Chapter 3 #2
Christina’s eyes get big. Glancing at me, she says, “So, you showing up wasn’t a coincidence.”
“No. I came because you needed me,” I tell her quietly.
Rivera says, “We were gonna come visit you today. Slate and his men had rode into town last night. But then I saw you shopping for groceries and followed you home. You seemed spooked and I decided it couldn’t wait, so I texted Slate to come ASAP.”
I jerk my chin at him. “Good damn thing you did, that asshole ex of hers was coming after her.”
Christina looks between us, her expression unreadable. “So, you were following me?”
Rivera shakes his head. “Only since yesterday when I first saw you. Just keeping an eye out. You looked scared, and I couldn’t ignore that.”
Her kid is totally oblivious to our grown-up conversation.
The server comes to fill our cups with coffee and take our orders. Christina makes sure she gets some milk right away. Anyone can see she’s a good mom. I sip my coffee as I glance around, making sure nothing is amiss. “You said you didn’t recognize him.”
Rivera shakes his head. “Didn’t get a good look at his face as he was wearing a ball cap with the brim pulled low. I don’t think it was the same guy I first saw watching her, but I can’t be sure. That’s all I got before he disappeared into traffic.” His eyes go to Christina, “He your ex?”
She shakes her head but doesn’t say anything.
“Could be local, could be hired,” Rivera says.
“Could be worse,” I mutter, pissed that I hadn’t got one of my club brothers to give him a beatdown. But hearing the cops approaching we had to get away quick.
Christina lifts her gaze. “Just forget about him. I already have.”
The silence stretches a moment before I ask, “You want to give me a name?”
“No,” she says quietly. “Not yet. I already told you that I don’t want to pull you into my mess.”
“But I already am,” I remind her.
Her eyes lift to mine, and I see that old stubborn streak—the one I found endearing before. “Then let’s just get through this without dragging your club into my mess.”
Rivera looks between us, then pushes his plate away. “If you’re headed to your home turf, keep it quiet. The guy looked reckless enough to follow. I’ll stay local for a few days, see if he resurfaces. I owe both of you that much.”
“Appreciate it,” I say.
He nods at Christina. “Nice seeing you again, Christina. Motherhood looks good on you.”
She gives him a soft smile that looks half memory, half gratitude. “Thank you, Rivera. You always were the decent one.”
When the door shuts behind him, I feel like it might be a long time before I see my friend again.
When the kid yawns, I signal the waitress for the check and slide out of the booth. “Let’s get moving, darlin’. The two of you can sleep on the way if you like. It’s a six-hour drive, and we were awake half the night.”
Christina stands, takes her daughter’s hand and follows me towards the door. The brothers have filled our gas tanks and are ready to go.
I hold the truck door for them, wait for Christina to buckle her daughter into the child seat I’d borrowed from one of the club members who has a kid, then I close the door.
The truck rolls forward out of the parking lot and onto the highway.
Christina stares at the road ahead of us for a long time, as if she’s thinking something over.
Finally, she says, “I can’t believe you gathered up four men, got on your bike, and rode six hundred miles on the off chance that I needed your help. That’s wild.”
“I think you underestimate yourself, darlin’. You’re the kind of woman men would walk through burning coals for.”
***
We take the road to Cedar Falls after five hours of driving.
For the better part of the journey, Christina has been quiet in the passenger seat.
Her daughter is a happy little thing. She plays with her toys, sings, and asks questions occasionally.
I’m no good with kids’ ages. I’m guessing she’s around two, maybe two and a half, though she speaks real good.
She eventually falls asleep watching cartoons on her mom’s cell phone.
The kid is downright adorable—kinda like her mom.
“Where are we headed?” she asks finally, voice soft from fatigue.
“Cedar Falls,” I tell her. “It’s a small town off the I-80. My club’s home base.”
She glances over. “I didn’t even know there was a Cedar Falls.”
“Most people don’t. Population’s about twenty-two thousand. We’re located just outside Vacaville, not far from Napa. Folks from the city come through for shopping, hiking, wine tasting. Keeps the town alive. The locals rely on that weekend money.”
Her gaze returns to the window, watching hills roll past. “It sounds peaceful.”
“It’s your typical small town. Nice and friendly. We want to keep all the riffraff out, so it stays that way.”
She nods, fingers tightening on the fabric of her jeans. “And your club runs out of there?”
“Yeah. Sons of Rage MC. We’ve been around longer than half the buildings in that town. Like I told you already, my old man founded the club. We keep the peace and run legitimate businesses. We keep our noses clean. If trouble comes, it’s handled in-house.”
She doesn’t say anything after that. The quiet stretches comfortably for a few miles, only broken by the low hum of the truck and the kid’s slow, steady breathing behind us.
When the first houses come into view, she leans forward slightly.
Cedar Falls looks small and contained. Downtown is a handful of blocks built around a square.
There are storefronts, including a hardware store, a bakery, a diner, and a few other shops.
Beyond that, there’s lots of open land—farms, vineyards, trees, and low hills.
We turn off the main road onto a wide gravel drive flanked by heavy pines.
The wall surrounding our compound appears before the building does.
It’s a seven-foot wall of solid cinderblock topped with smooth stucco.
White paint, clean lines, no graffiti. The gates are steel, thick enough to stop a truck.
Her breath catches. “That’s your clubhouse?”
“Yeah,” I say, glancing at her.
“It’s huge.”
