Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
brONWYN
I’d disobeyed Short. He’d told me to lock the door and stay in our room, but when the shooting started, it woke Trip, and the loud noises immediately upset him. He was rocking and wailing with his hands over his ears. It didn’t help that I was absolutely terrified myself.
Short had told me a war was coming, but na?ve as I am, I somehow didn’t envisage it coming right to our door or tonight.
The thought that one of the shots I can hear might have already taken Short away from me is more than I can bear.
The realisation hits me… I love him. And I never got to tell him.
I’ve only known his touch for just one glorious night, when he did more than any therapist to start to repair what my father had done to me. It wouldn’t be fair to lose him now.
I try to comfort Trip. In the state he’s in, he doesn’t protest as I wrap my arms around him, trying to make him feel secure, just like Short had done that first night in his house.
But the gunfire, if anything, is getting louder and closer, and along with my fear for Short, I’m scared for me and my son.
What if the Kings are outnumbered? What if their enemies get into the clubhouse? They’re the Mojave Devils, the ones who want Trip. And me, would I be collateral damage, or would they take me to sell into a life of slavery as well?
Realising I’m copying Trip’s backward and forward motion, I’m no less distraught than he is, flinching every time I hear a gunshot, which means I’m jumping every second now.
A particularly large bang has me whimpering, and I don’t want to be alone.
I remember seeing Paint’s sister and her daughter, and Word’s mom following me up the stairs, and I guessed they’d gone into one of the other rooms on this floor.
There are only five, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find them.
Right now I need company, else I’m going to go mad, and be no use to my boy.
Lifting him into my arms, and being as small as I am, I stagger at the weight of an eight-year-old boy.
But he won’t walk on his own, and I’m not going to leave him.
Awkwardly, I try to shift him into one arm and balance him between myself and the wall as I twist the key in the lock and open the door.
Then, I venture out into the corridor. Three other doors are open as if their occupants left in a hurry, and I swear some of the shots I can hear come from the interior of the rooms. My heart almost stops, before I realise, they must be coming from the Kings.
If the Devils had gotten into the clubhouse, they’d already be up here, and I would have already bumped into them.
I go to the door that’s still closed and knock loudly on it. Suspecting the occupants inside will be as scared as I am, I call out loudly to let them know I’m a friend.
“It’s Bronwyn. I’m with Short, and I’ve got my son with me. Can you let us in?”
A particularly loud bang has me almost dropping Trip, but somehow, I hold on to him.
Just when I’m about to call out again, even as I’m worried I’m wasting my time on an empty room, the door cracks open, and a worried woman’s eyes stare out. When she spies me and my burden, she opens it fully and lets me and Trip in.
When I place Trip down, his legs immediately fold, and he drops to the floor, taking up a foetal position. He keeps his hands to his ears as he begins rocking again, and making a distressed keening.
“He’s… autistic.” I don’t know for sure, but some of his issues resemble that condition, and it’s an explanation that will do for now. “Loud noises upset him.”
“He’s not the only one. I’m not liking this myself.” An older, but kindly, woman approaches us. “I’m Cathy, Words’s mom.” She holds out her hand for me to shake, politeness winning out even in this ridiculous situation. I place my palm to hers automatically.
“I’m Jenni,” Paint’s sister tells me, her face wearing an anxious expression. “Do you know what’s going on? Are the Kings winning?”
Shaking my head, I dampen her optimism. “I’ve only come from the room a couple of doors down.
” Shuddering, I admit, “I’m scared, and don’t know what to do for him.
” I indicate Trip. He’s getting more agitated by the moment, and I’m worried he’s soon going to start swinging his fists.
It’s the only way he can control his world.
“I’m Alice Jane.” Looking around Jenni, I see her daughter sitting on the bed.
She seems a couple of years older than Trip.
In her hands, she’s holding a pair of over-the-ear headphones, which she’d obviously just removed.
Jumping off the mattress, she hurries over and offers them to me. “Would these help him?”
“They were helping you.” Her mom looks undecided, but her daughter’s determined.
“I’m bigger than him.”
And I’m too selfish to look a gift horse in the mouth. I take what she’s offering and place them over Trip’s ears, watching him anxiously.
