Oz still wears his vest. The leather across the shoulder is also darkened with Eli’s blood.
“The same thing I’ve been trying to tell you since we met—we’re a brotherhood, a family. Our entire organization is built on respect and the only way you have respect is if it’s built on love. We’re not thugs jockeying for power. We’re a group that supports and doesn’t tear down.
“I won’t paint pretty pictures for you. You’ve seen how we live. It’s different, but different doesn’t mean wrong. Society has their view of normal and we have ours. Being a part of the club means freedom to us. Freedom from what others dictate for our lives.”
The muscles in my neck tighten. “If that’s true, then why were you always doing what they told you to do?”
He lowers his head and a part of me hurts that I pushed him so hard on a day when he saved not only me, but Eli. “Because I thought doing what I was told was what being a part of the club meant...until last night. I get it now in a way I never understood it before. It’s not about following, it’s about respect. Me giving respect, earning it and then getting it back in kind.”
I rake a hand through my hair. Life used to be easy. Life used to be simple. Now, it’s complicated. There’s a knock on the door and I turn. It’s Chevy and he’s carrying a flower. With a flick of his fingers, two more flowers appear.
Respect. Olivia had told me that if I allowed the club in, they would love me—that they would respect me—and Oz is saying that in order to gain the respect, I must give it.
I wave Chevy in and he edges the door open, leans in and offers the flowers to me. I accept them with a smile. He winks, and when he walks away, closing the door behind him, two Reign of Terror vests slide into view.
They’re protecting Eli. Standing by him. They’ll never leave his side. A little bit farther down at the nurses’ station, Olivia harasses a nurse with Cyrus by her side. Beyond them is the waiting room and a sea of black vests. “They’re watching over Eli, aren’t they?”
Oz nods. “And if you let them, they’ll watch over you, too.”
Yes, life used to be simple, but I never had a family like this. “You said that Eli wanted you to tell me something.”
Oz stands and extends his hand to me.
“I don’t want to leave him,” I say.
“You don’t have to, but today seriously fucked me up. If you don’t mind, I want to hold you and convince myself that this nightmare is over.”
I lay my hand in his, and he pulls me up and then settles me onto his lap. He wraps his arms around my waist and I place my head on his shoulder as I reclaim Eli’s hand.
Oz’s heat sinks past my clothes, my skin, even my bones, and it’s comforting my soul. I inhale his dark scent and it’s the first time in hours I feel completely safe.
“Is it a long story?” I ask.
“Epic,” he answers. “The craziest I’ve heard.”
“I thought your job was to prevent me from learning the truth.”
“No,” Oz’s lips whisper against my temple and there’s a flurry of rose petals in my stomach. “My job is to love you.”
Warmth floods my heart and I kiss his neck. I like how he presses me closer to him in response.
“After I tell you, though,” Oz hedges, “I want you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“That you’ll leave here for a few minutes. Eat. Rest. Talk with your dad.”
Panic cramps my stomach at the idea of leaving Eli. “I don’t know.”
Oz’s arms create a protective shelter. “I want you to trust me to watch Eli while you take a break. Trust me to chase your monsters away.”
His words cause my chest to ache while at the same time healing a few of the wounds inside me. “I trust you. I more than trust you. I love you.”
I raise my head and Oz tilts his so that we’re staring at each other. He caresses my cheek as his blue eyes soften. “You were supposed to wait to say that until we had a nice, peaceful calm moment.”
“Well,” I say with a sheepish grin, “if the Terror is my family, I’m not sure those moments exist.”
Oz chuckles and lightly kisses my lips.
“All right,” I say. “Explain it to me.”
“Your mother is the daughter of the Riot Motorcycle Club...”
Oz
I SIT IN the small windowless room that has gray walls. Hook is on one side of me. Pigpen on the other. Razor’s hanging tight near the wall. The room’s so compact that our knees touch if we shift. It’s the room the doctors used to inform the family of how Eli’s surgery went. A few days ago, we learned Eli survived. Today, I’m learning my fate.
The door opens. Cyrus and Dad stride in and Dad motions toward Razor. “Give us a few minutes.”
Razor offers me a fast pat-hug and leaves. This is the first time since the morning after my patch-in party that I’ve been this close to Dad. I extend my legs and cross my arms over my chest, feeling uncomfortable. The last words Mom said to me were an apology I never saw coming.
Cyrus drops into a chair and Dad leans against the closed door. “They’re going to let Eli go home tomorrow.”
Which means Emily will be returning to Florida. Her dad’s been calm. Very patient. I see why Emily worships him, but that laissez-faire attitude he had in regards to the club, which we appreciated even as it boggled our minds, has disappeared.
Last night, Emily and I stole a few moments alone in this room and between kisses, she told me her dad has rescinded his belief that the club is a group of grown men playing dress-up. While I’m glad he understands the gravity of Emily’s situation, it’s made his interactions with any of us frigid at best. Not a great way to start a long-distance relationship with his daughter.
“How did the meeting go with the Riot?” I ask. Cyrus and a hand-picked contingency sat down for peace talks last night. Each man in the room was in the thick of it.
