CHAPTER 17
GRAYCIE
I’m tip toeing into the kitchen at the clubhouse even though it seems very silly for me to be doing such a thing. No one is up. It’s too damn early for any biker to be awake. But I stay quiet, just in case.
It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong, not really.
I’m just going to work.
Which is what I need to do.
For myself.
For my sanity.
I’ve been holed up here for days and I can’t take it anymore. Lara said it was more than fine for me to take a few days off. She said she had everything under control, but she hired me to take some of the pressure off her because she has Vanessa to take care of as well.
Right now, I’m not doing my job and I’m letting down someone who has become a friend. No, she’s family.
I can’t do it. I’m needed and it’s not here, not right now.
I’ve never known Sylvester to get up before he had to anyway.
When I step into the kitchen, I don’t bother looking around and head straight to the coffee pot. Instead of questioning why there’s coffee already brewed, I just send up a little thank you out into the universe that it’s here. Because I am going to need it.
I swear Turner takes pride in fucking me into a coma. I’m not complaining, but my body and mind are protesting right now.
Geez, I take a few days off and I’m already struggling to get up this early.
When I turn, Warden is sitting at one of the tables. I freeze and let out a little squeaking noise. My heart is racing in my chest as he raises his hands in a universal gesture of ‘I come in peace’. I can’t help but smile softly at the sheepish look on his face.
“What are you doing here, Warden?” There’s no accusation in my voice, but there might be more than a little suspicion.
He snorts out a laugh before taking a long sip of his cup of coffee. He watches me closely, as if he’s trying to figure something out, but it’s not malicious or creepy. Just caring in a way I wished my dad was.
“I’m an early riser,” he explains, raising one shoulder as if it’s no big deal, “always have been. My Patsy is a light sleeper.” He blows out a breath through his nose, and I barely stop myself from giggling.
“I don’t want to wake her, so I come to the clubhouse for a cup of coffee and to, you know, be around if I’m needed. ”
Something in my chest softens and I walk closer to him, leaning against the side of the table. Close, but not crowding.
“I bet it’s hard with both kids grown up, and not having the same responsibilities as when you were VP,” my voice is soft, the words landing right between us instead of making him bristle.
He looks up at me with something like awe written on his features.
“You’re a good girl, Graycie. Smart. Kind.
Tenacious.” The smile on his face is slow to bloom, but when it does, it reminds me of his son.
“You know,” his words take on a teasing tone that has me bracing, “if you were to give me some grandbabies, I think I wouldn’t feel so purposeless. ”
I make a tsking sound and shake my head in admonishment. “I know you did not just try to emotionally blackmail me into having babies.”
He has the wherewithal to look sheepish. He’s not quite as ashamed as he should be, but I’ll take it. “I’m just saying there’s no real reason to wait,” he tries to backpedal.
I chuckle softly and finish my coffee. “Uh huh,” I tease him.
Still, his words do give me pause. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Turner telling me he’s trying to get me pregnant. Having kids was always something I wanted. Maybe I just wanted a chance to do it better than my parents did, than my mom did. Still, I wanted it.
Then things went south with Sylvester and the last thing I wanted was to bring a child into that fucked up situation. There was no fucking way.
But now? With Turner? With this club as our family? With this town helping to create a village which feels real instead of performative?
I desperately want it.
With a tilt of my head, I take Warden in. “You would make an excellent Grandpop though.”
The smile on his face threatens to overtake it and warmth fills my chest. Family. It echoes through me and fills the cracks I never knew could be filled in before.
“Grandpop,” he does a little shimmy as he tests out the words. It’s adorable. “Now,” his eyes meet mine, the amusement gone, “are you going to tell me what you’re doing up so early?”
I freeze for a moment, but it’s long enough. I’m sure I don’t have to say it, but I might as well. “I’m going to work.” I put a lot more bravado into the words than I’m feeling. “I was told I’m not a prisoner, that I can go to work.”
Turner did say that, but he was clear about having someone with me. Which is the part I didn’t quite get worked out.
I think Turner thought I was going to stay here again today. I admit, I needed the time, to get my head on straight with everything going on.
But now I need something different. Now, I need the normalcy and the routine of the bakery.
“Who is taking you and keeping watch?” He arches an eyebrow as he asks the question, the challenge clear.
