Page 36 of Havoc

“I can at least promise to control my behavior. You can trust me, Riley,”

I stood and held out a hand, giving her the choice. She had to want this—to trust me—on her own terms. As much as I wanted to wrap her in my arms and shield her from the world, I wouldn’t push. Not now. Not ever.

After a long, thoughtful pause, she slid her hand into mine. I tugged her up from the sofa with gentle ease.

“I do trust you,” she murmured, her voice soft but certain. “Zoe told me you were a good man. And now I can see it for myself.”

I smiled and linked her arm through mine. “I’m easy on the eyes, got a good sense of humor, and I make a mean breakfast, too.”

“I already know all that,” she replied, her voice tired but sincere.

I could tell the dopamine surge from earlier was crashing. That post-trauma drop-off could be brutal, emotionally unpredictable. She didn’t need to go through it alone. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to let her.

Chapter 12

Havoc

The minute we hit the bottom of the stairs, Riley looked around at the few people in the bar—mostly club girls. I wondered if she was trying to figure out whether any of them were aware of what she had just endured. I didn’t want her to feel embarrassed, because she hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. It was that asshole cop who should’ve felt shame.

To ease her worry, I told her quietly, “Only the brothers involved in helping us bring Slater down will know what he did to you. We don’t talk about club business to the old ladies or club girls.” Clearly, Zoe and Ali were exceptions, but we’d already talked about that. She’d seemed grateful for Zoe’s support, so I didn’t bother going over it again.

She glanced around once more, like she was trying to ground herself. “I don’t care who knows what happened. The more women who know, the better. They need to be aware of what he’s done to stay safe.”

Shock rolled through my gut. “You sure about that, Riley?”

“Yeah. Pass the word that he’s a stalker who isn’t above trying to rape someone in broad daylight.”

I gave her a nod of understanding. A knot of tension I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying loosened in my chest. That was the Riley I knew—strong, resilient, and unafraid. I slipped my arm around her and murmured, “We’ll make sure they all know he can’t be trusted.”

A look of gratitude flickered across her face, and she moved a little closer to me. I guided her to my room on the first floor. Unlike the suites we reserved for guests and special occasions, my room was a simple one-bedroom space with a tiny semi-private bathroom. Storm had the place built with practicality in mind—most rooms shared a connecting bathroom. Nothing fancy, but it was clean and comfortable.

I hung my cut on the back of the door and kicked off my boots. Riley wandered the room, exploring like she was trying to learn me through my things. She ran a hand over the folded clothes sticking out of my duffel bag and lingered a moment by my bookshelf, fingers brushing the worn spines. Eventually, she dropped down on the edge of the bed and slipped off her shoes. After nudging them under the bed, she shifted until her back rested against the wall.

“This is a big bed for such a small room,” she remarked.

I wheeled my desk chair closer to the bed. “Yeah, we’re big guys who value comfort when we sleep.”

She gave a faint laugh. “I don’t believe I’ve thanked you for coming when I texted. I hate making my problems your problems.”

“Are you kidding? We love dealing with dirty cops. When I brought it up to Storm, his voice lit up like it was Christmas morning. You already know Zoe runs that vlog about local government corruption and unsolved local crime. This is their idea of a good time.”

I popped open the mini-fridge under the desk and grabbed two cold bottles of water. When I handed one to her, she accepted it with a steady hand—a good sign. A vast improvement from earlier.

“Yeah,” she replied, twisting the cap. “I was one of her first subscribers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I could make Storm and Zoe’s day. I just hate that you’re stuck dealing with all this.”

“I don’t mind,” I said, taking a long pull from my water.

“Don’t you have a job to get to? I remember you said something about running a construction crew—and how you couldn’t leave them to run amok.”

“Damn, woman, you’ve got the memory of an elephant.”

She smiled faintly. “No, you’re just memorable.”

Hearing that from her? Yeah, that hit somewhere deep. I cleared my throat and explained, “I’ve got a club brother who renovates old houses. He’s meticulous and knows how I run things. He’s filled in for me before when I was short-staffed. He agreed to cover until further notice.”

She sipped her water, then looked over the bottle at me. “You and your club brothers are tight. You have each other’s backs, huh?”

“Of course. That’s what the brotherhood’s about. It’s what drew me in.”

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