Page 5 of Crash’s Secret

I stay at the register end, as far away as I can.

“You want coffee?” I jerk a thumb at the kitchen. “I’ll put some on.”

“Sure.”

I go make her coffee. In the kitchen, I put both hands on the counter and stand there a second, getting myself together.

She’s going to be here every day now. Every fucking day. Sleeping in the same clubhouse.

I pour hers and start shoveling sugar in. Four spoons. Same as when she was sixteen, perched on a clubhouse stool doing homework while the rest of us shot pool and pretended we weren’t a pack of criminals.

I set the cup next to her ledger. She looks at it. Then at me.

She wraps both hands around the cup and takes a drink. “You remembered the sugar.”

“Lucky guess.”

“The absurd amount of sugar I like in my coffee is not a guess, Crash.”

The front door saves my ass.

Saber comes in with his cut on, riding gloves hanging out of one pocket, and a gun tucked into a holster. That combination at eight in the morning means club business, not a social call.

“There she is.” He kisses the top of Cassidy’s head, lifts her coffee out of her hands, drinks, and grimaces. “Fuck, Cass. Still with the sugar.”

She takes it from him. “Serves you right. Get your own.”

He leans on the rail across from me, and from the look on his face, I’m about to get orders.

“Guys from National decided to leave today.” He checks his holster. “Razor, Viper, and I are riding out with them, then we are going on a run.”

Cassidy stops writing. “What kind of run?”

“Club business, Cass. You know not to ask.” He says it gently.

She holds his stare a beat, then drops her eyes to the ledger.

His attention swings to me. “We’ll be gone a week. Maybe ten days. You’ve got the gavel while I’m gone.” He looks over at his sister, then back to me. “Trapper and the other prospects will keep an eye on Shelby. You take care of Cassidy.”

Shit. The one job I shouldn’t take, but can’t refuse.

“Anything she needs.” He ticks it off like a grocery list, no idea he’s reading my death sentence. “Most of her stuff is still in her car. Get a prospect to haul it up to her room today. She needs furniture for that room, take her to get it. Car acts up, you fix it. She wants anything in town, a brother goes with her.” He points at me. “She’s sleeping under the club’s roof and working under yours, and I want my best on her. Okay?”

He wants his best on her. Jesus fucking Christ. Why did he have to say it like that?

“Yeah.” I keep my eyes on him and off her. “Of course.”

“I’m an adult.” Cassidy straightens in her stool. “I’ve been living alone for years. I agreed to the clubhouse. I didn’t agree to a babysitter.”

Saber shrugs. “You’ve got one, anyway.”

“Saber!” That’s her whole argument.

“Cass.” Just her name. The President surfaces in his face for half a second, even for her. “Warriors have been quiet two months. But I can’t promise that will hold. Don’t fight me on this one.”

She wants to fight back; anybody could see it loading up.

Then she trades it for leverage instead. “Fine. But we do it my way. He keeps me company, but he doesn’t hover. And he has to take me out for tacos as often as I want. Because if I’m stuck with a babysitter, I’m at least eating well.”