12. Melody
MELODY
Riding with Mad Dog and the others isn’t anything like it was with Red.
With Red, I didn’t know him. It was awkward the whole way, with him annoyed at the drive, and me trying to pretend sitting behind him wasn’t intimate at all.
The only good part was not having to come up with anything to talk about.
Riding with someone I like is very different.
I can wrap my arms around his chest, lean into him, and actually enjoy the experience.
When we reach the freeway and he really opens the throttle, it feels like flying.
I rest my cheek against his leather jacket and watch the landscape rush by.
First the city, then miles and miles of farmland, with the red hills in the distance.
Rebel is to our right, and Riptide is ahead.
The three of them are totally in sync, even though I haven’t seen any signs of them communicating aside from the occasional hand movement or flick of fingers.
I’m glad Emily loaned me a jacket and a helmet. My scalp wound is a little sore, but it’s not right on top of my head, so the helmet isn’t putting too much pressure right on it. I can’t believe I just met them yesterday. It feels like we’ve been through so much already.
Letting myself read way too much into their attention is stupid, I know.
I’ve seen how casual they are about sex.
They think I’m fun for now, but in the long run, I’m just me.
When I see how Emily and her men live, it looks amazing, but I also saw what it cost Mom to stick with Dad.
Raising me on her own, with a man who showed up for a week and then vanished.
She must’ve thought it was worth it, but was it?
Mad Dog lifts a hand from his handlebars and covers mine with it. I didn’t notice how cold my fingers had gotten until I feel the heat from his palm. I give him a little hug in thanks. I wonder if he notices.
As we get closer to home, I start to regret suggesting this.
It feels like crossing two streams that were never meant to meet.
People turn to look when we roll through the center of town.
I keep my eyes down and my face buried in Mad Dog’s back.
Hopefully nobody recognizes me. Everything looks smaller and shabbier than normal.
I have a perfectly normal life. In a normal ranch house on a normal road, with a normal job in a normal diner.
A couple days ago I would’ve said I was content. Not happy maybe, but close enough.
After twenty-four hours with Rebel, Mad Dog and Riptide, the thought of sliding back into my normal life feels like putting on clothes one size too small.
It’s not hard to find my place. An endless road out of town with a number instead of a name.
Every so often a house stands alone on a patch of dry earth.
The lots are actually pretty big. We have five acres, but it’s five acres of dust, weeds and a few scraggly trees.
I point when we’re getting close. Mom had our driveway paved when I was in high school. A serious upgrade.
My car is still in the carport, but Dad’s bike is nowhere to be seen.
A small knot of worry untangles itself in my chest. That he might be at the house didn’t occur to me until after we were already on the road.
He stops by sometimes. More so since Mom passed.
Riptide pulls in first, and then Mad Dog with me on the back, and Rebel bringing up the rear.
After I slip off the back of the bike, Mad Dog swings his long leg over it and gets behind me, putting a reassuring hand at the small of my back. “You live alone out here?”
Rebel looks equally surprised. “Pretty fucking remote for a single woman.”
“I guess?” I look around, trying to see it through their eyes. “It’s not like I’m one of the off-gridders. I’ve got water, electric, and everything.”
I empty the mailbox and lead them up the rock lined path to the front door.
The house is so quiet compared to the Screaming Eagles compound.
I can see why they might think it’s the middle of nowhere.
Once inside, I toss the mail on the counter that divides the living room from the kitchen.
“Make yourselves at home. I’m going to go throw together a—”
I pause.
“Something wrong?” Mad Dog asks.
It takes me a moment to realize what’s off. I can hear the creak of the neighbor’s rusty old windmill. Outside that wouldn’t be unusual, but inside the windows should muffle the noise. I know for a fact I didn’t leave a window open.
There’s no way they know what I’m thinking, but the three of them are instantly alert.
Rebel points at Mad Dog and then toward the hall that leads to the bedrooms and bathroom.
He points to Riptide, and then to the front door, making a sort of ‘go around’ motion.
Then he pushes me into the kitchen and points to the ground.
