8. Melody
MELODY
“Where do you live?” I ask, watching the city go by as Emily drives away from the hospital.
She smirks. “Southside.”
I don’t know why I asked since I’ve been here all of once before for a concert and it was years ago.
“You have no idea what that means, do you?” she asks.
“Nope. I’m from just outside Lake City. I was only in town for the rally.
Honestly, I’m just really thankful you’re helping me out.
I don’t know who those guys were, and the guy who brought me to the rally ditched me.
” Well, I ditched him kinda, but he didn’t exactly come looking.
“Mom used to tell me to always take my own car places, and right now I wish I’d listened. ”
How did this become my life? Crap, I’m going to have to call in sick to work tomorrow. Hopefully Emily has a charger, or I can borrow her phone.
She glances over, glaring. “I would’ve tied you to the bed anyway if I knew you were going to try and drive home tonight. You’re what? Eighteen?”
“Almost twenty.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there at some point.
If anything, I’m just paying it forward.
I was way more trouble when I was your age.
Even younger actually.” She yawns, making me yawn too.
“God, I hate these late shifts. We’ll get home, and I’ll get you set up in the spare room.
It’s not much, but you can crash there for as long as you need to. ”
“You’re going to be sick of me saying it, but thank you.” I smile, because I can’t remember the last time someone was so nice to me.
The neighborhood feels a little sketchy, but maybe that’s just what things look like inside the city.
In the darkness, it’s hard to get a good feel for it anyway.
The clock on Emily’s dash reads two in the morning, which doesn’t sound so bad until I think about how much has happened since Red picked me up yesterday.
Actually, Mad Dog, Riptide and Rebel were really nice, too.
I suppose they had an ulterior motive, but even before anything happened, and—crap.
Before I forget, I send Rebel a quick text.
“Sorry! A lot happened, but I’m okay! This is Melody by the way.
You probably figured that out. Sorry. Thank you for everything. XOXO”
My finger hovers over Dad’s contact. Is he okay? I want to call or text, but he was very clear about waiting for him to contact me. He’d probably just tell me to look up bus routes, but at least he might know what’s going on. I lean my head back against the headrest and immediately regret it. “Ow!”
“Watch your cut! We’re almost there, and then you can lie down, I promise.” Emily’s a lot younger than my mother was, but her gentle tone reminds me of her. It’s nice.
“Okay,” I whisper.
We stop at a red light, even though the only ones out at this hour are us. Emily glances left, right and then left again, then drives straight through it. I grab my seat instinctively as I look around frantically. “Did you just—”
“No one’s going to stop us in this part of town. Besides, we’re here.” She slows down as she comes up on a gate into a walled compound. What the heck is—
I look above the wall to find the side of a gigantic warehouse. A sign on the front of it, more than a full story tall, shows a logo I only got familiar with earlier tonight. And if there was any doubt, the name is written in tall letters that wrap around the top of it.
Screaming Eagles MC.
Holy shit.
“You live here?”
“Yup. I told you I wouldn’t judge if those bikers were friends.”
On one hand, my experience with the Screaming Eagles so far has been pretty good. Great, even. Some might say mind-blowing. On the other hand, my gut instinct is screaming that Dad would be beyond furious if he found out I was here.
“Don’t worry,” Emily assures me, registering my panic. “You’ll be staying with me, and I meant it when I said this is one of the safest places you can be. Nobody will dare touch you in here.”
I can think of three exceptions to the no-touching thing, but I nod. It’s fine. I’ll probably be long gone from here before Dad gets in touch. Hopefully I can find a way home tomorrow after I’ve gotten some sleep. And maybe checked in with Riptide and the others… maybe.
Emily gives the horn a really light tap, and the gates open a moment later. A couple of beefy bikers wave us forward, then signal us to stop.
Emily runs her window down and smiles. “Scrapper. Phoenix. Extra security tonight?”
“After Lightning got shot? Fuck yeah.” The one with a short beard and a raspy voice comes over and leans against the door. “Eagle-eye called Church. The whole territory’s on lockdown.”
“Really? Hero called to tell me to come straight back, but I haven’t heard anything since. I checked on Thunder and Harper before I left. They’re exhausted, but doing a little better now that Lightning’s out of surgery.” She sighs. “God, this might get ugly.”
“It’s been about a year since the shit with Kozlov. I suppose we were due.” He looks past her at me. “Who’s your friend?”
“Scrapper, meet Melody. Melody, this is Scrapper. She had a rough time tonight and needs somewhere safe to crash. Nowhere safer than here. Especially with you boys on watch.”
The other guy, who must be Phoenix, flicks a lazy salute. He has a dark beard and a nose that looks like it was broken at one point and never set. “Doing our best. No one’s gonna bother you here. Go get your beauty rest. Not that either of you need it.”
“Flatterer. Good luck tonight.”
I feel like I just got a surprise ticket to Disneyland.
When Dad told me about his role in the Devil’s Brigade, I found out it was where he was living when he wasn’t with us, but he’s never told me much about it.
