Kemp's voice cut through the bar before Garrick got her to the hall.
Kemp: Bring her back. All of you sit down.
Cutter: You heard the old man. Sit your ass down, freak.
Garrick pushed her along with his palm planted between her shoulder blades, and every head in the bar swung to watch her walk.
Kemp: This girl is mine.
The room went quiet enough that Corrie could hear ice melting in a glass.
Kemp: Noreen's girl. My blood. You all saw her hand on Martin's ring and heard what she said.
Kemp: That makes her heir to my vote.
Cutter: Bullshit. A vote goes to a patch, not to some bitch with dead-man hands.
Trixie: You can't be serious. She's Noreen's curse. Her mama robbed this club and ran.
Kemp: Lay one finger on my girl and you answer to me. When I'm in the ground, what she says goes. So shut your fucking mouths about it.
Corrie kept her palms pressed to her thighs and tried to breathe while the room seemed to slide sideways under the chair.
Twenty-six years with no father. Now she had one, right when her hands turned out to be useful.
Kemp: You look like her. Around the mouth.
He said it like the words cost him. Corrie's throat closed up, and she hated that it did.
Corrie: You didn't want me until I was worth something to you.
Her voice came out rough, and the men at the closest tables turned to hear what she dared say.
Kemp: I'm not asking you to call me anything.
Kemp: I'm telling this club who you are, so no man puts a hand on you.
Garrick had not left the back of her chair. His knuckles brushed her shoulder every time he moved.
Garrick: Say it now. They're listening for once.
Corrie: She's coming for the Remembrance Ride. The route was circled in red on her map. Every bike on the road at once, and she picks her moment.
Corrie: I know you all laughed. I'm telling you anyway.
Kemp: I heard you the first time, girl.
He said it low, only for her and Garrick. Something in her chest cracked loose, and she could not tell if it hurt or helped.
Cutter: Blood don't fix a lie. You're a dead man's hands in a skirt, and that's all you'll ever be here.
Corrie held his stare until her eyes stung. Letting go first would feel like losing ground she couldn't get back.
Garrick: She's under the president's word and mine. Walk off, Cutter.
His warmth pressed along her back, and her breath caught in her chest like it had forgotten how to work.
Kemp: The ride is in two days. Nobody touches my daughter until I say otherwise.
My daughter. He said it out loud like a patch he could pin on her.
Corrie: I don't want a vote. I want somebody to believe me before it happens again.
She heard how thin her own voice was, and how much she needed them to say yes.
Kemp: Garrick. Keep her close. She sleeps where you sleep.
Corrie's face went hot. Garrick didn't blink, but his hand tightened once on the chair back.
Garrick: He's giving you a name because your hands are useful. Don't let it get inside your head.
Corrie: What if I want it to?
Garrick halted under the hallway bulb and stared down at her. His jaw worked, no words came out, and the grease and smoke of him filled her head until she felt dizzy.