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“Let’s get the paperwork done,” I tell him, he nods and points over his shoulder.
Glancing at Cheree she smiles. “I’ll get our stuff moved over.”
I wink at her and follow him inside.
***
The world shrinks to the size of my cell phone screen, a lifeline in a sea of trouble. I lean against our newly acquired beast, its engine ticking as it cools. Cheree stands a little ways off, giving me space for the call she knows I have to make.
“JD,” Grim’s voice is like gravel.
“Brother, we’re in need of a place to stay.”
“Talk to me.” The command is simple, but it carries the weight of years of battles fought side by side, of secrets kept and blood spilled.
I lay it out for him, all of it, the close call, the endless road works, and the road ahead. A road that’s looking about as forgiving as a razor wire hug. I tell him about the car, how it’s solid, but we need more than just wheels. We need safety, a place to sleep before we hit the big apple.
“JD,” Grim interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument, “you know you’ve got the full strength of the club behind you. Whatever you need, brother, it’s yours.”
“Appreciate it, man,” I say, and even though he can’t see it, I nod, acknowledging the gravity of his loyalty. It’s a bond forged in fire, one that’s never failed me.
“Got a safe spot lined up?” I ask.
“You’ll have the address by the time you hang up. Janet will take care of you,” he assures me.
“Thanks, Grim.”
“Isn’t that what brothers are for?” His chuckle is dark, knowing, a sound that speaks of shared demons and unspoken understandings.
“Owe you one.” My gaze drifts over to Cheree.
“JD, you’ve bled for the club. Your debt’s long paid,” Grim replies. “Take care of Cheree,” he adds, softer now. “Keep her safe.”
“Will do,” I promise.
“Check your phone. And JD—stay sharp.”
“Thanks.” I end the call, slide the phone into my pocket, and turn to Cheree.
“We’ve got a place to lie low,” I tell her. “Grim’s got us covered.”
“Thank God for Grim,” she breathes out.
With every step we take, every mile we put between us and our past, the future starts to look less like a dead end and more like a road worth taking.
***
The city’s pulse dims as we pull up to the apartment building. It’s one of those places where you blend in by standing out, a sanctuary built on the premise that everyone’s got something to hide.
“Looks quiet,” Cheree observes, her voice low.
“Quiet’s good. Quiet’s safe.” I scan the surroundings—the streetlights casting long shadows across the cracked pavement, the way the fire escape clings to the building like a metal vine. This is the kind of place you read about in novels, where protagonists find respite in the eye of the storm.
A figure emerges from the shadows, cutting through the twilight haze like a ship parting fog. Janet, I assume, her silver hair catching the light of the moon. She’s known Grim longer than the roads have had lines, and her eyes speak of stories she’ll take to the grave.
“JD, Cheree,” she greets us, warmth spilling from her voice like a soothing melody. “Come in, come in. You must be exhausted.”
“Janet.” I nod, offering a tight smile. My body is tensed for anything, even here, even now.
