Page 17 of My Secret to Protect

‘You can’t tell her.’ My words draw her eyes up to mine, and I continue. ‘If I go in there when she’s tired and scared and expect her to just accept me in her life and put on a performance, it won’t work. She’ll overthink it and be nervous. He won’t believe it. She needs to think it’s real, too.’

‘Arlo,’ I hear her apprehension, and I get it. She’s trying to protect her granddaughter, not set her up to get hurt, but I know I’m right on this.

‘I won’t let it go too far,’ I assure, as memories of going far enough with Bree come at me fast, and I push away from my desk once more, moving to sit in my chair. ‘I won’t let her get hurt by anyone.’

‘I need her to be safe, Arlo. I trust that you know what you’re doing. That’s why I came to you with this.’

‘I won’t let you down, Mrs. C, you know that.’ I hold her gaze once more, then pull out my phone to check on the distance between my place and Forest Falls. ‘Now I just need to figure out how to make this happen when she’s three hours away.’

‘Well,’ looking up from my phone, I meet her smiling eyes, full of mischief, ‘about that…’

Nineteen Years Ago

‘Wait,youwantmeto babysit some grandma?’

‘Thatgrandmais like a mother to me, and she could kick your ass in a heartbeat.’ I dropped my gaze to stare at the table. ‘This is important, Arlo. We keep her safe, always, and you do what I say you do.’

I knew this. I had always known the club protected Mrs. Campbell because I had been around long enough to see it. I was just never given the task myself.

‘I know it’s not glamourous or dangerous, and it stops you from getting your dick sucked multiple times a fucking day.’ I met Viking’s eyes, and he shook his head. The girls on tap were a part of club life, and I was twenty, tall, built, and as pretty as a picture—what could I say? ‘But it’s club business, we do this, always. No questions.’

I nodded, accepting the job given to me, knowing I didn’t have a choice in this. Viking was president of Bone Roses MC, and I did what the fuck he told me to do.

‘That all then?’ I asked, and he nodded, so I stood and turned to leave the room.

‘Arlo.’ I turned back to see Viking holding up a finger to me. ‘Stay away from the kid.’

‘What kid?’ I shrugged.

‘The granddaughter. She’s staying for the summer. Eyes, hands, and every other part of your body,off.’

‘Jesus, what do you take me for?’

‘I mean it, Arlo. Stay away.’

Shaking my head, I walked out and got ready for babysitting duty.

‘You’reyoungerthanthelast one.’

The woman approaching the van was not what I expected. I had this idea of a frail old woman, but this person did not fit the bill. Doris Campbell didn’t look like she needed protecting at all. She couldn’t have been more than sixty, and her curled hair was more brown than gray, and she had a sparkle in her eyes as she handed me a glass of lemonade and a plate with a freshly made sandwich.

I knew confusion must have been etched across my features by the way she giggled as she reached in to pat my cheek.

‘Honey, you and yourbrothers,’ she said with a roll of her eyes, ‘have been taking it in turns to sit in this van or another just like it, parked outside my house for eighteen goddam years. Now, I’ve come to accept that my son made a call that can’t be undone, that landed us under some kind of protection from your club, protection that I do not need, by the way, but if you think I’m going to pretend I don’t see y’all or know that you’re here, you are sorely mistaken. So here are the ground rules. You need to go to the bathroom, you come into the house. You need a drink, something to eat, five minutes outside of this tin can, you come into the house. I might not beyourgrandma, but I amagrandma, and once you get that title, you can’t switch it off, so,’ she held out her hand for mine, and I took it, ‘you can call me Doris, or Mrs. Campbell if you prefer, and I can callyou?’ the way she elongated the word and tipped her head let me know it was a question.

‘Um, Arlo, Ma’am.’

‘Uh uh,’ she shook her head, ‘ma’am wasn’t on my list, Arlo.’ She winked and released my hand. ‘You’re welcome in my home, son, anything you need, you holler.’

And with that, she walked back up to her front porch and inside the small suburban home I would be sitting out front of for the foreseeable future.

Fivedays.

I leaned my head back against the headrest and sighed. It was a hot day. I had the AC on in the van, and my music playing—at the level Viking told me was acceptable given that I needed to be keeping my eyes and ears out for any threats—but I was bored.

Mrs. C had been pretty fucking cool. There was no sign of any kid granddaughter here, so I had no idea who or what Viking was referring to, but it hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as I was expecting. She invited me to sit on the porch with her for lunch, told me to help myself to food and drinks from her fridge, and made me eat an apple or a banana every now and again. My mom shipped out when I was three, and I never knew my grandparents. My dad tried, but the truth was, I was raised by the revolving door of whatever woman he was fucking. Nobody had ever shown me this kind of care before, and I couldn’t help but think this was turning out to be the best job the club ever gave me.

I reached forward, about to risk turning up my music a little more, and then stopped as the VW Beetle, 1978 by my estimation, pulled, at speed, into Mrs. C’s driveway. My hand flew to the door handle, and I opened it, rushing out of the van and rounding the front, then freezing at the sight of the bare legs in jean shorts that swung out of the driver’s seat of the car, before the rest of her emerged—baggy, oversized plaid shirt, long straight brown hair—words failed me as her caramel eyes met mine, then narrowed, suspiciously.

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