Chapter 17
Harper
Within the span of ten minutes, there were motorcycles rumbling down the road. I peeked out into the backyard from the guest bedroom as people clad in Black Angels leather cuts were casing the house. Some were in the backyard, walking around where Cade and I had experienced one another. Had he told them about us? Was that why they were looking around?
Some of them were searching the front yard while others were driving around the block. I was shaking with fear as they came in and out of the house. Some came upstairs and took a look around in my room. Some were climbing the outside of the house, trying to figure out the angle of trajectory to figure out where the brick was thrown from. I had my bedroom door closed so I wouldn’t have to see any of them. Every time one of them looked up and caught me in the window it frightened me even more.
They searched and cased and patrolled for two hours, but came up empty-handed. My mother was a fucking wreck, and my father was secretly seething. He wanted to sleep. My father was a damn diva when it came to his sleep. He was probably cursing himself for even hiring them. They were keeping him up, and I knew all of us would pay for it in the morning.
“Ryan, please just call the police.”
“No, Patrice. The police are just going to go to the media.”
“No, they won’t. That’s not what they do,” my mother said.
“I’m not taking the chance. We’re too close, Patrice. Too close to the election to blow it over some shit like this.”
“That ‘shit’ is a threat to our daughter, Ryan.”
“She wouldn’t be a threat if she was pregnant, Patrice.”
“It is not her fault,” my mother said. “Not by a long shot. Now you call the police or I’ll-”
“What?” my father asked. “I would like to hear what you would do if I didn’t call the police. Having this leak in the media is what they want. Whoever this is, they want to ruin my campaign. But they’re not going to. I’m going to win this. If anything, to shove it in their face.”
“Funny. I thought your campaign was supposed to be family-oriented,” my mother said.
I heard a loud crack before my mother started to cry. I sat on the edge of my bed, listening to their conversation as I pulled the covers up over my face. My father was losing control. He was spiraling in his anger. Neither of them cared that they were standing outside my damn door, but I was shocked as to what I just heard. Maybe they forgot I was in here or maybe my father really didn’t care that much.
Either way, it showed me exactly how much of a shit my father gave about me. And it was only a matter of time before he treated my son with the same amount of disregard. My heart hurt listening to them talk about me, but my heart was riddled with fear when I heard him hit my mother. My father had been many things, but I’d never once seen or heard him hit anyone.
Until now.
I hunkered down into the covers and pulled them over my head. I heard motorcycles riding off into the distance, leaving me here with the likes of a man who was on a rampage. I tried to blink my tears away as I sniffled, trying my best to keep myself grounded. Everything I experienced my child would experience as well, and I wanted to be strong for them.
For him.
The house quieted down, and soon my parent’s snores were filling the house. I could hear someone walking around downstairs, and it comforted me to know Cade was there. I thought about how he would perch himself outside my door. Or maybe he would come in and sit in the chair across from me. Maybe he would take another chance and slip underneath the covers and hold me close to him.
I was able to close my eyes and slip off to sleep, blocking out the thunderous crack that kept echoing off the corners of my mind. I dreamt of Cade and how we would ride off into the sunset. How we would stuff my things into the cargo container of his motorcycle so he could whisk me away from this place. I thought about his body. How good it felt to be against his warmth again. I thought about how his hands gripped tightly onto me and how those same hands cupped my stomach with a gentle, protective nature.
But I was startled awake again by a sound I couldn’t quite describe. A sliding sound, like wood on wood. My eyes fluttered open as my heart began to slam against my chest, my hands gripped the covers tightly to my body.
“Cade?” I asked.
“Who’s Cade?”
The rough voice hit my ears before an arm clamped around my neck. I struggled against the grasp as they choked my windpipe. I tried to cry out for help as my legs kicked the bed, trying to make any sound I could to signal that I was in trouble.
That, someone, had me.
That they were going to kill me.
“Night night,” the voice said.
Then, a cloth came down around my face.