“You should have told us you were leaving last night and you especially should have told us you were leaving with Violet,” he finally says.
“We wanted to be alone.”
“We give you privacy at the cabin.”
“We needed to be alone on our own terms. At some point, the club’s going to have to give up on watching us and let us live our lives.”
Cyrus strokes his beard. “You sound like Violet.”
“She’s got some good points and she’s worth listening to.”
“You’ve been home two weeks. Are you going to be mad at us for making sure the girl you love is safe?”
Kick straight to the nuts.
“Won’t lie,” he continues. “I can’t imagine what it’s like for the two of you. Can’t imagine the demons that come along with a night like you had. Me and the club, we might not always be right, but we try. Don’t fault us for that.” Silence as he circles his finger around the rim of his coffee cup. “We care about you and Violet. When I heard you two were taken...”
Cyrus shakes his head and my chest hurts. He looks up at me then, straight in the eye. “I didn’t want to lose you. Still don’t. I’ve lost friends, lost your father, lost a woman who was like a daughter to me and then my granddaughter. I lost my wife. I’ve done too much losing for any man and my soul can’t take much more. You’re more than a grandson to me. You’re a part of me and I can’t take losing you.”
A hard man. A stoic man. Taught me to tie my shoes, a tie and a slipknot for the boat at the pond. Taught me to pet a dog, make eye contact when shaking a hand and how to throw a punch. Taught me how to be a man of integrity in a world that says integrity is a relic.
I drop into the chair across from him. “The football mess—I know you want to help, but you barging in and yelling at the board won’t help. It will only give them the proof they need.”
“Are you ashamed of this club?”
“No.”
“But you only want our help on your terms? Sorry to tell you, that’s not how we work.”
All or nothing. How many times has Violet said this to me? “Why can’t football belong to me?”
“It can, but you’ve been listening to Violet too much. All we want to do is help and all I hear is you pushing me away.”
“Sometimes navigating between this world and the world outside the clubhouse walls isn’t easy. Some battles I need to fight on my own.”
“You’re not the first man to say that. In fact, your father said that to me more than a few times.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
No response from Cyrus.
“Why did James go to Louisville?” I ask.
Cyrus readjusts in his chair and I will him to answer, not shut me down like he has for eighteen years. “The work he was looking for wasn’t available in Snowflake.”
“I thought he was a welder.” James went to college, worked part-time as a welder to pay his way through school, got his bachelors, but after he graduated, he kept welding.
“He was.” The answer simple.
A pit forms in my stomach. Plenty of welding jobs in the area. “Why not Bowling Green, then?”
“James wanted Louisville.”
“Why?”
“The men who kidnapped you and Violet were brought in to Louisville last night. Eli and I will be pulling the two of you out of school early and will drive you there for the lineup.”
My mind stretches in two opposite directions and it comes close to ripping my brain in half. Cyrus can talk about my father for hours when it comes to anything before his graduation from high school, but the after...he goes dead silent. The need to understand my father is overpowering, but the need to protect Violet is stronger. “Violet needs to be told.”
“You can do it if you want. Eli’s driving her back here so you can take her to school. We thought you would prefer that.”
We would. “Thanks.”
Cyrus leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I know you and Violet are tight again. How tight I don’t know, but I want to warn you—”
“I’m being careful,” I cut him off. “I’m not interested in hurting her.”
“That’s not what I mean. I’ve been watching Violet and something’s got her spooked. If anyone comes up on her too fast or if she’s alone, she jumps. Not a lot, but enough. And she’s watching everyone and everything. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
I have. It’s not big enough that I would have guessed anyone else would have noticed, but Cyrus understands how to read people, too. “Maybe you missed we were kidnapped.”
“It’s more than that. She’s scared. Doesn’t trust where she’s at.”
How do I explain she doesn’t trust the club? “She’ll feel better once she sleeps in her own bed. Violet needs to feel normal again, even if normal is still far away.”
He knocks his hand twice against the table. “She’s hiding something. I know you don’t want to hear it. Know you’re too vested in things working out between the two of you, but I’ve been thinking about this kidnapping over and over again. If they wanted you, why would they be near Violet’s house? If they wanted you, why would they have stopped at her car? I saw where you were taken. Your bike was hidden behind her car from their viewpoint.”
An edginess sets into my muscles. “You think they were after Violet?”
“She was alone with them and she’s not talking about what they said. I don’t know how to protect her, you or my club when she keeps quiet. She’s close to you again, and I need you to use that. Get her to talk, and once she does talk, promise me you’ll tell me what she says.
“This isn’t football,” he continues. “This is the lives of men you consider family, friends and brothers. You want me to leave football alone, I will, but don’t let your feelings and loyalties for Violet cost me any more people I love.”
“You’re talking like she’s working against you, against the club,” I say in a low voice, and there’s a dangerous curling in my gut.
“The Riot went from beating the hell out of you, pulling a gun and taking a shot to letting you go within thirty minutes. Are you telling me that you wouldn’t have made some sort of deal to get you and her out?”
