Chapter 48 #2
I don’t miss the way Jordan’s jaw tenses beside her, his eyes dropping to the road, a crease between his brows.
He’s still not fully on board with this, but she’s got him so wrapped around her finger that their fall-out over her taking me to the Safe House in the first place only lasted twenty-four hours.
Claudia notices my expression and smiles, tilting her head to rest on his shoulder.
“We’re here,” Bridget says, tearing my attention back to the street. I immediately suck in a breath, grinding to a halt and dragging Bridget with me. My eyes widen on the gate, the factory… the brick wall behind us.
My head whips to Claudia and Jordan. “This is…”
Claudia nods. “Yeah. This is where you followed Zac.”
Bridget nudges me with her shoulder. “I heard all about that. ‘Twas the first time I knew we were gonna be great friends.”
She tugs me gently, and I stumble forward, ignoring the way my cheeks heat as I keep my gaze away from the brick wall that witnessed a severe lapse in judgment on my part.
We file through the gate, weaving around piles of dirt and rock, towards the dark building.
Kieran appears on my other side. “We call this the Armoury,” he tells me.
“It’s where most people in the Resistance meet,” Bridget adds.
Anna has already disappeared inside, and we follow, our footsteps echoing through the long, eerie hall until we’re standing in front of the small hatch.
My pulse spikes and sweat gathers along my hairline, eyes zoning in on the metal just as Anna drops to tap her knuckles in a pattern.
Bridget’s hand is still in mine, steady and warm, but my palm’s soon slick against hers.
I tear it away, lifting it to my hair and running it through the strands to hide my nerves.
Last time I stood here, the guard didn’t take well to me.
Bridget leans up, whispering in my ear. “The password this week is cupcake.”
Four seconds after Anna’s final tap, the door swings inward.
She ducks inside, swiftly followed by Kieran.
Bridget nudges me, gesturing for me to follow, before she disappears, too.
Steadying my breath, I clench my jaw and lift my chin.
I can do this. I’m here for a proper reason this time, and I’m not alone.
Claudia, Bridget, Kieran, and especially Jordan, with his fierce loyalty to my husband, aren’t going to let anything happen to me.
I stride towards the hatch, ducking my head and easing into the small, well-lit room. Two men stand on the other side, one tall and well built, the other slightly shorter, but the gun in his hand makes him just as menacing. He tilts his head towards me.
“Cupcake,” I blurt out, voice steady, despite how my gut churns on the inside.
The man nods, stepping aside to let me through. I move quickly, almost tripping in my rush to get past them. Bridget and Kieran are waiting at the base of the stairs, leaning against the bannister.
Half a minute later, Claudia and Jordan join us. My palms are still damp, and I toy with the waistband of my jeans, running the seam along the pad of my fingers.
“Bill, Rick,” Jordan greets with a curt nod. “Is it busy tonight?”
“Not really.” The shorter one sets his gun on the counter with a dull thud. My eyes snag on the ink that winds up his arms before disappearing beneath his sleeves. His gaze flicks to me. “So, who’s this?”
I freeze.
“She can be trusted,” Claudia says, smiling at him.
“That’s up to you,” Bill or Rick responds, nodding at her.
Claudia turns to me. “Come on,” she says softly, tugging me towards the stairs. Kieran and Bridget take the lead, practically sprinting up them, nudging one another as they go.
“Hey, Jordan!” It’s the tall man who calls up the stairs after us. We all glance back, and he continues. “I’m sorry to hear about Zac.”
My stomach lurches, and my heart stumbles, his name echoing in my head.
Claudia yanks me forward, up the remaining stairs without another word.
At the top, Kieran grabs the door, shooting me a grin before he tugs it open.
Music saturates my ears, an old popular song that I used to listen to on repeat.
There’s a green glow illuminating the room tonight, the bar lined with LEDs.
Numerous people line the booths and tables, and a couple dances in the middle of the room.
“This is somewhere people can go without fear of the State,” Kieran says softly.
“Are they all... in the Resistance?”
“Yeah,” Bridget says, leading me towards the bar, the group flanking me.
“Pippa!” Claudia smiles at the redhead behind the bar. “Five beers, please.” My mouth drops open at the girl who works so compliantly in the fields.
“Pippa?” I exclaim, hands gripping the edge of the bar as I lean closer, making sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me.
Pippa’s brown eyes widen before she regains her composure, glancing at my companions and meeting my gaze with a small smile. “Emilia. It’s good to see you here,” she says.
“I… Same,” I reply honestly. She’s reserved and quiet, but she’s helped me out a few times when it comes to the Enforcers at work.
Her smile grows, and then she ducks behind the counter, returning with five bottles.
