* * *
It's still sunny when we reach South Hollens, which I try to see as a good omen. But even the clear blue sky can't lift me from my glum mood. Kase feels a million miles away already, even though he's safely sequestered in the clubhouse. Ryker is taking me to a safe house on Miller road. He says the Connolly family lives there, and they take in strays, no questions asked. Doesn't matter if the strays in question are cats, dogs, birds, women, or children.
He explains this all to me when we fuel up. He texts someone before we get back on the road. Probably his girl, asking about Kase. I wait to hear something from him, but Ryker says nothing and we get back on the road without saying anything further to one another.
I'm not thrilled about the location of the Connolly house. It rides too close to the demarcation line that separates the Spades and the Kings. I don't have many options though, because I don't want to deal with a confrontation with Cruz right now.
Ryker begins to slow when we approach the end of Miller Road. The street is lined with cookie-cutter suburban housing and it's somewhat upscale, as far as South Hollens goes. That is to say, it's slightly less shitty than the rest of the city.
I notice a few things as Ryker pulls to a stop. There's a for sale sign on the house at 2614 Miller Road, and no cars in sight. If this is a house that takes in foster kids and battered women, shouldn't it look more lived in? The place is immaculate, trimmed windows, no bikes or trash cans against the curb. There's no sign of a kindly couple waiting to take me in.
There is, however, a car. There's also a Harley parked in the drive. A very familiar black Harley Fat Boy and an even more familiar shape sitting on the front stoop, flicking a cigarette butt to the ground.
I'm off the bike in seconds, but I'm still not fast enough. Ryker catches my arm before I can take off down the drive. Where I'd run to, I have no idea, I just know I have to run. But Ryker's grip is like a vice and he reels me in like a fish on a line. He swings me toward him and I use the momentum to my advantage, cocking my arm back and then letting the punch fly.
Hitting a brick wall would have hurt less. My knuckles split and pain lances down my wrist at once. It doesn't even snap Ryker's head to the side, damn it. He takes the hit with a grunt, but keeps moving, dragging me up the driveway.
My father stands, watching Ryker's approach with fury sparking in his cool blue eyes.
"You fucking traitor!" I rage at my captor. Ryker flinches, but doesn't release me.
We're only a few feet away when he lets go of me, giving me a light shove toward daddy. I careen forward and strong hands shoot out, catching me before I can tumble onto the porch steps.
"Watch it, Fenton," my father snaps. "If she's hurt, you can consider yourself dead."
"If she's hurt, I didn't do it. Now consider our deal fulfilled, Gardel. You have her and Kase is out of the picture. We're square."
I expect my father to pull a gun and shoot Ryker for presuming to dictate anything to him. Instead he gives him a chilly little smile and inclines his head.
"Fine. But you step a toe over the line again, I will end you."
"Likewise."
My father's laugh booms into the still morning air and startles both Ryker and I. "Brass balls, Fenton. You would have done well with the Kings."
"Take her and fuck off," Ryker growls.
Brass balls indeed. I can't believe my father is letting him get away with talking like this.
His grip tightens on my arm and my father's amusement cools as he stares down at me. He muscles me toward the waiting car and opens the back door, shoving me inside, flipping the childproof lock so I can't escape before he slams the door in my face.
I nearly swallow my tongue when I see who's waiting for me in the backseat.
Before I can say a word, Dallas has a gun jabbed beneath my ribs.
"Scream and you're fucking dead, baby girl."
13
Kase
I'm not sure how long I'm out, but when I wake, the sun slants in at a different angle. So it's probably been a bit.
Doc insisted on putting me under when Cleo dragged me into the clubhouse. I put up minimal resistance, too exhausted and hurt to refuse the relief he was offering. My only request was that they try to drag my happy ass out of unconsciousness when Brooklyn arrived. And when I wake, there's a hand in mine. Just not the one I'm expecting.
I find myself lying on one of the clubhouse couches, bloody towels folded beneath my arm and a bandage strapped over my bicep. Doc is nowhere to be seen. Cleo and Ryker are the only ones waiting for me. Its a punch to the gut to realize that Penny and Cruz aren't there with them. Cruz probably thinks I deserve this. But Penny? Why isn't Penny here?
Cleo is pale beneath the tawny cast of her skin, as though she's struggling not to be sick.
