Page 38 of Bram

The silence was a weight. The medic busied himself at the far end of the room, inventorying bottles, pretending not to hear. Rusty’s arms flexed tighter across his chest, but he never said a thing.

I turned to Bram. “Don’t,” I said. “Don’t go off and make this about you. Or about him.”

He stared at the floor, then at me, then out to some horizon beyond the windowless wall. When he spoke, his voice was low and flat. “I have never done anything stupid in my life.”

I almost laughed. It bubbled up, half a sound, then the pain in my ribs cut it down. I grabbed my side, bit down on the noise, and let the almost-laugh hang in the air.

Emma looked up for the first time, her eyes sharp under the swollen lid. She flicked her gaze between Bram and me, like she was tracking the path of a bullet. There was something old in her face. Older than sixteen. She watched the tension stretch out and made the decision not to break it.

“He’ll be back,” Emma said. “None of this stops as long as we’re alive.” She pointed at Bram. “He wants you dead first.”

“He’s gonna learn we don’t always get what we want.”

“The club is ready,” Rusty said. “And I meant what I said earlier. I want a piece of him.”

“Dad,” Emma said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Rusty shifted by the door, a low grunt in his throat. He took two steps and put his hand on Bram’s shoulder, not rough, not even meant to hold him back. Just a touch. Bram didn’t shake him off, but he didn’t look at him, either. He got up, slow and deliberate, and crossed to the far wall. There was a slit window set high in the cinder block, and Bram stared through it at the yard. It was dark outside. Maybe nothing to see, but he looked anyway.

Emma shifted in her seat. “What happens now?” she asked.

I tried to smile at her. My face wouldn’t do it. “Now we rest,” I said. “You’re safe here.”

“Is anywhere safe?” she asked. The words were a test.

Bram turned from the window, silhouetted in the sick light. “Safe is a sliding scale,” he said. “You slide it as far as you can.”

Emma nodded, like she already knew. “That’s fair.”

“What about Barstow PD?” I asked. “They’ll be all over this. I’m surprised they’re not here already.”

“There’ll be a bigger payoff this month,” Bram said. “Maddox’ll look the other way, for now. But we gotta bring this shit to an end before it hits the regular folks of Barstow. That’s when Maddox will get involved.”

“I’ll give him a call,” Rusty said.

I watched Bram watch me. There was an animal in his eyes, something coiled so tight it could snap bone. But there was a second thing, too. A thing I hadn’t seen before. Not guilt, not rage. Devotion. The ugly, all-consuming kind.

I wanted to tell him to let it go. I wanted to tell him I was fine, that I’d been through worse, that I could handle anything the Colonel threw at me. Instead, I said: “Don’t do anything reckless.”

He smiled, just a crack, just enough to prove he’d heard me. “I wouldn’t know how,” he said. “You gotta trust me on this, babe. I’ve dealt with harder me than your father.”

The medic finished cleaning up. He passed us a jar of painkillers, three bottles of Gatorade, and an order to call if the bleeding started again. “No fucking,” he said before leaving the room. “You’ll bust up those stitches and ribs.”

Rusty opened the door, letting in a sliver of cooler air. He held it for Emma, who followed, silent as a ghost. She didn’t look back, but she didn’t stumble, either. I knew then that Rusty had been preparing her for days like this. When your parents were part of the biker world, you had to be prepared for shit coming your way.

I stayed in my chair. I didn’t want to stand. I watched Bram across the room, his big frame hunched in the window, hands balled at his sides. There was a tremor in his shoulders, so faint you’d miss it unless you’d spent your whole life looking for the cracks in men.

I closed my eyes for a minute. My heart pounded against the tape. I waited for the pain to settle. Then I opened my eyes again.

Bram was still at the window, but the distance between us felt smaller. Like he could cross it anytime he wanted. Like he was waiting for me to decide if I wanted him to.

I did.

I didn’t say it. I didn’t have to. He already knew.

sixteen

Julie