Page 19 of Praying for Thunder

Holding my head to her shoulder, she laughed in an evil manner, declaring, “He will never be safe. Someone horrible believes he belongs to him.”

This was a first for Anita to admit anything of importance to him. Stew stood there, wanting more intel, but was afraid to spook her from telling him more. “I’m willing to do anything you need.”

Tears streamed… “Then help us pack our bags.”

His mouth fell open, and though his heart cracked, he stayed composed. “If you’re sure that’s the best for you both.”

She breathed in my hair. “What’s best for him is all that matters.”

Stew had seen a lot over the years, much of which he wished he could forget, but he’d never seen a mother so fierce. He thought to himself, Anita may not be blood to the child, but that’s his mama. “Okay, I’ll help pack bags, but can we first sit and collect ourselves before saying goodbye? Plus,” kindly, he shrugged, “your car is still in the shop.”

Her knees gave and she plopped down onto the couch, crying, holding me tight in her lap.

Stew sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll pick it up in the morning and help you load it. Do you have a plan of where to go?”

“No, no plan,” she cried. “I’m so tired.”

He pulled her to him, resting his head on hers. “I know, girl.” His eyes closed in sorrow when he felt me fist his shirt, silently begging him to help my Ani. Blowing out a stressed breath, he asked, “Can you tell me what got you so upset tonight?” He forced a chuckle. “I know you got laid. You reek of sex.”

His humor helped.

Laughing through tears, she smacked him on the chest, but stopped when finding my desperate hand holding his shirt.

She let out a howl. “Oh God, please help me.”

Stew rocked us both. “He is. By sending me. Give me something to work with, sweet girl.”

After a few deep breaths, and trust she rarely offered, Anita went on to explain her night. She left out details about Rosa that were to be kept secret but told him of learning who Dio was. “A biker. Can you believe it? How could I be so stupid!”

“Did he hurt you?”

Scrubbing a hand over her sweaty face, she admitted, “No. He was… kind.” She rushed to add, “But he tricked me!”

Trying not to aggravate Ani further, he gently questioned, “A ‘kind’ bad guy?”

“Well, he seemed kind but can’t be if he’s a biker.”

Treading carefully, he tenderly tried another approach. “Is this biker a nomad?”

“A what-ad?”

“A biker who has left the club to ride on his own.”

Stew took notice when Anita gasped. Her question spoke volumes. “Some clubs allow that? They don’t… kill him?”

For the second time that night, Stew’s mouth fell open, but this time he chose to be raw and honest. Not sparing her feelings or privacy. “You’re running from a club.”

She shook her head, desperately, “No,” but the truth was all over her terrified face.

In thought, he repeated, “Someone thinks he’s—” He looked at me. “Oh my God. This is a biker’s child.”

“No!” she cried. “I mean, one thinks he is, but I don’t know who the real father is.”

“Oh, shit!” Stew got up from the couch and began to pace. “Jesus. This is bad.”

“No!” Anita was overwhelmed. “I mean, yes, but the less you know the better.”

He huffed. “You mean if they find you and torture me for answers.”