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A twinge of panic strangles my heart when I look out the office’s window. Two men guard the door. These guys weren’t present before. At least I don’t think they were. They aren’t laughing or carrying on like everyone else in the hallway. Their backs are to us and their spines are arrow-straight. But what causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end is how they turn their heads to observe the crowd as if they’re expecting something...or someone.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask Mom.
“Outside,” she answers. “He’s outside and he can’t get in. Eli won’t stop you, honey. He’s capable of a lot of things, but he’ll let you go. Do it now, Emily. Leave.”
Eli runs a hand over his face as he continues his conversation with Dad. “That’s not necessary. There’s no reason to change those plans. Emily is fine. A little shaken up, but she doesn’t need to go home.”
He opens the door and snaps his fingers at the two huge men. Both wear the same black vest as Eli. “Emily’s dad is at the front entrance. I told someone to get him in here. I won’t ask nicely again.”
Eli closes the door then returns to talking to Dad. “They’re going to let you in. Give me your word that she can visit with my mother. Not here, though. Somewhere...quieter.”
“No.” Olivia’s eyes widen and she touches Eli’s arm. “You promised.”
Eli gives his head a small shake. Olivia pivots in my direction. “Tell Meg to let you stay.” Her voice rises with each syllable. “Tell her you want to meet your family. Tell her you want to spend time with me. With your father!”
“Tell her?” My forehead furrows. I don’t tell my mom what to do. It’s Mom.
“Tell me what?” Mom asks.
“Olivia wants me to tell you that I should stay.”
“No.” Mom grows suddenly firm. “Leave now.”
“Thanks for the reminder!” Eli smacks his hand on the wall. A corkboard tacked up beside him crashes to the floor. I jump with the impact and draw myself in, wishing I could disappear.
I don’t know these people and they don’t know me and my dad’s outside and not inside and these people could have tempers and they could hurt me and...
“I’m aware I have no rights to my daughter,” Eli snaps. “I’m the one who signed the damn papers!”
“Baby,” Mom says in my ear. “Say goodbye to Eli and leave. The cab is waiting.”
“Okay.” I focus on my shoes. I never want to wear them again. “I’ll see you soon.”
Even though Mom’s still talking, I end the call and drop the phone to my lap. Eli, on the other hand...
“No, Jeff. Let her stay... No. No.” He opens his mouth to speak again and then lowers the phone to look at the screen. “Fuck!”
I flinch with the anger shaking out of his body and Eli swears again under his breath when he notices. “Dammit, I mean...I’m sorry, Emily.”
“It’s okay.” I comb my fingers through my hair and pretend to be interested in the strands. Mom said Dad’s outside and I’m going to ignore any reason for why he can’t make it in. It’s not because I’m trapped here. It’s not because these people are trying to force something I don’t want.
This is okay and I’m going to be okay. Deep breaths in. Long breaths out.
“Call her back,” Olivia says to me. “Call Meg back and tell her you’re staying.”
My hands tremble as I pick up my purse and slip my phone into the pocket. “She told me to leave.”
“Do you always do what you’re told?”
I cling tighter to the handles on my bag. My mom told me to come home. Home. A place that is safe and familiar and nothing like this insanity. This place is scary and confusing and... “She’s my mom.”
“Don’t, Mom,” Eli mumbles under his breath.
“And you’re seventeen,” Olivia points out. “Old enough to make this decision.”
“Barely seventeen,” I whisper.
“Leave her alone,” Eli says. “It’s me you’re upset with.”
Olivia wheels around. “Not you. Your daughter is caving to that woman and I’m tired of Meg telling us what we can and cannot do with our flesh and blood!” She rounds on me. “McKinley blood runs in your veins. Take a stand and tell them you’re staying.”
My wrist begins to itch and I scratch, not caring that it will make the welts bigger. Hives, my Achilles’ heel. The physical manifestation of the chaos inside me. I slowly stand, but not in the way she desires. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”
“Eli!” It’s a plea, and it causes guilt to ripple within me. I glance out the window and catch Oz watching me from the hall with his thumbs hitched in his pockets. He lowers his head and shakes it.
“She’s a good kid,” Eli says in defeat.
“What does that mean?” Olivia yells.
