CHEVY WANTED ME to stay in here, but each second of silence is maddening. I sit on the edge of the bathtub and my hands shake. I don’t know why they shake. The rest of my body feels oddly calm, sort of like I’m drunk, but I haven’t drunk in weeks.
I’ll admit to getting wasted more than I should have this past summer. Upset over some pictures some idiot guy had taken of me at a party, upset he blackmailed me into dating him—because that’s the way to make a girl care for you—upset that my dad wasn’t alive to protect me from the real-world monsters.
But the pictures are no longer an issue, and neither is the guy. Razor’s to thank for that and the only thing he asked of me in return was to stop drinking around people who weren’t the Terror. I decided to stop drinking, period. The drinking didn’t help anyhow. Didn’t make me forget like TV and movies said it would. It only made my crazy emotions crazier, made the sadness sadder, made me fall into dark places when I already couldn’t see daylight.
I roll my neck and try to focus. Try to make out any sounds outside the bathroom door, but it’s been hard. My mind keeps wandering. Goes to random places, but then returns to the way my heart slammed in my chest as I ran for the gun, the way my stomach sank when I heard the bang, the bullet that missed, and then my thoughts wander off in weird directions like to this past summer and how I’d give almost anything to push rewind and get a second chance.
A second chance—will I have one going forward? Will Chevy?
Focus!
I suck in a deep breath and try to listen, but I hear nothing. How long have I been in here? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Did they take Chevy out of the house? Are they hurting him? My eyes burn and I quickly stand, not wanting to let visions of him bruised and bleeding enter my mind.
I stare at the door and will it to open. Will Chevy to be standing on the other side, offering me his hand and telling me that we’re safe and that we can leave. But nothing happens. No noise. No turning of the knob. Nothing.
My entire body quakes. He’s been gone too long, and I need to find him. I need to know if he’s okay, but what if he’s not okay? What if I open the door and there’s another gun pointing at me?
I shake my head. What if there is? If I’m going to die, I’m going to die. At this point, it could be a relief compared to thinking of how this is all going to end.
The three steps to the door are the longest of my life, and when I turn the knob, I quit breathing. The hallway right outside the bathroom is empty. I step out, I turn my head and Chevy’s down the hallway, leaning his back against the corner of the kitchen, and he swings his head in my direction.
I blink. Something’s wrong. This whole situation is wrong, but his expression...
“Kenneth’s talking with Chevy on some club business.” A woman appears to my left. She’s older, in her sixties maybe, but she has blond hair, blue eyes, jeans, a purple sweater, pearls in her ears and a gold cross around her neck.
My hand goes to my father’s cross. It should be buried beneath my shirt, pressed against my skin, but Fiend stole it along with my bracelets, Dad’s watch and my other necklaces.
“Sweetheart, do you hear me?” she asks.
I died. I died and I’m in some sort of hell.
“Kenneth is Skull,” she continues. “My husband. I’m Jenna. We’re both sorry about how you were treated. I’m sure Kenneth explained it was a misunderstanding.”
Sure it was. “Then let us leave.”
“Chevy and Kenneth are calling Eli now. We’ll figure out how to get you home safely without entanglements.”
She means police. If what she says is true, I’m not sure why she thinks we won’t call the police the moment we’re free, or why Eli wouldn’t call the police if he hasn’t already. We were kidnapped. Me and Chevy. Two people who haven’t blood-pact-pinkie-sworn to be part of an MC.
“Why don’t you come in here and give Chevy and Kenneth the time to work out details?” She waves her hand toward a bedroom diagonal from the bathroom and farther away from Chevy. “I have something to drink ready for you. Tea. It’s warm and can help calm your nerves. There’s also something to eat in there if you’d like.”
As if I could eat, but I swallow in an effort to ease my dry mouth. I follow her, and once I reach the doorway, I jerk back. The man with the scar stands in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Don’t freak,” he says. “If you remember correctly, I’m the one that kept that bullet from going into your body. And as a public service announcement, I’m not into seventeen-year-old girls nor am I going to hurt one in front of my mother.”
The scar across his face—that’s from Eli. I’ve heard about this my entire life. Eli fell in love with this man’s sister, Meg. Meg left with Eli, had a baby with Eli, and when she refused to return to her family, this man tried to force Meg to come home and Eli came to her rescue. The bad part of the rescue is that Eli became so violent, he almost killed this man and Eli went to prison for attempted murder.
Scarred Guy’s mother sits on the bed and crosses her ankles. “See? Justin confirmed you’re safe.”
They aren’t using road names. They’re trying to make me feel like they’re normal, like I’m safe. I glance down the hallway at Chevy again and he looks as lost and bewildered as me.
Chevy cocks his head to the kitchen, then gestures with his chin for me to remain where I am. He returns his attention to whoever is speaking to him. He’s okay and he doesn’t want me to be a part of what they’re talking about. If he’s okay, maybe I am, too, for the moment.
I rest my shoulder against the door frame of the room.
Jenna and her son share a look because—shocker—the kidnap victim isn’t cooperating.
“I’m ready to go home,” I say.
