Chapter Ten
Ellie
I stood in the center of the park, clipboard in hand, directing the placement of the last giant foam spider with more enthusiasm than strictly necessary.
Halloween had always been my salvation, and today, with orange and black streamers fluttering from every tree branch and hand-carved pumpkins lining the winding pathways, I felt more like myself than I had in a very long time.
The toy drive banner stretched across the park entrance, announcing our charity event in bold orange letters against black fabric, exactly as I’d designed it.
“A little higher on the left side,” I called to Griffin and Riot, who were balanced precariously on ladders, securing the massive arachnid to an oak tree. Riot moved his side like I directed, but Caleb came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, and he winked at me.
“I don’t know, Ellie. Still looks lopsided to me.
” Caleb tilted his head and squinted, like he was really studying the banner hard.
“Move it a little higher, Riot.” Riot looked back at us before nodding once, then doing what Caleb said.
“Now it’s a little too high.” Caleb stepped closer and held his hands up with his thumbs touching at the tips and his hands up on each side, like he was framing the thing up or something.
“Yeah, go slightly lower and to the right.”
“Are you sure, Caleb?” Riot glanced back, then wobbled precariously on his unsteady perch. “Fuck!”
“Don’t fall!” I yelled out, taking a step forward, but Caleb put an arm in front of me gently. I glanced up at him, but Caleb shook his head with a mischievous grin before he winked at me.
“I ain’t gonna fall,” Riot grumbled as he made an effort to place the banner’s corner where Caleb told him. “How’s that?”
“Eh, when you lost your balance, it moved some. I think if you go a little farther to the right you’ll have it.” Caleb pointed the direction he wanted Riot to move the banner.
For some reason Griffin coughed slightly. More like he cleared his throat. Allergies?
Then I saw it. The trough filled with water for the kids to bob for apples was next to where Riot was currently reaching way out to tack the banner’s corner to the wooden frame we’d built as the entrance. Leaning… away from the ladder.
“Oh, God…” I put my hand over my mouth, wanting to stop the carnage but helpless to actually tell Riot to be careful again. “Um, Riot? You sure that’s a good idea?”
Caleb shot me a pleading look, shaking his head subtly.
“I told you, I ain’t gonna fall. I’m steady as a rock.” He sounded like he felt that, by telling him to be careful, I’d affronted his manhood or some shit.
Caleb raised an eyebrow at me as if to say, “You still sure you want to stop the carnage?”
When he wobbled again, but still stretched for all he was worth, I opened my mouth to tell him to get down and move the ladder, but what came out was, “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. Lookin’ good there, sunshine.”
“Damn straight -- AHH!”
Riot’s yell was cut short by the big splash as he landed in the trough.
Thankfully, it was bigger than the standard bathtub and made of a stout rubber rather than a hard plastic or he might have been hurt, but Riot landed perfectly in the middle, completely submerged before sitting up with a coughing sputter.
“Mother fuck! That’s fuckin’ cold!” Riot gasped for breath as he sat up, then scrambled out of the water. “Son of a bitch!”
“Riot!” Violet chastised. “There’s kids here!”
“Fu-- er, fudge. Sorry, honey.”
Everyone in the immediate vicinity roared with laughter.
Griffin nearly fell off his perch, laughing so hard he had to hold onto the frame with both hands.
Caleb’s mischievous grin had morphed into full-blown laughter as he doubled over, hands on his knees.
Even I couldn’t help giggling despite feeling a twinge of guilt.
“Sorry, Riot,” I called, trying and failing to sound sincere through my laughter. “But you’ve gotta admit, that was pretty funny. Besides, you said you wouldn’t fall.”
Riot stood dripping in the grass, his cut soaked through, T-shirt clinging to his muscular frame. He glared at Caleb, who was still cackling with delight.
“You little shit,” Riot growled, but there wasn’t real anger in his voice. “You set me up!” I swear to God, those two acted more like siblings than anything else.
Caleb straightened, wiping tears from his eyes. “Consider it payback for eating my last Pop-Tart.”
“That was three months ago!”
“I have a long memory,” Caleb shrugged, his superior smirk as cocky as any biker in the place.
