Garrick stood under the hallway bulb with his jaw working. No words came out.
He was near enough that she caught motor oil and clean soap on his skin, and her pulse stumbled.
Garrick: Say that again.
Corrie: I meant it. About wanting the name to stick.
Her own voice sounded too loud in the narrow hall.
Garrick's hand came up and stopped an inch from her face. He did not close the gap.
Kemp: Garrick. Bring her in here. Shut the door.
Garrick dropped his hand. His knuckles brushed her sleeve once, then he stepped back.
The office smelled like dust and old coffee. Kemp did not offer her a chair.
Kemp: I sent men to look for you. After Noreen left.
Kemp: They came back and said the house was empty. Said you were dead.
Corrie: You believed her.
Kemp: She said the house burned. Said there was nothing left to bury.
Her throat closed. She had waited in that foster house for a father who thought she was ashes.
Garrick: You sent men. You didn't go yourself.
Kemp: Watch it.
Garrick: I'm just saying what she's too polite to say.
Kemp: This is a support patch. It means the club stands behind you.
Kemp: Nobody hits a patched woman. Not Cutter. Not anyone.
Twenty-six years too late. The patch was small and light in her hand, and it still felt like a chain.
Corrie: You want me to wear this so I can find your killer.
Kemp: I want you to wear it so nobody breaks your hands before you do.
Corrie: That's not the same as being sorry.
Kemp: No. I reckon it isn't.
For one second his face came apart. Then it went hard again, like a door slamming.
Kemp: I need you to find out who killed Martin. Not tomorrow. Before the ride.
Kemp: You said she's coming for us. You find her first.
He said it like an order. Like she owed him her hands because he finally said her name out loud.
Kemp: Garrick stays with you. Every step.
Garrick: I was going to anyway.
He said it flat, like a fact nobody had asked him to prove.
Corrie: If I wear this, I'm yours to use. That's what it means.
Kemp: That's what it means.
At least he didn't lie about it. She hated him a little more for that.
The office door clicked shut behind them. The bar was still loud down the hall.
Garrick: You don't have to be grateful. He didn't earn it.
Corrie: I know.
Garrick's thumb found the edge of the patch and pressed it into her palm.
Garrick: Every step means every step. I'm not going anywhere.
Corrie: What if Cutter makes good on it?
Garrick: Then he learns what happens when he touches a patched woman.
She should have stepped back. She did not.
He should have moved. He did not.
Corrie: Why do you keep standing between me and everyone else?
Garrick: Because I don't like what they do when they get too close.
His eyes dropped to her split lip and stayed there too long.
Her whole body went warm and loose and scared, all at once.
Cutter: Real sweet. President's brat and her pet dog.
Cutter's voice came down the hall like a cold draft.
Cutter: I'll be watching, patch or no patch. Enjoy your coronation while it lasts.
Garrick: Say it to my face and see what happens.
Cutter: All in good time.
Cutter walked away slow, like he had already decided how this would end.
The patch was still in her hand. It felt heavy now.
A father she had mourned as dead. A patch she never asked for.
Garrick: We find the killer first. Then we figure out the rest.
The bar roared behind them, and the whole room wanted her to prove herself or bleed. She was not sure which would come first.