Can’t lie. After I heard that gunshot, there wasn’t much I wouldn’t have done. Cyrus reads my expression and nods his understanding. “Difference between you and Violet is that you trust us and she doesn’t. When dogs are chained and mistreated, they’ll bite any hand, even the one meant to save and feed them. Violet’s no exception.”
I had heaven last night with Violet, and in a matter of minutes, my mind’s a mess again.
“Promise me you’ll find out what’s going on,” Cyrus presses. “Promise you’ll tell me. Think about how many people are depending on you doing the right thing.”
Like Eli, Oz, Razor, Pigpen, Man O’ War, their wives and girlfriends and children. It all sucks, but I love these people as much as Cyrus. Violet does, too. Our endgame is the same, even if Violet doesn’t understand that now. “I’ll get her to talk. I’ll let you know what’s going on.”
The front door shuts, and my spine straightens as if I was jolted with electricity. I’m out of the chair and into the living room and Violet is leaning against the front door. She looks at me, I look at her and her expression is blank, giving absolutely nothing away.
“Eli dropped us off,” she says. “Brandon’s waiting in the truck and he doesn’t want to be late for school.”
“I was talking to Cyrus. Do you want a donut?”
Violet looks me over from head to toe. She heard. She knows I’m betraying her. “No, I’m good.” Her lips lift as she jacks her thumb over her shoulder. “You ready?”
My gut twists at the smile. Maybe she didn’t hear, bu
t then again, maybe she did. Either way, we won’t be able to talk about it until later tonight. After school, after the lineup, after all the other people fade away. Question is, can I lose her in that amount of time?
“Yeah, I’m ready to roll.”
Violet
I WIPE MY COLD, clammy hands against my jeans and drop into the nearest chair in the conference room the detective pointed me toward. Mom, Cyrus and Eli pulled me and Chevy out of school early and brought us to the police station in Louisville. It’s Thursday and we’re here to identify the men who kidnapped us.
No sweat, right? Nothing bad will happen from fingering the bastards who kidnapped and tortured us. Of course I should believe what the Riot are telling the Terror. The Riot are one million percent behind us prosecuting, in theory, ex-members of their club.
Yep, easy peasey lemon squeezy.
Doesn’t help I found another note this morning in my leather jacket.
Heard after the lineup you’ll be heading home. You know what to do once you get there. We don’t believe it should take you long.
Whoever is watching me is on the inside of the club as Eli isn’t overly talking to people about me heading home and that means I’m doubly screwed. There’s no trusting the club. There’s no way to ignore the Riot. There’s no way to survive this situation intact.
Tonight, I’ll go home, wait for Mom to fall asleep and then I’ll search through Dad’s computer and dig through old files to find account numbers that will secure my family’s safety and Eli’s place in hell. God, I want to vomit.
Chevy enters the room and sits beside me in one of the chairs against the wall. He’s cool and calm and collected as always. In this moment, I find his demeanor infuriating as I feel like I’m about to spontaneously combust into a ball of fire.
“You okay?” he asks low enough so only I can hear.
“Peachy,” I answer, and his body shakes with his short chuckle.
I don’t know how to handle or what to think of Chevy. I overheard the tail end of his conversation with Cyrus. Some words I could understand, others I couldn’t, but from what I gathered, Chevy plans on getting me to talk and then selling me out.
I should be mad. I should be furious, but I can’t find the strength for so much anger. He’s lying to me. I’m lying to him. I figure that makes us even.
The police station isn’t really as crazy as I thought it would be. It’s rather calm. Lots of random people and police officers at desks in half-walled cubicles. I assumed it would be like TV and there’d be people handcuffed to chairs and yelling obscenities. Maybe that happens in another part of the building.
Everyone’s been nice. Offering us something to drink, explaining what will happen when the lineup starts, telling me that I look like I’m about to pass out and it’s okay to sit. You know, nice.
“What if we do this and the Riot change their minds on being cool about us fingering Fiend and his friends?” I ask. “What if they’re lying and they come after us again? What if Fiend gets out of jail and seeks revenge for what we’re about to do?”
What if I don’t find those account numbers? What if I do and Eli goes to jail for something he never did? What if an asteroid comes hurtling out of the sky and busts into hundreds of little pieces and hits each and every single member of the Riot?
I roll my bracelets around my wrist. Chevy places his hand over mine, lifts our combined hands, waves his other hand in a circle, and when he flips his palm over, my silver bracelet, the one he gave me for my sixteenth birthday, is in his hand.
Complete awe. Never felt him remove the bracelet. Doesn’t matter how many times he does this, I’m dazzled.
Chevy flips my bracelet around until I see the inside inscription. Forever. My heart lifts, then sinks. At sixteen, I had believed the two of us were forever. He waves his other hand over the bracelet, claps, and then the bracelet is back on my wrist again.
“Is that your way of saying everything’s okay?” I ask.