“Uh,” I start and then press my lips together as Warden scrubs a hand over his face. “Well,” I try again, “I’m not sure if Turner is aware of my plans to go to work today, but I never said I wasn’t going. He’s the one who told me I could go,” I try to reason with the biker in front of me.
By the look on his face, he’s not impressed with my logic.
“Yeah, that’s not going to fly,” he grunts before standing and giving me a pointed look. “I’ll take you and keep an eye on you. It’ll give me something to do other than whatever my Old Lady wants.”
“I thought a happy wife was a happy life,” I tease.
He chuckles and shakes his head like he can see right through me and my attempt at deflecting. He wouldn’t be wrong.
“You’re lucky I was here, Graycie,” he chastises me.
Maybe another person would be annoyed by him being in my business. Not me. This is as close as I’m going to get to a dad giving a shit about me. I’ll never turn my nose up at this, even when it’s frustrating and annoying.
Because it comes from genuine care, maybe even love.
I try to wave him off as he heads toward the sink and rinses out his cup before holding his hand out for mine. “Really,” I try again, “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to follow me.”
“Graycie,” he breathes out, his eyes intense and so much like his son’s when he looks at me, “my son, who I have raised with love and to respect the fuck out of me and his mom, would slit my throat if I allowed you to walk out of this clubhouse without any protection. Then if something were to happen to you?” His large body shudders, literally fucking shudders.
“I don’t even want to think about what he would do. ”
“So,” I narrow my eyes at him, “what you’re saying is that by letting you come with me and keeping an eye on me, I’m saving your life?”
“Pretty much.”
I can’t help but giggle and nod. I mean, how can I really argue with the man?
The entire drive to Bunz Out, Warden rides right in front of me, leading the way and making sure the route is safe. I might have said I didn’t need anyone to watch my back but having Warden with me does make me feel more secure.
It doesn’t take long to get to work and most of the time I’m gnawing my lip while thinking how pissed Turner is going to be about me trying to go off by myself. I’d love to think that he doesn’t have to know, but I doubt Warden will keep it from him.
I guess I’ll deal with the consequences of my own actions later. Much later.
The moment we pull up behind Bunz Out, I can tell something is wrong. It’s something with the door handle; it just looks off. The light above the door is still shining brightly, thankfully, but it looks like the handle is about to fall off.
Warden slides off the back of his bike and shoots me a look which clearly tells me to stay where I am, no words needed. When he gets to the back door, he reaches for the handle, and it clatters to the ground. I can hear the curse he bites out from here.
I’m out of the car before I have a chance to think about it. Lara lives upstairs. The stairwell up to her door has an entrance on the inside and outside of the bakery. The door to her apartment should be secure, but that doesn’t make me breathe any easier.
I pull my phone out and dial Lara without thinking about it. Warden turns toward me from where he’s hovering at the threshold of the kitchen, when he hears my footsteps.
“Go back to the car,” he tells me, his voice harsh, but it doesn’t scare me.
He doesn’t scare me.
“No,” I whisper-hiss. “There’s a door from the bakery to the stairwell that leads to Lara’s apartment. I need to make sure she’s safe.”
“Hello?” I hear her voice far away as she answers and put the phone to my ear. “What’s going on, Graycie, why are you calling me?”
“Someone broke in downstairs.”
“I’m on my way,” she shouts and I can hear her footsteps above us and on the phone.
“Fucking hell,” Warden grumbles, “dealing with Nancy Drew and a woman who runs toward danger.”
He pulls a gun from underneath his cut and points to a spot just inside the door. “Stay right there. When Lara comes racing in without a thought to her safety, have her stand right next to you.”
All I can do is nod quickly. Now that I’m inside, in a situation which is a complete mystery, while knowing Sylvester is in the state, I really wish I had stayed in the car. Regret hits me like a punch to the chest.
Turner is going to be pissed.
Lara throws the door open with far too much force, and I grab her and drag her back to our designated spot before she can go into full on action hero mode. That’s the last thing we need.
“Warden is doing a sweep of the building,” I tell her out of the corner of my mouth like I’m in a bad cop drama.
Lara nods, her face solemn, as if this whole thing makes perfect sense. It doesn’t. Not even with her knowing the basics about my past. Which I felt like I owed her when taking a few days off. This is a whole other level.