“I can’t!” Seamus argued.
“If you can’t, I will. Move!” She tugged on his shirt. “Pete, take the wheel!”
“Are you nuts?” Seamus gasped.
“No. Now get your ass back here and switch with me. Quickly.”
He looked at Pete for help. “Just do it,” Pete said, resigned.
They made the switch, with some difficulty, while Pete kept the car relatively straight. Their speed was dropping, so she maneuvered into the driver’s seat as fast as she could. When the wheel was gripped in her hands, she floored it.
“Oh shit!” Seamus yelled. She heard him scrambling in the back, and then the sound of the seatbelt clicking. “The engine is going to explode!”
Dinah pushed it faster, gaining on them quickly. With one hand on the wheel, she stuck the other out the window and aimed it across the windshield at the right tire. She pushed the car faster, the whole thing making a rattling sound that made her nervous. Just a little closer, she told herself. BANG. She pulled the trigger, the tire exploding like the other one.
The car in front of them did a tailspin, the driver losing control. She could hear them, and then nothing as the car hit the side of a building at full speed. The sound of crushed metal set her teeth on edge. She drove past the wreckage then turned the wheel, pulling the e-brake so the car spun.
They came to a jolting stop, all of them breathing loudly in the small confines of the vehicle. Dinah was the first to get out, running to see if either of the men had made it. She didn’t think they had, but they could just be unconscious. One look told her there was no way either of them would survive. Pete and Seamus came up behind her. The three of them stood in silence for a moment.
“Where the hell did you learn to drive like that?” Seamus asked, not taking his eyes off the totalled car.
“That was my first time driving a car,” she said.
She felt him turn to look at her, aghast. He might have said more, but the ringing in her ears had gotten louder and her vision started to dot with black. Suddenly her legs gave out beneath her and she was falling. Pete cried out, and then two arms were holding her. It was the last thing she was aware of before everything went black.
Chapter Seventeen
“Get in the car, now!” Pete shouted, holding Dinah’s limp body close. He ran over to the wagon and waited for Seamus to open the door for him.
“What the hell is going on, McKay?” Seamus asked, helping him position Dinah over his lap in the back. He closed the door, getting into the driver’s seat.
“I’ll explain it later. Right now, I need you to take me to my da’s.”
Seamus nodded without further questions. They’d been friends a long time, and Seamus knew when Pete had reached his limit. Now was one of those times. So many emotions were racing through his body, he was having a hard time sitting still. The fact that Dinah was pale and unconscious on him helped. He was worried about her, furious at how reckless she had been, grateful to her for saving his life and taking a bullet for him, but mostly in awe at how amazing she truly was. He was also barely containing his anger toward the General for pulling this crap again.
They drove in silence, taking all the back roads they knew weren’t patrolled as regularly in hopes they wouldn’t get caught by New World army soldiers. When they reached the city limits, Seamus sped up, driving through the countryside. Normally they walked to Michael’s, which took a couple of hours, but in the car they were there in no time. Michael came out of the house as they parked, his face already lined with worry.
“What are you blokes doing here, in a car no less?” Michael asked. When Pete stepped out, holding Dinah his father cursed. “Get her in the house, boy,” he ordered. “Back room.”
Pete walked through to the spare room and laid her gently on the twin sized bed. Seamus stood anxiously by the door.
Without looking at him, Pete said, “Go get my brothers and bring them here. We need to talk.”
Seamus obeyed without protest, just like he always did. Michael came in with his first aid kit and sat down beside Dinah. “What happened?” he asked.
“I think a bullet grazed her right arm,” Pete said.
“I can see that, boy, I’m not blind. I mean, why does this poor thing have a bullet wound in her arm?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. Just make sure she’s alright first.”
“I am. In the meantime you can tell me what happened.”
“Da,” Pete pleaded. “I really just want her patched up before we get into it.”
Michael looked up at him and must have seen the anxiety there because he didn’t argue further. He turned back to his work, and began cutting up the sleeve that was now stiff with blood.
“Who is she to you?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Pete admitted.
“Someone special?”
Pete looked down at her pale face. Her long hair was spread around her, her lush lips blue and slightly parted. He knew she probably just passed out from blood loss, but seeing her like this did something funny to him. He’d never felt this panicked over someone being hurt. “Yeah, da. She’s special.”
Pete rubbed his head, pacing the room.
“How can we be sure it was the General?” Trent said, his face dark and pensive.
Pete didn’t stop moving as he answered, exhausted from the entire day. “Because Dinah and I heard them talking about it from inside the alley,” he lied.
Seamus stood by the doorway leading to the bedroom Dinah was still sleeping in. He looked just as beat as Pete felt.
“This is so messed up,” Seamus muttered. “Those guys were aiming right for him.” He looked into the room thoughtfully. “Good thing Dinah has some cat-like reflexes.”
His dad humphed. “I can’t see Douglas doing this.”