Jenna mashes her lips together. “I’ll tell Kenneth.”
She leaves, goes down the hallway to the kitchen, and then I hear the door to the outside open and close. Funny how I didn’t hear her make a peep to Kenneth.
Scarred Guy Justin still stands in the corner, still has his arms crossed over his chest, still watches me. Chevy wants me to stay here and I don’t.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Justin says. “We weren’t after Chevy. It was you we wanted to talk to, but our guy got out of control. He thought he had you alone, he was ordered to convince you to come talk to me or Dad. Fiend didn’t know Chevy was going to be there when they pulled up, and when that kid started swinging, our guy lost his mind.”
“Well, gee, I guess that makes everything okay.”
His lips edge up but then fall back down. “Fiend will be punished, so there’s no need for you and Chevy to go all crazy and cause legal problems for us later.”
“I feel so much better,” I say drily. “Besides, you’re full of crap. Chevy’s the one with the possible power play, I’m nobody.”
“We’ve been watching you for a while,” he continues. “You’re the one that brought Emily to us this past summer.”
I readjust as the need to shed my skin overwhelms me. I did bring Eli’s daughter to Louisville, but in our defense, neither of us knew at the time that her grandparents were Riot royalty. She thought she was meeting her long-lost normal grandparents, at a time when she really needed some normal and some answers in her life.
“You lost your dad, and I’m sorry. Frat was a good man.”
Anger wells up in me from the tip of my toes and then explodes out of my mouth. “You know nothing about my father.”
“Untrue. Your father was the one reason why the Riot and Terror never went Apocalypse Now. He had a steady head. Smart as hell. If he was still around, none of what happened this summer surrounding Emily would have happened. He would have figured out a way for Eli to see her, for us to see her, and she wouldn’t have been caught between us, trying to figure out who’s good and who’
s bad.”
Easy. If I had to pick, they’re both bad, but the Terror are annoying-little-brother bad and the Riot are serial-killer bad. No-brainer.
“Your father wanted peace more than anything else. Did you know he was on his way to meet me when he died? Once every three months, he met with me and he listened to our list of grievances with the Terror and he’d tried to explain how we somehow had done the Terror wrong.”
I straighten away from the door frame. “Are you saying you killed him?”
Justin’s face screws up. “Fuck no. I respected the hell out of Frat, regardless of whose colors he had on his back. He wanted peace. Our club wants peace. His death was an accident. Trust me, we looked into it just as much as your club did. We weren’t sure if your side was trying to take him out because he was the one person who was able to see both sides and tried to keep us all from killing each other.”
I roll my eyes and Justin catches it. “You don’t believe me?”
“No. I may not know much, but your club is the one always pushing on the Terror to pay for riding through your territory and your club is always the one hurting Terror members.” I hold out my arms in a “hello.”
“There are rules, ways things are done, and the Terror think they’re above it.”
Maybe they do, maybe they don’t, but regardless... “Your politics have nothing to do with me.”
“It does.”
He’s delusional. “It doesn’t.”
“All that stuff I mentioned, we could possibly get past it, but what we can’t get past is Eli. He took my sister, turned her against us, and because of him she’s not in our life. My niece isn’t in my life.”
Emily is the one person I envy more than anyone else. She’s a blood child of the Terror and the Riot and she grew up far, far away from both clubs.
My temples begin to throb. I’m tired and I’m ready to fall to the floor in exhaustion. “Why are you talking to me?”
“As I said, we’ve been watching you. You’re not happy with the Terror. You’re not happy with Eli. What if I could offer you an opportunity to do what your father always wanted? What if you could bring peace to the clubs? What if by doing so, we’ll help you get the Terror out of your life and help get you out of your town?”
I’d be lying if I said he didn’t have my full attention. “If you want peace, all you have to do is leave the Terror alone.”
“We will leave the Terror alone, once we have Eli out of the way. He’s hurt too many people we love for him to be around. We can’t kill him. My mother still has hopes Emily will want a relationship with us someday. If Eli dies, she’ll blame us. But if Eli happens to be caught doing something illegal, caught betraying his club, caught by the police in the process and sent to prison, then we’ll be happy and we’ll pretend the Terror never existed.”
My blood freezes in my veins, and I shake like I’m having a seizure. “Why are you telling me this?”
Justin looks straight into my eyes. “I want to frame Eli. Make it look like he’s been embezzling money from the club’s security company and from their clients.”
Eli may not be my favorite person, but... “No one will believe that.”
“Leave the belief up to me, but in order to frame Eli, I need account numbers. The club’s account numbers, the clients’ account numbers, as many numbers as I can get my hands on.”
The throbbing in my temples increases. “What is it you think I can do?”
“Your father was the accountant for the club and for the security business. We’ve heard how your mother is having a hard time dealing with his loss—not moving on very well. Even heard his clothes still hang in her closet.”
There’s a burst of painful fear in my chest and it steals my breath. He’s been in my house. This man has been in my house.
“I bet everything of your dad’s is still where he left it. If you search hard enough, you could find something. Some old files. Maybe search around on his computer.”
