by Sophia Gray
“Shit, you shot him!”
Ethan heard Michael’s voice dimly over the ringing in his ears. Then he smelled the gasoline.
“Did you drop the fucking bottle?” William yelled, sounding completely disgusted in spite of everything. He shoved Ethan to a sitting position just as Bear pulled a lighter out of his pocket.
“Don’t you fuckin’ do it!” William shouted, but the man ignited the flame and tossed the lighter casually into the puddle of gas.
William lunged to his feet, but he didn’t go after Bear. Instead he grabbed Michael, getting him easily into a headlock as the fire began to spread in front of the main exit. The only other way out was the door through the garage and the man with the gun blocked it now.
Bear laughed. “No skin off my nose, old man,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt.
“Shoot him!” Michael demanded, frozen in place as the flames spread. Ethan braced himself to dive for Bear, but he didn’t so much as twitch his trigger finger. “Wait, what are you doing?” Michael asked, and Ethan could tell by the fear in his eyes that he was beginning to catch on.
“The rest of my damn job,” Bear said with a grin. “Guess it’ll be a slow one after all, boys.”
With his gun pointed right at William’s face, he walked backwards out of the door. They heard him shove one of the toolboxes in front of it, sealing them in. Smoke was already filling the air. Ethan’s arm was throbbing, blood pooling on the floor by his fingers.
“We’re gonna die,” Michael shouted. “Jesus Christ, we’re gonna die like fucking...fucking...” He couldn’t seem to come up with an analogy.
William yanked Ethan to his feet, both of them ignoring Michael for the moment. “What about the bathroom window?” William asked, gripping Ethan’s arm so tightly that he had to catch his breath.
“No way in hell we’ll fit through it,” Ethan said through clenched teeth. His vision was swimming. “How long do you think we’ve got?” William was a firefighter. For a second, Ethan had thought he could get them out of it, but then he really got a look at the other man’s face.
“Not long,” William said grimly. “The only good thing is that the smoke will knock us out before we burn up. We probably won’t know it.”
“That’s cheerful. You know, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to take over The Angel’s Keepers. Be the president.”
“I woulda said yes,” William answered seriously.
“Can you two shut the fuck--” Michael didn’t finish the sentence.
William hit him as hard as he could and the man flopped down, completely unconscious on the hard floor. “Well, hell, I’m not gonna spend my first and last few minutes as president listening to that shit,” William said when Ethan raised an eyebrow at him. Something shifted above them with a creak and a groan. “The roof is gonna come down soon,” William said almost conversationally. “Shit, this ain’t gonna be a pretty way to go.”
“Then let’s make a run for it,” Ethan said.
“Run where?” William asked incredulously.
“Well, out.” Ethan gestured at the door with the arm that still worked.
“You can’t run from here to the door bleedin’ like that.”
“Hell, I’d rather get it over with than wait for it,” Ethan argued. “He didn’t secure the front door.”
“Yeah, ‘cause there’s a fire in front of it!”
“And?” Ethan didn’t think he was going to manage to stay upright much longer. His legs were getting shaky and there was a lot more blood on the floor than he felt like it was healthy to lose. “We’re wearing leathers and I remember how to stop, drop, and roll.”
“Fuckin’ A.” William rubbed his chin and eyed the door. “We might as well, I guess.”
“You’re gonna have to get him,” Ethan said, nodding to Michael, who was starting to come around. “It’d probably be better to do it before he wakes up and starts screaming again.”
William knelt and grabbed the other man, getting him into a fireman’s carry. “Well,” he said, eyeing the flames and the door, clearly planning what he was going to do. “See you on the other side. Or not. There’s gonna be some blowback from the air if I get the door open. Stand back and wait for it to settle down before you follow me. Wish you could carry him, but with that arm there’s no way you could.”
Which was William’s way of saying that he’d let Ethan go first if he could. Ethan held out his hand. It was bloodstained and mostly numb, but they shook anyway.
“Just in case...tell Amelia I’d appreciate it if she considered the name Marcus if the kid turns out to be a boy. And it’s been a pleasure, William.”
“I know it has, kid. And you’ll tell her yourself.”
And with that, the older man was gone. Ethan pressed his hand to the bullet hole in his shoulder, feeling his blood trickle out around his fingers. He waited for a whoosh of air to indicate that William wasn’t burning to death. It came in a blast of heat and sparks and his heart lifted for a second. Then the rafters began to creak above him. If any of them fell, the door would be blocked for good.
He was gathering himself for the rush to the door when he saw the flames inching toward the glass cabinet and his father’s jacket. He could remember the smell of that jacket and the way it felt. He didn’t have time to save everything, but there was no way he was leaving it to burn with everything else.
