back in the day, my grandfather held fundraisers and rallies to help those in need. The Outlaws still did a lot of that when I was growing up. There are good people in the group, Regan. Most of them have no idea what Ryder and his immediate circle are doing. I don’t even think my dad realizes the extent of it.
I’m not excusing any of it; all I’m saying is that it’s not clear-cut.
The Outlaws are not all good or all bad. ”
She knew that. Yet, she couldn’t justify that those few bad apples were causing major issues for many people, just like her and her mom. “I’m not walking away from this investigation. If you’re not okay with that, you need to leave. I’ll hire someone else to protect Mom and the bar.”
Those green eyes snapped at her. “I’m not asking you to walk away from your investigation.
I’m explaining why it’s hard for me to jump in with both feet and help.
” He stopped, ran a hand through his hair.
“Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve stayed.
I was next in line to lead. Maybe if I hadn’t gone into the Army, I’d be in Ryder’s place right now, returning the Outlaws to my grandfather’s vision. I’d be upholding his legacy.”
The sadness in his voice made her heart squeeze. She reached out and touched his forearm before she even thought about it. “What happened is not your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” But then he smiled again. This time, it didn’t meet his eyes. “We’d better get some sleep. See you in the morning.”
He turned and left her standing there.
In her room, she listened to him moving around the guest bedroom. The wall between them was thin. Once she heard him settle, she sat at her desk for twenty minutes with her research files open and wrote nothing.
Her work looked different tonight. Before, it had been all about a criminal organization, a pattern of harm, a story that needed to be told.
Now she saw CB’s face when she reread her notes—heard him talk about his grandfather and helping people when she reviewed her spreadsheet.
She pulled up her file on the founding of the Canon Outlaws. CB’s grandfather, Ben Briggs, had started it in the 1960s as a motorcycle club, the way a lot of clubs had started in that era. Weekend rides. A community of men and women who wanted something that felt like brotherhood.
She read it more slowly tonight.
Wade had inherited the club from his father and held it for thirty years.
She had documentation on the activities that had crossed legal lines—protection rackets after Wade took over, the relationship with certain law enforcement that had started as mutual tolerance and had become something worse.
She’d been thinking of him as a predecessor to Ryder, a stepping stone in the organization’s corruption.
But Wade had also organized the county’s first wildfire response network in 1987, using Outlaw resources and contacts to coordinate evacuations before the state infrastructure caught up. She had notes on two families who’d attributed their survival to that effort.
She hadn’t planned to include it. It complicated the narrative.
But is it true ?
Yes. It was true.
She sat with that for a while. Then she opened a new document and typed a single line at the top: The Canon Outlaws didn’t start as a criminal enterprise. Understanding how they became one requires understanding what they were .
She didn’t know if she’d use it. She saved it anyway.
She changed into pajamas and turned off the desk lamp, lying in the dark. Her mother was safe. The bar was secure.
She should be uncomfortable with a man she’d known for less than forty-eight hours sleeping a few feet away. A man connected, however indirectly, to the people threatening her.
What she felt instead was the same thing she’d felt all day, under everything. Relief.
She fell asleep with the word settling in her chest.