“Business negotiations with them have tanked,” says Cyrus. “They want us to ask for permission to ride on their roads and they want a percentage of our profits for the businesses we run security for in their area.”
Nothing new on that front. “How’d you guys respond?”
Pigpen flashes that supermodel grin. “We told them to shove it.”
I offer him my fist. He bumps it. Pigpen is one of those men that we stand solid for. He fought in Afghanistan. Served several terms in the Army as a Ranger. He won’t ask anyone for permission to exercise his God-given rights.
“What did they say about Emily?” I ask.
“They’ve agreed to leave Emily alone,” Cyrus answers.
Bent forward, I rub my palms together. It’s like there’s a layer of razor blades between my skin and bones that won’t allow Emily’s safety to be treated so casually. “That’s it? They shoot Eli, but don’t kill him, and all of a sudden they decide to play fair? I’m not buying they suddenly grew a conscience.”
Cyrus and Dad share a long look and Cyrus continues, “In the end, we don’t know, but I reminded them that Emily lives in a different world. One that contains restraining orders and prison time for breaking those orders. Most of their guys have records and a gang task force watching their every move. Emily’s a thorn in their side, but she’s not a child anymore. She’s an adult and they aren’t going to force a relationship with someone who doesn’t want it. It’s not in their best interest.”
“We’ll keep a close eye on her,” Dad says. “We’ve already contacted the head of the Florida chapter and they agreed to stay on the situation and let us know if the Riot run through.”
“The best thing Emily can do,” adds Hook, “is go home.”
I let his words sink in. It’s what’s best for Emily and it’s what’s breaking my heart. “All right.”
There’s a long
stretch of silence and when I glance up, they’re staring at me like I’ve laid my head down on the guillotine. “What?”
“We can’t push off the police anymore. They’re coming to interview Eli.”
“What about me and Emily?”
Cyrus inches to the edge of his seat. “Eli and I don’t want Emily involved in this. You drove Eli in. You’re the one who dragged him into the ER. Emily faded into the background. Technically the police got a statement from you when you brought him in.”
Police arrived first. Lawyer later. I told the cops I found Eli bleeding on the floor. I wasn’t lying. I wasn’t keeping the truth from them, either. I was more concerned with whether or not Eli was going to die.
“They haven’t asked to speak with you again,” Cyrus says.
Eli and Cyrus want me and Emily to lie. Since I was young, Cyrus has been my guidepost. Olivia, the heart. I’ve always done everything he’s said and when I have a problem, he’s who I’ve sought advice from. “Do you guys mind if I talk to Dad for a few minutes?”
Without another word, Hook and Pigpen rise and leave the room. Cyrus stays seated. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around?”
“You mind giving me a few with Dad?” I repeat.
Cyrus sizes me up like the question shocked him and I can’t help the flash of guilt. It’s like not discussing this with him is a betrayal. “I’ll be right out there if you want to talk.”
I nod and Cyrus leaves. Dad remains standing and I wonder if he’s also replaying the last full conversation we had. “What’s on your mind?”
“I thought this club was legit?”
He eyes me warily. “It is.”
“Then why am I being asked to lie to the police?”
Dad eases into the seat beside me. “I don’t think they consider it lying as much as they consider it not mentioning certain details.”
A smile tugs on my lips as I remember Emily informing me with that impatient sway of her head that not mentioning something was the same as lying. She never has a problem calling me out on my integrity issues. “A few days ago, you said you’d fight for me.”
“I did.”
“What if I ask you not to fight for me, but at least stand with me? Because I’m about to piss a lot of people off.”
* * *
My footsteps echo in the long hallway as I head toward the pinnacle of this running disaster. Razor’s on guard outside Eli’s door and he opens it the moment he spots me. The voice of a sportscaster drifts out and I hesitate.
What I’m about to do will change everything. Me. Emily. Eli. The club. My parents. Everything. But sometimes what we need the most is what we fight the hardest: change.
From the waiting room at the other end of the hallway, Pigpen’s head snaps up. Soon the rest of the board appears as they stand. Dad walks ahead of me and holds up his hands in the nonverbal stop sign. I’m not sure if he agrees with my decision, but I straighten as I step inside, knowing Dad’s on my side.
Except for Eli, the room’s empty. Emily’s dad took her out to lunch. Mom herded Olivia to an appointment. Razor closes the door and, with the click of a button, Eli turns off the TV.
He’s lying on top of the covers in a pair of jeans. Because Eli’s a tough son of a bitch, he was placed in a regular room a few days ago. He’s shirtless and there’s a bandage over his chest where the bullet went clean through. “You don’t agree?”
Incapable of bullshitting. It’s what I like about Eli. What I also like? He knows what’s going on without anyone telling him.
“No. Emily doesn’t lie and I’m not going to ask her to.”
Eli rubs at the spot above his wound. “I don’t want her involved in this, nor do I want her name on some police report, and I wouldn’t think you’d want her to relive what happened. I especially don’t want her to say anything that’s going to cause problems for her. Think about it. There is nothing you or Emily can add. You didn’t see what happened. You were outside.”
