Page 12 of Hammer

“Thank you,” she said, the words sounding rusty, like she wasn’t used to accepting help.

As we turned toward the parking lot, I noticed Chase quickly scan for exit routes, memorizing landmarks.Good instincts.Kid would make a decent Prospect someday, if that was a path he chose.

“Might not seem like it now,” I said quietly as Chase passed me, “but you’re safe here.”

He glanced up, surprise flickering across his face before the mask of distrust slipped back into place.He didn’t believe me.Didn’t need to.Actions would prove our words true or false soon enough.

I followed behind as Saint led them to the SUV, watching their backs, scanning the terminal for threats.Old habits.Necessary ones when dealing with a situation like this.Piston might be in Florida, but men like him had connections, and a wounded ego made for dangerous desperation.

The family’s possessions amounted to a single duffel bag and two backpacks.Everything they owned in the world.I’d seen it before, too many times.Women and children running with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever they could grab in the minutes between violence and escape.

As Saint helped them load their meager belongings into the back of the SUV, I caught Amelia looking at me, a question in her eyes.

“We’ll keep you safe,” I said simply.No promises beyond that.No bullshit.Just the truth.

She nodded once, then climbed into the back seat with her boys, Chase taking the spot behind the driver, Levi in the middle beside his mother.Strategic positioning.These three had done this before.

I got into the passenger seat as Saint started the engine.In the rearview mirror, I could see the wariness in their faces.It would take more than words to earn their trust.

But that was all right.We had time.

The SUV’s air conditioning fought a losing battle against the Alabama heat as we pulled away from the bus terminal.Saint drove with one hand draped over the wheel, casual as always, while I kept my attention divided between the road ahead and the rearview mirror.Chase had positioned himself directly behind Saint, where he could watch both of us and still keep an eye on his mother and brother.Smart kid.Tactical thinking.In the mirror, I caught him studying me.Been a long time since I’d seen a teenager with the hardened gaze of a soldier, but I recognized it all the same.

“Town’s not much to look at,” Saint said, breaking the silence as we merged onto the main road, “but it’s quiet.Good place to disappear.”

Amelia nodded stiffly, her hands clasped tight in her lap.She sat ramrod straight, like relaxing might be dangerous.Beside her, Levi fidgeted, his fingers moving in rhythmic, nervous patterns.

I shifted slightly in my seat, angling the side mirror to check behind us.No tail.Force of habit more than immediate concern.

“That’s the high school there,” Saint continued, nodding toward a brick building as we passed.“Both boys can enroll next week.Principal’s wife is friends with some of our old ladies.She’ll help smooth things over with paperwork and such.”

In the mirror, I saw Chase’s eyes narrow at the mention of school.Kid probably hadn’t had much stability, at least from what we’d heard from Scratch.Living with an abusive asshole wouldn’t have been easy on any of them.He had to know enrolling in a school could make it easier for his dad to find them.

“How far is it from the apartment?”Amelia asked, her voice soft but steady.

“About a mile,” Saint answered.“Walkable, but the club can arrange transportation if needed.”

I grunted in agreement, earning a quick glance from Chase.His wariness was like a physical thing, filling the car with invisible barbed wire.Couldn’t blame him.Trust was a luxury they couldn’t afford.

We drove through the center of town, past the courthouse with its white columns and the row of storefronts that hadn’t changed much since I’d first ridden into this town decades ago.Small-town Alabama, frozen in time in some ways, changing in others.The hardware store where Pop Jenkins had sold nails by the pound was now some kind of artsy coffee shop, but the barber pole still spun outside Floyd’s, where three generations of men had gotten the same crew cut.

“Grocery store’s there,” Saint pointed out.“Pharmacy’s next door.Doc Miller’s office is around the corner if you need medical attention.”

I watched Amelia taking mental notes of each location, mapping out their new territory.Survival skills.Woman had learned to be prepared.

The younger boy, Levi, leaned forward slightly.“Is there a library?”

“Two blocks past the courthouse,” I answered, surprising myself by speaking.“Open till eight on weekdays.”

Levi nodded, a flicker of something like hope crossing his face.Books were safe havens for kids like him.

“The diner where you’ll be working gets busy for breakfast and lunch,” Saint continued, addressing Amelia.“Dinner crowd’s smaller, mostly regulars.Owner’s name is Jessie.She’s good people.Lost her husband in Afghanistan about ten years back.When the diner went up for sale last year, she bought it.”

I noted the slight relaxation in Amelia’s shoulders at this information.A widow rather than a man running the place.One less thing to worry about.

Chase hadn’t taken his gaze off me, watching my every move.Testing me, maybe.Waiting for the mask to slip, for the monster to emerge.I met his gaze steadily, neither challenging nor backing down.

“Club’s on the outskirts of town,” Saint said, turning onto Main Street.“But there’s usually at least a couple members around town at any given time.Any problems, day or night, you call the number Scratch gave you.”

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