Chapter Two #2
I remained perfectly still, not wanting to spook either of them.
The girl’s approach reminded me of how stray cats would sometimes appear at the prison fences, wary and ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, but driven by some need stronger than fear.
She stopped several feet away, her small fingers working nervously at the rabbit’s worn fabric.
Up close, I could see the careful stitches where someone had repaired a seam, the worn spot where fur had been loved away.
A well-tended comfort object. Someone cared enough to keep fixing it.
“His name is Mr. Hoppers,” she said, voice barely audible. The first words she’d spoken in my presence.
I nodded solemnly, giving the introduction the gravity it deserved. “Good name.”
She studied me with an intensity that belied her age. Not the fearful assessment I was used to, but something different. Searching. Her eyes tracked from my hands to my face, then back to my hands again.
“You have big hands,” she observed.
“Yes.”
“But you were careful with Mr. Hoppers.”
I understood then what she was doing. Testing a theory. “I try to be careful with things and people smaller than me.” I shook my head slowly. “I don’t like hurting people.”
Her head tilted slightly. “My dad has big hands too. But he breaks things.”
The simple statement hit me like a punch to the gut. I kept my expression even, though something hot and angry flared in my chest. “Some men don’t know how to be careful.”
She nodded as if I’d confirmed something important.
Then, with deliberate care, she extended her arms, offering me the rabbit.
The trust in that gesture staggered me. I held perfectly still, afraid that any movement might shatter this fragile moment.
Then, with the same care I’d use handling a newborn, I accepted the offering, cradling the worn toy in palms that could crush a man’s skull.
“He likes you,” she said with the conviction of absolute certainty.
“I’m honored,” I replied, meaning it more than she could know.
That’s when I saw it… the recognition in her eyes.
Not of me specifically, but of something in me that felt safe despite appearances.
I’d seen the look often but this was the first time I could say someone making that judgment had the right of it.
I could be deceptively calm. Until I wasn’t.
But not with this girl. Or anyone here seeking shelter.
The moment stretched between us like a bridge, this strange connection forged in the quietest of gestures. I gently returned Mr. Hoppers to her waiting hands, and she clutched him close again, a half-smile ghosting across her face.
Then the spell broke when the very kind of man this little girl had been running from just walked into the Goddamned foyer.
“Let me in, you little bitches! I know she’s in there!
” The male voice exploded from outside the main area but still inside the warehouse, followed by the sound of something hitting the front door hard enough to rattle the windows.
I wasn’t certain how he’d gotten in but I knew at least two of the brothers wouldn’t be far behind him.
Still, the reaction inside was immediate.
Mothers gathered children to them, some retreating down hallways, others frozen in place.
The volunteer at the coffee station fumbled her pot, dark liquid splashing across the counter.
A woman with a cast pressed herself against the wall, face drained of color.
“My husband,” she whispered, eyes wide with terror. “He found me.” Her whimper tore at my heart, but more, fueled my anger toward the man outside.
The shelter coordinator, a tall woman with short gray hair, moved swiftly toward the security office, her face hard, showing no signs of panic.
She’d hit the panic button that not only notified the local sheriff’s office but would give them a live feed of our cameras so they could see what they were up against. This wasn’t the first angry ex to show up, but something in her expression told me this one was especially dangerous.
This was the kind of man the women coming to Haven had run from.
And I hated every Goddamned motherfucking one of ‘em.
“I just want to talk to her!” The voice outside rose again, followed by another impact against the door. “You can’t keep my wife from me! I have rights!”
Kira scurried back to her mother and sister, who had both risen to their feet. Penny’s face had gone chalk-white, her arm instinctively curving around Zelda’s shoulders. Not their problem, but they recognized the threat all too well.
I rose to my full height in one fluid motion, unfurling from my seated position like a dark promise.
My protective instincts surged, not just for the woman with the cast but for all of them.
For Penny and her girls, for every resident who’d found temporary safety behind these walls.
But especially for those who hadn’t made it here.
“Stay here,” I said to no one in particular, my voice calm despite the anger swelling inside me. I rolled my shoulders and popped my neck. I felt the leather of my vest stretch across my back over my T-shirt. “I’ll handle this.”
As I moved toward the door, residents parted before me like I was Moses at the Red Sea.
This time, the fear in their eyes didn’t pain me.
This time, it had a purpose. Some men need to be feared.
Others needed to fear. Those included men who think their fists give them rights over women and children.
I swiped my key card to open the heavy security door separating the common area from the lobby. The women all had their own cards to get in and out, but we opted for a swipe on both sides to open the door to prevent the children from accidentally opening up the door to danger.
The door swung outward, into the reception space.
I was careful to keep myself between the opening and the bastard currently being blocked by Griffin and Inferno.
Griffin was usually pretty good at redirecting and deescalating, but Inferno could sometimes be a bit of a hothead.
No pun intended. Stepping into the small reception space, I didn’t open the door far and made sure it shut quickly.
I braced myself in case the bastard got through my brothers.
The smell hit me first. Cheap cologne, mingling with the tang of cheaper alcohol.
The man stood about five-ten, wearing a rumpled button-down and slacks that looked expensive despite the wrinkles.
