13. Rebel
REBEL
PUT HER IN THE PIT.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, and more fuck.
The steps down from Eagle-eye’s meeting room feel much longer than usual. I understand why he made the call he did, but that doesn’t mean I like it.
It was a long, hard ride back from Melody’s house. Riptide stayed behind with the hostage. He’s waiting for Outlaw so they can finish the interrogation and deal with the body of the guy he found sneaking around the back.
How did things go to hell so fucking fast?
Melody sits at the table in the common room, flanked by Mad Dog and Preacher. She looks fucking miserable, just staring down at her hands while she waits to hear what we’re going to do with her.
Obviously she didn’t pull the trigger. The three of us can give her an ironclad alibi on that front, but it’s also really fucking clear she’s been holding back information.
She knew who Red was, and we all heard that fucker talk about her daddy.
She didn’t look confused when he said it. She looked guilty.
Shit, even now I wanna give her the benefit of the doubt.
My gut says she isn’t really a danger, but I don’t fucking know, and that pisses me off.
Even if she isn’t the enemy, it doesn’t mean she isn’t being used against us.
Eagle-eye made it perfectly clear that no matter what our personal feelings are, we gotta put the club first.
“What’s the call?” Mad Dog asks, his voice unusually flat.
“It’s real fucking late. She’s spending the night in the Pit. We’ll bring her in and do a new interview in the morning.”
His eyebrows go up in surprise, but he holds off on saying anything.
“The Pit?” Melody looks at me in horror. Her eyes are like two shadowed saucers. “Are there spikes, or snakes, or…? It sounds like you’re putting me in a dungeon!”
“We are, in a way,” Preacher says. “You’ve had access to our vice president’s house and his woman, free run of the clubhouse, and a lot of time with three of our members. True?”
She stares at him, stricken. “I… Yes, I guess so, but—”
“Your actions have consequences. I have a family inside these walls, as do a lot of the other brothers. You put them at risk. For your sake I hope this gets cleared up quickly, but in the meantime, we’re not going to hold your hand and fluff your fucking pillow.”
I can see the words hitting her. “Easy, Preacher.”
His gaze is steady and clear. “Am I wrong?”
“No.” Capturing her upper arm in my grip, I guide her out of her chair. She reaches for her bag. “Leave it. This way.”
“Wait, why are you doing this? My phone is in there, and all my… stuff.”
“You won’t need it.”
“You know what? Fine. I’m not saying anything.” She tries to pull her arm out of my grip but she’d need to be a lot fucking bigger and stronger to do that. “If you don’t think you can trust me, then why should I tell you anything? You won’t believe it anyway. And how do I know I can trust you?”
“Enough. If getting pissed makes this easier for you, then be my fucking guest, but for tonight, this is the situation. Be glad you’re a woman and we know you didn’t fire the gun. Things could be a lot worse.” I fucking hate everything about this.
Me and Mad Dog escort her past the first row of houses, around the back, past the shooting range, until we get to the squat concrete building that’s the Pit.
Not a pleasant place, but it’s not quite as bad as it sounds.
Not much worse than overnighting in a jail cell.
We would’ve found somewhere else if there was anyone else in there, so it’s more to let her know to take this seriously than any sort of torture.
It’s clean, dry, and we won’t leave her alone.
She looks at Mad Dog. “You’re just going along with this?”
He sighs. “Sorry, baby. I won’t bullshit you. This is kind of fucked, but so is this whole situation. Until we unfuck it, we’re doing this by the book. Believe it or not, it’s better for you in the long run. If we go too easy on you, people won’t trust our judgment.”
Pulling open the steel door, I nudge her inside. First cell on the right is as good as any other. “In.”
“I can’t believe you’re—”
“In, I said.”
She obeys, but if glares could kill, I’d be a smoking wet spot on the floor.
“I’ll take first watch,” I tell Mad Dog. “Go get some sleep. I have a feeling we’ll need it.”
There’s a cabinet with bedding for the cells and some basic necessities. Not everyone gets the luxury, but we’re not complete fucking animals. The whole experience will be uncomfortable enough. A pillow and a blanket won’t turn this into a five-star hotel. I pass them through the bars to her.
Her eyes shoot lightning, but she takes them. “I swear I don’t know much more than I already said.”
“Save it.” I grab one of the folding chairs we’ve got leaning up against the back wall, flip it out and twirl it around so I can straddle it and rest my forearms on the back.
“Do you have a nightgown or something in there?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Her shoulders slump. She’s clearly trying to hang onto her anger to keep going, but it won’t last forever. “Then at least turn around. I’m not sleeping in my bra.”
“Honey, I had my hands on your tits while I fucked your thighs this morning. You think I’m gonna lose my mind by watching you do that bendy girl magic shit under your shirt?”
Melody’s cheeks flush pink. “It’s the principle! This morning I didn’t hate you.”
