“She does talk to herself a lot, doesn’t she?” she said, and I laughed, thankful that she didn’t seem upset with Fiona.
“So, is there something you were thinking about going back to school for?” I asked as I grabbed another slice of pizza. Charlie was picking at hers, suddenly acting shy. She took a deep breath as if bracing herself for disappointment before looking at me.
“I’ve been thinking about trying to get into law school. I would have to retake some basic classes first, but I want a career where I can help people. Help the club, especially. We should have someone who understands us and our best interests when we get into legal binds.”
“That’s brilliant, C. Seriously. Reaper’s always complaining about how we don’t have any Brothers with enough brain cells to become a lawyer. It would be a huge asset to the club if you were to do that. I just want to make sure it’s something you want to do for yourself, not just for the club,” I said, and was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“I want to do it. I want to see if I can do it, that is. It’s going to be a lot of work, and I’m scared. You were right, though. I don’t want to work here for the rest of my life. I want a career or passion just for me. Is that selfish?”
“Not at all, especially when that passion enables you to help people. I guess I don’t say it enough, or ever really, but I hope you know what a kind and generous person you are. You’re smart, too, and vicious when you need to be—all of which are good traits for a lawyer, I believe. You would kill it in a courtroom, and the club would love to have you on our side.”
“You really care about her,” Charlie said, her focus on me hopeful.
“Fiona?” I asked, and she nodded.
“You listen to her. Like, really listen. It’s a good thing. I’m happy for you,” she said, and there was a soft pang in my chest.
I felt bad, like I had failed Charlie for not noticing her unhappiness earlier. Taking her for granted, assuming she was fine running the front of a garage her family owned. She deserved a chance to get out there and spread her wings, find her own path. We didn’t make it easy on her. Our overprotective natures were always heightened when it came to her.
“Let me know what you decide about school. If you want me to talk to Mom and Dad with you, just name the time and place. I got your back, Little Bit.”
“Thanks, Bash. Alright, enough girl talk. I’m heading back to the front because I know that pile of paperwork on your desk has to get done before the boys get to town,” Charlie said, indicatingthe files littering every square inch of my desk. I grunted at her as she took the garbage and left, before focusing on the work in front of me.
That visit from the SC Charter wasn’t just a social call. While most of the club businesses were above board, our specialty was a service that the system consistently failed at; protection and relocation for women and kids in abusive homes. When Reaper and Guard had first started the club, it was shortly after Reaper met his Old Lady.
At the time, she was in an abusive relationship, married to a cop whose buddies were happy to look the other way when she showed up with bruises and broken arms. Reaper met Maggie while he was passing through the town she was living in with her husband.
After one glimpse of her on the street, he said it was love at first sight. He made my dad stay in that town for a few months once he caught on to her situation. The two of them were furious when they realized the entire community was aware of the abuse, and no one had done anything to help.
By the time they rode away from that town, Maggie was a widow, and was comfortably seated on the back of Reaper’s bike. They had dismantled the majority of the local police force and made sure anyone who needed out of that small hellmouth got away. From that point forward, they made it part of the club’s mission to provide safe havens for anyone who needed it.
In the safety of Reaper’s arms, Maggie said goodbye to her old life and was reborn as Persephone, queen of the underworld. She ran the club with an iron fist and made sure everyone stayed in line.
Persephone was the powerhouse behind what started as a small project to try to help anyone the cops were ignoring or failing. The enormity of how many people the system was failingwas overwhelming, so, as the club grew, so did our efforts to rescue and protect those who needed it.
As a result, we now had six charters across the country that we used to move women and kids out of violent situations and set them up in safe houses far away from their tormentors. We provided them with new identities, bank accounts, and therapeutic resources.
At least once a year, Reaper and Seph rode out to check on the families we had helped to make sure they were doing okay and didn’t need anything. That meeting with the SC charter was to start plans on developing a safehouse between our two locations and update our established route.
We’d had too many close calls with locals and cops recently, so it was time to change up our patterns. That was why it was so important Atlas, the Road Captain from SC, was coming through. He was the one who has been mapping out the new route, and the trip should have given that charter a chance to check it out as a group.
There were a few plots of land on their way over that they were looking at to potentially build not just a simple safe house, but a dormitory of sorts so we could house multiple families at once since it was a high-traffic leg of the trip. We were planning a rather large facility, not unlike our clubhouses. A safe house with all the security imaginable to house multiple women and children at once. It would have onsite resources like a nurse and exam room; a kitchen with a full pantry, TV and game room for activities, and a large laundry room in the basement. Upstairs were the bedrooms, each with a personal bathroom.
While the inside amenities planned would prove beneficial to the families staying there, it was the location and immense layer of security we were planning that held the major appeal. The land we were looking to purchase was well off the main road.Our blueprints included a twelve-foot fence encasing the entire area so the women could go outside comfortably.
We would have a guard booth at the main entrance, but additional security at the front door. Lockdown methods and safe rooms would be scattered throughout the building, as well as CCTV covering every square foot of the facility.
I had to finalize all the specs, the different properties we were looking at buying, and all the different companies we would need to bring in before the other Brothers got there. They would be arriving Saturday afternoon. The cookout was scheduled for that night, with the meeting regarding the safe house and routes scheduled for Monday to give the guys Sunday to recover.
Assuming everything went well at the cookout, I was hoping to have a day alone with Fee on Sunday. That idea motivated me even more to finish all the plans so I wasn’t scrambling to get it done on Sunday, hungover and cranky.
The Friday before the cookout arrived faster than I expected. I had tried to see Fiona as much as I could, but besides our date on Monday and lunch on Wednesday, I had only been able to see her for a few minutes when I followed her home from work.
As much as I was hoping I’d get to see her that night, Charlie forbade me from interrupting girls’ night, and with Bull at her back, I knew not to bother fighting it. Not to mention, I liked that Fiona had her own relationships with my friends and family.
Bit by bit, we were reeling her in. With our combined efforts, we would successfully knock down any walls she tried to erect to keep us out. She had protected herself the only way she knew how—avoiding any situations that would put her at risk.
You couldn’t get hurt if there wasn’t anyone around who could hurt you. There were too many of us for Fee to crawl back in her shell and hide. She was thriving under the attention and appreciation from my family and the club.