And when I asked if I could see, he basically told me to fuck off.
Maybe that should’ve been my first sign that something was up when Red brought me to the rally.
But if not Dad, then who would care if I went?
I don’t have enough brain right now to figure anything out. Maybe after I’ve had a chance to sleep.
It’s a little disappointing to get here at night when it’s hard to see, but Emily pulls around the side of the big warehouse in the courtyard. There’s an immense number of parked motorcycles that reflect our headlights as she finds a spot to put her car.
She turns the car off. “We’re here. I know you’re not here with much, but I should have plenty for you to borrow. You’re taller than me, but I can find something for you to sleep in and I’ll throw your stuff in the wash to get the blood and dirt off your clothes.”
I look down self-consciously. My shirt might be black, but it’s dirty and stained, and there are red spatters on my jeans, in addition to ground-in dirt and grass stains. And on top of all that, I’m still missing a sock. “I’m going to owe you so much by the time I leave.”
“Don’t worry about it. I mean it. Come on, let’s get inside.
The kids should be asleep, so just step quietly.
” She smiles and leads me to a row of houses that look like they could be anywhere.
There’s a dirt bike leaning against the wall, and a smaller one next to it with rainbow streamers on the handlebars.
Kids? In a biker compound? Dad made it sound like families were basically forbidden from having anything to do with the MC. Obviously, that’s not the case here. It makes me wonder if it was him that forbade it, or the club.
When we enter, not one, but two big bikers are waiting for her.
One of them has a sleeping girl draped over his shoulder.
She can’t be much more than five or six years old.
He holds her gently, slowly stroking her back.
His hair has a purple streak through it and his grin is roguish as he leans in to kiss Emily hello.
The height difference makes it a little awkward, especially with the girl on his shoulder, but they’ve obviously had a lot of practice. “Welcome home, babe.”
And then she turns straight to the other, who looks as broad and solid as a tree, and gives him the same treatment.
I blink, really not understanding what’s going on here.
I mean, okay, I kinda had sex with three bikers earlier—or at least started to—but to see it in a domestic situation like this, with a kid and what looks like mostly normal family life?
I have so many questions, and none of them seem like something I can just blurt out.
She looks at the guy with the purple streak. “Why isn’t Chloe in bed?”
He grimaces. “There’s been a lot of activity in the club tonight.
King’s staying in his quarters to deal with shit, and I think she can tell something’s going on.
When she finally fell asleep, I didn’t have the fucking heart to put her down.
She’s getting big so goddamn fast. Feels like we only got days until she’s out there getting in trouble, and I wanna hang onto her while I fucking can.
Who’s your friend?” He glances my way, obviously noticing that I look like I got into a fight with the ground and lost. I bet I’m a sight.
“This is Melody. She got hurt at the rally and needed a place to crash for the night. Melody, this is Wild Child, and—”
“Hero,” the bigger one says with a nod. “I’ll go make sure the spare room is ready. You need anything in particular?”
“What? No, I’m fine, I’m already inconveniencing you enough with showing up—”
“Bullshit. We should have some spare toothbrushes. I’ll get you one, and a towel. The bathroom’s at the end of the hall. Should be plenty of soap and shit to choose from. Be right back.”
Overwhelmed, I sit on the edge of their couch.
What the heck is happening? I feel like I fell through the looking glass.
Outside this house is a fortress in the middle of the city, and yet in here, they’re a cozy little family.
There are pictures on the wall of Emily, three different men, and two kids.
It could be a blended family that just works really well together, but that’s not the impression I’m getting.
I’m too tired to think. “Thank you so much. I think I’m going to sleep. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can, okay?”
“I told you, as long as you like.” Emily gives my arm a squeeze.
“And if there’s anything you want to talk about, we can do that tomorrow, too.
I’ll get you a nightgown, just leave your dirty clothes outside your door when you’re changed.
You can shower if you want, but don’t get your hair wet quite yet. ”
She shows me the way to a little room, just big enough for a single bed, a nightstand, and an old dresser with a mirror on top.
On autopilot, I grab the towel Hero left on the bed and hop quickly in the shower before closing myself in the bedroom and collapsing on the bed.
There’s a wireless charger on the nightstand under a lamp, so I grab my phone.
There’s a text from Rebel. “Glad to hear it. And it was our pleasure, trust me. If you’re ever in town again, look us up.”
This counts as a lot more than in town. I wonder if they’re inside the clubhouse somewhere right now.
It’s tempting to send a message, but I’ll make that decision in the morning when I’m not about to collapse.
I slip under the blankets, accidentally knocking my backpack onto the floor.
It hits with a heavy thud that doesn’t sound quite right.
“What the…” I lean over the edge of the bed, hook a finger in the carry loop, and drag it closer.
Digging through the sunscreen, water bottle and other random stuff I thought I would need, my fingers bump into something cold and hard. Like metal. What the heck?
As soon as my hand wraps around it, my stomach twists.
I pull it out and carefully put it on the bed.
A small, easily concealable gun that is definitely not mine.