Tilly 18.
On autopilot, I walk into the clubhouse.
“Tilly!” I glance over my shoulder and see one of the prospects, I think Wheat, with keys and my purse in his hand.
“I’m sorry.” I mumble, but he places the strap of my purse in my palm, bends my fingers over it, and squeezes compassionately.
“No worries. I’ll park the car in the club garage and bring your bags in.”
“Thank you, Wheat.” His smile brightens when I say his name, like he’s happy I remembered it.
Standing just inside the entrance, my eyes move from the bar to the seating area, past the pool tables, stopping at the couches. Audrey is sitting on one of them, her face alarmingly pale, as Sammy clings to her, his little body shaking.
“Ford, I’m only gonna tell you one more time, I’m good. We’re good.”
“Then why won’t you talk to me?” Ford trails after Quinn as she beelines for Audrey with a tray of food and drinks.
“I’m fucking busy, Ford. If you haven’t noticed, one of your club brothers was arrested by the FBI, and it has triggered some dark shit for Audrey and Sammy.”
Ford stops in his tracks. His head swiveling as he looks at Audrey and Sammy on the couch and Quinn setting the tray down on a low table, then sitting next to them on the couch.
“Ok. I get that. But you’ve barely said a word to me since the charity thing.”
Quinn inhales deeply with her eyes closed. With the patience of a mom who’s repeated herself ad nauseum, she glares at Ford, “The charity thing where you asked me to be your date, gave me a corsage like it was prom, danced with me song after song, dumped me in my chair, fucked some chick you just met in a bathroom stall, and then came back to me with lipstick smeared on your shirt and neck, reeking of used condom and bad perfume, and bitched because I wouldn’t dance with you anymore?”
The entire clubroom is silent as everyone watches on. Ford thinks about it for a moment, then nods. He’s dumb. “That was fucked up, Quinn. You danced with everyone else for the rest of the night but me.”
I move past the stupidest man I’ve ever met and find Madison in his office. Lincoln, Pierce, Fields, Adams, and Hayes are hovering around his desk. They turn as one when I enter. I can tell by Lincoln’s clenching jaw and narrowed eyes he’s had no luck in the last half hour.
“Linc—”
“I’m on it, Tilly. Don’t worry. I’ll find him and I’ll get him out.” I nod once, then lean against the doorway to keep myself standing.
“Come sit down.” Adams guides me by the elbow to a small couch. Fields places a glass of ice-cold lemonade in my hand. I gulp it down, feeling instantly energized.
“All right,” I clap my hands and sit up straight, “what can I do?” Lincoln’s eyes soften. “Don’t tell me nothing, Lincoln. I need to do something. They cuffed him right in front of me. Marched him out of the hotel like a common criminal and not the best man I’ve ever met. They threatened me with my own arrest!”
“Why didn’t they?” Hayes asks, his hip on the edge of Madison’s desk.
“What?”
“Why didn’t they arrest you?”
“Lomax said all they had was circumstantial evidence. I assume that means they have something concrete against Wilson. But what? He didn’t steal anything. Why would anyone steal back what you all freely owned and voluntarily donated to begin with?”
Before anyone can answer, my phone rings. “Tybs—”
“They’re here.” I place the call on speakerphone. My brother’s whispered voice is frantic. “The FBI is tearing apart our house. I’m sorry, Tilly. I had to tell them where you are. They’ll be at the clubhouse soon. I’m being taken in for questioning, but I told them I had to shit first because of a nervous colon. Is Lincoln there?”
“I’m here Tybalt.”
“Lincoln, they’re taking me to Covington. But I heard one of them say something about Louisville. I think that’s where they took Wilson.”
Lincoln nods to himself, typing furiously on his phone, “Covington is a satellite office. I’ll send a buddy of mine to meet you there. I’ll go to Louisville for Wilson and Tilly.”
“What do I tell them?” The club brothers chuckle humorlessly at my brother’s question.
“The truth, Tybalt, usually works best. Your sister and Wilson are innocent.”
