1.
A BIGAIL
I leaned over to look down at Mackenzie before I turned and looked at Charlotte. Both were sleeping soundly even though we were yet again in a moving vehicle rather than a bed, which was a miracle that I could never have imagined a few months ago. Back in our little apartment, we had our schedule, our set routine, and rarely deviated from it. Every evening after Charlotte and I finished dinner, I’d feed Mackenzie while Charlotte had her bath time, and then I’d lay Mackenzie down for the night while Charlotte got out her zoomies that signaled she was tired and doing everything to fight sleep. Once I got Charlotte down, I tried to catch up on all the chores that were almost impossible to do with an infant hanging off my boob and a toddler doing her best to injure and maim herself by climbing anything she could find.
Now, here we were again, in the back of a vehicle on the way to yet another place we’d never seen that was inhabited by people I’d never met, but this time, I was supposed to leave my children with them. Up until my life exploded, I had never trusted the girls to anyone’s care, but then a man appeared in the middle of the night and I let him carry my infant and my toddler in his arms as we escaped yet another dangerous situation. Since then, my girls had met more people than they ever had in their whole lives, and all but one of them were men.
I wondered what sort of lasting effects all of this turmoil might have on them and hoped that they were too small to remember this. Once everything calmed down, I’d find a place to live and settle back into the routine we had before. Quiet. Dependable. Structured. Once I accomplished that, then they could start making memories.
And, God willing, we would never have to escape danger in the dark of night and get into the backseat of a car driven by a relative stranger again.
Someday, I might tell them about this tumultuous time in our lives, but by the time they were old enough to hear the story, I could just consider it just an adventure, right?
This was never how I imagined their childhood, but then again, my mom probably never thought my teen years would be filled with such an insane amount of angst and unrest either.
I had a great childhood - stable, comfortable, and carefree. That ended when I was almost thirteen and my life turned into an emotional roller coaster that seemingly had no end. As if the teenage years weren’t stressful enough on their own, I experienced so much turmoil that, looking back, I was amazed I’d managed to make it through. In the midst of all of the emotional ups and downs, I met a family that didn’t want me but tolerated my presence in their life for appearance’s sake. I lost my mother in a tragic accident that I still didn’t believe was anything but an assassination and then had my life uprooted again when the family was finally able to pawn me off without damaging their sterling reputation.
The second I met my Grammy, I felt like I was finally able to get off the ride and stand on solid ground again. When she pulled me into her arms, I knew that all of the uncertainty and confusion of the past few years had been worth it.
And then I married Mr. Right.
Just like all of those simpering idiots on that sappy movie channel, he had all the qualifications for the title - except he didn’t own a floundering Christmas tree farm and wasn’t a chef, a teacher, or a struggling musician. He came closer to fitting the nerd stereotype than anything, considering he was a government-contracted scientist with a brain like a supercomputer. At least, that’s what he seemed like when we first got together. Little did I know that he was really a villain who craved money and power more than his next breath or, worse yet, more than my next breath, which he obviously didn’t care about at all.
Of course, I was as oblivious as the women in those movies and didn’t realize how horrible he was until the first time he let it slip that his biggest ambition was to be a filthy rich lawmaker with more power than any one man should have. Those weren’t his exact words, but they really summed up the attributes he’d kept hidden so well.
I can’t tell you how many times I’d thought that I should have listened to my Grammy when she said there was “something off about that boy” after she met him for the first time. Her opinion only declined as our relationship progressed, and by the time Charlotte was born, she could barely stand to be in the same room with him. The blinders I’d been wearing when it came to Joseph were ripped off when the baby was just a few months old and I found out that he had given up on any shred of morality he might have had to sell secrets to very bad men. Men that he seemed to aspire to be who were in positions he envied.
That knowledge was what spurred me to become a single mother with a routine and now a woman on the run from the man who had vowed to cherish and protect me.
The Hallmark-movie romance had turned into a survival story, and that plotline was still going strong, complete with nights like tonight when I was shaken awake from a comfortable sleep and urged to rush away into the dark so that someone else could keep us protected and safe.
At least I wouldn’t have to use a fake ID to fly across the country this time, or would I? I wondered what the statute of limitations or even the punishment was for that crime . . . something I also never thought I’d do. I hadn’t googled the answers to those questions because I didn’t want to be put on a watchlist of some kind.
Frankly, I’d gladly pay whatever the cost was for that crime rather than leave Charlotte and Mackenzie with strangers. I’d watched way too many true crime shows to ever trust anyone with my kids, and yet that was what I was about to do.
Without thinking, I blurted out, “Are these people nice?”
Fish, the man driving, had a nickname as odd as all of the others. He chuckled before he answered, “To people they love, yes, they are very nice.”
