Chapter 22
Kayla slipped into the back of the meeting just as the speaker was asking if anyone had a Burning Desire. She knew now that meant if anyone thought they were going to drink, they had to raise their hand at the Burning Desire. She raised her trembling hand, and when they called on her, she opened her mouth, but only a sob came out. She couldn’t say a damn thing. Annie stood a few rows up and swiftly came to her. Kayla was vaguely aware of Annie’s arm around her and holding up a hand to another woman, gesturing that they were fine and didn’t need further assistance.
“Come on, honey. Let’s go get some coffee.” Annie helped her out into the hallway. Annie sat stoically, arm around Kayla’s shoulders, waiting for her to get herself together.
“I can’t leave here,” Kayla said, finally able to speak. “I mean… I can’t go anywhere in public. I’m…hiding from someone. But he would never look for me here.”
“Okay. Then you sit down here and I’ll bring out some coffee from the meeting.” Annie ushered her to a bench in the hallway, somehow completely unflustered by Kayla’s dramatic entrance. Annie disappeared for a moment and then reappeared with coffee and a small mound of cookies on a napkin. She sat down, accompanied by a waft of perfume that was soft and feminine.
“Here. Have a cookie.”
Kayla gave her a skeptical half smile.
“Trust me. A little sugar never hurts.” And amazingly, she was right. Kayla indulged in a buttery, sugary bite of cheap calories, and to her shock, she actually did feel a little better already.
“I went to the cops to keep my boyfriend from having to kill a guy who hurt me,” Kayla blurted. “It’s the biggest clusterfuck in the world.”
“When I got sober, I was living in a battered women’s shelter,” Annie said calmly, the serene expression never leaving her face. “That was a pretty big clusterfuck too.”
Hearing the F-bomb from such a classy lady shocked Kayla and made her giggle. Now, between the sugar, the company, and the camaraderie, she was truly feeling less like she needed to feed herself to the gators.
Annie patted her arm. “Everybody here’s trying to leave behind some clusterfuck or another. The first thing is, don’t drink over it and make it worse than it already is.” Another woman passed by that Kayla barely knew. She sent her a sympathetic smile and murmured: “keep coming, honey,” as she passed.
A rowof motorcycles leaning on their kickstands in the Daniels Ranch driveway were prominently visible as Annie and Kayla pulled up to the gate after the AA meeting. Now that Kayla was home, she wanted to run away again. For so long, all she’d ever wanted was safety, but it eluded her. Now these men promised it, but could she really trust them to deliver? And what price might they pay for protecting her?
Evan had been recorded leaving the police station with her. What would that do to his reputation? She always knew that either she would ruin him or he would ruin her. As the truth slowly came out, she began to think it was she who would ruin him.
She got out of the Jimmy, unlocked the gate, and lit a cigarette. She glanced back to Annie, who was waiting in the driveway to make sure everything was okay.
“You gonna be all right?” Annie asked her through the open window. Kayla nodded toward the bikes.
“Well, I have a restraining order and a posse, so…”
Annie laughed nervously, but still looked worried.
Kayla dug into her pocket and produced a business card. “Worst case, if I disappear or wind up dead, call this lady cop and tell her it was Trent Becker.” She handed Annie the business card.
“That’s not funny,” Annie said, contemplating the card. “Call me if you need anything at all, okay?”
Kayla nodded, then waved as Annie pulled away up the road. She stood at her open gate for a long moment, watching Annie drive out of sight, smoking and gathering herself to go inside. Just stealing a peaceful moment in the din of her life before going in to see the guys.
Her musing was interrupted by the distinctive and recognizable sounds of screeching tires and a roaring engine in the distance. The hair on her arms stood up. Gripped by panic, she froze in her driveway, paralyzed, unable to think. Trent’s El Camino screamed toward her up the arrow-straight road as she watched, transfixed. She was every small animal in the road waiting to be flattened. He would be upon her in just a second. She needed to close and lock the gate now. But her body simply wouldn’t work.
Run!
Still, she stood hopelessly rooted to the spot like an ancient oak.
She could see Trent’s face twisted with rage. He accelerated. At the very last second, giving one last herculean burst of sheer willpower, she sprang from her stupor, spun, and ran toward the house.
Too late.