Eli pushes off the wall and settles his hands on Olivia’s shoulders like he did with me earlier. “It means she’s a good kid. She’s a good kid with good friends and she makes good grades at a good school and lives in a good neighborhood in a good house in an even better community. She’s a good kid with a great life and every now and then I get to be a part of it. Think about what Meg’s given her. Think about what we really have the right to demand.”
Olivia crosses her arms. “You mean she’s locked up in a safe padded world and she does everything everyone tells her.”
“Yes.” Eli nods. “And she’s happy.”
My would-be grandmother studies me and for some reason, she appears to pity me. “And that is sad.”
Oz
HOOK AND PIGPEN guard the door to the office, and it’s a good thing, too. Otherwise I probably would have bolted in and shaken the hell out of Emily.
My teeth grind as I witness the drama unfolding through the window. Olivia, the strongest woman I know, is close to tears. She’s been the focus of my life since I was a child, and I’ve never seen her this way. Not when she discusses the son she lost around the time of my birth. Not when she told me I wouldn’t be living with her anymore when I was eight. Not when she hurts year after year as she marks another passing of Emily’s birthday with no contact from her or Meg. Not when she found out she has greater odds of being hit by lightning than surviving the cancer.
Tears. Olivia’s eyes are glassy and she lifts her chin like she doesn’t give a damn, but there’s only a fragile veil of pride hiding her devastation.
Emily stands in the middle of the room with her purse in her hands, looking completely lost as Olivia cups her face. Fuck Emily for hurting Olivia. Fuck Emily for returning and ruining this day.
The door to the office opens and Eli walks out. Hook and Pigpen grant Eli their undivided attention and Eli points at me. “I need you in on this, Oz.”
I slide closer and the four of us create a tight circle. Eli talks so only we can hear. “Pigpen, clear this hall. Hook, tell her father we’re taking Emily out the back. I want a wall of leather cuts giving her shade, do you got me?”
They mumble their agreement and Pigpen rounds to face the crowd. Like a lot of the brothers in the club, he’s ex-military. The voice of the six-two, massive former Army Ranger rumbles against the walls. “If you ain’t a brother, clear out!”
The volume of conversation in the hall rises along with the sound of shuffling feet. Everyone associated with us comprehends that a demand is a demand, not a request. Hang-arounds, people not associated with the club, are permitted to party with us, but are only allowed on our terms. If they don’t like it, they can get the hell out.
I shift to help Pigpen with the herding, but Eli catches my arm. “Walk with me.”
Eli’s on the move in the restricted hallway of the funeral home and I keep step by his side. We turn the corner and he imitates a Navy SEAL on a mission when his eyes roam the area. He’s performing a run-through to confirm the area is clear. “What the fuck was Meg thinking letting Emily come here?”
His hand slams on a swinging door that’s marked “No Entrance” and I keep my mouth shut. That question wasn’t for me. We enter a barren hallway and I stay near the exit as Eli checks a room at the end. “Fifteen years since they’ve been in this town and now with the Riot breathing down our throats Meg allows Emily to show.”
Eli kicks an empty cardboard box and it bounces against the wall. He breathes hard and I meld into the equivalent of paint. I’ve known Eli since I was eleven. He’s the biggest badass I’ve met and he doesn’t easily lose his shit. It’s best to let him ride this out.
“I e-mailed Jeff.” Eli stares at the wall. “I e-mailed him in the vain hope he’d let Emily come, but I didn’t think he would. I knew Meg would say no, but I had hoped and then he did call and I didn’t answer. I had turned off my cell, forgot I had and now...”
His hands go to his hips and his head falls back. “I have a huge favor to ask.”
“Name it.” This is the moment I’ve been waiting for since I was sixteen.
“I need you on Emily. Follow her until she gets on the plane. Stay close enough to make sure she’s out of trouble, but far enough away that no one figures out that you’re tailing them. If you do this for me, you’ll have a cut on your back the moment you walk into the clubhouse and you’ll be our newest prospect.”
“Not a problem.” I’ll follow Emily through hell in order to make prospect. “Do you mind telling me what I’m watching for?”
Eli works his jaw. “The Riot.”
Never thought of Eli as paranoid. My mind races for why the Riot would give a rip about Emily. “The Riot would never step into Snowflake, so how would they know that she’s here?” And why would they care?
