THIRTEEN
LUCKY
I rollinto the clubhouse lot just after noon and kill the engine, and heat shimmers off the asphalt while the place already looks busy. Bikes are scattered everywhere, and a couple guys lean against them with coffees, talking low. Nobody’s laughing, and that’s the first sign this isn’t a social call.
Inside, the air is thick with that pre church quiet. It isn’t silence, just a hum that sits under everything. Guys are posted along the walls while a few hang near the bar, and most of them drift toward the table. Riot’s standing with Tank, and both of them are watching the room instead of talking. When Riot spots me, his eyes flick over me quick, checking.
“You look alive,” he says when I step up.
“Last I checked.”
He grunts, and it’s satisfied enough. “Coffee’s trash but it’s hot.”
I pour a cup anyway, and it tastes like burnt dirt, but I drink it. Riot studies me over the rim of his mug like he’s reading what I’m not saying.
“You good?” he asks, and it sounds casual even though it isn’t.
“Yeah,” I say. “I just need a hand fixing a door later.”
“You gonna tell me what happened to her door?” he asks.
I set the cup down. “I kicked it in.”
Riot freezes. His stare goes flat and hard. “You did what.”
Tank’s head turns at the tone alone.
“I kicked in her front door,” I repeat, and I lift my hands a little. “She was screaming. I thought somebody was hurting her.”
Riot’s jaw tightens. “You broke into a civilian woman’s house in the middle of the night,” he says slowly. “What the fuck happened, Lucky?”
“I heard her screaming,” I say, and I can still hear it echoing in my head. “Not yelling. Not talking. Screaming like she was being attacked. I wasn’t standing on the porch waiting for an invitation.”
“So you went in blind,” Riot snaps. “No call. No backup. You just kicked a door and hoped for the best.”
“I went in because I thought she was in danger,” I shoot back. “And I’m not sorry about that part.”
Tank steps closer, eyes narrowing. “And what did you actually walk into?”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “A nightmare,” I admit. “That’s it. She was fighting the sheets and screaming in her sleep. By the time I got to her she was waking up and confused, and I’m standing there with her door splintered behind me.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“You’re kidding,” Tank mutters.
Riot stares at me. “So you scared the hell out of her over a dream.”
“I didn’t scare her,” I say quickly. “Not once she realized it was me. She was shaken up, yeah, but she let me stay. I calmed her down.”
He exhales hard through his nose. “Jesus Christ, Lucky.”
“I heard a woman screaming,” I say again, quieter but firm. “I reacted. I’d do it again if I thought somebody was hurting her.”
Riot drags a hand over his face. The anger doesn’t vanish, but it shifts into something tighter and more controlled.
“You don’t get to freelance like that,” he says. “You wanna play hero, fine, but you loop the club in. You don’t go smashing doors and creating problems we have to clean up.”
“I’m fixing the door,” I say. “Today. Reinforcing it so it’s better than it was.”