He was thickly built, kind of like someone who was athletic in college but hadn’t yet realized his muscle was slowly being replaced by fat.
The guy whipped his head around, and for a split second, I watched the calculations play across his face as he took in my size.
I knew what he saw -- nearly seven feet of thick muscle wrapped in a leather vest with the Kiss of Death MC patch prominently displayed.
His eyes widened, then narrowed with the stubborn bravado of a man too drunk and too entitled to recognize real danger.
In prison, I’d learned there are ways to end conflicts before they start.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, centering myself.
This wasn’t about me. This was about the women and children behind that door.
About the woman with the cast on her arm who’d gone white as paper at the sound of his voice.
About Penny and her girls who’d already fled one monster.
I stood perfectly still, hands loose at my sides, blocking the path to the door without making any aggressive moves. Waiting.
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, his voice slurred but still carrying the crisp consonants of someone who thought themselves important. “This is between me and my fucking wife. Get out of my Goddamned way.”
I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I took one step forward, letting my shadow fall over him. Another prison lesson. Sometimes, silence unsettles more than words ever could. When I finally spoke, my voice was soft, almost gentle. “You need to leave. Now.”
He puffed up, indignation overriding his initial wariness. “You can’t tell me what to do, motherfucker. She’s my fucking wife. I have a right --”
I took another step forward, quicker this time, a threat there was no way he was too drunk to miss.
The bastard instinctively backed up, though his face flushed with anger at his own retreat.
His eyes flicked to my patch, recognition dawning.
“You’re with that motorcycle gang. Heard every fucking one of you guys done time.
You’re holding me against my will. Bet that’ll buy you a one-way ticket back to prison. ”
“No.” I shook my head slowly, deliberately. “It won’t.”
His face contorted, and I could see the moment his anger overrode his caution. “You don’t know anything about my marriage! She’s lying about everything. She always does this, makes me out to be the bad guy when she’s the one --”
“Don’t care.” My voice remained calm but raised so I could be heard over him. “My job is to keep you out and them safe. Not to make judgments one way or the other.”
“Ain’t leaving without her. I’ll get the police down here and you’ll be on your way back to prison.”
“You’ll leave. And you won’t come back.”
“Or what?” He tried for bravado, but his voice wavered.
I smiled then, not a friendly expression.
“Or you’ll regret it. For the rest of your natural life.
However short that might be.” I leaned in slightly, just enough to let him feel how much bigger I was than him.
“The sheriff’s already been called. And when they get here, they’ll find either an empty parking lot, or they’ll find whatever’s left of you.
I might go back to prison, but you won’t be alive to gloat. ”
Something in my eyes must have convinced him because the blood drained from his face. “You’re insane,” he whispered, but he was already stepping back.
“No,” I said softly. “I’m restrained. Stick around. I’ll show you what I’m like when I’m not restrained.”
His retreat was almost comical, backing away with his hands raised as if I were pointing a weapon at him. In a way, I was.
Once he was outside, Griffin and Inferno could make sure he didn’t come back. Griffin would keep him engaged until the cops got here to take his ass somewhere he could sober up before he tried to drive.
The rage that had built inside me during the confrontation needed somewhere to go, so I channeled it into deep, measured breaths.
In prison, uncontrolled anger was a one-way ticket to solitary -- or worse.
Out here, it wasn’t much different. The last thing these women needed was to see me lose control, even in defense of them.
When I was certain my face showed nothing of the storm inside, I turned and re-entered the common area. The shelter coordinator gave me a small nod of thanks before disappearing down a hallway, probably to check on the woman with the cast. But it was Zelda’s reaction that caught me off guard.
She stood apart from her mother and sister, her small frame tense but her eyes alive with something I hadn’t seen there before.
Now in addition to her wariness, a kind of fierce curiosity showed in her expression.
She studied me openly, her gaze tracking from my hands to my face and back again, as if looking to see if I’d fought the guy.
While anyone in this room could see out through the large picture window, it was one-way glass.
The front was blacked out and looked decorative instead of what it actually was.
If she’d watched, she knew I hadn’t fought the guy, but she still looked like she didn’t quite believe I hadn’t settled the problem without violence of some kind.
Across the room, Penny’s gaze met mine. The fear that had shadowed her expression earlier had shifted, not gone but different now.
There was gratitude there, yes, but something else too.
Maybe a reassessment of me. The look of someone seeing past the surface to something familiar underneath.
Story of my life, except most people didn’t bother to look deeper.
I cleared my throat, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “Everything’s OK,” I said to the room at large, though my eyes lingered on Penny for a heartbeat longer. “I don’t think he’ll be back.”
Violet appeared with Caleb, both ready to leave.
I’d promised them a ride back to the clubhouse where Riot would be waiting.
As I followed them out, I found myself already planning to return tomorrow to do preventative maintenance on…
anything I could find that needed it in the next two or three months.
Maybe stuff even that didn’t need it. Maybe I’d see if Kira wanted me to check Mr. Hoppers in case he needed any more repairs after all his years of loyal service.
It had nothing to do with wanting to see if Zelda’s curiosity would win out over her caution.
Or to see if Penny would look at me again the way she had just now, like maybe I wasn’t someone to fear after all.
No. Nothing to do with any of that. At all.