I huff a weak laugh. “Yeah, but I bake really good cookies.”
That gets another brief twitch at the corner of his mouth. It’s gone just as fast.
“This kind of protection comes with rules,” he says. “No lies. No half-truths. If Sully comes around again, you call us first. Not after.”
I nod fast. “I can do that.”
“And you don’t owe my club,” he adds. “You owe me.”
“I’m married. Honestly, he’s probably going to kill me when he finds out I came here.”
Another twitch of his mouth. “Who’s your husband?”
“Ollie. He’s a firefighter in Bridger Falls.”
“Kendrick? Know his dad.” His eyes narrow.
Nope. Don’t like that. Damn it. Why do we both have to have asshole dads?
“Ollie’s nothing like his dad. His dad is as useless as mine.”
Grave nods in agreement.
I swallow. “You’ll make him stop?”
Grave leans forward then, elbows on the desk, eyes locking onto mine. “Something you should know is that Sully Murphy is no longer affiliated with my club.”
My pulse pounds in my ears.“So, that’s a no?”
He stands, and the room feels smaller immediately.
“You came out here alone,” he says. “That tells me two things. You’re either reckless or desperate.”
“Or brave,” I say quietly, tightening my grip on the tire iron.
His eyes darken. “Yeah,” he says after a beat. “That too.”
I stare at him, wondering what he’s going to do.
He turns toward the door. “I’ll handle Sully.”
Relief hits so hard, I practically drop my tire iron.
“You shouldn’t have had to raise yourself or your brother,”he adds over his shoulder. But, for what it’s worth, you’re doing a helluva job and you’re better off without him.”
The door opens and light spills in.
“And no one touches you or your brother,” he assures me. “Consider yourself club property now.”
For the first time since I got here, I let myself breathe. I don’t know what that means and that might sound equally scary, but Sully staying away sounds better. I can handle some cookies.
I stare at him for a second, not sure what to do with the relief pounding through me. My hands shake. My chest feels too full.
Something in me moves anyway.I step forward and wrap my arms around him, before I can overthink it. “Thank you, Mr. Grave.”
He stiffens like no one ever hugs him. Then he pulls back gently, steadying me by the shoulders.
“Just Grave,” he says. “This motorcycle club is under new management. We took out a lot of the trash. Your dad was trash.”
