Page 68 of Single Mom's Biker Brigade
An hour later, they all went inside together. I stayed on the porch, my mind too stuck on someone coming after my family to get my body behind a closed door.
Cody had left his tricycle on its side in the shade under the big oak tree, and the low growl of thunder pushed me up from the steps and across the yard to put it away before it rusted in the rain. I grabbed one handle and lifted the tricycle up to carry instead of scooting it. The red paint had already flaked in places, and I turned away from my original path, aiming for the shop where I could give it a new coat of paint. Once I had it on the bench and held the paint gun, a square block of pure black caught my eye. “What the fuck?” I muttered under my breath and ripped the tracker off the underside of the seat. My fingers curled so tight the box groaned. I threw the paint gun back into the holster and stormed to the house, ignoring everything and everyone until I reached the kitchen where Hawk and Callie sat at the table. It took considerable effort to open my fingers and let the tracker fall onto the wood.
My chest heaved, every cell in my body priming for the incoming threat.
Hawk’s expression went from confused to cold in a blink.
Callie sat back so fast her shoulders slammed into the chair. “They were in the driveway.”
23
CALLIE
I could handle a lot of things.
I’d handled a stepfather who thought throwing furniture and breaking my will meant he was a big, strong man. I’d handled a burning building with my kid on my hip and putting my body on the line to save his. I’d handled three men rolling into my parking lot like they owned the place and taking care of me as a shot cracked and they whisked me away for safekeeping. Men with guns, smoke and shouting from men in patched jackets didn’t bother me anymore.
What I could not handle was the sound Cody made when the front door slammed and a loud, obnoxious voice careened through the house.
Cody flinched so hard his juice box hit the floor and he made a pained sound as he brought his hood up over his head and drew the strings tight.
No. Absolutely fuckingnothappening. All the protection in the world did not mean shit when the rest of the people around us scared Cody. They’d gotten close enough to put trackers on mycar and Cody’s tricycle. We’d not had time to talk about that before Cody and Colt entered the kitchen and the conversation turned to something that wouldn’t keep Cody up all night worrying about monsters.
“We’re leaving.” I set my coffee down on the counter and stood.
Cody kept his face tucked into his hood, slowly pulling the ends of the strings back and forth between his teeth.
Colt stiffened but kept pacing. He’d been doing that since Diesel showed him the tracker, and the constant motion triggered my flight response.
“Tonight.” I didn’t need permission, but I gave them a warning. “I’ll pack Cody’s bag and we’ll find a hotel.”
“Callie.” Hawk stood three feet away, his lean body tense. “You don’t have to leave.”
“Don’t.” I held up a hand. “Don’t tell me it’s been handled. Don’t you dare. Someone put a tracker on his tricycle. In this driveway. On your property.” I spread my hands in a gesture of surrender though I didn’t plan on giving an inch. It was an apology to Diesel more than anything. He’d tried, but his work came too late. “Your property, Hawk. Whatever you’ve been doing, it’s not enough.”
“We don’t know that yet. You’re more at risk out there.” Hawk didn’t have to move to make his presence fill the room.
I felt it in every breath, the pressure grinding away my resistance. “You need to call the police. This is more than we can handle alone. I want every bit of protection that’s out there.” He wouldn’t call. Hawk did not call police into his problems. He dealt with them when they made themselves a nuisance. Theonly reason he’d gone to the police station was to see what they knew about me.
“The police will open a file. They’ll take a report, and they’ll run the tracker through their system and find nothing because whoever placed it isn’t in their database, or if they are, the connection won’t hold up. I will not trust you and Cody to a system known for failure. Or one that can be bought. And while the file sits in a deputy’s inbox, the Hellhounds keep applying pressure.” He moved toward me, each step precise. “They don’t want arrests. They want leverage. Police involvement gives them a different kind.”
“So we just do nothing?”
“We handle it.”
“You keep saying that.” I pushed off the counter. “You’ve been saying that every single day and it keeps getting worse. Colt, please for the love of god, stop pacing.”
Colt frowned but stopped in the middle of the kitchen. “I think better when I move.” His gaze darted to Cody, and he pulled out a chair beside our son and sank into it. Within seconds, the two of them were deep into a conversation about cars that slowly pulled Cody from the depths of his hood.
Shit. I should have been the one to do that. I’d let my worry go too far. Colt had seen what Cody needed and offered him a distraction.
Too late now. If I interfered, it looked like I wanted Colt to stay away from Cody. I didn’t want that at all. I wanted us safe. All of us. “Explain to me, in detail, whathandling itlooks like, because from where I’m standing, all we’re doing is waiting for them to make another move.”
Diesel stood at the back window. He’d moved there after setting the tracker down and except for breathing, he hadn’t moved a muscle. One hand rested on the frame, the other on his hip.
“Diesel, tell me how to end this.” I never asked him for his story. Not where he’d come from or what brought him into Hawk’s circle. But it didn’t take a genius to realize Diesel had military training. I motioned toward the window. “What makes them stop?”
He straightened and turned away from the window. “Removing the reason they’re here.”
