Chapter 37 Dakota
DAKOTA
When Dillard makes us sit against the wall while he paces with his gun out, I can’t pretend it’s okay. Logan knows what a gun is, and this isn’t how you’re supposed to treat them.
Logan leans close. “Should we call the motorcycle men?”
Dillard eyes us curiously, but luckily I don't think he's taking Logan seriously.
“We can't, honey. Mr. Dillard took my phone, remember? We'll call them later.”
“But I—”
I give him the faintest shake of the head, and against all odds, he lets it be. I try to not let my sigh of relief be too obvious.
“I looked into you, you know that?” Dillard says, watching me.
“I never understood why you didn’t push Georgia to make things official.
You've been living with him off the record for four years now. I bet CPS would love to know that. When all this is done? I think I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping, and you'll never see the brat again.
You'd fucking deserve it for all the trouble you've given me.”
Fear shoots through me like a bolt of lightning. Short of Logan being hurt, Dillard’s zeroed in on the most terrifying thing I can imagine. And if he gets away with this, he can do it.
“You know, it's funny,” he continues. “I think Georgia was actually trying to do the right thing for once. I know I bitched about the kid, but he’s the perfect little weak point. Every time she started looking like she wanted out, all I had to do was imply that something might happen to him.” He sighs.
“I suppose watching me shoot a guy finally pushed her too far.”
“She loved Logan.”
Dillard shrugs. “As much as she could love anything, I suppose.”
“Did you… did you kill her?” It goes against everything in me to have this conversation in front of Logan, but this might be my only chance to find out.
He smirks in a way that is pure evil. “She thought she could run away from me. That she could expose me. That was her mistake. My mistake was that I thought she’d fold like usual.
But then the little bitch made a run for it.
I think the littlest inkling of maternal instinct kicked in, since she went straight for the preschool to take him with her.
He wasn’t in the car by the time I caught up though, where’d she kick him out? ”
“Where he’d be safe,” I spit out. “With the Outlaw Sons.”
“Bitch never got over that loser who knocked her up. But now she’s the same place he is, and I’m still here, baby.
In the end I didn’t have to do anything, really.
A little tap on the bumper and she did the work for me.
But I had to check, right? See if she could still squeal.
I wondered if I’d feel anything, but I didn’t.
” He shakes his head. “Shame, she had great tits.”
It's probably good that he gets a phone call, because my self-control is slipping fast. He's a phone pacer, walking while he talks. Doesn't look like he's getting good news either, but when he paces it means he sometimes has his back to us.
I angle my face so I can try to hide when I whisper to Lo. “Do you know how to call the motorcycle men?”
He’s stuck to my side, his little body shivering occasionally while Dillard was talking.
I don’t know how much he understands, but I know it’s enough to be scary.
His head bobs in a quick nod. Just as Dillard turns to pace back our way, I give Logan a hug, trying to give the impression that I'm just comforting him.
And trying to tell myself that this isn't going to be our last hug.
Dillard paces the other way again.
“Honey, do you remember the motorcycle game?
Where you had to watch and do things at the right time?
The next time that man turns away, I need you to run away as fast as you can and hide, okay?
And then when you need to call the motorcycle men on your phone.
Tell them we're near Auntie Georgia's house, okay?” I want to give more detailed directions, but there's no way Logan is going to be able to pass all of those on.
“Scared,” he whispers, pressing his face into my chest to hide.
“That’s okay. You can be scared and brave at the same time. Like when you started pre-school and you didn’t know anybody.”
He nods. Little he might be, but he understands that if anyone can save us, it's his motorcycle men, because they can do anything. I just hope he's right. God, I hate risking him, but not trying might be the bigger risk in the end.
“Ready?” I whisper right before I expect Dillard to turn.
A tiny nod.
I watch Dillard through the corner of my eye. And then it's his chance. “I love you. Go!”
Logan zips down the hallway, carrying his helmet like it really is a football. For a little guy, he's definitely gotten faster, and while I can hear his footsteps, Dillard isn’t paying attention. Things sound like they're going bad for him. Good.
I stay huddled in hopes that he doesn't notice that I'm not hugging anyone anymore when he walks back. It works for one cycle, but then he hangs up. His dark eyes scan the room quickly. “Where the fuck is the brat?”
“He just needed to run his legs a little. They were hurting.”
“Fucking… Whatever, he can’t even get the door open.
I'll find him later. Not luring me away like that.
If there's anyone here I don't trust it's you.” He gestures with his gun, and for a moment I'm terrified that he's going to use it.
“If I see you fucking move, there's not going to be enough left of you to bury.”
I don't know if I should be relieved or wetting myself in terror.