A cold tingling in my bloodstream. I may be mad at the club, but I’m not a traitor. “Why didn’t you just look for it while you were there?”
Justin smiles and it’s the type that causes you to fear the devil. “Me, in your house? That would mean breaking and entering. Plus, or so I’ve heard, your mom doesn’t leave the house very often. I’m hypothesizing here, but it would be hard to get things done when she’s around.”
Bile rises in my throat.
“Just to make this situation move faster rather than slower, if you’re wondering if the Terror clubhouse is a place where little birds can’t see, you’d be wrong. Birds have a way of looking through all windows. Even ones that belong to the Terror. Hiding there brings vultures to your doorstep. Your home—it’s like hanging out with songbirds.”
Dear God, I’m not safe anywhere.
“Think about it, Violet.” He uncrosses his arms and uses my name as if we’re friends. “You can bring about the peace your father always wanted between our clubs. You want out—we’ll help you get out. Help pay for college, help you find a job—whatever you need. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut to the police about this whole misunderstanding, search around the house for some numbers that really mean nothing to you and then sit back and watch your father’s lifework come to fruition. What do you say, are you in?”
My stomach cramps, and when I look down the hallway, Chevy’s nowhere to be seen. Eli is like a father to Chevy, he used to be my father’s best friend, but he’s also brought so much heartache to the club. It’s because of his past garbage that I’m standing here today. It’s because of his past garbage my dad was on the road that night.
But still, am I capable of being a traitor? “What if I’m not?”
Justin slides his hands into his pockets and his blue eyes go cold. The hairs on my arms stand on end and I rub at the bare skin as if that would grant me warmth. “Just so we’re clear, I wasn’t there last night when Fiend took you. Because if I were, I would have put a stop to it. We all have our boundaries and I don’t kidnap kids, but let’s say I heard things.
“I heard how you had an argument with your mom in your house and then left with your brother to go to the football game. Heard how you had a fight with Eli outside the game over tickets and how you wanted him and the club out of your life. Heard how your brother was with you when you broke down and how the reason Chevy probably didn’t kill one of my guys was because your brother was in the backseat of the car and you two were protecting him.”
“You heard this?” I shiver while heat flushes my cheeks. This man, he was there, and he saw and knows everything.
Justin walks closer to me and stops on his way out of the room so that our shoulders touch. “As if I was there watching, but as I said, I don’t kidnap kids. It would have been a shame if Fiend hadn’t taken you on the side of the road. Maybe waited until you were tucked safely in your bed, entered your home and took you and your mom. Would have been a shame if Fiend had known about your brother in the backseat and brought him along for the ride.”
My head ticks to the side. “Are you threatening my family?”
Justin smiles as he tries for mocked shock. “No, because I don’t do things like that.”
Then he winks. A small part of me wishes that the bullet had hit me and I was dead because then he wouldn’t be using my family as leverage over me.
“We’ll find a way to stay in touch,” he says. “After all, we know where you live.”
CHEVY
MY BRAIN’S FOGGED. Like I was plowed on the football field by a two-hundred-pound linebacker. Like I slammed my head on the ground and I wasn’t wearing a helmet. The world’s fuzzy and I’m having a hard time registering Skull’s words, but he’s talking and I’m trying to listen.
I’m sitting at the table now. Skull’s sitting, too. He’s been ex
plaining that my father didn’t get along with Cyrus—the man who’s raised me as one of his own. That my father, James, joined the Terror because he didn’t feel like there was another option and he later regretted it.
Cyrus told me Dad often felt trapped by Snowflake, so he would go to Louisville and stay for long periods, but he never mentioned Dad being at odds with him, with the Terror.
Skull has a different version. That Dad had a place in Louisville, that he had a steady girlfriend in Louisville, that he hung out and worked with the Riot and they trusted him because he gave the Riot information on the Terror.
My lungs hurt like I’m drowning. If what he’s saying is true? My father was a traitor.
No. My father was no traitor. This asshole is messing with me. “My father was loyal to the Terror.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Skull has the nerve to look at me like he’s sorry to be breaking the news.
“There’s holes in your story. Dad didn’t do steady with women. Even I know that.” From the club and from my mom. A rare moment of information verified on both fronts.
“He didn’t, but the woman he had in Louisville he cared for. Called her a friend, let her live with him after she had run away from home. I can give you her name if you want. Meet her. She’ll confirm everything I’m telling you. In fact, I hope you do. There’s things about her you need to know. Things, as a man who values family, that I think you need to know.”
Probably because he paid her to tell me what he wants me to believe. “You’re full of shit.”
“If I were in your shoes, I’d think the same thing, but it doesn’t change the truth. That Louisville detective figured it out recently. Won’t be long until he’s going to try to use that information against the Terror...and against you.”
I slouch in the seat. “The Terror’s legit and anything my father did or didn’t do doesn’t affect me.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Way I look at it, how well do you know your club? What is it that the Terror are hiding that the son of the president traded sides? Other question to ask yourself is how the other members of Terror are going to treat you once they find out your old man was a traitor. Are they going to be wondering how far off the tree that apple falls?”