Chapter 37
HARLAN - EMERGENCY CONTACT
My phone rang just after dusk, the sky that bruised-purple January wore when the sun quit early. Jack’s name lit the screen. For a second, I thought about letting it go to voicemail. Then I answered.
"How's the big city?" I asked as a way of greeting.
His voice came through thin, like the line itself was stretched too far. “You got a minute?” He asked.
“For you? Always.” I leaned against the cruiser, breath fogging the air.
“It’s about the guy at the fundraiser. The one Remi was arguing with.” Jack said. I heard the muffled clang of city traffic, a horn, then he added, “Colton Hale.”
“Hale,” I repeated. “That name’s not in any of the precinct records I’ve seen tied to her.”
“It wouldn’t be,” he said. “His juvenile records sealed. So is Remi’s. But I've read through them.”
I stayed quiet, listening to the scrape of wind dragging at the flag over the courthouse.
“He was Jenny Carter’s boyfriend,” Jack said. His tone thinned, brittle. “The one who drove her to suicide. And later… tried to do the same to Ava.”
My grip on the phone tightened. Fuck, no wonder the girls talked about Jenny like she was a painful memory.
Jack continued. “Remi took care of the problem when no one else would.”
“That’s what she meant. When she said she almost beat his skull in.” I asked
“She didn’t almost,” Jack said flatly. “She damn near did. Him and two of his friends cornered Ava at the baseball field. Remi showed up. Picked up the bastard’s own bat. Left one with a shattered collarbone, another with a fractured skull, the third with a limp he’ll have the rest of his life.”
Snow flurries drifted through the courthouse floodlights, dissolving before they touched the ground.
“She was sixteen,” Jack said quietly. “They tried to lock her up. But the record got sealed. Charges dropped. Doesn’t erase the fact she made enemies. Colton never forgot.”
“And that’s why you’re telling me now,” I said.
He exhaled, ragged. “I have silenced him and his family for now. They are taken care of, and I will keep an eye on them. But..." He sighed and continued. "I’m gone. And she’s still there. I need to believe someone’s watching out for her when I can’t.”
“I would,” I said before I could stop myself. “I already do.”
Silence stretched, then Jack’s voice softened. “Then be ready. Because loving Remi Carter isn’t safe. It never has been. And trying to protect her? That’s even more dangerous.”
The line crackled, then went dead.
The hospital was busy, but the noise was white, that kind of quiet chaos that lived in these halls.
I spotted Remi before she saw me, clipboard in hand, standing beside a boy no older than ten.
Her voice low. Calm. Protective. She nodded once, placed a comforting hand on the boy's arm, and then stepped into the hallway.
I caught her as she passed the nurse’s station.
“You always haunt hospitals on your days off?” I asked.
She gave me a wry smile. “Old habits die hard, Chief.”
“Is he one of yours?” I nodded toward the room.
“New referral. Came in from county. They flagged him for psych, but what he really needs is a safe place and someone who won’t ask him to suck it up and be a man.”
I fell into step beside her.
“Can I ask you something personal?” I asked. My mind had been spinning since my conversation with Jack.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “If I say no?”
“I’ll probably ask anyway.”
That got a smile.
“When you check in at places like this... with all this shit you get into,” I said, “who do you list as your emergency contact?”
She didn’t answer right away. Just kept walking until we hit the vending machines. She leaned against one, arms crossed.
“Ava,” she said finally. “Always Ava.”
“Of course.”
There was a long beat.
“You could list me,” I said. Not flippant. Not joking. Just… honest.
She blinked. “What?”
“If you ever needed someone. If she couldn’t answer. You could list me. I could be that person for you, too. I have your back.”
Remi stared at me like she was trying to read the fine print in a contract I hadn’t offered out loud. Then she said, softly, “I’ll think about it.”
She pushed off the machine, nodded once, and headed toward the exit.
I turned the corner into the south hallway and nearly ran into Cole Dawson.
“Chief,” he said, giving me a once-over like he wasn’t sure I was real.
“Hammer,” I said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
He looked around and swallowed hard, “Please call me Cole. My sister just got in. Wren. She’s gonna be working here. Helping while she figures out her next move.”
I raised an eyebrow. “She a doc?”
“Med school and residency just wrapped. Trauma specialty. Tough as hell.”
I took the President of one of the most feared MCs in the state. He wasn't as cocky as he had once been. He looked like he wanted to go down swinging... but for different reasons than I had ever seen from him before.
“You look different,” I said after a beat. “Softer.”
Cole snorted. “Don’t say that too loud. Might ruin my rep.”
I waited.
He sighed, ran a hand through his mess of dirty blonde hair. “Sometimes something happens that makes you reevaluate your whole damn life. I’ve done a lot of damage. I’m trying to build something now. Something that gives back.”
“The ranch?” I had heard whispers, but I didn't believe them.
He nodded. “Wren and I are starting small. A mix of a rehab facility and a safe haven. For those who need a place. For anyone who needs a second shot. No MC ties, not like before. No bullshit. Just people trying to unlearn the damage.”
I nodded. “You ever want help... I know some people.”
Cole’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve changed, too.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Used to think the law was enough. That following the rules would make things right. But now… after everything?”
“Sometimes justice doesn’t come from law enforcement,” Cole said. “Sometimes it comes from the people who survived it.”
I looked at him. Really looked.
“Hey,” I asked. “You got any pigs on that ranch?”
Cole raised an eyebrow. “Thinking of starting a farm?”
“Nah. Just wondering if you’ve got anything... hungry.”
Cole’s smirk sharpened. "You got a specific piece of trash that needs to be taken care of?"
"Maybe," I said. "I've got something well past a year over its expiration date."
“You let me know when you need to feed the animals, Chief.”
We shook hands.
And as he walked away, I looked back toward the hospital doors, where Remi Carter had disappeared minutes ago.
That girl wasn’t just holding the line.
She was the goddamn line.
And I knew I would be working in the grey so I could be there with her, not to lead her, not to fix her.
But to stand beside her.
Because if justice wasn’t going to come clean, maybe we’d make our own.