Carrie approached with a towel she’d pulled from one of the supply boxes. “Here, you big baby,” she said, handing it to Riot with an affectionate grin. “I promise you won’t melt.”
“No,” Riot huffed as he wiped his face with the towel. “But I think my balls are gonna freeze off.”
Chains appeared at my side, his arm sliding around my waist as he surveyed the scene. I leaned into him automatically, my body recognizing its home.
“What’d I miss?” he asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he took in Riot’s drenched appearance.
“Just Caleb demonstrating his tactical genius.” I lifted my face to Chains who leaned down and gave me a gentle kiss.
Hannah approached, her arms full of toy donations.
I rushed forward to help her, but Chains took the whole thing and dumped them into a giant tub we had set up for drop-offs, so we could go through to make sure everything was new and in the original packaging.
“The collection boxes are already filling up,” she said, nodding toward the decorated stations positioned throughout the park.
“And we’ve still got four hours until the official start. ”
“Good.” I smiled, checking off another item on my list. “Where’re the fog machines?”
“Setting them up by the haunted trail.” Hannah glanced at me, concern flickering across her face. “You okay? You seem a little…”
“Manic?” I supplied, laughing. “Just excited. This is going to be the best Halloween toy drive we’ve ever done!”
The truth was more complicated. Since my father had disappeared three days ago -- supposedly finding a more permanent place to stay according to the brief explanation Chains had given me -- I’d thrown myself into this event with almost desperate intensity.
Something about Chains’ explanation didn’t sit right with me, but I wasn’t ready to dig into it.
Not yet. If I were honest, I was glad he hadn’t told me the whole truth.
I could deal with it later. For now, I channeled everything into creating the perfect Halloween experience.
I needed it as much as the kids wanted it.
If it meant Chains spared me the truth of what happened to my father, I couldn’t hold it against him, and I’d be grateful.
I felt like I’d been given a fresh start and maybe the possibility of a forever family.
We all worked hard for the next few hours, getting everything set up and preparing.
Kids always turned up early, and we had guys entertaining them outside the entrance.
I think a couple of them even let the kids sit on their bikes in front of them.
Yeah. These guys were all big softies. In some ways.
I scanned the park, satisfaction warming my chest as I took in our work.
Stuffed scarecrows lounged on benches, their straw-filled hands holding candy bowls for passing children.
Paper bats hung from tree branches, twisting in the October breeze.
The haunted trail wound through a section of woods, decorated with eerie props and staffed by volunteers in costume.
But the crown jewel of our event -- the dunk tank -- sat in the center of the park.
Caleb was now perched on the platform above the water, his light brown hair falling into his eyes as he shouted taunts at potential donors.
The twelve-year-old had volunteered immediately for his usual spot heckling passersby when we announced the guys from Kiss of Death would be helping with the fundraiser.
I’d only thought the kid was good in previous years.
Apparently, someone had told him to have at it because he now revealed an unexpected talent for creative insults that had people lining up with softballs in hand.
Okay. So maybe it wasn’t an unexpected talent.
Caleb was hell on wheels in the best kind of way.
“Your haircut looks like your mom put a bowl on your head and let a blind raccoon go to town with safety scissors!” he called to a middle-aged man who’d just missed the target.
The crowd around the tank erupted in laughter as the man grinned good naturedly and handed over another five dollars for three more balls.
I approached the tank, checking the collection box beside it. “You’re doing great, Caleb,” I called up to him. “But remember, no profanity. There are little kids around.”
“I know, I know,” he replied, rolling his eyes but smiling. “I’m keeping it clean. Just using my superior observational skills.”
A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd as Antonio Miles approached the dunk tank.
While Chains had told me Tonio Miles was the second in command of the Miles family, the biggest crime family south of the Mason-Dixon Line and East of the Mississippi, everyone else in Nashville knew him as one of the wealthiest men in the city.
He certainly cut an imposing figure in his tailored charcoal suit, his chestnut hair immaculately styled.
I felt my back straighten instinctively at the sight of him.
While I knew the Miles family had business connections with Kiss of Death MC, I’d never met Antonio Miles.