“Would you trust them with your kids?”
“There are children I love and I would trust any one of them with their life.”
“You make it sound like there are a bunch, but Ajax said that . . . Well, I guess he really didn’t specify.”
“Does he ever?”
No, probably not. This entire situation made me want to scream at the heavens and then find my ex-husband and rip his throat out with my bare hands.
I would do that if it meant that the whirlwind that had taken over my life would calm down so I could get back to raising my girls and trying to figure out where to go from here. I wanted nothing more than to be able to take them outside for a walk or even just sit beneath a shade tree at a park somewhere.
I was sick of feeling like a hostage, but that certainly wasn’t because the man who had rescued us had done anything at all to make me feel that way. Hell, he’d turned his house into the most well-equipped child-friendly space I’d ever seen. It was more because we never left without a guard right next to me, and even then, we could only go out for a very short time.
Once this trial was over and I was finally able to pick up my girls, I planned to find a warm place to settle down. I dreamed about being somewhere near a beach that I could enjoy any time I wanted and building a life I could be proud of. A life that didn’t include Joseph or government secrets or middle-of-the-night escapes.
My life had become a series of ups and downs, terror and paranoia, and then, finally, some calm in the middle of one of the busiest towns in America. Now, I was on the move again, on track to make a stop in Texas before I went on to Chicago where I would testify against my ex-husband in the hopes of sending him away for a very long time.
Once that was finished, I could pick up my girls and go find Grammy, who was having a much better time in hiding than I had so far, before we grew roots somewhere and got our lives in order.
And once I did, I would make sure that I never let anyone, man or woman, disrupt them ever again.
◆◆◆
FISH
“She seems to be taking this well,” Boss, the president of my MC and a good friend, said as we watched Abigail explaining her daughters’ nighttime routine to Jenn, Boss’s old lady.
I didn’t know Abigail well at all since before she got in the truck with me last night, I had only spoken to her once when we went dancing at a bar in New Orleans with Ajax and Sandi.
I’d found that Abigail was not like any woman I’d ever met. She was smart and funny in a self-depreciating way with a quick wit that kept me on my toes throughout the evening. I couldn’t stop thinking about her after I took her back to Ajax’s and left her there so I could get back to work watching the perimeter.
As much as she had enjoyed that night, I knew she was still on edge then, just like she had been since I helped her buckle her sleeping children into their car seats last night. I had no idea what the real Abigail, the woman who didn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders, might be like, but I couldn’t wait to find out.
“I can’t imagine how hard it’s gonna be for her to leave them here with strangers, no matter how much Ajax and I have tried to reassure her that they’ll be safe.”
“And they’ll only be here for a few days before they go somewhere else that we know will be equally safe,” Boss reminded me.
“But at least she’s met Dante and Jolie before.”
“That’s true. She probably doesn’t realize it, but Jenn and I will spoil them rotten until they get here to take them to Marlboro.”
“I know you will, and I’ll reassure her of that as often as I need to so that she feels as okay as someone in her position can feel.” I glanced at my phone and saw that it was almost dawn and looked out the window toward the compound where I’d spent so much time after my release from prison. Boss and Jenn’s house was on the perimeter of a neighborhood that had been built to house members of the Time Served MC and their families. “I’m sure the other ladies will be over here helping to do that as much as possible too.”
“Of course. August and Sis have already gotten a bunch of things together to loan us while the kids are here, and I’m sure the other women won’t have a problem shopping for whatever else they might need.”
“Of course they won’t,” I replied with a bark of laughter. “I’m kind of glad that it’s just the two of you here right now. When you get the rest of the women together, it tends to get loud and crazy. I’m not sure Abigail is up for that right now.”
“Everyone is still sleeping, but they’ll start trickling in soon, I’m sure.”
“I need to get her on the road, but I’m not sure how I’m going to do that,” I admitted.
I hated to see a woman cry for any reason, but knowing that her tears were full of worry for her children would be especially heartbreaking. However, it had to be done so we could make sure they were safe while she testified and we worked to keep her safe from harm. “We need to leave soon.”
“She’s gonna need some reassurance that they’re okay, so let her use your phone to FaceTime them anytime she wants, night or day. Whatever makes her feel better.”
“I will.”
“As much as it sucks, you should just rip the band-aid off. Tell her it’s time to go, and start herding her toward the car.”
“Shit. I guess I should, but I really don’t want to.”
“I don’t envy you at all, my friend. Not a single bit.”
◆◆◆
I wanted to turn up the radio so I couldn’t hear Abigail crying, but I knew it wouldn’t really help. I could feel her pain deep in my soul, and I knew that no matter how I tried, I’d never be able to erase the sound of her heart breaking.