He’s right. It’s the conversation Emily and I have had with the club’s lawyer again and again. We never heard the Riot threaten Eli.
I assess the man in front of me. He’s the person I’ve longed to be. He was always larger than life. The complete badass who I thought had it all. “You gave Emily up so she could have a better life, right? So she wouldn’t be scared?”
Eli nods like I explained my concerns away. “Exactly.”
“Do you know what Emily taught me?”
“What?”
That I don’t want to be the man who people second-guess. I want to be known for my integrity. “That I’m good with kids, especially ones like Brian.”
Good enough that maybe my future isn’t as set as I thought it was. Good enough that I’m willing to do this for Emily and myself. It’s time that I do what Dad has been waiting for me to do: become my own man.
Eli’s cut hangs on the chair across the room. The skull with the fire blazing out of it stares at me. “Emily definitely had a different life than she would’ve had if she and Meg stayed in Snowflake. She has options now that she never would have if she had grown up here, but you and Meg were wrong.”
Eli studies me from toe to head. “How’s that?”
“You and Meg hurt a lot of people along the way in the name of protecting Emily. Told a ton of lies to cover your tracks and Emily still grew up scared. Whether she was raised in Florida or here in Snowflake, the result turned out to be the same. The lies—they were for nothing.”
I slip the cut off my back and slide my thumb over my name: Oz. All I desired was to be part of the whole, to be part of the club. It’s still important to me, but it’s not important enough to ruin any more lives.
With a sensation close to being punched in the gut, I lay my cut on Eli’s bed. “I’m not lying and I won’t ask Emily to, either.”
My footsteps fill the room as I head for the door and when I place my hand on the knob, Eli calls out to me, “Oz.”
I glance over my shoulder. Eli gingerly swings his legs off the bed. A grimace mars his face as he pierces me with his black eyes. “Get your ass over here and help me get to the bathroom. I’m not going to fall and give them a reason to keep me here any longer and if my daughter is going to be in the room when I meet with the police, I’d prefer to do it with a shirt on.”
“What did you say?”
Eli’s slow as he gathers himself to his feet. “You fucking heard me, and get your cut back on. If you ever lay your cut at my feet again, I’m going to cut your balls off regardless of club rules, you got me?”
Even though he’s asking for my help, Eli’s moving fine toward the bathroom. “I said, do you got me?”
My brain whirls as I understand what’s happening: Eli’s changing his mind. “Yeah, I got you.”
Emily
THE POLICE OFFICER shuffles his feet and glances at the door again while I swat at the tears forming at the corners of my eye. We’re in Eli’s hospital room, but I’m the one cross-legged on his bed. He’s fully dressed and sitting in the chair next to the desk. The club’s lawyer is in the chair next to me. My father hovers off to the side and Oz leans against the wall.
I meet Oz’s eyes again and he offers me a soft smile of encouragement. It’s frustrating. So frustrating. I tear the tissue in my hand in half and sigh. I didn’t see anything or hear anything and I don’t understand how that’s possible.
I scowl in Eli’s direction. “An accident? What happened to you was an accident?”
Eli shrugs. “I don’t remember. We have to take your grandparents’ word for it.”
My eyes slam shut. I told the truth, Oz told the truth and the doctor told the police officer that with trauma like Eli’s it isn’t unusual that he’d forget the moments leading up to the event.
The detective s
huts his notebook and asks again, “Did they actually threaten Eli or you? Not how you felt, did they say specific words?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “No.”
“You left before the incident happened.”
“Yes.”
The officer addresses the lawyer. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”
And he leaves. Just like that. Goes. Another tear slips down my face.
“Jeff and I would appreciate a few minutes alone with Emily,” Eli states.
The lawyer gathers his things and under Eli and my father’s intense scrutiny, Oz saunters over to me in that sexy way of his and places a slow kiss on my cheek as his thumb wipes away a tear. “You did good.”
I attempt to fake happy when he pulls away, but it falls short. I do squeeze his hand, though, then watch as he walks out the door. The tissue forms into a ball in my hand. “You lied.”
Eli pulls on his earlobe. “Which time?”
My hand smacks the bed. “I’m being serious. You and I both know they shot you. That those people are mean and evil and that they shot you.”
My dad and Eli look at each other, then Eli refocuses on me. “The truth is, I don’t remember.”
I brush at the wetness on my cheeks again with the back of my hand. “Fine, but you know they shot you on purpose. The gun didn’t freaking go off by accident. They. Shot. You!”
“Emily...” starts my dad and I round on him so fast I wonder if my head rotated.
“And you! You lied. Mom lied. You all lied! And for what? I mean, really, why? If these people were capable of shooting Eli—” I throw a pointed glare at him that causes him to shrink a centimeter “—then they are capable of breaking their promise and finding me. Don’t you think that would have been valuable information for me to know? Like ‘hey, Emily, look both ways before you cross the street, eat your freaking green beans because they’re good for you, run like a rabid bear is chasing you if you see people from a gang called the Riot!’”
I’m shouting and when my throat grows scratchy, I close my mouth, but then try again. “Was it worth it? Were all these years of lying to me worth it?”
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