“Do you hate me now?”
She stares at me for a minute in silence. Fine. I turn my head. A moment later, I hear her clothes rustling.
“I don’t,” she says quietly. “I just wish I did. You can look now.”
I look back to find her wrapped up in the blanket I gave her, sitting cross-legged on the cot in her cell. She looks smaller and so fucking young. “Are you hungry?”
She shrugs. “Thirsty.”
I grab a couple water bottles and some protein bars from the cabinet. “Here.” I toss them through the bars and onto her cot.
Melody picks up one of the bottles and holds it, rolling it back and forth between her hands like a fidget toy. “Rebel? I want you to know that even if we can’t be… whatever it was we were maybe becoming, meeting you guys, and the stuff we did together? I didn’t lie about any of that.”
I’ve known her for two days. Why does it feel like a break-up? And why do I fucking hate that so much?
“Good to know. You would make a good honeypot.”
Her grin actually looks real. “You think?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Absolutely.”
She takes a sip of water, and her fingers pick at the label. “How did you end up here? With the Screaming Eagles.”
“Am I the one being interrogated?”
She pulls her blanket tighter around her and pulls her legs into it so she’s curled up on the cot. “Maybe you should be, for locking me up like this.”
I can’t help but fucking laugh. For everything she’s been through, she’s got a spine made of steel. “There isn’t much to tell, honestly. Not like some of the brothers. I was born into it.”
“Really?” Melody sits up straighter.
“Yeah. Not the Eagles. I’m originally from out East. My father’s in the Blue Shadows. We aren’t close. He’s kind of a dickhead, actually, but I grew up in the life.”
“So the dickhead thing, it’s genetic.”
I let out a snort. “Fucking brat. You’re not wrong, though.”
“Why didn’t you join your dad’s club? Is there a rule about that or something?”
“Nah, I could’ve. Being a legacy member like that, there’s a certain amount of prestige that comes with it, but only if you give a shit what those people think. I had no interest in standing in his fucked-up shadow for the rest of my life.”
“I’m almost surprised you didn’t become an accountant or something, just out of spite.”
“Shit, that would’ve been a choice, wouldn’t it?
Nah, it wasn’t the life I hated, it was my father.
He had no ambition in the club, treated my mother like shit, and thought the abso-fucking-lute peak of fatherhood was buying me a six-pack and a thirty-two-year-old hooker for my fourteenth birthday. ”
Melody chokes on her water. “Wh-what?” The look on her face is priceless.
“Don’t worry. We took one look at each other and ended up playing cards until the beer finally got to me and I passed out. You know, thinking back, Amber did give me some decent advice that night.”
Logically I understand why Melody’s horrified, but when you have a fucked-up childhood, it’s funny what becomes almost a fond memory. It didn’t take that much longer before I started figuring out what to do with my dick, but I did it on my own with girls my own fucking age.
“That’s messed up.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need your pity or anything. I did my share of fucking up. I left when I was seventeen and they were starting to talk about swearing me in for real. I got the fuck out of Dodge, traveled for a bit, and eventually ended up here.”
“Emily and her family… It’s not usually like that, is it?” She gives me a sidelong glance. “They seem so nice.”
Why am I telling her this shit? Has she really gotten under my skin enough that I want to connect even though I just tossed her in a cell? Am I trying to prove that I’m a decent human being? Or maybe to explain why I’m not.
“Eagle-eye gives more of a shit about us than a lot of presidents. It attracts the right kind of people. He respects his daughter and his old lady, and it shows. We’re mostly still fuck-ups according to the outside world, but in here? We have a shot, and some of the guys take it.”
“Would you want to? Take that shot someday?” she asks quietly.
I surprise myself by actually thinking about it. “I don’t know. I always swore that if I found someone like that, I’d want to keep them as far away from this as possible.”
“I didn’t see much of my dad when I was growing up. Mom pretty much raised me on her own.” She doesn’t look at me, but she’s talking. “She died last year. She was walking back to her car in a parking lot. The driver never even stopped.” There’s a world of heartbreak in her voice.
“I’m sorry.”
‘Your daddy must be so fucking proud.’ That’s what they taunted her with, back at the house. The only parent she has left.
He’s gotta either be in a club, or associated somehow. One more reason to keep family out of club business if you ask me. Sure it’s tempting when I see the guys making it work. I’d lay down my life to protect what they have, but isn’t it better if they never get mixed up with us in the first place?
“Melody?” I keep my voice low. She’s been quiet long enough that I’m not sure if she’s still awake and I don’t want to wake her up if she’s able to sleep.
The blankets move. “Yeah?”
“I know you have no reason to believe me right now, but we’ll get you out of this.”
She scooches to the end of the cot and rests her hand on the bars. I move my chair closer and put my fingers on top of hers. It’s not a lot, but for the moment, it’s enough.