“It’s my way of saying I’m right here beside you and that’s where I plan on staying.”
A tightness in my chest and I clear my throat to gain some control. “You could make a million dollars in Vegas.”
“Nah, wouldn’t happen. I don’t know how to put people back together once I saw them in half.”
I giggle, a little too loudly for the situation, and a guy in uniform passing the room we’re in gives us a disapproving glare. Eli, Cyrus and Mom went off to talk to two men in white button-down shirts and ties. Once again, making decisions and choices for me. “Where’s your mom?”
“She has to work. She’s taken off too much time and needs the money. She’s pissed she’s not here, but I told her it’s not a big deal.”
“Nope. Not a big deal at all,” I murmur.
He bumps his knee into mine. “You want me to do this?”
“You are doing this, hence why you’re sitting here next to me.”
“No, do you want me to do this for the both of us? In the end, only one of us needs to point them out.”
“I’m sure the boys in the white shirts will be happy with that. I believe their words were something about a stronger case with both of us pointing fingers.”
“Ask me if I fucking care.” The unusual harshness in his tone grabs my full attention. “Their happiness isn’t my problem.”
“Then what is your problem?”
He runs a hand over his head, kicks out his legs and stares straight out into the room. “Anything that bothers you.”
I continue to watch him. He knows it, and from the way he stays still, he doesn’t like it. Yes, Chevy knows me, but I know him just as well. Chevy’s smooth, a trickster, and has a way of bringing things up without anyone else really understanding the underlying conversation. I rode with him in the truck on the way here and he was quiet. Mom was with us, but still he was too silent.
“Did something happen?” I ask. “More football problems?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you were wound so tight to return home and don’t give me the bullshit on freedom. I know you, Violet, and you’re hiding something.”
And there it is. Chevy played his cards and played them well. Waited for the moment when I’m too frayed to lie well.
“It is about freedom,” I hedge.
“But that’s not all. There’s more and you’re keeping it to yourself.”
He’s right, he’s aware he’s right and now I’m the one who’s quiet.
“Someday, I hope you’ll trust me again,” he says softly.
I flinch. His words a knife straight into my windpipe and I can’t breathe.
“Mr. McKinley?” With a file in hand, one of the officers working our case appears in the doorway. “Will you please follow me?”
The officer leaves, Chevy rises to his feet, and before he walks out, I blurt, “Be careful.”
Chevy glances at me over his shoulder. “It’s just a lineup.”
I hold his dark eyes and wish I could find words to explain how this sixth sense crawling underneath my skin tells me that there’s nothing “just” about anything involving us anymore. But there are no words and any that I could possibly think of are stuck on my twisted tongue.
I stand abruptly, so quickly my heart pounds. Chevy’s forehead furrows. I don’t want him to walk out this door and for this to have been the last moment alone before I go home and ruin either my or Eli’s life. I don’t want my last real memory of the two of us to be of a magic trick and conversation on the Riot.
I will my feet forward, practically tripping with how heavy my body feels under the burden of what’s to come, and before I can overthink, I plow into him. My arms around his body, my head into his chest and I squeeze, inhaling deeply, and try to memorize everything about him. His scent of leather and dark spices,
the hard plane of his chest, the sound of his heart against my ear, the heat rolling off his body.
A strong arm around my waist, another tunneling into my hair. Chevy lowers his head and kisses my forehead. The sensation of his lips against my skin causes thrilling goose bumps.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “We’re okay. I promise. I know things are complicated now, but it’s going to get better.”
It’s not. “I trust you.” Just him. “I do. I don’t know how to trust me.”
I used to trust myself. Never doubted my decisions, had the confidence that could move mountains, but I lost that. Lost myself. Way before the kidnapping, it happened after my father’s death, but now I’m spiraling.
Someday, I hope to trust me again. Trust my emotions. Trust my instincts. Trust that I’m going to be able to live with the fallout of the choices facing me.
“I trust you,” he says. “I always have.”
He shouldn’t. No one should. I lift my head and Chevy tucks strands of my hair behind my ear. He does it once, twice, a third time, and each time he brushes his fingers against the side of my neck. His light touch is warm and causes tingles that reach my toes.
“Talk to me, Vi,” he says.
I open my mouth, but there are still no words. No way to explain why my pulse beats so hard and why my mind is running at a thousand miles per hour and how I feel that the world has tilted in the wrong direction and is picking up speed. “I’m scared.”
“If it’s the lineup, I meant what I said earlier. We’ll tell them they have to deal with me being the only one doing the fingering.”
Fear is clawing at me, eating me from the inside out. Fear of the Riot, of their reach, of their rage, but that’s not the fear festering in me now. If I get the account numbers and betray Eli, I’ll never be able to look Chevy in the eye again. Eli is like a father to him, a friend, his mentor. Betraying Eli means betraying Chevy.
If I don’t fulfill my duty, then maybe I’ll pay the ultimate price. Maybe I’ll die, because that’s what would happen before I ever let anyone touch my mother or Brandon.