Chapter Fifteen #3
There was the sound of doors slamming, then tires squealing as a car peeled away.
Chip moved to the window, watching, waiting, his body still tense.
I couldn’t say how many minutes passed then. Ten? Fifteen? It felt like forever.
But, finally, he turned toward me as he clicked off his flashlight and tucked his gun away. Finished with that, he flicked on the light, and his gaze fell on me.
“Fuck.”
That bad, huh, Chip? I wanted to ask.
But I knew it was bad.
As the adrenaline started to fade, all the pain was setting in. My head, face, chest, shoulder, ribs, hips, and, God, my hand.
I felt like one big bruise, throbbing all over at once, all my various injuries vying for attention.
“One second,” he said, rushing past the staircase and toward the kitchen, where I heard him rifling around before coming back with a knife and a safety pin from our junk drawer.
My feet were closest, so he went for them first, slicing through the thick plastic with the knife before half-turning me so he could use the pin to work the handcuffs free.
My arms instinctively moved in front of me, my good hand cradling the aching one as Chip grabbed the edge of the tape and ripped it off in one swift motion.
“Are you alright?”
The only sound I could manage was a whimper.
“You don’t look good,” he admitted with a nod.
“Thanks,” I grumbled. Then, realizing I was being ungrateful, I took the frustration out of my voice. “Really, thanks.”
“Heard the crash and was waiting to make sure it was something to worry about. But then it sounded like you were trying to bust through the wall.”
“I couldn’t scream. All I could do was kick.”
“You did good. It’s hard to keep your wits about you in an emergency situation. You did. This coulda gone a lot worse.”
It felt pretty bad, but I wasn’t going to complain.
“Should we be calling the police?”
“Should we?” he asked, watching me.
“What do you mean?”
“I dunno, kid. That didn’t feel random. And if that wasn’t random, neither was the shooting. And they weren’t trying to get me. What do you have yourself involved in?”
“N-nothing.”
It wasn’t a lie, not exactly.
I had been involved in a murder plot. But that was against Rune. And we’d kind of worked that out. Right? Or was this some sort of retaliation?
No.
No, that wasn’t possible. He’d been with me when the drive-by happened.
What then?
“What about that man of yours? I’ve known me a lot of bikers. Can see the one-percenters from a mile off.”
“He’s not my man.”
“He know that?”
“Yes.”
Chip exhaled hard.
“But maybe other people don’t know that.”
“You think… you think this was about Rune? That someone is after him? And trying to get to him through me?”
“I dunno what else to think. Don’t know me a lot of housekeepers who end up shot up and almost kidnapped.”
He wasn’t wrong.
I racked my brain but couldn’t think of anything else in my life that could have possibly resulted in a situation like this.
“I need to warn him.”
Chip nodded.
“Probably smart. Want me to get your phone?”
“I… I don’t have his number.”
Chip’s brows rose at that, but he said nothing for a long moment.
“You want my advice?”
“I think I need all the advice I can get.”
“I think you need to go to him if you don’t have his number. He needs to know what’s going on. And he can protect you. I got my pride, but I know that if they come back with friends, I’m not winning. Don’t want it on my conscience that they got you on my watch.”
And I couldn’t stand the thought of him being hurt or killed because of something I brought into the neighborhood.
“If I leave, what about you? You can’t be here alone.”
“I will pack a bag and head to a hotel.”
“You have to let me pay for—”
“Nope,” he cut me off.
“I will drop you off then,” I said.
Technically, Chip could drive. But Chip didn’t drive, except for on his mower.
“Can you drive with that hand?” he asked, nodding at it.
“I will make it work.”
“That guy… will he make sure you get all checked out?”
“He’ll insist on it.”
“Seemed like a good guy to me,” Chip said, nodding. “You should pack anything sensitive or valuable too.”
“Okay. Yeah,” I agreed, dragging myself off the floor.
“Ten minutes,” Chip said, back in his military mode.
“Ten minutes,” I agreed.
But I waited for him to leave before making my way back up the stairs, choking back whimpers and groans the whole way.
I grabbed my phone, tablet, laptop, and some clothes, shoved them into my weekender bag, along with my gun, then made my way downstairs.
It felt like pain was settling in more with each passing moment as I threw my purse over my shoulder, then made my way to my car after locking up.
Chip was already waiting, and unloaded my bags from me before opening my door.
We drove in tense silence to the hotel he was going to be staying at, and I sat in the car until he secured a room and gave me a wave.
Then, with one hand, I turned the car toward the highway and headed toward Navesink Bank.
I was proud of how well I held it together for the drive.
It wasn’t until I was inside the clubhouse—and Rune’s arms—that I finally broke down.