Trent barreled into the driveway, swerved around her, and skidded to a violent, rocky halt in front of her, cutting her off.
She tried to dodge around the front of his car.
He leapt out, wild-eyed, and bore down on her. She tried to back away from him, the loose gravel beneath her feet gave so that she practically skidded in place. Choked with pure panic, she couldn’t make a sound.
She wheeled and tried to run, but he caught her, mercilessly knocking her down face-first into the stones. She crumpled to the ground with Trent on top of her. Grit and stones filled her mouth, and sharp fragments of shell slashed at her face. She was too stunned to respond, to save herself.
Next, she heard footsteps pounding. A yell. Suddenly, the weight of Trent lifted off her back. She looked up through stinging, dusty eyes to see Evan running across the yard to her aid, radiating fury.
She watched in horror, stunned. Trent was halfway back to his car when Jake and Evan achieved target lock. Their intent was unmistakable, and Trent knew it. He leapt back into his still-running car, jammed it into gear, and peeled out, pulling a wiry leg into the still half-open door. Fishtailing out of control, he bounced the car off the front gate, spraying a shower of jagged projectiles. Metal screeched against metal. Reaching the pavement at last, he laid a fifty-foot patch of smoky, burnt rubber as he shot back down the road faster than he had come.
Bill appeared out of the dusty confusion and helped Kayla get to her feet.
Evan and Jake spun toward their bikes without a word. As they swung on, Kayla finally found her voice.
“Evan, no!” she choked out.
But her scratchy voice was no match for the deafening roar of the motorcycles. She tried to run toward them, but Bill held her back. Excruciating tears came hot and fast as the motorcycles stormed off in hot pursuit. They’d become wild dogs who wouldn’t be denied their quarry.
Canyon Bill and Roadkill were left on the farm with her. Roadkill stood at the ready, watching the driveway in case Trent had backup. Bill dusted her off, assessing the physical damage. Her face stung, and not just from emotion. Bill moved to touch her face and then seemed to think better of it. Cut, filthy, and bleeding, she’d have another shiner courtesy of Trent.
“They’ll kill him! Evan will go back to prison! He can’t do this!” she cried. Her injuries were the least of her worries.
Bill lit her a cigarette.
“He has to do this,” he said quietly, handing her the smoke.
She tried to smoke, but her whole body shook.
Spinning away from Bill, she stomped up her porch stairs, flung open the front door, and stormed inside. She was on her own mission.
She found it easily enough. The conveniently unattended open bottle of whiskey in the middle of her kitchen table. She marched over. Then paused. Stared at it. Looked over her shoulder.
Bill, who followed her inside, now deliberately averted his gaze and backed out to sit on the front stoop. Bill knew damn well where she was going. Yet he said nothing, didn’t even spare her a glance over his shoulder.
Annie’s words echoed in her mind. “Call me if you feel like drinking.”
“Fuuuuck,” she growled through gritted teeth.
She abandoned the whiskey and headed for the barn.
She rinsed out her mouth, hosed the ground-in dirt and filth from her face and hair, cleaned and doctored her cuts with the ancient supplies in barn’s dusty first aid kit. There was no mirror in the barn, and she didn’t really want to know how badly she was beat up this time. She could feel that her cheek was swollen as she dabbed the grit off her face. Instead of dwelling on that, she meticulously tended and fed each horse in the barn. She cleaned out a few stalls that were hardly dirty. She swept the aisle. Twice.
Bill knew she needed space and mercifully left her to herself.
By the time the sun was going down, there was nothing left to distract her.
Evan and Jake weren’t back yet. She returned to the house and found the whiskey bottle was gone, no longer taunting her from the kitchen table. For a moment, she felt a stab of terror that Bill himself might be drinking it, but there he sat on her stoop, unassuming, with only his 9mm Luger at his side. She sat beside him.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
He nodded slowly without looking at her. “I’ll just stay here till they get back, then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Her heart clenched for a moment. “I wish Grandma Kay was here,” Kayla said quietly, her voice breaking a little.
“You and me both,” he said. Their eyes met in the dim light.
Just before the grief swamped her, she heard the distant rumble of a lone motorcycle turning onto the end of the road.
Anxiety shot through her, and she stood up, pacing. She recognized the sound. It was Evan’s bike. What had they done? What would the consequences be?
It didn’t take long for her to find out.