“I know that!” Tybs hisses, causing the brothers to genuinely laugh and put a small smile on my face before reality sets back in.
Oh, right. I’m about to be arrested. My lips turn down as my heart pounds in my chest.
“I need a shower and real clothes.” I jump up, pushing past the men. I ignore the calls and run up to Wilson’s suite, thankful it’s unlocked. I strip on my way to the bathroom. My mind whirls with everything that has happened and everything that’s potentially still to come. The hot water keeps me focused so I don’t fall headfirst into a panic attack. I trust Lincoln. He’s exceptional at his job. And he loves Wilson, he’ll work hard to get him out. And since I’m…Wilson’s, I guess, he’ll work hard to help me too. Wilson won’t let me rot away in jail. Oh, God…JAIL.
I hastily wash, dry off, brush my teeth with Wilson’s toothbrush. I do not like his toothpaste. That strikes me as funny, and I giggle as I dress in my own clothes thanks to Wheat bringing our bags up. Hopefully, I can stay in them rather than changing into something prisony and orange. I look good in orange, but this isn’t an instance where I think that matters.
Three hard knocks on the door. “Tilly, they’re pulling up now.”
“Okie dokie.”
I open the door with a sigh at my ridiculous answer while McKinley laughs. He puts his beefy arm around my shoulders, and we head back down to the clubroom. I’m on the last step when the doors burst open and several men in black tactical gear with guns raised storm into the clubhouse. It’s déjà vu and my head spins slightly.
“NOOO!!” A gut-wrenching wail rents the air. “You can’t take her! She’ll die! No! Where’s Wilson? He can’t die, I love him! He’s my club brother!” Audrey loses her grip on a flailing Sammy, and he darts across the room toward me.
“FBI! Don’t move!”
“Sammy!” Audrey screams and starts after him. Buchanan is faster and stronger, scooping up the boy before he gets too far. He fights and yells and cries and it breaks my heart that he’s going through this. After his parents…
My brain finally connects with my legs, and I start moving, my hands up in surrender. “I’m Matilda Mazekat. I’m coming with you willingly, please, please, lower your guns, you are scaring him. I won’t resist, I won’t fight.”
“Stand down.” A voice sounds from the back of the group. “Special Agent Fish. Matilda Mazekat, you are under arrest for embezzlement, grand larceny, bank fraud…” He continues but I tune him out. I focus on Lincoln and the way his mouth moves.
“Don’t say a word, Tilly. I’m right behind you. It’s about an hour and a half to Louisville. Try to remember everything you can about the fundraiser, account setup, anyone involved, timelines…when I’m able to finally speak to you, I need you to run me through the entire process from beginning to end.” I nod in understanding. “You can leave out the parts where you and Wilson were naked and doing the nasty.” An unexpected bark of laughter bursts out of me, and I instantly feel a little lighter. The tight band of anxiety loosens around my chest. Lincoln is joking. He’s concerned for Wilson and me but not worried about getting us out. He’s confident enough for all of us.
“Sammy!” I yell over the din of the clubroom. The men are grunting and almost growling as they hold themselves back from intervening, a few tactical guys moving through the clubhouse and up the stairs. I don’t know the child well, but I don’t have to for me to understand how devastating this is to him. “Junior Prospect!” I am overstepping, but I know in my heart that this is what Wilson would do.
“Yes?” Such a timid voice, not like the rambunctious 9-year-old who runs around this clubhouse like he was born into it. My hands are pulled behind me and I fight the instinct to struggle. I promised I wouldn’t, Sammy doesn’t need to see or hear that.
“Wilson’s bike better be spotless by the time he gets back, or you’ll be cleaning the toilets with your toothbrush.” Several of the brothers laugh. I catch Betty’s wide eyes as I’m escorted out of the building. She dips her chin in respect, and I feel like I’ve just earned a gold star on my behavior chart.
I ride the high of pleasing the First Lady of the Congressionals MC all the way to Louisville.