Pete stopped to look at the man who raised him. “Michael, he is not the same man you once knew. He’s not even the same man I knew. He’s becoming everything he hates about Ludwig. If we let him take over, we’ll just be replacing one tyrant with another.”
“He can’t be that bad,” he argued.
“Things have been a mess for a while,” Trent said, supporting Pete. “The whole council is on this power trip. We’re shedding more blood these days than the damn New World army.”
“You need to talk some sense into him,” Pete said to his father.
“He’s not going to listen to me,” he replied. “I was never part of the council, you know that.”
“Maybe not officially, but we both know you have a certain influence in all this. They respect you, da. If you got out of the damn house once in a while, you’d realize that.”
His father stiffened. “Even if I were to talk to him, do you honestly think he’d admit to me that he’s tried to have my son killed? Think, boy. He’s not going to be telling me anything. He’s a lot more likely to kill me along with ya.”
“Talk to the other council members then. Get them to see reason. We’re fighting to release our people from repression, not put them into another one with a different man at the head of it all.”
“The reason he’s after you, son, is he knows you’re a threat. If anyone could rally the rebels and have them looking at things differently, it would be you. Maybe that’s exactly what you need to do. I’m not going to be of any help outside of here.”
And there it was, the end of the conversation like always. Him urging his dad to actually get out and have a life, and his dad refusing to leave. Pete kicked at the small chess table sitting in the corner. “God damn it!” He swirled around to glare at him. “Staying here won’t change a thing. Don’t you get that? She’s not coming home, Michael. She never was.”
“Enough, Pete,” Trent said calmly. Garrett was red in the face. Pete knew that out of the three of them, Garrett had always been more sensitive to their father. Trent had zero patience, Pete had some up to a point. Well, he reached that point, and he was sick of this crap. Their mother had left when Garrett
was two, and their father still had it in his head she’d just show up again one day. It was pathetic and sad. They’d spent their lives watching their father become more and more of shadow.
“I need you, da,” Pete said hoarsely. “Everything is crumbling down around us. And not just our family, but everywhere out there,” he continued, pointing to the outside. “Sitting in this cottage and ignoring it can’t last forever. Not when your sons, the only family you’ve got, are out there fighting to get our lives back. You’re the only man I know with enough brains and wisdom to see things clearly and make the right choices.”
His father grunted, taking a sip of his tea as he stared into the fire. Another typical conversation ender from Michael McKay. Pete looked at his profile for a moment before turning.
“I’m going to check on Dinah,” he said to no one in particular, and walked away.
Dinah woke up slowly, her mind fuzzy and disoriented. The inside of her mouth was dry and cottony. Where the hell was she? Looking around, the room was a small bedroom painted a bright yellow, or white that had just aged horribly. She couldn’t really tell in the dim lighting. A border of daisies ran along the top. The bed was small and springy, the blanket draped over her just a knitted afghan in orange and brown. It smelled like it hadn’t been used in years.
“Good morning,” came a voice beside her. Dinah turned her head slowly to find Seamus walking toward the side of the bed. “I was just keeping an eye on you from the door,” he said, motioning behind him with his head. “How ya feeling?”
“I’ve felt better,” she answered, her voice rough. “I’ve also felt worse, so not too bad.”
He laughed. “Can I get you anything?”
“Water?”
He reached over to a night table beside the bed and handed her a small cup. She propped herself up and took it graciously. “Where am I?” she asked.
“Micky’s,” he replied. She raised her brows in question. “Pete’s da.”
She nodded slowly. She looked down at the stitch job on her arm. It was clean and neat looking. “He a doctor or something?”
He smiled. “Nope. Just used to a bunch of boys always coming home with injuries.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she muttered, taking another sip.
He looked back toward the door hesitantly, before meeting her eyes. “It sounds like it’s getting pretty heated out there, so I’m sure Pete will be in soon. I just wanted a moment alone with you to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saving him. Pete’s the closet thing I have to family. We’ve been friends since we were little, and I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m thankful.”
She gave his hand a pat, feeling slightly awkward. She wasn’t used to sharing feelings with someone. “Seamus,” she hesitated, picking at the blanket absently, “do you know why the General would want to hurt Pete?”
“Did Pete tell you about the General?” he asked instantly.
She shook her head. “No,” she replied. “Not at all. I just heard about him and wondered.”
Seamus stared at the beige carpet for a few moments before replying. “I don’t really know, to be honest. None of this makes sense. Pete’s the General’s second, so why he’d want him dead is beyond me.” He looked up to meet her gaze. “I don’t get politics.”
She pulled her mouth up into a strained smile, her mind repeating his words ‘the General’s second’ like a record skipping. “I don’t either,” she managed. Holy shit. Pete was the second in command for the resistance? How the hell hadn’t she known that? Because he wouldn’t just come out and tell you, her common sense pointed out. Unlike poor Seamus, Pete was well aware of how dangerous that sort of information could be in her hands. But that was before, wasn’t it? He trusted her, didn’t he?
