Chapter 17 Dakota
DAKOTA
“Are we gonna see them again?” Logan asks after waking up for the tenth time since bedtime. He was crushed when I picked him up on my own today, and he’s still fixated on when he can see his bikers again.
“Of course we will, Lo, but I’m not sure when.”
He sighs, clutching the plush helmet that they won for him at the arcade. It’s a football helmet with a pocket inside that has a stuffed football, but according to him, it looks more like a motorcycle helmet, and everything is about motorcycles now. Even insects have been pushed into second place.
“Jackal says I can ride his bike if they get the right stuff.” He pets the helmet, pushing the fabric back and forth to draw patterns. “You’ll say yes, right?”
“Yes, if it’s safe.” The idea terrifies me, but Logan’s been through so much that I hate to stomp on his dream. I just have to make sure they’re riding in circles around a parking lot at a snail’s pace while strapped between two mattresses.
I stroke my fingers through his dark curls and his eyes flutter shut before springing back open. I stretch out next to him on top of the covers as his breathing slows.
I feel drained after yesterday, even with taking today to recover and do nothing but catch up on laundry and cleaning. I’ll have to go back to Georgia’s apartment soon and box up the rest of her stuff. Jay can deal with the furniture if he wants it. All I care about are her personal things.
“They’re nice.” Logan mutters sleepily. “I wish they were my dads.”
My heart stutters. He hardly ever talks about having a father, but since starting pre-school, it comes up more often.
He’s starting to recognize that even the kids who don’t have daddies to pick them up, still see them sometimes, or at least know who they are.
It shouldn’t surprise me that he’s thinking about it.
“They are nice, honey.” I’m not even going to touch the idea of Logan and his three dads, and I really hope he doesn’t repeat it at pre-school.
I could certainly see the appeal for me. Single parenthood kind of landed in my lap, and I don’t regret it, but I’m the CEO, the janitor, the chef, and the entertainment department all at once. Splitting even some of that responsibility sounds like heaven, thank you very much.
I yawn and my eyes drift closed. What would it be like to share some of the load? Playing pinball with Stiff while the others kept Logan busy was so nice. And for as much as I like to tell myself that I can handle all of my own needs, it’s not the same.
I’d be naive to think it means forever, but I’m going to enjoy their company for as long as it lasts, and maybe it would be a good idea to start cautiously dating again.
I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed the little stuff like flirting, or being held.
Kissing. The feel of another body beneath my hands. Being wanted.
Before I completely fall asleep, I slip out of Logan’s bed and carefully close the door. I walk through the apartment, tidying up as I go, and getting the dishes into the dishwasher to run in the morning.
The echoing sound of something hitting the railing in the stairwell outside my door gets my attention.
It’s a quiet building, and at almost midnight on a weekday, it’s usually completely dead.
Not that I begrudge anyone coming home late, but it’s unusual.
Curious, I flip open the peephole, only to realize I’m looking straight into the shadow of someone standing on the landing outside my door.
I flip the cover back and double check the locks to make sure they’re secure, both the regular and the safety bolt. Heart pounding, I wait for whoever it is to knock or ring the bell. It’s probably just a middle of the night delivery driver looking for the right door.
Probably.
In addition to all my other roles, I’m also the chief of security. I shuffle to the hall closet and slip out the aluminum baseball bat I keep in there for emergencies. I’m not the strongest person in the world, but with enough motivation, I’m pretty sure I can do some damage.
I stand still, right next to the door. There are soft sounds of shuffling out there, but nothing else. I hold my breath and listen. It’s like my door is being stalked, but no sign of them trying to break in.
Should I yell something? Try to scare them away?
There’s no good reason for someone to be right outside my door for this long.
But my throat is closed up in terror. What if making noise just tells them what they need to know before forcing their way in?
The longer I wait, the more jumbled my thoughts get.
I turn one of the kitchen chairs towards the door and sit, baseball bat over my lap.
I set my phone in front of me, ready to dial 911.
The lock jiggles and I hit ‘call’ out of pure reflex.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
As quiet as I can manage while the operator can still hear me, I explain.
“We have a unit nearby. They’re on their way. Keep this line open in case we need to call you back.”
“Sure, thank you.” The line goes dead.
I was hoping they’d stay on the line with me, but apparently this isn’t enough of an emergency for that.
Steeling myself for what I hope is a short wait, I keep a good grip on the bat.
My leg bounces like I’m the drummer at a heavy metal concert, and I’m so full of adrenaline that I almost wish they’d just break in so I can actually do something.
Almost.
My defense plan is pretty much ‘see skull, hit skull’, so I don’t think my chances are great against anyone who actually knows what they’re doing. Something scrapes against the door frame. Metal clicks.