“They’re noise-canceling,” the girl tells me. “Uncle Paint always buys the best shit.”
“Alice Jane!” her mother exclaims.
The girl looks unrepentant and shrugs. “Well, he does.”
“That girl’s going to be the death of me,” Jenni states, rolling her eyes.
Words’s mom simply stares at her. “Considering what’s going on around us, I think death by swear words is the least of our worries.”
Trip, with the benefit of the apparently expensive earphones, has at least calmed down, though he’s still curled in a ball and rocking.
Alice Jane asks nervously, “Are we safe up here? Shouldn’t we go down to the clubroom?
Maybe we can find out what’s going on…” Her voice breaks off as another long volley of gunfire comes from outside the window.
I’m not surprised as she screams and jumps.
Jenni moves fast, pulling her into what safety she can offer in her arms.
“We know what’s going on,” Words’ mom states bluntly, in a manner only women of her age can get away with. “Someone’s shooting the hell out of the Kings of Anarchy.”
Both Jenni and I send her a scathing look to suggest, perhaps now’s not the time for such honesty. We all jump together as rapid firing sounds. I cast a wary look toward my son, but the headphones seem to be doing their stuff, and he’s calmer now.
The door suddenly bursts open, and I think we can be forgiven because we all scream. On the other hand, the teenager on the outside jumps out of his skin and looks like he’s going to back out and run.
Recognising him, I call out, “Ace, get in here.” At my words, he steps in with relief.
“Dad told me to stay put, but—”
“Short told me the same thing,” I admit to him. “But company’s best in this situation.” I can tell by his face that he agrees.
“Lock the door,” I tell him, but as he turns to do so, more people burst in.
I thought I’d seen the club girls wearing very little during the day, but at night, their clothing, or lack of it, is almost obscene.
It makes me want to hide both Trip’s eyes and Ace’s.
Jenni catches my stricken glance and nods, obviously thinking the same thing as me.
She raids the closet and grabs a handful of t-shirts belonging to the true occupant of this room.
Tempest, I think, if I remember rightly.
After giving them a pointed look at Ace and my son, Trixie slides into one of the shirts and encourages the other girls to cover themselves up.
Decency might have occupied my brain for a moment, but now my mind starts racing again. I’ve got Trip to look after, even if the unthinkable happens and my man doesn’t make it back to me. And Jenni obviously has her daughter to protect in the same way.
I voice the idea that comes into my head. “Let’s barricade the door.”
“You’re saying my son isn’t going to win?”
As patient as I can be under the circumstances, I reply to Cathy. “I’m hoping against hope the Kings will come out on top and send the MDMC packing. But just in case, I think we need to look out for ourselves.”
“Blocking the door will only delay the inevitable,” Cathy states, her eyes narrowed. “If the Kings don’t end up the victors, then we’ll be faced with the bastards who killed them. We should be concentrating on how we’re going to talk our way out.”
But I know exactly how that would end for Trip and me. “Making it hard for them to get in would buy us some time,” I retort sharply. “If it comes to it and it’s not the Kings at the door, then we can escape via the window. We’re only on the second floor.”
“It’s a ten-foot drop.” Cathy’s still arguing with me.
But Jenni’s eyes are lighting up. “We can knot together the bed sheets. There are at least two – the clean one on the bed that Tempest put on for us, and the dirty one he threw in the hamper. And I think in the cupboard he got the new one from, I might have seen more.”
Relieved that at least one other person sees merit in my plan, I stare at the bed. It’s a sturdy-looking California King. “We can use the bed to anchor the rope.”
“What are we waiting for?” Trixie asks.
Jennie moves to the heavy chest of drawers and starts to heave.
Alice Jane attempts to help her, but it doesn’t budge until I, too, put my weight to it.
When Cathy, with an expressive huff and a loud exhale, adds her weight to it as well, and Ace lends his shoulder, it starts to skate easily across the bare wooden floor.
I exchange a proud look with Ace, Jenni, and Alice Jane, while Cathy looks on scornfully.
“You realise we’re only going to have to move that again when the Kings come to set us free.”