Maybe a couple days ago I would’ve pushed back against being ordered around, but I’m stubborn, not dumb. I crouch down behind the counter.
There’s a crash in the bedroom, and a male grunt that I’m pretty sure is from Mad Dog.
Who’s in my house? I wince at the sound of breaking glass and a sharp thud that doesn’t spell good things for the state of my walls.
I peek around the corner in time to see a man come flying from the hall.
He crashes down in the living room, and Rebel’s on him in a second, flipping him to his stomach and shoving a knee to the back of the guy’s neck before pulling one of his arms painfully around to his back.
Mad Dog stalks out of the hall, blood on the side of his face but looking more angry than hurt. “You know this asshole, baby?”
I inch forward. The guy’s face is smooshed against my carpet, so it’s hard to tell. “Is he one of the men in Emily’s photo?”
“Excellent question. Got any rope?” Rebel asks.
“Um…” Inside the kitchen junk drawer, I find the roll of butcher’s twine that was probably used once and has been in there for as long as I can remember. “Will this work?”
“Close enough.” Mad Dog holds up his hand and catches it when I throw.
“Asshole! Get the fuck off me!” the guy on the floor snarls as they tie his hands behind his back, wrapping the twine around and around until there’s no way he’s getting loose.
Outside, a gun goes off, the loud crack scaring up a flock of birds out front.
All of us freeze, even the one being tied up like a Christmas ham.
Mad Dog stands and draws a gun from inside his jacket as he moves toward the front door.
Just before he puts his hand on the doorknob, there’s a knock from the other side.
Three in a row, and then three more. Mad Dog and Rebel visibly relax.
Mad Dog opens the door and Riptide comes in. “Run into trouble out there?”
“Handled it. But we’ll need a little clean-up help later.” Riptide looks down at the man on the floor. He nudges the man’s jacket with his boot. “More Devil’s Brigade. What a funny coincidence.”
Handled it? Clean-up?
“Guys, what’s going on?”
Rebel pulls out his knife and waves the tip lazily in front of his captive’s eye. “The lady asked a very good question. Care to explain what you’re doing in her house?”
“Fuck you!”
“No thanks.” Rebel pushes the guy’s face into the carpet, and drives the knife into the floor, right in front of the guy’s nose.
The sound the bound man makes is more animal than human.
“Let me ask you again. Why. Are. You. Here?”
Angry dark eyes glare at me from the floor. “You happy now, bitch? First they killed Red, now Turk’s probably dead. Your daddy must be so fucking proud.”
Ice floods my veins. “Someone killed Red? When?” I might not have liked him, but I didn’t want him dead.
“At the fucking rally. When do you think?” He sneers. “Was it before or after you spread for the fucking Eagles?”
The accusation hits me like a slap. “I…”
“Something you want to say, Melody?” Rebel asks, his voice deceptively calm.
The guy on the floor lets out an ugly, wet, laugh. “Trouble in paradise?”
Mad Dog kicks him in the side. “Shut the fuck up. I’m sick of hearing you whine.”
Rebel pulls the knife out of the carpet and cuts a long slice off the bottom of the guy’s own shirt before balling it up and shoving it in his mouth. He uses more of the butcher’s twine, wrapping it a couple times around his head before tying it off in a bow right over his mouth.
Riptide closes the distance between us and looks down with those stormy blue eyes. “I think maybe we need to have another talk.”
I knew it couldn’t last, but a stupid part of me had hoped that I could give them enough to help, while still staying loyal to my father, but now I’m caught out in being more than I seemed, and not in a good way.
Rebel’s expression is locked down, giving nothing away. Mad Dog looks angry, and unless I’m wrong, hurt. I’ve only known them for two days, but it feels much longer. Like I owe them more.
“I know, and I will, but in front of him, okay?” I’m not sure I could bear it if I had to confess everything in front of the guy taking so much glee in my downfall.
They give me time to pack a few things, and I spend the whole ride back behind Rebel, trying to remember every bit of it because it might be my last.