“The Riot’s pissed we’re doing security business in Louisville. Even more pissed we won’t give them a cut of our profits because we’re running through their area. Remember what I said to you last night? The Riot can make a business issue personal fast.”
“Yeah, but you think they’ll go after Emily?”
“There’s a scar forming on your father’s head that tells me the Riot is ready for a war, and there are over two hundred people in this building. I can’t risk the chance there’s someone loyal to them here gathering info on us. I wasn’t worried until I saw Emily. We’re strong together as a club. We protect our own, but she’s not one of us and I won’t have them go personal with her. The Riot don’t think straight when they’re mad. They act first and never ask questions later. She’s my daughter and I don’t want her caught up in my shit.”
I nod. This is the guy Eli is—loyal to those he loves. But it’s lost on me why he has this sudden commitment to Emily. He visits her once a year. From what I understand, he never tried for custody, but I’m not going to question my path into the club. He wants me to watch Emily, so I’ll watch Emily. She officially has a stalker.
“Meg will be able to spot a Terror member,” he continues, “so you’ll be driving my truck. If anyone can own the role of teenager out for a joyride who doesn’t give a shit, it’s you.”
From Eli, that’s a high compliment. “Emily will know me.”
“Emily won’t be looking for you, but Meg will be searching for the club.” He digs into his pockets and tosses the keys to his truck to me. “Tail them until she boards the plane. I need to know that my problems with the Riot don’t follow my daughter.”
“Consider it done.” I open the exit door and Eli stops me from walking out into the summer sun.
“Anyone who messes with Emily messes with me,” he adds.
Which means anyone stupid enough to cross paths with her is suicidal. “I got her back.”
Eli smiles like we’ve been chatting about the weather. “You’re a good man, Oz.” And he disappears back inside the funeral home.
* * *
In pleated khaki pants, Emily’s adoptive father, Jeff, paces outside the sidewalk of his motel room talking on his cell. He sports a pair of Aviator sunglasses and holds himself like he’s God. Heard he’s a doctor so he probably thinks he is. I’ve been ordered to maintain my distance, otherwise I would have offered the three of them a ride into Louisville hours ago.
My cell buzzes. Eli’s hourly check-in. What’s going on?
Same thing as the past ten hours. Nothing.
I followed Emily and Jeff here after they left the funeral home. Three hours ago the rental-car company showed and dropped off an SUV. Emily and her parents piled into the rental and I rapped my head against the headrest of the truck when the engine of the SUV wouldn’t turn over.
Since then, Jeff’s bought takeout and talked on his phone. No sign of Emily or her mother. Both have stayed safely inside the motel room.
Buzzing.
I don’t like them staying here overnight. We’re hearing some chatter that the Riot are riding closer than normal, but we don’t have visuals. Don’t like the feel of the situation. Keep vigilant.
Like stalking a girl who hurt Olivia is my definition of a wet dream. Will do.
I toss my cell onto the bench seat and press the balls of my hands to my eyes. Last night’s lack of sleep is catching up. First the private party at the lake with a twelve-pack, Chevy and two blondes more than willing to be on the back of a bike, then the hours waiting for Dad and then the adrenaline rush of all that followed.
I got an hour’s worth of sleep, maybe less, before Eli picked me up to retrieve Dad’s bike. I stretch my legs in the small space against the floorboard and roll my neck. Eli checked flights after it was clear their rental wasn’t moving and confirmed that it would be impossible for them to reach Louisville and still board a flight out tonight.
It’s killing Eli to do nothing, but they haven’t asked for help and they aren’t answering his “benign” texts asking if Emily’s okay and if they arrived in Louisville without issue. Any further contact by him would tip them off that they’re being tailed and Eli’s adamant this remains on the down low.
Jeff ends a call and looks up at the sky. Night’s falling. The lights on the motel overhang flicker on. He glances around the mostly abandoned parking lot, but dismisses me and the truck. I’m in the corner, near the Dumpster, and in the shadows.
Taking the key card out of his pocket, he enters the motel room. Another buzz and I wish Eli’s cell would run out of power.
You gonna be able to stay awake on this?
Do I want Eli to think I can handle the club?
Yes.
Don’t fail me.
Won’t happen.
