9. Halo

Our warehouse sits on land northeast of the Pines. It's discrete. Private. Perfect for storing the things we don't want to store in the clubhouse. Like the weapons we just loaded into two vans.

I've got mixed feelings about it as Cillian O'Ceallaigh and the rest of his Irish mob disappear into the scenery.

On the one hand, King has a stack of cash in his hand so thick, we're all gonna get a bumper packet this month. Hard to look at that kind of cash and not get excited at the prospect. Brings me one step closer to looking for a new house, as my side hustle is flipping houses.

On the other, the weapons we sell often end up in the hands of revolutionaries in foreign countries. And having been deeply conflicted about the time I spent serving as boots on the ground in foreign conflicts, I know I'm effectively selling weapons that'll be used to kill my other brotherhood. Those deployed with the US military.

The two parts of me make for uneasy bedfellows occasionally.

Usually, the size of the cash in the envelope is all I need to get over it, but something is biting at me today.

Then I realize it might not be the deal at all.

"Let's go back to the clubhouse," I say, remembering that, after all, I'm road captain. "We're gonna draw attention eventually. All this chrome out in the sun. We'll travel in the regular formation. King, split the cash into three equal amounts between you, Clutch, and Spark so we can get it back to the clubhouse safely."

This lowers the risks. If a cop pulls someone over, we only lose a third of the cash. Same if someone saw the cash exchanged and tries to run us off the road.

The low rumble of my bike does what it always does. Soothes the frayed edges. With the wind in my hair and the sun on my face, I can almost forget everything else going on in my life.

When we return to the clubhouse, we take five before joining King in his office.

"You planning a party for Lola?" Spark asks.

"What?"

"Lola. It's her first birthday next week, right?"

Fuck. I forgot.

Vex was unable to trace the phone that sent me the message. It's a burner. Unregistered. Even then it should be bouncing off cell towers or something. Vex is perplexed. And from the message, I think we all know why.

They are on to Vex and have found someone who can block his efforts.

But all that means my mind has been on other things.

"Yeah. Forgot for a minute."

Spark rolls his eyes. "You're a better man than that, brother."

The words hit me square in my ego. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I'm saying. Man up. Even if she goes to live with this mysterious sister of Mercy's, doesn't mean you can take your eye off her."

"You're starting to piss me off, Spark. First yesterday, now today. You're not my fucking dad."

Spark shakes his head sadly. "No, because if your dad were here, you wouldn't be in this mess. I get that this isn't the hand you were expecting to be dealt, but they're the cards you got. Plan your sister's fucking first birthday. Invite all the women. Get a cake she can eat with her hands and face."

Spark walks ahead of me into King's office, and I pivot to the bar to get a drink. "Whiskey," I say to the prospect who serves it real quick. I throw it back equally as fast.

"Got a second?" Clutch says.

"You going to shit on me too?"

"What?" Clutch asks.

"Never mind. What is it?"

"Just spoke to Gwen. Said Arianne tried to pay at the grocery store and however she tried to pay got declined. Then she found out her husband cleaned out her account."

I throw the whiskey glass across the bar where it hits the wood and shatters, sending shards flying. "Motherfucker."

"Yeah. Well. Are you going to help her out?"

"You know what…why the hell is this my problem? I got a baby in my house that's not mine, that needs feeding, and looking after, and birthday parties that need planning when I want to be here, focused, working on a plan to catch Collins. Now I got a woman who is related to a girl I didn't give a shit about. Mercy was a shit human being who trapped my dad into a situation he didn't want to be in. Oh, and I got a fucking vengeful half-brother who killed my dad and the woman I couldn't stand."

Clutch strokes his beard. "I'm gonna give you some advice, and you're going to take it."

I shake my head. "‘Cause that's the thing I need right now."

"You've got a lot of shit going on, I get that. But you've always been the cool-headed one. The one who could carry the load. You were a Navy fucking SEAL who saw shit most of us can't imagine. And I get that you just had a fucking devastating blow. I know how hard it is to lose your dad, remember. I gave the go ahead for my own to be killed in prison. But you're at risk of letting it overshadow the man you are. You gotta hold on to him, stick with his values, otherwise…"

"Otherwise?"

Clutch stares me straight in the eye. "Otherwise, you're gonna sound like a whiney ass who can't take care of what's his. I get grief. I really do. But step up."

He's right. I'm playing victim. Fuck this shit. I'll take care of Lola by taking care of Arianne. I make a mental note to get Dad's place valued for sale. I'll sell most of the shit in it. I'll take the cash and buy a house in Lola's name. Arianne can live in it, rent free, until Lola is eighteen. Then it's Lola's. But by then Arianne'll be on her feet. She'll have a job.

"Are you two old ladies joining us, or should we wait even longer?" King shouts.

"On our way," I say. I turn to face Clutch. "Thank you, brother."

Clutch squeezes my shoulder. "Just make it right."

"Did you fix her car yet?" I ask.

Clutch shakes his head as we walk to church. "Two more days on parts."

"Deduct it from my cut of the take."

When I hop on my bike home three hours later, my head is clearer.

"Arianne," I shout when I take off my boots in the hallway. I thought briefly about staying at the club, blowing off some steam. But I'm here for the two people currently relying on me to help them figure out their future.

"Shh," a voice whispers. Then Arianne's head appears over the back of the sofa. "I finally got her to sleep."

As I walk farther into the living room, I see Lola asleep in a little bassinet on a rocker that Dad built for me when I was born; he'd been hoarding it in the attic ever since I grew out of it. There's a blanket over Arianne, and her eyes are heavy like she was napping too.

"Shit. Didn't mean to wake you." I keep my voice low, one eye on Lola.