It’ll be fine. The police are coming.
I called 911 out of habit, but maybe I should’ve called the bikers.
No. They’ve done so much for me already, and I can’t expect them to drop everything every time I have a problem. And I can’t call them now, the police are on their way.
More scraping, and the door rattles, louder this time. Like the person on the other side is making progress. Where the heck are the police?
The air feels thick and sticky every time I draw a breath. If they break in, they’re going to have to come through me. I psych myself up, needing to find my inner mama bear, because my cub is in danger.
The regular lock flips, leaving just the safety bolt. Forcing myself to be brave, I rush over and relock it. The click sounds almost explosive in the quiet of night, but it gives a clear signal. I am here, and I’m not letting you in.
“The police are on their way!” I yell through the door.
Logan’s door cracks open, and a very sleepy four-year-old comes shuffling down the hall. He walks into the living room clutching Mr. Larson under one arm and his helmet under the other. “Mommy? There was a noise.”
“It was just the TV, Honey. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” I gently guide him back into his room. Whatever happens, I don’t want him to see it. The police are coming, I keep repeating to myself in my head.
I don’t think Logan really woke up. The moment his head hits the pillow, he’s out again. I stand guard outside his door, running through different scenarios in my head. If they get in, I’ll barricade myself in Logan’s room with him to buy us more time. When is—
Something hits the railing again, this time hard enough for the reverberation to wake the whole building. There’s no siren, but I see the flicker of flashing lights on the living room walls. Oh thank God.
“He’s going out the front!” Someone yells just before the broken front door slams.
There are voices in the hall, doors opening and closing, and after a long minute, a knock at my door. “Ms. Vale? It’s Officer Dillard.”
I’m so relieved to hear a familiar voice that I nearly forgive him for thinking the worst about my sister. I put down the bat and unlock the door. “Oh thank God you made it. Did you see who it was?”
He nods. “My partner is in pursuit. You’re lucky I happened to be close. I’m going to take a few pictures of the damage to the door, then can I come in and get the details for my report?”
“Of course.” I wait in the apartment, thinking a little more clearly now that I’m not quite as panicked.
It was lucky that he was close. Right?
This isn’t the biggest city, but it’s big enough that it’s weird that the same officer who came out to talk to me about my sister just happened to be on patrol in my neighborhood. Or have the police been watching me this whole time? When does paranoia turn into common sense?
The pictures don’t take long. “They really did a number on your door. Have you had any trouble since our last chat?” he asks.
“No.” Which is partly a lie, but nothing that he needs to know about. “Do you think it’s related?”
He taps his pen against his lower lip, thinking. “I think it’s unusual for someone to risk coming into a shared entrance on an upper floor for a random break-in. Were the lights still on?”
“Yeah, I was just getting ready to go to bed.”
“Hm… I’m not trying to alarm you, but this sounds like you were specifically targeted, which is unusual without some sort of criminal connection.”
“I’m a home health aide with a four year old. What could anyone possibly want with me?”
He pulls out a second chair at the kitchen table, and flinches slightly when he sits, like something hurts for a moment.
“Ms. Vale, we touched on this at my last visit, but I think it would be a good idea for you to reconsider your involvement with the Outlaw Sons. Those sorts of people can appear very charming, but it can attract the wrong sort of attention.”
“You think they tried to break into my apartment?” I shake my head. “That wouldn’t make sense.” All they’d have to do was knock.
“I’m just speculating. From our investigation, we know that your sister was tangled up in the local criminal network.
” He sees the look on my face and changes tactics.
“I’m not saying she was a ringleader or anything of the sort, but drugs don’t come from nowhere.
I would think you would want to help us figure out if someone can be held responsible.
It would give her death some small amount of meaning. ”
“I do, I just…”
“Are you being threatened, Ms. Vale? If the Outlaw Sons are forcing you to cooperate with them, you can tell me. You might even be able to help us break their hold on our city.”
Just when I was starting to wonder if maybe I was wrong about my first impressions, he pushed too far. Stiff, Lash and Jackal have done nothing but help me since the moment we met. I give Officer Dillard a thin lipped smile.
“I don’t think I can help. I barely know them. They wouldn’t trust me with anything.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Men will do a lot for a beautiful woman.”
“I really think you should go.”
“Let me at least find you a safe place to stay tonight until the locks can be repaired.”
“I’ll call a friend. She lives nearby.” I start closing the door.
“I think—”
“Thank you for your help. I’ll make sure to get the locks replaced as soon as possible.” I close the door in his face and throw both locks immediately. I stand quietly with my back against the door until I hear Officer Dillard’s boots clomping down the stairs.
Shit.