“Managing to make any progress?” Chaos asks, nodding to the women.
Kyra’s face falls. “I think the girl might be related to the one who died, but I can’t be sure.”
Explains why the poor thing refuses to speak, then.
“Do you think we could arrange to have them checked over physically?”
Chaos glances at me and then back to Kyra. “They tell you something that makes you think they need it?”
“I think they wouldn’t say even if they wanted to. They’re pretty shaken up, and I get the impression at least one of them is denying the truth of it all.”
“I’ll talk to Flinch about jacking it up.”
“They need to talk to someone,” Kyra presses, unintimidated by our president. “If they’re willing to make a statement about their ordeal, it’s important they do it soon while their memory is fresh.”
“Careful,” I tease. “You’re starting to sound like the daughter of a Sheriff.”
“Sometimes it pays to,” she counters.
“She brings up a valid point,” Chaos says. “Regardless of what we do moving forward to dismantle this racket the Breed has going, these women need to move on. They need medical care, legal representation, and to go home.”
“Some of them don’t have a home,” I say, thoughts on my conversation with the firecracker.
“Then we deal with that as it comes, but we ain’t the law. Denying them their rights makes us just another captor to them.” He shifts his attention to Kyra. “Think you can do me a favor?”
She pulls her head back and folds her arms. “Depends on what it is.”
“Need you to call your old man and get him to come here.”
Her eyes narrow, jaw hard. “Why can’t you do it yourself?”
I set a hand to her lower back, both as comfort and to urge her to ease up on how she talks to Chaos.
He smirks. “Because he doesn’t much like me telling him what to do.”
“Well,” she sasses, “He doesn’t much like me. Period.”
“I’ll do it,” I say, diffusing the situation.
“Are you sure?” Kyra looks up at me with concern.
“It’s about time he and I talked anyway.”
FORTY-TWO
KYRA
Jinx handsme a steaming cup of coffee and then sets a short glass of juice on the side table for the bundle on my lap. She still won’t talk, but the other women tell me they think she’s no older than nine. I feel privileged that she chose me as a safe place to rest.
“Let me know if you need a break,” he whispers, taking the seat next to mine on the porch. “I’ll get Floss to take over.”
I adjust the quilted blanket over the curled child. “I’m okay. When did he say he’d be here?”
“Shouldn’t be far away.” Jinx looks to the end of the driveway as though seeking out my father.
I’m amazed he got the bully to agree. Would probably pay a handsome fee to find out what exactly they said to each other, too.
It’s been a damn long night at the farmhouse. I don’t feel right calling it a clubhouse, not when there’s a stronger vibe of homeliness and community here than anything quintessentially biker-club about it. The women eventually succumbed to exhaustion and slept wherever they felt most comfortable. Two of the ladies curled up together beside the fire, finding comfortin an open space and having each other nearby. One sleeps on the sofa. Another opted for the security of the bedroom set aside for them upstairs. Most interestingly, the assertive woman Jinx tells me he brought back went missing about the same time Fang did.