Arianne rubs her hands over her face, and I try not to notice the way her elbows squish her tits together. They're not the biggest I've ever seen. In fact, they might be smaller than I'm used to. But they're real and fucking cute.

"It's okay. It's time I got moving."

I tip my head in the direction of the kitchen. "Meet you in there."

When I wander into the kitchen, I open the fridge and pull out a beer. The top pops with a hiss of air. It's cold, refreshing, and surprisingly grounding. You can't beat that feeling of knowing you are home after a long day. Walking into a place that's calm is a necessity.

I've always believed in the concept of being king of your own castle. Doesn't matter whether it's a literal castle, or a two-hundred-and-fifty-square-foot apartment. It's yours. Whether you rent or own. Make it your place. Treat it like it's priceless. Clean it. Put your shit away. Don't accumulate stuff you don't need. Don't buy clothes for a life you don't lead.

Minimalism helps reduce mental clutter too.

That desire is part of the reason I never particularly wanted kids. They come with stuff. Lots of stuff that grows around the place like black mold—unsightly and tough to get rid of.

As I close the fridge door, I see there's a tray of chicken in some seasoning in one of my dishes. I'm guessing this is the groceries Arianne was trying to purchase this morning, and I can't lie to myself—I like the idea she thought of cooking me a meal and went to the trouble of buying it.

"Chicken," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Nothing fancy. I just wanted to say thank you…you know, for letting me stay for a few nights. We didn't talk about that. But I'm hoping you're going to let me stay at least another night."

"You wanna make a deal with me, Arianne?" I ask.

"What's that?"

"I'll help you get back on your feet if you look after Lola for me."

Arianne's mouth opens wide, then closes. "What? You will?"

"I know the contents of Dad's will. His estate is split between me and Lola."

"None of it was left to my sister?"

I shake my head. "Mercy and my dad had a complicated relationship that was more to do with the motorcycle club than it was to do with love. In fact, Dad was worried that his money was the reason Mercy was with him."

"That sounds awful," Arianne says. "I wonder what it says about us that we both ended up with men who didn't really love us."

I let it wash that she doesn't mention the flaws in her sister's behavior. "Either way, Dad knew Mercy would take the money and quite possibly leave Lola behind. So, he made sure the will left the money to Lola, to be controlled by me."

"Now I'm confused. How does this all come together?"

I point towards the chair at the table and we both take a seat. "You ever heard of a house mouse, kitten?"

"Briar and Iris were talking about it. As long as you don't think I'm a sweet butt. Because I'm not sleeping with you."

I almost choke. The words from her lips do something to me. "No sex." Even though it would be so fucking tempting. "A house mouse is a woman who cooks and cleans and looks after the house for a biker in return for accommodation and food, mainly. You'd have to look after Lola too. So I could pay you for that."

"Really?"

"How about this? We clean up Dad's house for sale. I flip houses. Did all the work in here myself. I'm actually in the process of renovating the en suite in my bedroom. So, I pause doing this one up, fix up his, and I sell it. I take the amount meant for Lola and invest it in a place around here in her name. You can move with her into it. I'll help with money each month for her. Instead of paying for a daycare spot that I can't seem to find, I'll pay you instead. And you won't have to pay rent."

I'm not sure what the look of shock on her face means, but I'm a sucker for wide eyes and fat lips, and it's really fucking hard to not lean in and kiss her. Because imagining those wide eyes on me while I came this morning sent a mundane wank into the stratosphere.

"You shouldn't have to pay me to look after my niece," she says.

"The way I see it, I can't look after Lola. I got shit I need to do for my club. I'm away a lot. It's complicated. You need to get away from your husband because it's equally complicated. And Lola needs someone to love her and look after her so she can feel secure. Solves all our problems if you agree to look after her, and I pay you to do it while you live somewhere rent free. Take care of her and shit."

"You want me to stay?"

"You don't sound convinced."

Arianne looks around the kitchen. "If I stay, I need to do more to help. I'm handy with a paintbrush. I can help you clear out your dad and Mercy's things. I can do things here too. Cook and such. Grocery shopping. If you want me to. I can do anything you need, really."

The thoughts that flood my mind about what she could do for me are downright dirty. They mostly involve that mouth of hers, some rope, and time we don't have.

"I'd be happy to eat home-cooked food someone else made. And if I'm gonna look out for you, I can't be finding out from a brother that you're short on cash. Can't be finding out that your husband stripped your account."

Arianne blushes, and fuck, doesn't that just crank up the chub I'm already sporting. "I didn't know. We each have our own account. But he was able to transfer from mine to his to pay bills. I was expecting my salary today, but he got my boss to pay it in last night, and then he transferred it out two minutes later."

"Cunt," I mutter. I reach into the pocket of my cut and pull out the envelope King gave us at church. I pull out a thousand dollars and put it down on the table. "The daycare I was looking at wanted two grand a month. Five hundred a week. Another two-fifty a week for you for taking care of things around the house. Cleaning, laundry, some cooking. That's your salary. Two-fifty for shit for the house. Groceries and things. Keep receipts. When it's gone, tell me, and I'll give you some more. I'll be straight, the men who killed my father are trouble, and I don't want you and Lola out in the world by yourselves just yet. Stay with me, save up some money, and we'll figure out the rest later."

Tears glisten in Arianne's eyes, but they don't fall. "This is so much more than I was hoping for."

Fuck, she has a sweet rasp to her voice when she's emotional. I bite back the urge to trail my thumbs beneath those long lashes.

"I'm also going to ask our club lawyer to get your money back. Logging in to someone else's bank account has got to be a crime."

"I'm not quite sure how to thank you."

I nod, even as images of Arianne's wrists tied in rope spring to mind.

Which is a sure sign this plan of mine isn't going to work.

Because keeping my hands off Arianne Osborne is going to take a miracle.