I wait for Eli’s next text, but the silence confirms that he has faith. Should’ve asked for some coffee or a shot of adrenaline, but there’s no asking for help here. I do this or I don’t, and I won’t let Eli down.
I rest my head on the seat and stare at Emily’s motel room. If there’s one thing that’s been confirmed today, it’s that she’s more trouble than she’s worth.
Emily
IT’S AS IF I’m living the opening segment of an apocalyptic thriller. Young family’s rental car breaks down in parking lot and they’re forced to stay the night in dilapidated motel. Soon, the local townspeople morph into skin-eating demons and the family fights to survive until sunrise.
Maybe our situation isn’t that dire, but it’s close. The past few hours have been the worst sleep of my life. With no rental and no Louisville cab company willing to spare a driver to take us back into the city, we’re stuck here. To make matters worse, Snowflake is limited in overnight accommodations and, short of pitching a tent, this is where we ended up.
The stain on the sheets of the bed I lie in gives me the bugs-walking-on-the-back-of-my-neck creeps and, speaking of bugs, I’m sure there are a hundred million of them nesting in the innards of the mattress. Something continuously moves in the corner of the room, but disappears each time I click on the light.
It doesn’t help that Mom and Dad have been sharing a whispered intense conversation all night. Yes, they had a lot to discuss after the funeral home debacle, but a call from the room phone around eleven caused a new round of conversations. Most of it taking place in the bathroom.
For hours, I stared at the light streaming from the crack under the bathroom door. Occasionally their voices would rise, but they were still too muffled for me to understand. Even when I tiptoed to the door to listen.
I’m impatient for daylight yet the minutes drag into days. It’s 3:03 a.m. and I’ve been parched since two. The thought of interrupting Mom and Dad in the bathroom for a drink of water doesn’t thrill me, so I roll out of bed. In the darkness, I shimmy out of my pj pants and into a pair of shorts. There’s a vending machine a few doors down and a bottle of cold water is calling my name.
Oz
THE SLAMMING OF a car door jerks me awake. My heart hammers with the realization—I fell asleep. I scrub a hand over my face to wake myself, then grab the phone. It’s after three and there are two missed messages. Eli’s going to kill me and I deserve his wrath. I messed this up big time.
Message one: What’s going on?
Message two: You better be awake and taking a piss or you better be dead.
My fingers hover over the cell as my attention is drawn to movement from the right. On the opposite side of the parking lot are two guys who stand near the front of a blacked-out SUV. Cigarettes burn in their hands and I don’t like how they’re watching Emily’s room.
I scan the rest of the area and my stomach drops. Dark chestnut hair. Tanned, toned legs. Damn me to hell, Emily’s walking toward the vending machines. One of the guys drops his cigarette to the ground and smashes it with his foot.
His mouth moves as he talks to the guy next to him and in the barely dim light surrounding him, he slips off a cut. I don’t catch the entire patch, but I see enough. With a surge of adrenaline, I start the truck and then my fingers fly over the letters.
The Riot are here.
Emily
GOOSE BUMPS RISE on my arms when I open the door and the early-morning Kentucky air drifts over my skin. It’s the first time I’ve stayed at this type of motel—the type with no interior corridors and only exterior doors.
I flip the security latch to prevent being locked out and follow the hum of vending machines. The lights of the overhang burn bright enough for me see where I’m heading, but are dull enough that I’m again reminded of walking into a horror flick.
The night surrounding the motel parking lot is dark. Very dark. My dad once told me that it gets darker before the dawn. I shiver. He must be right. I’ve never seen anything so black that it’s completely void of light.
I turn the corner and pause. My back itches like I’m being watched. The sensation crawls along the fine hairs of my neck and my heart pumps hard. In a slow movement, I peer over my shoulder. Nothing but darkness. Nothing but small bugs swarming near the overhead light that leaves a green tint to the world. Nothing. Nothing but my overactive imagination.
One foot angles in favor of the room, but the rest of me pushes forward. Five seconds to get a drink and then back to the room. Maybe ten. With my stomach in my throat, I brave the enclave, slip the fifty cents into the coin slot and then attempt to shove the dollar into the machine. With a whine, it spits the money back out. With a second whine, the machine cranks the bill out again. “Come on!”
My skin shrinks against my bones. Saran Wrap tight, my flesh feels like it needs to be shed. There’s something wrong out here. Something evil. With shaky hands I try one last time and the machine inhales the dollar.