Ethan glanced around, but he couldn’t find anything to break the glass with. And there was no way that he could get to the keys to the case. And there wasn’t time.
“Fuck it,” he muttered. What was a little more blood?
He punched the glass door as hard as he could and it splintered, cracks like spider webs feathering out over the glass. One more punch and he was through. The glass sliced his hand open in several places when it finally shattered, but he had the jacket and the case of military ribbons and that was all he cared about. He yanked them out and dove into the flames just as the roof came down with a crash around him.
Chapter 27
Amelia
“We’re bringing you breaking news tonight from the headquarters of local motorcycle club, The Angel’s Keepers,” Marta Waters said. “As you can see behind me, the fire that broke out a few minutes ago is being extinguished now, but firemen don’t believe there will be much of the building left when they’re done.”
The camera panned the flames. Amelia saw the silhouettes of men armed with water hoses and clad in bright yellow, their reflective tape glinting in the reddish lights as they worked to put out the blaze.
“However, the drama doesn’t end with the fire here tonight,” Marta went on when the camera went back to her. “Police will be interviewing two members of The Angel’s Keepers who were caught in the blaze once they are released from medical care. President of the club, Ethan Billings, was shot in the arm in addition to sustaining other wounds and Sergeant at Arms William Hanley suffered mild smoke inhalation while carrying one of the men allegedly responsible for setting the fire out of the building. All three men are currently hospitalized and in stable condition.”
Amelia gasped. “Ethan got shot?” She pressed her hand to her stomach when it cramped with nerves. That wasn’t the first time she’d felt that today. It wasn’t quite pain, but it wasn’t comfortable either.
Gregory was staring at the television, his face white and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “How in thehell...” he began, but then his phone rang. “Amelia, go to your room,” he snapped before answering the call, looking almost terrified.
She walked out of the living room, but she didn’t head up the stairs. Instead, she hid just out of sight. The guards were patrolling different areas, watching the entrance and exit points of the house. They wouldn't see her there.
“What do you mean you’re here?” she heard her father say. “No, I am not going to let you come in! I have guards, I--”
Amelia jumped when she heard a very heavy knock on the door. Her father’s voice stuttered
into silence.
The caller didn’t knock again. The stained glass panel in the door shattered when the door was shoved open. Amelia stayed where she was, her heart pounding. She could see Warren Miller standing in the doorway, accompanied, as always, by Richard Brewer. The smaller man had a strange smile playing around his mouth.
“Your office, Gregory. Now,” Miller said.
“What the hell are you thinking, showing up here?” Gregory hissed. “After what happened earlier? This is the worst place you could be!”
“We have things we need to talk about,” Brewer said quietly.
“There’s nothing to say,” Gregory answered, his voice shaking slightly. “It didn’t work and we’ve got to let it die down before we try again. We could even try with another club--”
“Another club?” Miller stared at him. “Are fucking kidding me? Ethan Billings just came out of this looking like a goddamned hero! There’s no other club that matters nearly as much! It’s got to be them. He put the target on his back with that charity drive and you promised that you would take care of him.”
“And then you hired some idiots behind my back and moved without my permission! How do you expect me to get to him now?” Gregory demanded.
“It’s not him that you need to worry about getting tonight anyway, you idiot,” Miller answered. “It’s the little junkie biker we hired to torch the place.”
“Michael,” Brewer supplied. “He needs to understand what will happen if he opens his mouth.”
“He wasn’t the only one,” her father said. “What about his buddy?”
“We’ve got him,” Miller said. “And we’ll be hanging onto him until this is over.”
Amelia’s stomach tightened again at the quiet smile on Brewer’s face at his partner’s words. She pressed her hand to it. Now wasn’t the time for something to go wrong.Just hang on, baby.
“Your office,” Miller repeated. “So we can see whether or not we need to hang onto you, too.”
“Why...” Gregory’s voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. “Why would you think you needed to?”
“Because we’ve just discovered that your daughter is pregnant by the biker,” Brewer said. “Maybe family loyalty won out over the money we gave you. We’ve seen it happen. Once the money’s been spent, people start to rethink...until we refresh their memories.”
Miller grabbed Gregory’s arm, twisting it up behind his back. Amelia barely bit back a cry.
“I didn’t warn them!” Gregory said, breathing heavily, clearly in pain.
“Then why were they there?” Brewer asked, casually drawing a switchblade from the pocket of his designer suit. “We could play a little game. One finger for every time you lie. Or should we do one for every time I think you might bethinkingabout lying to me.”
Amelia’s knees went weak and dark spots swam before her eyes. She couldn’t afford to pass out. Not now. But what could she do? She was trapped where she was and she didn’t think the two men who had just burst through the door would have a qualm about playing “games” with her, too.