“Here.” She places them on the bar, and Kieran grabs his before disappearing towards a group of lads in the far corner.
I only realise now that Jordan is nowhere to be seen, and Anna was long gone before we even climbed the stairs.
“Do you come here often?” I ask Claudia as she takes a sip.
“Probably once every couple of weeks,” Claudia replies. “It’s nice knowing that we aren’t alone. Even if we can’t do much to fight back yet.”
“One day we will.” Bridget grins, lifting her bottle. “Plus, sometimes we team up together to carry out missions.”
“Missions?” I echo.
Bridget nods. “Just last month Zac and I went with them to break into an Enforcer stronghold.” She grins gleefully. “We took all their ammunition.”
My head spins, but instead of panic, it’s absolute awe. “You… Wow.”
“Don’t go getting any ideas.” Claudia’s serious face is back, and she points the neck of her bottle towards me. “You’re years away from that.”
“If I’m stuck under the State’s rule for years, I’ll kill myself,” Bridget mutters, sliding onto a stool beside her and shoving the bottle to her mouth.
“Bridge!” Claudia practically squeals. The girl just shrugs, bottle still between her lips.
“Claudia!” Jordan’s voice carries from across the room. Claudia turns, eyes softening the instant she finds him, a dopey little smile tugging at her lips. He crooks a finger, beckoning her over, and she gives us a quick grin before sidling towards him.
“They make me sick,” Bridget murmurs, but the lilt in her tone suggests she’s lying.
I smile, leaning my elbows on the bar beside her. “Same.”
“Is that Butterfingers?” a voice exclaims from beside her. A blond guy appears as he leans forward on the bar top, grinning at Bridget, and her entire face lights up.
“Riley!” she squeals, spinning on her stool so fast she nearly topples off it. In a blur, she’s on her feet, throwing an arm around his shoulders and dragging him into a hug.
My eyes flicker to Claudia and Jordan, but they’re locking lips now, oblivious to the world around them.
“How are you?”
“Good, you?”
He shrugs. “Can’t complain.”
Bridget steps back, gesturing towards me. “This is Emilia. Zac’s wife.”
“His wife?” Riley grins, holding his hand out. “I never thought he’d accept the relationship.”
“He hasn’t,” I say, grabbing his tattoo covered hand before giving it a hard shake. “And nor have I.”
His brow lifts, and he glances at Bridget. She grins. “Isn’t she great?”
“She seems alright,” Riley says as I release his hand. “You think she can handle us, Butterfingers?”
“I’m standing right here,” I say, voice curt.
“She definitely can,” Bridget fires back.
“Butterfingers?” I can’t help prying.
Riley’s grin grows, and Bridget rolls her eyes. “Couple of years ago, we were both after the same girl,” she says.
He leans against the bar, cocking his head at her. “Bridget fumbled it.”
“She didn’t like women!”
He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Not my fault. I didn’t make you accept the bet.”
She turns to me and pouts. “He played me.”
“I didn’t know she was straight!” Riley defends, holding up his hands.
“So… Butterfingers?”
Riley leans back, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, she didn’t exactly catch the girl, did she? Slipped straight through her fingers and landed on my bed.”
Bridget rolls her eyes. “And it’s all I ever fucking hear. Even though I’ve stolen plenty of pretty girls from him since.”
Riley scoffs. “I’m too occupied to make time for them, and you know that.”
“Riley’s a tattoo artist,” Bridget tells me. “Well, he was. Before the war. He uses it as an excuse for why he’s got no game.”
“Most nights I’m busy!” Riley insists.
“Did you do Bridget’s tattoos?” I ask, eyes trailing over her right collarbone, over the roses and tulips, daisies and peonies that disappear beneath the neckline of her red top and spill beyond, below the short sleeve onto her bicep.
“I do everyone’s tattoos,” he answers before pointing at the dance floor. I follow his arm, noting the numerous inked biceps, the black swirls on legs, the art on a spine.
My eyes return to him, to the way tattoos stretch up his neck and cover the backs of his hands. The question slips out before I can think it through. “How do you get away with them?”
“I don’t need to worry about the State,” Riley answers, grinning wide. My brow furrows at the answer.
“Riley’s taking a permanent break from Germain and her rules,” Bridget explains, leaning back against the bar, a smirk pulling at her lips.
“Why?”
“Let’s just say, they’d probably shoot me on sight,” Riley says before shrugging. “I’m in hiding. An enemy of the State, if you will.”
My eyes nearly fall out of my skull. “But… what? Why?”
“Don’t worry about it, Em.” Bridget leans over, nudging my shoulder with her own. “Riley prefers it that way.”