I wasn’t a stranger to a woman’s tears by any means. I’d been raised by a woman who only cried when it suited her and surrounded by sisters who wore their hearts on their sleeves. Since our mother was a selfish piece of shit who only showed two emotions - anger and rage, it had fallen to me as the oldest child to help my four younger sisters when they needed anything. So, from hunger to heartbreak, I was their caretaker, which meant that I’d dealt with more than my fair share of tears in my life.
Because of what I’d learned over the years with Rachel, Ruthie, Hannah and Dinah, I knew that every woman had different needs when they were upset. Rachel didn’t want anyone to acknowledge her tears and would rather get angry than show any weakness at all. Ruthie could wail loud enough to wake the dead in at least three surrounding states, but she didn’t want anyone to touch her while she did it. Hannah needed to be held tightly as if you were trying to help her squeeze out every last tear, and Dinah did best when someone held her hand and murmured soft words to her until she got herself together.
I didn’t know Abigail well enough to know which category she fit into or if any of them suited her at all, so I was at a loss as to what to do in this situation.
I decided to start small and then work my way up until I found Abigail’s comfort zone. I reached over and took her hand from her lap. She didn’t resist my touch, so I squeezed it gently and then rubbed my fingers back and forth across her knuckles while I talked softly, telling her all about my friends in Tenillo and how safe and loved her children would be while they were there.
After a few minutes, Abigail slowly leaned toward me until she was resting on the console. I took my hand out of hers and gently started brushing her hair from her face and trailing my fingers through the short strands in the hope of relaxing her. It seemed to help with the physical strain of her heartbreak, but it didn’t stop her sobs by any means.
I couldn’t take it anymore and pulled off the highway at the next exit before I veered into the nearest parking lot and stopped the truck. I put it in Park and hopped out to go around to the passenger side. The second I opened her door, she threw herself into my arms. As she wrapped her arms around me, those soft sobs I’d been hearing for miles now turned into an all-out wail. I held her against me with one arm while I ran my hand up and down her back with the other, all the while murmuring that it was going to be okay between soft kisses to her temple.
I heard the motorcycles pull up nearby and was glad that the guys who were following us kept their distance after they cut off their engines. I turned us so that I could see them over her head, and Toris and Sarge grimaced when they realized what was happening.
After what seemed like forever, Abigail started to relax. Her sobs began to taper off, and her breathing started to even out. She slowly unwrapped herself from me, and I held onto her as she sniffled and wiped her face.
When her eyes filled with tears again, I couldn’t resist putting my hands on either side of her head and pulling her to me so I could kiss her forehead, something I’d done to each of my sisters a million times over the years. When I lifted my mouth from her forehead, I bent forward enough to touch mine to hers before I whispered, “Your girls are gonna be just fine, and so are you, Abigail.”
“That’s not even my name,” Abigail whispered.
“Well, what is it then?”
“Catherine.”
“Okay, Catherine.”
“My friends and family call me Cat.”
“Am I a friend?” I asked.
“I think so. I don’t generally get snot on strangers’ shirts,” Abigail said with a quiet laugh. She took a step back and reached up to wipe the tears off of her face before she dried her hands on her jeans. “Thank you, Fish.”
“I’m here anytime you need me, okay, Cat?”
“Thank you,” Cat whispered as her eyes welled up again. She swiped them off her cheeks again and said, “I don’t know how to make them stop.”
“I know one solution, but it’s probably not the healthiest way to deal with heartache.”
“How?”
“Get mad. It seems to work for Rachel.”
“Is that your girlfriend?” Abigail . . . no, Cat asked.
“She’s my sister.”
“Does it help when you hold her while she cries?”
“God, no. She’d claw my face off if I tried.”
Cat burst out laughing and said, “I won’t do that.”
“Good. My Bubbe swears that my pretty face makes up for almost all of my faults, so I’d hate for you to ruin it.”
When I grinned at Cat, she started laughing again, so I closed the distance between us and pulled her into my arms before I said, “We need to get back on the road, sweetheart.”
“Okay.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Do you think my girls are gonna be alright?”
I looked at the sky to gauge what time it might be and smiled before I said, “By now, they’ve probably eaten breakfast and are being spoiled rotten by a band of crazy ass women who would kill for them. I don’t just think they’re gonna be okay, I know they are.”
“Crazy women?”
“Honey, we don’t call them the Crazy Coven for nothing,” I muttered. I gestured toward the truck before I said, “Hop in, and I’ll tell you some tales about what happens to people that threaten the ones they love. Believe me, your girls are in good hands with them, and the men they’re with are just as fierce and furious when the need arises.”
“That makes me feel better,” Cat said as she climbed into the truck. “I’d like to hear about them.”
“Give me a second to tell the guys what’s going on, and when we get on the road, I’ll tell you all about them.”