“Needs to be.” I slow the truck and the gates swing open. “There are three levels. Basement’s storage and bunk space for the brothers. First floor’s living areas, office, club bar, kitchen. Top floor is family suites. My old man built it to last, and me and my brothers helped finish it.”
She stares as the building comes into full view. “It’s more fortress than house.”
“That’s the point, darlin’.”
The truck rolls through the gates and into the yard.
The main building rises out of the ground, pale stucco catching the sunlight.
We used stucco to keep the exterior clean.
It also makes the compound look less industrial.
“It’s big enough to hold five families,” I tell her.
“And every square inch is currently in use. The garage bays line one side, the main hall on the other. I’ll show you around when we’re settled. ”
She whispers, half to herself, “I didn’t expect this. It’s beautiful in its own way.”
I smile before I can stop it. “Not what people think when they hear cinderblock, huh?”
“No. It’s sleek, clean, and…” she hesitates before adding, “safe.”
“The stucco is a new addition. We wanted to upgrade the exterior. This is our home, after all.”
I park near the front steps and cut the engine. The sound fades, replaced by the noise of conversation from the open bay doors. A few brothers step out to see who’s arrived. Jinx gives them a nod, and they step back—curious but respectful.
The kid wakes up the moment we open the doors. She rubs her eyes, and Christina pulls her out of the car. The sight does something strange to my chest, but I shake it off and open my door.
“Come on, darlin’. You’re home for now.”
She steps out slowly, still holding the cut, her eyes sweeping the compound as if she’s trying to take it all in at once.
I watch her looking at what my family built—this big, loud, guarded life.
For the first time, I wonder what it looks like through her eyes of someone who’s been running too long and just found a place with walls thick enough to keep trouble out.
The prospects swing the gates closed behind us, the second the convoy rolls into the yard.
More brothers, club girls, and even my family come out to greet us. My family knows where I went and what I planned to do. But no one expected me to come back with a woman wearing my cut and a child in tow.
Christina stiffens beside me, instinctively pulling her daughter closer to her chest.
“Easy, darlin’. Everything’s gonna be alright.”
They’re all staring at her cut. I plan to get her a proper one with my name on, first thing. But for now, it does the job. Every man here sees it and knows the rule—she’s under our protection and she’s with me, which makes her off-limits to everyone.
A few of the brothers exchange looks. I clear my throat and let my voice carry. “This is Christina,” I say. “And her daughter, Katie. They’re gonna be staying with me. I expect you to give the woman who’s gonna be wearing my cut proper respect.”
That puts an end to the gawping and whispers. A few brothers mumble greetings and drift back towards their work. They were curious, and now they know. I like setting firm expectations up front. It saves trouble later.
My family steps out onto the front steps. Jasper speaks first. “Welcome to the Sons of Rage clubhouse.”
I make introductions. “This is Jasper. He’s my oldest brother and our Prez.”
My ma’s face softens the moment she sees the child. She walks right up, her voice warm but firm. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Come in, both of you. You must be starving.”
Christina blinks at her, thrown off by the easy kindness. “I am, a little. Thank you.”
Tessa laughs softly, resting a hand on her heavily pregnant belly. “You brought us a little one.”
Rock comes up and puts his arm around Queenie. “We haven’t had a kid running around this place in years. Looks like we’re gonna have two, soon.”
When the kid sees my old man, she hides behind her mom’s legs. My dad is huge, almost like a monster. They don’t call him Rock for nothin’. So, I’m not surprised that he’s gonna take some getting used to for her.
“She’s shy about meeting new people,” Christina quickly speaks up. “It’s been a long day and last night was…”
She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t need to—I already told my family some of what happened when we turned up, and how it could’ve been real bad.
Queenie reaches out and brushes a curl from Katie’s face. “She’s beautiful. Come on inside. We’ll get you settled.”
Jasper gives me a small nod. That one small gesture communicates both approval and a warning that we need to talk later. The nosey bastard will want a full rundown on what happened, but for now, he lets it go.
I rest my hand at the small of Christina’s back and start guiding her towards the front doors of the clubhouse.
She moves slowly, looking all around with wide eyes at everything.
As we cross the threshold into the clubhouse, she comes to a stop.
The main room is big and spotlessly clean.
The floors are polished. There are well-worn leather couches lining the walls and walls filled with framed photos of rides and events going back decades.
Katie looks around, her small voice astonished. “Mommy, it’s a castle!”
Christina lets loose with a nervous laugh. “Something close, baby.”
The brothers chuckle quietly. My ma’s eyes shine with happiness. I can tell that she’s already half in love with this little girl. “Come on, sweet pea,” she says. “We’ll find you some ice cream while your mama gets her bearings.”
Surprisingly, the little girl reaches for my ma, and off they go—with Christina’s approval. She seems a little shell-shocked that her daughter just wandered off with a complete stranger.
“She’ll be okay with my ma,” I say.
Christina doesn’t look so sure, but nods and gives a smile.
I lead her upstairs to the top floor, away from the ruckus our arrival caused.
Opening the door to my suite, I tell her, “This is my personal space. You can stay with me for as long as you like. It’s got two bedrooms. The two of you can take the master bedroom tonight and I’ll take the guest bedroom.”
She stammers, “I can’t take your bedroom.”
“You can and you will. Hell, I fall asleep at my desk or on the sofa half the time. I could even sleep standing up if I had to.”
She steps inside my bedroom, taking it all in. “This is way more than I expected.”
“I’ll get another bed for Katie, we can turn my office into a room for her so you can make it homey,” I say. Then just in case she protests I add, “I usually work in the office downstairs anyway.”