Page 9 of Viking
Karoline stepped through, her eyes darting around the compound, taking in the row of motorcycles, the clubhouse with its weathered exterior, the men lingering near the garage who had stopped to stare at her.She looked small and out of place in her neat blouse and jeans, clutching that purse against her side like a shield.
“Is Kris okay?”I asked, though I already knew the answer.No woman with tear-stained cheeks comes looking for her brother’s old friend when everything’s fine.
She shook her head, a tiny movement that spoke volumes.“No,” she whispered.“He’s not.”
The weight of those two simple words hit me like a physical blow.Kris.My oldest friend.The guy who’d been more brother to me than friend for most of our lives.I’d known his work was dangerous, had told him countless times to get out while he still could.But Kris had always believed he was doing something important, something necessary.
“Come on,” I said, my voice rougher than intended.“Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”
I placed my hand lightly on her lower back, guiding her away from the curious eyes of my brothers.She stiffened slightly at the contact but didn’t pull away, and I felt a fierce surge of protectiveness wash over me.Whatever had happened, whatever had brought her here, I would help her.For Kris.For the memory of the friendship we’d shared.For the little girl who’d once followed us around with wide, adoring eyes.
And maybe for the woman she’d become, who looked at me now with a mix of hope and fear that made my chest ache in ways I wasn’t ready to examine.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said, the words automatic, though I had no right to make such promises.“You’re safe here.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she followed me nonetheless, her steps quick to keep pace with mine, her eyes still scanning our surroundings as if searching for threats -- or escape routes.
What the hell had Kris gotten her into?And more importantly, what was I going to do about it?
I led Karoline to the small area behind the clubhouse.It was one of the few places in the compound that felt almost peaceful -- a couple of wooden picnic tables surrounded by potted plants that Preacher’s old lady insisted on maintaining.The brothers gave me space as we passed, curious glances following us but no one stupid enough to ask questions.They knew me well enough to read the tension in my shoulders, the warning in my eyes.
“Sit,” I said, gesturing to one of the benches.“Can I get you something?Water?Coffee?”
She perched on the edge of the bench like she might need to flee at any moment.“Water would be good.Thank you.”
I nodded to Jed, who’d followed us at a respectful distance, and he scurried off to fetch it.Alone with Karoline, I found myself suddenly awkward, unsure how to behave with this grown version of the girl I’d known.I sat across from her, the wooden table between us.
“How did you find me?”I asked, buying time while I tried to read the grief etched into her face.
“I called the shop,” she said.“The man who answered didn’t want to tell me anything until I mentioned Kris.Then he put me on hold, came back, and gave me directions.”Her hands twisted together on the tabletop.“I waited until morning then drove straight here.”
Jed returned with two bottles of water, setting them down before retreating again.I slid one toward Karoline, watching as she took a small sip, her throat working.
“Karoline,” I said gently, “what happened to Kris?”
She set the bottle down carefully, as if afraid it might shatter.“He’s dead,” she said, her voice breaking on the second word.“Military showed up.Said it was a classified mission.That he died serving his country.They wouldn’t tell me how or where or --” She broke off, pressing her fingers to her lips.
My jaw clenched so hard I felt a muscle jump in my cheek.My hands curled into fists under the table.Kris.Gone.The news shouldn’t have been a surprise -- he’d been playing with fire for years, dancing on the edge of dangers I knew too well.But he’d refused to give up his military career.He’d wanted to do some good and make a difference.I’d hoped he’d be smart and capable enough to pull through.It looked like he’d bitten off too much this time.
“I’m sorry,” I managed, the words feeling hollow and inadequate.“Kris was --” I couldn’t finish the sentence.What could I say?That he was like a brother?That he was the best man I’d ever known?That I’d failed him by letting him walk into that dangerous life alone?
“He was special,” Karoline said softly.“Everyone who knew him felt it.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.For a moment, we sat in silence, united in grief for the man we’d both loved in different ways.
“There’s more,” she continued, her gaze lifting to mine.“Something I didn’t know until after he died.Something none of us knew.”She took a deep breath.“Kris had a daughter.A little girl named Athena.She’s three years old.”
I stared at her, certain I’d misheard.“A daughter?”
Karoline nodded, a strange mixture of pain and wonder crossing her face.“He named me as her guardian in his will.I didn’t even know she existed.”
The shock must have shown on my face because she continued quickly, words tumbling out.
“Her mother isn’t in the picture.Kris had full custody.When he was deployed, she stayed with a friend of her mother’s.The social worker brought her to me.She has my hair, Lief.My eyes.She looks just like me when I was little.”
“Jesus,” I muttered, running a hand over my beard.Kris with a secret child.It explained some things -- his increased paranoia over the past few years, his reluctance to discuss his personal life, the extra security measures he’d started taking.A child changed everything.Made the stakes infinitely higher.
“She’s in the car right now,” Karoline said, glancing toward the compound entrance.“My friend Marnie is watching her.I -- I didn’t know if it would be safe to bring her in.She’s been through so much already.She barely speaks.”