A push of a button. A racket that could wake the dead. My hand swipes up the water. A flash of black to my right and I suck in a breath to scream.
Black hair. Blue eyes. Broad shoulders. Taller than me. And he blocks my way.
I stumble back, tripping over myself. The water thumps to the concrete and a hand whips out and grabs my wrist. Air leaves my lungs in a hiss when my body slams into the cinder-block wall.
My mouth opens again and a hot hand presses against my lips. A sob racks me and blue eyes lower to mine. “It’s me, Emily. It’s Oz. Right now I need you to be quiet. Do you hear me? Quiet.”
He’s whispering while he muffles my scream. Quiet is not what I need. My eyes dart around. We’re wedged in a small space between the vending machine and the wall. His body is pressed tightly to mine, so much so that it’s hard to draw in air. Cobwebs touch the top of Oz’s head. A spider the size of my fist swings precariously above us, its legs twisting as it spins its web.
A sound leaves my throat as a tear cascades down my face.
“Quiet,” Oz demands again. “Please, Emily. Be still.”
I blink at the please. His blue eyes soften and my senses go on alert. Almost like my energy is reaching out to find the real threat—a threat my instincts inform me is worse than what’s in front of me.
Oz slowly withdraws his hand from my mouth and the flood of cold air on my face causes me to tremble. He continues to lower his hand to his hip and wraps his fingers around the hilt of a blade stuck inside a leather sheath.
There’s activity beyond us. A slow tapping of a boot against the sidewalk. A scrape comparable to sandpaper against the concrete wall. Then a shadow. Large. Looming. The head of the dark shadow hits near my feet.
“The water bottle.” My lips move.
Oz tilts his head as if he sees the shift in my mood. “I know,” he mouths. “Shh.”
Chaos reigns inside my mind. Oz can kill me or Oz can save me or Oz can do one now and then another later.
The footsteps begin again, echoing closer to our hiding spot. Fear gains in strength, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over me. Oz weaves an arm around my back and circles us so that I’m wedged into the corner and he’s positioned near the threat.
Heat builds between us and my pulse beats wildly at my pressure points. He continues to gently guide me into the extremely small crevice behind the machine. My foot tangles with a cord and I trip to the right. My hand snaps out and I grab on to Oz’s belt loop as both of his hands land on my hips.
We’re crushed against each other. Warmth rolls off his body and onto mine. He must feel it—my fear, the blood drumming throughout my veins. My eyesight nearly shakes with it.
Oz does a strange thing. He smiles. It’s a crazy smile, but beautiful. My body tingles when he swipes his thumb under my shirt and across the sensitive skin of my waist.
He leans forward, his breath hot against my ear. Only one guy has been this near me before. Body against body. Thighs against thighs. Warm breath brushing the back of my ear. We didn’t go far that night. We didn’t go far at all—not emotionally, not physically...just not. And standing here pressed between a wall and Oz, my entire body becomes aware.
“If he finds us,” he breathes into my ear, “you run, Emily. You run and keep running until you lock yourself in the room. Then you call Eli.”
Oz pulls back and our noses almost touch. I strain to listen. No footsteps. No sound beyond my own frantic breaths. Then a thump to the concrete. Like a bottle dropping. My stomach sinks along with it. And there’s a rolling of plastic...getting closer...closer. So close that it’s next to us.
My eyes flash to Oz’s. I’m about to explode out of my skin yet he’s calm, steady, solid. He meets my gaze, never once looking elsewhere. The bottle continues to roll away...away...to the point I believe that the sound I hear is only in my mind. An echo of my fears.
No longer able to handle Oz’s intense stare, I lower my head and my body sags. Oz eases a hand to the nape of my neck, encouraging me to rest my head on his shoulder. I do, then inhale the calming scent of burned wood. It conjures images of bonfires on the beach. S’mores on the back patio with my father. Nights by the fireplace as a child.
Oz’s hand is hot on my skin and my muscles melt under his strong caress. An eternity passes. Stars are born then die. He relaxes his grip on me and my fingers curl into his belt loops when he tries to maneuver away.
“Did you hear that?” he asks.
The rolling? It’s still in my head and so are the footsteps, but I shake my head no.