“We might need them,” he argues, grabbing the bag and carrying it back inside. “I never leave home without them.” I know for sure he doesn’t. That motherfucker will take a small arsenal of knives and saws just under his cut, ready and willing to use that at any time.
“One, Dexter. Pick one,” Fate groans like he’s bartering with a child. A very creepy child.
Dexter goes deadly serious, his face severe and his eyebrows pushed down as he looks up at Fate. If I didn’t know him, he’d creep me the fuck out. I’ll never say it out loud, but I wouldn’t want to tell him no, not when he can be such a sneaky fucker. I don’t know how the fuck he does it, but he gets into places that are locked down like Fort Knox. I know he won’t go against Fate’s command, though, and as the VP, I’m next in line to keep everyone following orders.
“Prez, if we don’t get on the road, that storm is going to knock us back a few days. I mapped out the trip, and if we want to hit Vegas by tomorrow, we need to leave now.” Atlas comes out, working the GPS on his phone. He’s one of the bigger guys, but really, he’s like a giant teddy bear. A very intimidating teddy bear, until you actually have a conversation with him. Talk to him, and you might think he’s on the naïve side of things, but while he doesn’t pick up on most jokes, he’s a genius when it comes to maps and traveling. That’s why Fate made him Road Captain. Getting a whole MC lost while on the road is a great way to walk on the wrong toes. Atlas has every MC he can possibly find, plus their areas logged, so we don’t make that mistake—unless, of course, it’s not a mistake, and we are purposely doing it.
“If that storm is going to be that bad, you need to hit the store. Cash and Rodi made sure the barn was all mucked out for when you put the animals away. You sure you’re good?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll go a bit after you leave.” I sometimes feel like I’m talking to my father. He always wants his men to be taken care of, worrying like a father would.
I can’t really blame him too much. Fate was kind of a father-slash-older brother figure to me when I was a kid growing up here in the Clubhouse. I’ll always be grateful to him, and he’s my brother and true best friend in the world. But sometimes he looks at me like I’m still that scared little kid he found in the snow that night.
I guess sometimes I still am.
Fate whistles, and everyone gets right to it, filing out and nodding or stopping to pull me into half hugs. I’m not touchy feely but for some reason, watching them all load up without me hits me. All the bikes starting up and together, sounding like vibrating thunder. One by one, they pull out: Atlas, then Fate alongside Wrath who is Acting VP, then Ink and Vault side by side. After them is Thrasher with Delilah on his back next to Dexter. After them is Dice, Trucker, Luciano, and Boss all side by side, and behind them is another row consisting of Hack, Charm, Holiday, and Cape. The last row are the prospects Bender and Rodi. Cash is last to leave, following in his truck, just behind Gunner, who is generally always the one to ride in the back, being the actual tail on trips. He’s the spotter, so to speak, on the road. He’s always keeping cars at a distance—and keeping an eye out for trouble.
As the rumble fades and I’m left with deafening silence, the Christmas lights blinking in the hazy morning seem anything but cheerful. Like they are mocking me. Instead of standing there wallowing in my misery, I get to it. I can pout later after I’ve prepared for the storm.
I pull into the driveway with a big exhale. It’s a relief to finally be at my cousin’s house. We’ve never been super close since we grow up, but not having siblings, our parents made sure we were always hanging out, keeping each other busy—and distracted so they could drink. I’m sure she won’t mind I’m here. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. I want to get out of Oregon—hell, I want to get out of the country. But I will need to get a passport first, so in the meantime I need to try to stay off the grid and make sure I’m not leaving a paper trail behind me for him to follow. I scrambled and forgot a bunch of things, thinking this would be a quick pitstop.
I haven’t talked to my cousin or seen her in a while, so I’m sure it’ll be strange if she just shows up and see me here. I send off another quick text, making sure she hasn’t sent any while my phone was off. Nothing. I power it back down; overly anxious he might have a way to track it. I can’t take anything for granted or overlook it. He has his ways. I mean, as far as serial killers go, the news said he was the most advanced with covering his trail and keeping out of the eye of law enforcement until bodies just start to appear.
It’s mid-afternoon, and it looks like no one is home. Her car isn’t here, and the house is dark. I chew on my lip anxiously. Maybe she’s at work. I just have to hope she keeps the spare key where it’s always been, in the bush inside a plastic rock. Years ago, I showed up early, and she told me where it was. I just have to hope it’s there. Strangely, she hasn’t said anything back after all my texts, but she’ll get back to me on a break—or at least, I hope. I don’t want her coming home and thinking someone broke in if I have a light on or seeing the car in her driveway.
The house is set back on a hill. It’s really more of a cabin than it is a house. She doesn’t have neighbors, except for others who don’t want to live in the suburbs and have the money to splurge on land. They’re all miles apart. They don’t really count, at least not to me. Neighbors mean people you actually have to wave at or pretend to like, so they don’t report you to the HOA for your grass not being green. I’m glad she lives up here, so every passing car won’t give me a heart attack. There’s really no traffic up here at all.
I grab the plastic rock, and the key clanks around inside it, sending relief through me. I have some money, but not that much. I’d rather not spend it on a hotel. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to run and I need to squeeze every penny I can find.
I put the key in the door and turn it. It unlocks with a soft click. I push open the door and it creaks softly, revealing the darkness within.
I walk in, and it’s eerily still. The kind of still that makes the hair rise on the back of your neck—or maybe that’s just because I have a crazy man after me. I make sure to lock the door, feeling extra jumpy and needing the second of feeling safer than I did outside. Although my stomach is in knots, I need to shower and eat something, and I’m not sure I can force much down. I’d love to not be watched every second of every day. I can’t remember the last time I had a shower that wasn’t monitored. Even those were few and far between after he took me.
The clouds are rolling in outside, only confirming the weather broadcast alerts that kept coming over the radio once I hit Portland are accurate. The loud blare made me swerve until I figured out what it was. It’s going to be a big storm, one that’s going to hang around. The least I can do for staying here is make sure I get some supplies for us. Not that I want to stick around and get stuck in it. I came with my phone. No luggage, no nothing. I need some sort of peace offering. Supplies for the storm is the best I can do right now.
I don’t want to intrude and go checking out the bedrooms. Without talking to her, I feel like I’m imposing, almost getting the feeling I shouldn’t be here at all. It doesn’t look much different from the last time I was here, but that was years ago. It’s sparsely decorated and very basic, like it’s the show house for a housing development. There is nothing super personal anywhere, and all her furniture looks like it just came off the showroom floor from a furniture store. Living here for years, you’d think there would be some wear and tear on things, but not having kids and working your life away means a very tidy house, I guess. There aren’t even pictures on the walls, just abstract art prints in frames. She used to love redecorating her home, but this just looks plain and neutral. People change. I guess she did too.