Run To Me

Chapter 4 - Griffin Monroe

Mornings at the shop always start the same.

Coffee first.

Then engines.

The garage hums low around me, tools clinking, metal settling, the faint smell of oil and gasoline hanging in the air. It’s quiet this early, just the way I like it. I take a slow sip of my coffee, leaning slightly over the bike in front of me, fingers working through the familiar rhythm of it. Loosen. Adjust. Tighten. Repeat.

Simple and predictable.

Most of the guys won’t roll in for another hour or so. It gives me time to work without noise, without questions. Just me and the machine.

That’s when the bell above the shop door chimes.

Too early for customers.

I don’t look up right away and holler over my shoulder, “Shop’s not open yet.” My voice carries easily through the space. But I get no answer, just the sound of footsteps in response. Odd…

I glance up, and immediately know something’s off.

Jamie.

He doesn’t come here like this. Not unannounced. And definitely not this early in the morning. He looks… tense. Not panicked, but close enough that it catches my attention fast. I set my wrench down slowly, wiping my hands on a rag as I straighten.

“What’s going on?” I ask, already reading the way his shoulders are set, the way his eyes move like he’s trying to piece something together.

He exhales once, like he’s been holding it in. “Morning to you too,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it.

I raise a brow. “Didn’t answer the question.”

His mouth tightens slightly. That’s all I need to know. This isn’t small. A dozen possibilities run through my head in a second. One of the guys screwed up. Someone pushed too far. Trouble’s already on the way, and I just haven’t seen it yet. I cross my arms loosely with a sigh and lean against the bike I was just working on.

“Talk.”

Jamie runs a hand through his hair, pacing once like he’s figuring out where to start. “I got a call,” he says.

I wait… “That’s it?” I ask.

He gives me a look. “From an old friend. Someone I trust.”

That narrows it. I roll my eyes but don’t interrupt this time.

“There’s a girl,” he continues. “She needs help. She’s trying to get out of something bad.”

I don’t like where this is going already. My jaw tightens slightly.

“No,” I say flatly.

Jamie exhales. “You didn’t even hear—”

I hold my hand up, cutting him off. “I don’t need to. We’re not a shelter, Jamie. And I’m not bringing some random girl into the club.”

He watches me as I stand up straight again. “She’s not random.”

“They’re all ‘not random’ to someone,” I reply. “That doesn’t make it our problem.”

The silence stretches for a second. I grab my coffee from the workbench and take a sip, glancing at my little brother over the rim. He has that look—the one that says he’s not going to stop until I hear him out.

I sigh. “What’s she running from?” I ask, more to prove a point than because I’ve changed my mind.

Jamie hesitates.

That hesitation is wrong. It’s not uncertainty. It’s restraint. And suddenly, I’m paying closer attention.

“Her husband,” he says finally.

I let out a short breath. “Then handle it. You’re the one with the badge.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” I mutter.

He steps closer now, not backing down. That makes me pause. “And?” I ask.

“She’s not safe staying where she is,” Jamie continues. “He knows the area. Knows the people. He’ll find her.”

I take another slow sip of coffee, letting the information sink in. “Still not hearing where I come in.”

Jamie’s jaw tightens slightly. “She needs somewhere off the grid. Somewhere he won’t think to look.”

I let out a quiet, humorless huff. Irritation settles into my expression. “And you landed on me.”

“You’re in a different state,” he says. “Different network. Different world.”

He’s not wrong. Doesn’t mean I like it.

“She stays here, she’s a risk,” I say plainly. “To you. To whoever’s helping her. To us.”

“I know,” Jamie replies

“Then why are we still talking about this?” My voice rises slightly. Jamie studies me for a second. Then he says it.

“Because if you hear what he did to her… You won’t turn her away.”

I don’t react right away. I won't give him that. “Try me,” I say instead. There’s no challenge in it. Just fact.

Jamie explains he doesn’t have all the details, but what he does know—he doesn’t rush it. He doesn’t dramatize it. He just tells me. And the longer he talks, the quieter the shop gets. The steady rhythm I had before is gone. Replaced by something else. Something heavier. My grip tightens slightly around the coffee cup without me noticing. By the time he finishes, there’s a low, dangerous, simmering heat sitting in my chest.

I set the cup down slowly. “How long?” I ask.

Jamie exhales. “Years.”

“How the hell does that go on that long?” I mutter, more to myself than him.

Jamie doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. I run a hand over my jaw, the rough scrape of stubble grounding me just enough to think.

I don’t like this.

I don’t like the risk.

I don’t like bringing an outsider into my world.

And I definitely don’t like the idea of putting her in the middle of the club.

But the image Jamie just painted doesn’t leave.

“Where is she at now?” I ask.

“Staying at my friend’s sister’s bar,” he says. “I was told her husband’s a bit of a paranoid nut—has serious security systems. It’s the only place he can’t get to her. At least not easily.”

I nod once.

“She’s staying put for now,” he adds. “But not for long. We need to move her.”

We.

I shake my head slightly as the silence stretches again.

Then I exhale slowly. “She doesn’t step foot near the clubhouse without rules,” I say finally. “Clear ones.”

Jamie’s shoulders drop just slightly in relief. “Of course,” he says.

“This is only temporary,” I add. “Just long enough for her to make some money, get on her feet. And if this brings trouble to my door—”

“It won’t,” he cuts in.

I give him a look. “You don’t know that.”

He holds his ground anyway.

“I trust you’ll handle it if it does.”

A heartbeat later, and the decision settles. Even if I don’t like it.

“Get me the details,” I say. “Timeline. What she needs. How fast we need to move.”

Jamie lets out a breath he’s been holding. “Thank you.”

I respond with a low grumble, turning back toward the bike in front of me. But the rhythm is gone now. Replaced by something heavier. Something that shouldn’t be mine, but it is now. Somewhere out there, there’s a girl running. And whether I like it or not, she’s about to land in my world.