Page 104 of The Heart We Guard
“My client has nothing further to say,” Lucy says calmly.
Atkins looks up at me. “People are going to come looking for whatever information you have, Greer. And when they do, you’ll regret not telling me. Because your silence won’t buy you safety.”
30
BUTCHER
As I lean against my truck and watch the doorway like a hawk, I think about the conversation I overheard this morning. I’d stood in some mud and paused to wipe the sides of my boot against some concrete to get the worst of it off, and I could hear Greer’s voice from the patio. She was happy. Sounded carefree. And from the content of their conversation, she was comfortable with whoever was on the other end of the line.
When I first heard her talking about having a connection, I was hopeful it was me she was talking about. And then, she mentioned the connection being there before the baby, and I was certain she was talking about the two of us.
Then, she said something that had hit me square in the gut.
What if, when you die, before you enter heaven, God shows you the very best version of yourself you could have become if you’d made different choices?
I’m not religious. Got no business believing in a mysterious man we got no proof of. But the very idea that, at some point, I’ll be shown my life on repeat, see where I went wrong, what I missed out on?
Yeah, that idea messed with my head.
There was some more conversation, where she asked if she was being foolish, and I wish I knew what the answer was on the other end of the line. She said the idea of me doing whatever they said was laughable, and I want to know just what she thinks I’m incapable of. Because, if it’s important to her, I want to show her I can do it.
I blow out a breath, my thoughts whirring. Listening to her say I have old-school gentlemanly ways, that she likes the way we talk and how I have good friends, made me think I’m doing something right.
I look over to where everyone is chill, with the exception of Grudge, who looks like he’s about to start a fight with his bike or the sidewalk or the next person who walks by.
They are good men. All of them.
She said I make her feel safe, and I know these men always have my back to make that happen. And when she admitted I make her feel things, presumably in a sexual way, I was fit to combust.
While he makes me feel safe, his proximity to his world does not. He’s the president. That has to make him a target, even if that’s law enforcement rather than club enemies.
Then, she said those words, and my balloon deflated, along with the chub I was sporting.
I know my world is a dangerous place. And when there was just me to worry about, it didn’t matter. When Ember was a baby, I was too young and foolish and reckless to see it. It was the status quo, and I felt too damn invincible to question it.
But now, I see it, and there’s her and the little one in her stomach to think about. And suddenly, the world I know seems like a much more dangerous place.
From the moment she’d walked back into my life, I’d realized that there would always be a threat. No matter how good I amat mitigating them, there will always be some bullet pointing our way.
And one day, I might not be there to stop it.
She then spoke about something to do with the mobile clinic she’s setting up. That she’d hire armed security for nighttime runs. Private security.
Can I trust her safety to anyone else?
Would she want me to be responsible for it if I could?
Then, she knocked me on my ass.
I can’t ask Nolan to quit. He’s a biker to his core.
What if that whole spiel about seeing the life you could have had was true? What if I needed to put some fuel in the forgiveness tank, just in case, and put into action some things to balance the scales of the justice I’ve dished over the last thirty years?
What if, in the right circumstances, I did quit?
“Butch,” Wraith whispers. He’s sitting on his bike as we wait for the girls to come out, but he’s making like he’s not talking to me, fiddling with shit on the side of his exhaust.
“What?” I say, taking my cue from him and focusing on the door to the station.
