Page 25 of Ranger’s Protection

There's something in his voice. Not quite skepticism, but close to it. Like he's observed this pattern repeatedly but doesn't fully understand it.

"You don't believe in that?" I ask. "Love at first sight or whatever?"

"I believe in tactical decisions based on available information. I believe in compatibility, shared values, mutual respect. I don't believe in magic." He pauses. "But I've watched Phoenix with Ivy, Judge with Nora, Canvas with Eden, Brick with Rosie, Dean with Quinn. I've seen Echo with Hannah. And whatever it is they have, it's real. So maybe I just don't understand it yet."

"Yet implies you think you will eventually."

"I think I'm open to being proven wrong. That's about as close to belief as I get."

I almost smile at that. Almost. The exhaustion is creeping back in, making my eyelids heavy despite the fear of closing them.

"What about your family?" Graham asks. "Besides whatever brought you to witness a murder and end up running from bikers."

"There's not much to tell," I say quietly. "My mom raised me alone. Never knew my father. He left before I was born. Mom worked two jobs to keep us fed and housed. She died two years ago. Cancer. After that, it was just me."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too. She was... she was everything. My whole world. When she died, I buried myself in work because it was easier than dealing with the grief. Took the accounting job at the shipping company because it paid well and kept me too busy to think." I pull the comforter tighter. "Turns out the shipping company was a front for money laundering. I didn't know that when I took the job. Just thought I was processing legitimate invoices and payroll."

"When did you find out otherwise?"

"About six months in. Started noticing discrepancies. Payments that didn't match up with deliveries. Cash deposits that came from shell corporations. I flagged it to my supervisor, thought maybe it was errors I should help correct." I laugh bitterly. "He told me to mind my own business. Said the discrepancies were above my pay grade."

"But you didn't mind your own business."

"No. I'm an accountant. Numbers are supposed to make sense. When they don't, that means something's wrong. So, I started tracking the patterns on my own time. Built a spreadsheet documenting every suspicious transaction. I was going to take it to the authorities eventually, just wanted to make sure I had enough evidence first."

"What happened?"

"I stayed late one night to finish reconciling a particularly messy batch of invoices. Heard shouting from the supply closet. Went to investigate… Stupid, I know, but I thought maybe someone was hurt. Found the door cracked open. Looked through the gap and saw..." I close my eyes, but this time the memory is softer. More distant. Like I'm describing something that happened to someone else. "Saw Marcus Vale and two other men holding David Miller down while Vale pressed a gun to his head. Heard David begging. Heard Vale say he was being made an example of for skimming from the Vipers. Heard the gunshot."

Graham is very still in the chair. Listening with that complete attention that makes you feel heard in a way most people never achieve.

"I ran," I continue. "Grabbed my purse and my spreadsheet and ran to my car. Drove straight to the police station. Told them everything, and gave them the spreadsheet. Gave them names and dates and every detail I could remember." I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. "The detective I talked to seemed sympathetic. Said they'd investigate. Said they'd keep me safe. Two days later, someone broke into my apartment. I wasn't there. I'd been staying at a hotel because I was too scared to go home. But they trashed the place, and left a note that said 'witnesses don't live long.'"

"That's when you ran."

"That's when I ran. Called the detective. Got voicemail. Called again. Got voicemail again. Finally called the main police number and asked to speak to someone else. Got transferred three times before someone told me that detective had taken sudden leave for 'personal reasons.' That's when I knew, the Vipers had people in the police. The detective who took my statement had probably called them the second I left."

"So, you went into hiding on your own."

"Withdrew cash. Called the FBI, and a guy told me to wait in that motel. I ditched my phone and took a bus to that terrible motel and paid in cash for a week. Thought if I could just stay hidden long enough, maybe they'd forget about me. Maybe they'd decide I wasn't worth the trouble. Or things would be quickly solved." I laugh again, the sound hollow. "That was stupid. Of course they wouldn't forget. I could testify. Put Marcus and the rest away for murder. Expose their money laundering operation. I was a loose end, and they don't leave loose ends untied."

"You did everything right," Graham says. "Everything a smart, capable person would do when the system fails them. You survived. That's what matters."

"I survived because you came to get me. If you hadn't shown up when you did—"

"But I did show up. And you're safe now. Protected by nine bikers who are very good at violence and very committed to keeping you alive."

"Why?" The question comes out before I can stop it. "Why are you all committed to keeping me alive? You said it's strategic, but that doesn't explain... this." I gesture vaguely at him sitting in a chair watching over me. "Staying with me until I fall asleep. Answering my questions. Treating me like I matter instead of like I'm just an asset or a complication."

He's quiet for a long moment, and I think maybe I've pushed too far. Asked for explanations he doesn't have or doesn't want to give.

"Because you do matter. Not because of what you can testify to, or what intel you might have. You matter because you're a person who tried to do the right thing and got hurt for it. That's the kind of person we protect. It's the whole point of this club."

"The whole point of this club is protecting accountants who witness murders?"

"The whole point of this club is protecting people who can't protect themselves. Women running from abusive exes. Kids who need safety. Witnesses who get abandoned by the system that's supposed to help them. Anyone who needs it and deserves it." He leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees. "Every brother here joined because we believe in that mission."