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LUCKY
Amonth had passed since meeting with Rake, and the clubhouse had been transformed into a war room. The air was thick with the scent of leather and determination. Maps were spread across the table, and Lucky's fingers traced routes and backroads with strategic precision. Rake had come through. Pedro’s Rejects and Hell Speed had laid low, waiting to strike until The Watchmen least expected it. Their plan was simple—make The Watchmen think they’d moved on and attack when their defenses were down.
The Watchmen weren’t going on the defensive, no, they’d decided to attack first. Now, the officers huddled close; their faces were as hard as granite with their eyes locked on their president.
“Timing's gotta be perfect,” Lucky growled, his voice laced with command. “We hit 'em fast, hit 'em hard, and we do it together. No one breaks rank.”
Irish nodded, his laptop casting a glow on his intense features. “Jay hacked into the city's traffic cams. We'll have eyes everywhere, control the flow. They won't see us coming.”
“Remember, brothers,” Slash added, his voice as sharp as the name he bore, "Viper knows our playbook. Rake said hewas lying to them, but we can’t be certain of it. We need to be unpredictable.”
“Unpredictable,” Lucky echoed, glancing at Trinity, who sat a few steps away, absorbing every word. She was getting annoyed with a member of The Watchmen being at Day & Night every hour she was. If she wasn’t at work, she was with Lucky or one of his men. He knew by her increasing attitude that she was over it.
“Let's get to work,” Lucky commanded, and motioned Trinity to him. “When the threat is neutralized, you can get back to life without us around every second.”
“I don’t mind having you around,” she said, a slight blush spreading over her cheeks. “But, having some privacy once in a while would be nice.”
“Little girls don’t need privacy from their Daddies,” he teased, twerking her nose. “They need to be taken care of very carefully.”
“You do a great job of taking care of me, Daddy. But, we’d have less discussions if these brutes,” she waved her hand at the men standing around, “weren’t tattling on me all the time.” He heard the fondness in her voice and knew she was only teasing.
“If you didn’t do naughty things, we wouldn’t have to tattle,” Savage quipped with a shrug.
“Time for more lessons, Little Rabbit. Let's go.” Lucky motioned toward the door of the gym.
In the adjoining room, mats were laid out, and the thud of flesh against leather filled the space. Trinity squared her shoulders, as Lucky approached, his movements predatory, deliberate.
“Ready, Little Rabbit?”
“Always, ready,” she replied, meeting his stare without flinching. He was impressed by her bravery and resolve in the month. She might be fifty-seven, but her endurance was of someone much younger.
He showed her how to throw a punch, the movement efficient and powerful. She mimicked him, her fists driving into the pads he held up. Her body trembled from the exertion, sweat glistening on her brow as she poured her soul into each strike.
“Good. Now, defense.” Lucky's instructions were relentless, his praise sparing but potent. He pushed her, knowing her limits yet urging her past them.
“Again!” he barked as she bobbed and weaved. “Harder, Trinity! Make me believe you can take down Savage! Their men are as large as any of ours. Let me see what you will do if they try to take you.”
She roared, a primal sound that matched the raging fire in her eyes, and lunged, executing a takedown that sent Lucky to the mat with a grunt of approval.
“Fuck, woman,” he breathed, pride swelling in his chest as he looked up at her, panting and victorious. “You're a force to be reckoned with.”
Trinity extended a hand to help him up, her smile wicked. “I learn from the best.”
“Damn right you do.” Lucky pulled her down, claiming her lips in a kiss that seared them both.
TRINITY
Trinity glanced up from the espresso machine, a lock of her hair slipping free from its loose bun. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans permeated Day & Night, blending seamlessly with the soft murmur of conversation. She smiled at her customers, the locals who'd come to adore her dual-purpose sanctuary in the heart of Grand Ridge.
“Here you go, Sam. Extra shot, just how you like it,” she said, sliding a steaming cup across the counter to one of her regulars. Her laughter, bright and unburdened, filled the space, a melodic contrast to the storm she was oblivious to brewing outside her doors. Her muscles ached from the continuous personal defense lessons Lucky made her do.
“Thanks, Trinity. You're an angel,” Sam replied, her eyes crinkling with warmth as she took the first, appreciative sip. “The emergency department was nonstop last night, and I have errands to run this morning. I needed this espresso.”
As Sam hurried out of the shop after leaving a generous tip, Irish approached the bar top and sat down. “One Lucky please,” he ordered with a wink.
The cinnamon infused Americanos were a big hit with The Watchmen, and Trinity was pleased it had gone over so well. “Bodyguard shift change already?” she asked the large redhead as she slid him his drink.
“Yeah. Blade had an um...” Irish paused and took a long sip from his coffee. “An—um—tummy issue come up.”
