Chapter Twelve
PIPER
Why must good things always come to such an abrupt end in this house?
As soon as I hear his banshee wailing at my door, I know Dad’s pissed. Not the same sort of anger or annoyance he gets from his hair-trigger temper, but a deeper rage that’s going to end badly for someone.
“Open the door,” he yells, driving blow after blow of his hard fist against the door. The wood’s splintering at the impact, and if I don’t hurry, he’ll break it before I even get out of my chair.
I approach cautiously, grabbing my nightgown from over my chair, waiting for him to stop pounding on the door before I open up. He’s standing with his back against the wall, shoulders slumped forward, looking for trouble.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was gearing up to jump me as a rival MC member.
“Dad, what’s going on?” I ask, tightening the rope of my gown. Panties and a teddy bear shirt aren’t as concealing as I’d like them to be.
“What’s going on out here?” Momma says as she peers out at us from the master bedroom. She wipes sleep sand from her eyes.
“That’s what I wanna know,” Dad says. He pulls a clenched fist from the pocket of his tracksuit pants and opens the palm to me.
A small device rests inside his grip. It’s inconspicuous in size and shape, no bigger than a marble, but unlike the see-through glass, it’s coated in metal with a tiny lens in the front. If I hadn’t started my job at Callahan Tech, I’d have never known what I was looking at. But I do.
It’s one of Alfie’s Silent Surveillance cameras.
“Found this in the living room. Didn’t know what it was at first, but soon realized that we’ve got a traitor in our mix,” Dad says. He’s speaking to me as if I’m some sort of captive, and he’s about to interrogate me.
“You wanna explain yourself, little girl?” Dad asks. His words are coated in poisonous malice.
“I don’t know what that is,” I lie. In some ways, I really don’t.
How did it get in my house? They’re brand new at the company, and I haven’t had the good fortune of handling one. I only know what the cameras look like because of diagrams and emails sent between Scott and Alfie.
Dad leans forward, sniffing at the air in front of him. “You smell that, Martha?” He turns to Momma, who’s stepped fully into the hallway. “Smells like horse shit coming from the girl’s mouth.”
“Dad, I really don’t—”
“It’s got Callahan Tech written on the side of it, girl.”
The way he continuously calls me girl is what unsettles me most. Even in the roughest of times, he’d call me baby-girl, or at the very least, Piper. He’s using dehumanizing tactics to get in my head, separate me from his daughter, and view me as the enemy.
“I don’t know what it’s doing here,” I plead my innocence.
My parents are both sober tonight, and I can count my lucky stars they are. Dad’s got a tendency to fly off the handle when he’s under the influence.
“Seems to me you’ve found yourself a cushy little gig in the city, and you’re using it to help the pigs bring us down,” he says.
“Don’t be absurd,” I take a few steps back from the door. Dad follows me into my room. “What good would that do?”
“Saul, don’t be silly,” Momma shouts from the hallway. “Piper wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Shut your mouth, Martha, nobody wants to hear what you’ve gotta say.” He addresses my momma but doesn’t take his eyes off of me.
“I’m sure there’s a mighty big price on the Black Dawn’s head,” Dad says. “The damned pigs have been hunting us for years. So, what’re they offering you to turn on your old man?”
“I don’t have anything to do with this,” I say. But my words fall on deaf ears. He’s lost himself to whatever delusion is playing out in his head.
“How could you do this to me?” he asks. “We’re blood. We’re fucking blood. You cold-hearted bitch.” His stern, hard-ass composure breaks into panicked sputtering.
I’m terrified, debilitated by the shivers running down my spine. There’s no telling what he’s going to do next. He’s a loose cannon without any sense of logic or reason left.
Dad hurls the surveillance camera at the wall, and it shatters on impact.
“I gave you a home. I gave you a life. And you repay me with this?” he spits. “Do you know who I am? Do you know what I’ve done to protect this family?” He lunges forward and grabs me by the arm. I scream, trying to break his grip, but it’s iron tight.
“Stop this. Stop this now,” Momma shouts, as she rushes into the bedroom. She throws herself into Dad, in an attempt to free me.
He slams an elbow into her stomach, and Momma goes flying backward, smashing into a chest of drawers.
“It’s time she learns what it means to cross her poppa,” Dad says.
The sharp taste of acidic bile coats the back of my throat and threatens to spill into my mouth. I’m terrified and I can’t find a way to break free. I scream in absolute terror.
“Please stop,” I beg, tears streaming freely down my cheeks. “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“You’re coming with me.” Dad replaces his grip on my arm with a fistful of hair as he drags me back towards the door.
I clutch and claw at his wrist, digging nails into flesh until I pierce his skin.
But in this deep fury, my actions go unnoticed aside from a wince from Dad.
He drags me through the house, towards the living room, where he shoves me hard into the coffee table.
It shatters under my weight and sharp splinters shoot in every direction.
I’ve never been much for praying, and right now I regret the decision. I could really use a miracle from on high.