“I’m not lying!” Gregory said, trying his best to sound reasonable. “My intel was that the whole motorcycle club was in the Valley of Fire for the weekend. I got it from someone who was there! I don’t know why Billings came back and I don’t know why the other one wasn’t there to start with!”
“Then maybe you should have planned better,” Miller said. “We didn’t fund your campaign so you could fuck this up for us! We’re talking more money than your life is worth here, Stratton.”
Brewer and Miller shoved Gregory into his office and slammed the door shut. Amelia didn’t waste any time in bolting out of her hiding place and up the stairs. A cramp nearly sent her to her knees halfway up and her mind began working overtime.
Her father might be about to die. Something was clearly wrong with her, baby wise. The security guards were either paid off, distracted, or...worst case scenario, dead. She tried to force her mind to slow down. Of the three options, distracted seemed more likely. She’d spoken to a few of them and they seemed pretty decent. And Miller and Brewer weren’t exactly the type to walk in with guns blazing. They obviously preferred to let other people do their dirty work. What could she do? There wasn’t time to call the police and explain the whole situation.
The answer slid into place neatly. She could call the ambulance. They wouldn’t hurt her father in front of official witnesses, and she could get herself checked out at the same time.
She grabbed her cell phone and dialed quickly with shaking fingers.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I’m about a month and a half pregnant and I think something’s wrong,” Amelia said, her voice hitching as she said it out loud. “I’m cramping pretty badly.”
“Name and address.”
“Amelia Stratton.” She rattled off her address. “Please, please hurry. And make sure they use the sirens; we have a security gate.”
“Someone will be there shortly, Ms. Stratton.”
Amelia hung up and looked around her bedroom. It was half packed up already, but she knew there was no way she could figure out which bag to take to the hospital. And no way she could carry it even if she’d had one. The cramps were coming faster now.
She dragged herself over to the stairs and walked down. Then she leaned against the wall beside her father’s office. She had to time this just right or she risked a lot. Possibly both her and her father’s lives. And the life of her baby. The hospital wasn’t too far from the house, but it seemed like an eternity before she heard the wail of a siren.
“Did you call the--” she heard Miller begin.
Amelia flung open the door, “Daddy, something’s wrong!” she cried dramatically. “I’m bleeding and my stomach’s cramping and you have to ride in the ambulance with me right now!” She wasn’t actually bleeding. At least, she didn’t think that she was, but it certainly grabbed their attention.
Brewer and Miller stared at her with their mouths hanging open. Gregory pushed his sweaty hair back off of his forehead and said, “What?”
The sirens were ringing through the open front door now. Brewer swore and shoved the knife back into his pocket.
“Hello?” a paramedic called. “The gate and the door are open, we’re coming in.”
“Get out there,” Miller hissed, shoving Gregory up.
Gregory staggered to his feet. “In here,” he called. “She’s in here.”
The stretcher was wheeled in and Amelia, who was shaking now that her plan actually seemed to be working, allowed them to help her onto it. She wasn’t sure her legs would carry her down the front steps.
“He’ll follow her in his own car,” Miller said.
“No!” Amelia shrieked, making sure she sounded absolutely hysterical. It wasn’t hard, under the circumstances. “I need him to go with me! Daddy, please!” She grabbed his coat sleeve and held on as tightly as she could, refusing to be dislodged.
“It’s fine,” the first paramedic said. “We need to go. You can come with us, sir.”
Amelia relaxed just in time for the next cramp to hit and tears filled her eyes. Not this. She couldn’t lose this, too.
# # #
“All right, make a fist,” the nurse said. “We’re just going to get an IV started. You’re a little dehydrated. I’m Martha Kendrick and I’ll be your main nurse.”
Amelia winced as the needle punctured her skin. This nurse was friendly, but she was a little heavy handed with the sharp objects.
“When will you know?” she asked tightly. “If I’m losing the baby?”
“We’ll keep you here until we’re sure either way,” Martha answered. “It’s hard to pinpoint it when you're this early in the pregnancy. We’ll get an ultrasound soon and go from there. Is there anything you need?”
Amelia shook her head. She needed reassurance, guarantees, and Ethan. The nurse probably couldn’t do anything about any of that.
“What did the
y say?” Gregory asked once she was settled in her room.
“They said it’s too early to really know,” Amelia answered. “I could be losing the baby. Or it could just be stress.”
“Stress?” Gregory said with a half laugh. “For you?”
“Yeah,” Amelia said, her tone venomous. “Stress. From the fact that my father is an asshole who’s in completely over his head with some wannabe gangsters in designer suits, probably.”
Gregory closed the door and spun to face her. “How much do you know?”
“Enough,” she answered.
“Tell me right now, Amelia!”
