This child, this tiny girl, was ready to fight the world for him.
“You don’t have to protect me,” he said softly.
“Yes, I do. That’s what friends do.”
She reached across the table and placed her small hand over his scarred knuckles.
“You protected me when I was hungry and scared. Now I protect you when people are being mean. That’s fair.”
Garrett didn’t trust himself to speak.
He just nodded.
Sadie seemed to accept that as enough.
But even as they finished breakfast, even as he watched her run for the school bus with her usual wave, Garrett knew something had changed.
Preston Ashworth was making moves, asking questions, building a narrative.
It was time to find out exactly what he was planning.
Shadow came through with information within 48 hours.
Preston Ashworth was 45 years old, a partner at one of Oakland’s most prestigious law firms, wealthy, influential, deeply involved in community affairs.
His daughter attended the same school as Sadie.
Five years earlier, his teenage son Tyler had been attacked by a group of bikers outside a bar in San Francisco.
Not Hells Angels, a smaller club that had since disbanded.
But the assault left Tyler with a broken jaw and a fear of motorcycles that persisted to this day.
Preston had become obsessed with what he called criminal motorcycle elements.
He had lobbied the city council for stricter enforcement, donated money to anti-gang initiatives, and made it his personal mission to protect children from what he saw as a clear and present danger.
“He’s not going to stop,” Shadow said. “I talked to some people who know him.”
“He’s convinced you’re grooming that little girl for something. He’s been in contact with Child Protective Services, pushing them to open an investigation.”
Garrett felt cold settle in his bones.
“On what grounds?”
“Suspicious relationship between a known criminal organization member and a vulnerable child. He’s got photos of you at the diner, at the school, at the apartment building.”
“He’s been documenting everything.”
“Everything I’ve done has been in public, in plain sight. There’s nothing inappropriate about any of it.”
“We know that. But Ashworth doesn’t care about truth. He cares about narrative.”
“And the narrative he’s building is that a Hells Angel targeted a poor orphan girl for purposes unknown.”
Shadow’s expression was grim.
“He’s already got a neighbor on board, old woman named Palmer. She’s been watching the apartment, keeping notes on when you visit, adding her own assumptions to his file.”
Garrett thought about Marlene, about the progress she had made, the hope she had started to feel.
He thought about Sadie, bright and brave and fierce in her defense of him.
If CPS opened an investigation, if they decided Marlene’s association with Garrett made her an unfit guardian, everything could collapse.
“There’s more,” Shadow said. “Ashworth’s been making calls, rallying other parents.”
“He’s planning to make a formal complaint at the next school board meeting. Going to demand you be banned from school property and that Sadie be evaluated for signs of abuse.”
“There are no signs of abuse because there is no abuse.”
“Doesn’t matter. Once the accusation is out there, it takes on a life of its own.”
“Even if CPS clears you, even if the school finds nothing, Sadie will be marked. The girl who was maybe, possibly abused by a biker.”
“It’ll follow her.”
Garrett slammed his fist against the table, making Shadow jump.
“This is insane. I bought a hungry kid some pancakes. I helped her aunt keep a roof over their heads.”
“That’s it. That’s all I’ve done.”
“I know. We all know.”
Shadow leaned forward.
“But Ashworth isn’t thinking rationally. He sees bikers, and he sees his son’s blood on that parking lot.”
“He can’t separate us from them, and he won’t stop until he’s destroyed what he sees as the threat.”
Garrett forced himself to breathe, to think.
Panic wouldn’t help Sadie.
“What are our options?”
“Rebecca Torres, the club lawyer. She’s good. She’s dealt with this kind of thing before.”
“We can get ahead of it. Document everything. Build a counter-narrative.”
“Do it. Whatever it takes, whatever it costs.”