As if conjured by her thoughts, Pete’s body filled the open doorway, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw her awake and sitting up. “Hey,” he said, walking in.
She smiled weakly. “Hey.”
Seamus cleared his throat loudly. “Well, I’ll just let you two love birds talk. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
“We won’t,” Pete replied wryly. He waited until Seamus was gone before walking over and sitting next to her on the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Thanks for catching me and not letting me crash on the pavement.”
He smirked. “It’s what I’m here for.”
“So? What are you going to do about all this?”
He rubbed a hand down his face, looking extremely tired. She reached out to wrap her hand around his resting on the bed. He looked down at them, thoughtfully. “I don’t really know,” he said. He shifted so their fingers were linked, his thumb drawing slow, lazy circles on the inside of her wrist. “Everything is so messed up, Dinah. I don’t know what to do.”
She snorted. “Welcome to my life. Here’s a sad bit of truth for you, it never gets any less messed up. My advice? Keep what you know to yourself, and keep this General as close as possible until you’re ready to make your move. Don’t let him know you’re on to him. There’s no way he’ll know we figured it out.”
He looked into her eyes. “You know, sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to have someone lead a country who’s not corrupt. What ever happened to honor and truth?”
Dinah didn’t know what to say to that. She figured honor was lost along with innocence. There was no such thing in this New World Ludwig had created. Too many people had been touched by death and despair, only to be given a life that was miserable and repressed.
“I should probably be heading back,” she said. Back where she belonged, she thought sadly. Not with these people who fight for each other, and wish for better things. She wasn’t one of them, hadn’t been for years now. A hand lifted her chin, forcing her to look up and meet Pete’s concerned look.
“You’re not like them,” he said.
A tear escaped the corner of her eye, leaving a wet trail down her cheek. “I’m exactly like them,” she replied, her voice cracking.
Pete shook his head adamantly. “No. I see you, Dinah. The real you. And I know you’re not cruel or mean. You’re just caught up in this mess like the rest of us.”
“But on the wrong side of it, right?”
He sighed. “Who even knows what the right and wrong sides are anymore. I sure as hell don’t.”
“You’re the right side,” she told him. “You look out for others, not yourself. It’s admirable.”
He smiled sadly. “Well admirable or not, it doesn’t get me anywhere fast.”
“It will,” she assured him, praying she was right. “I really do need to get back though. Roman will have noticed I’ve been gone all day and he’ll worry.”
Pete didn’t look happy about that. “It’s already four in the morning,” he said. “You might as well stay with me and head back after you’ve gotten some sleep.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I need to get back before they’re all up. But I’ll come back to your place this evening.”
“Promise?”
She grinned. “Absolutely.”
Pete leaned in and kissed each corner of her lips before covering her mouth with his. She grabbed his neck, pulling him closer, soaking him in. He shifted closer on the bed, wrapping his hands in her hair tightly. He pulled away slightly, their noses still touching. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?”
Yes, she thought. But she knew she needed to get back before anyone started to suspect what was really going on. The last thing she wanted was to bring Pete and his friends any more trouble than they already had. If only she had known then that some things were impossible to avoid, especially those already set in motion.
Chapter Eighteen
The bar had been closed for a couple of hours already, but it always took him a long time to clean up. He never got out of here before four. Jack could hardly remember what it was like to wor
k a normal nine to five job. Sleeping throughout the day and working all night had become his norm. When Xavier had been younger, he remembered feeling like he was missing out on life, especially one with his son. Things had been much harder back then. Now, with Xavier older and gone, Jack didn’t feel any obligations to anyone. If he slept the day away, it wouldn’t matter. No one was relying on him. He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing, or just terribly sad.
“Hey boss,” Frank yelled out. Jack liked to keep the kid around until the cleaning was done. Having a bouncer his size was a smart thing in this area of town. Or any area, for that matter. Frank was only eighteen, but he was the size of a house. Six four, and over three hundred pounds – no one was messing with him. “Someone’s at the door.”
Jack dropped his cloth, and looked over in unease. “Tell them we’re closed,” he said.
“He insists you see him,” he answered with a shrug. “Says it’s important.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“Yeah, Doug.”
Doug? Who the heck did he know named Doug? Jack froze. Douglas. It had to be. He told Frank to let him in, and quickly walked around the bar, letting himself out. Douglas Hatcher walked in, his dark hair slicked back off his face, those blue eyes taking everything in like they always did.
“Old friend,” he greeted with a smile, embracing Jack with a quick slap on the back. “How have you been holding up?”
“Good,” Jack answered. “Can’t really complain.”
“The new place is doing well then?”
“Oh yeah, we’re pretty busy every night.”
“Good to hear. It looks nice in here,” he commented, taking another look around. Jack was pretty proud of his establishment. It wasn’t fancy like the Red Lounge, but it wasn’t as bad as some of the other pubs in the area. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by earlier, but you know how things get.”
“Oh sure, yeah. I’m know how busy you are.”
He nodded. “What was it you wanted to speak to me about?”
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