Between my club and King’s, finding the location of the call and the coordinates of said location and tracking down the park and a brief summary report of the few campers and RVers that were occupants of said report didn’t take long.
None of it did.
What the struggling feat was, however, was explaining where the hell Roxy was at the time Ben called. That was… Whew, that shit was hard. When Ben’s second call came in, I scrambled. I don't think I’ve ever scrambled so quick in all of my life.
I already had Clutch and the Butcher pretty much stationed up in the office or the church area of the building at all times. Thankfully, it took Ben less than twelve hours to call, so the three of us hadn’t killed each other yet. However, unfortunately, I’d gotten no better at bringing Rox back to life, and I hadn’t dug her up or attempted the shit. And I highly doubted using another bitch to pretend to be Rox on the phone would actually work—Ben knows Rox as well as I do. I’d know it wasn’t Roxy Bell. So would he.
I don’t want my first mistake to be my last, so I’m not going to assume Ben thinks or knows any less than I do. As far as I’m concerned he’s privy to what I know, what my club knows. It’s a trick I learned from my pops a long fucking time ago. Way before I lost my memory.
“Dreads said King wanted us to wait! I say we wait. Shit, we’ve been collecting their bikes, bro. Not them!” Slim growls as the four of us walk our bikes up to the old, rusty RV.
I throw my fist in the air, motioning for them to stop, but mainly for Slim to shut the fuck up. Then I gesture my hand across my neck and lock eyes with Slim, mouthing, “Shut the fuck up.”
Once I point to the RV and circle my pointer finger in the air, the brothers follow suit. Well, all of them except Dreads. He stops and whispers in my ear.
“Slim’s right, bro. Seventeen is better than seven. Any damn way you cut that pie. Now, I’m not saying he’s got ten motherfuckers slammed in there with our Vagabond, but—”
I cut my eyes to his and narrow them. I continue motioning my hand, though with a bit more muscle behind it, and snap before pointing to the front door. I don’t say anything else. I don’t need to.
These motherfuckers know what time it is. We don’t need backup; what we need is no more time wasted. We have what the fuck we need. Right now. The damn element of surprise! I hold my fist in the air and count in my head to three. Then I hold up five fingers. Dropping them one by one. Five. Four. Three. Two.
I don’t recall what happened at one. I couldn’t fucking tell you. Because when I saw Eve’s dark head on the floor beside the wall, something inside me snapped.
As soon as my fist goes through the window, they all follow suit and barge into the small space too. I wrap my bleeding arms around my Vagabond’s waist before I yell out over my shoulder at Dreads.
“Goddammit, check her for a pulse! Someone check her for a pulse—Dreads, where’s Ben?!”
My shaking hands keep missing the wisps of hair as my fingers try to brush it away from her face. Finally, my hands just say fuck it, because instead, they cup her cheeks. Then I pick her head up off the ground before cradling it in my lap. Tears flood my vision, making it hard to see. Tears I can’t fucking explain.
“Fuck it. Call the cops,” I tell whoever will listen as I try to asses if Eve is breathing in between smudging her paler-than-normal complexion with the blood running in rivulets down my forearms and from my hands.
“No sign of Ben. That must’ve been him in the stolen Lincoln. Just like King said. Phil said he’s still at the store, and there’s no sign of anyone else. Not besides Pipsqueak here.” Dreads walks around to where I’m still cradling her in my bleeding arms. “She breathing?” he asks. “Holy— Fuck! She’s bleeding?!”
But I wave him off. “No. It isn’t hers, man. It’s mine. It’s not hers.” I keep scanning over her from head to toe. “She’s breathing. She’s just unconscious,” I mutter, realizing the facts when her eyes move behind her eyelids. “That or she’s faking, which I highly doubt.”
She’s not nearly as banged up as she could be, but still. The fact that Ben isn’t here and I can’t make him pay for the shit my woman’s been through is probably gonna be the reason I hesitate when we have to leave here in about five to ten minutes.
“Shit, Vagabond. What the hell’d he do to you, baby?” I keep brushing her hair from her face as the other brothers come to settle in the room once they’ve done their sweeps.
When “King” walks in, I realize I may have fucked up when I busted in here without waiting on him. And that sucks; it really does. But I don’t have the time or the patience to fucking explain myself.
As soon as the older Cajun man walks into the RV as though he’s gracing us with his presence, which irks the living hell out of me, I come up off the floor with my defenses raised. And with Eve Of’May O’Malley in tow, limp in my arms. “Look, bro—I know you wanted us to wait. I know we both agreed we’d wait until everyone was into position. But I saw her, and I—”
Bam.
The next thing I know, I’m seeing stars as King O’Malley’s fist retreats before clenching mid-cock back and preparing to clock me again. I hit my damn knees. Thankfully, Dreads and Phil step in, both yelling in unison.
“Whoa! Whoa!”
“Come on, Pops. You didn’t expect any less of him, did ya? I been telling y’all. Haven’t I been telling them, Philip? I been telling them,” Dreads says in a serious tone.
However, the rest of the brothers catch his awkward banter and nervously chuckle, probably to try to ease the tension.
I sniff some of the blood away then bring my forearm to my nose. “Jesus, motherfucker. You could have broken my nose! I was trying to apologize! Shit—”
“No.” The man twice my age crowds my space. “No. You were young-gunning it. Flying by the seat of your pants. You weren’t fucking thinking! And, if you’re gonna be anywhere around my daughter, you’re gonna be thinking, yeah? She’s been through enough!”
I grit my teeth and glare at him. Then I skip my gaze from Dreads to Phil to Slim. Then it lands back on the angry man’s in front of me.
“I apologize. Okay? I just saw her and reacted. It was fucking knee-jerk,” I mutter then motion towards Eve. “Can we do something besides discuss this right now? I could hardly tell if she was breathing when I first came in…” My words trail off as I stand, and once I’m at my full height, I scoop Eve the rest of the way up until I’m holding her with one arm behind her back and the other under her knees.
I motion towards the door he just came through then look at Dreads, expecting him to open it. When he does, I say, “Now, shall we? I’d like to get her out of here before my psychotic-ass cousin returns. Dreads, you and some of the guys stay behind. But fall back. Don’t let him see any of you. I wanna catch this motherfucker. Tonight.”
Once the majority of the oversized men have moved from the confines of the small space, “King” interrupts before the other brothers are able to get too loud. “I want her at a hospital, Jacques. I want my daughter receiving the medical attention she needs. Now. If you have a problem with that, put her in Phil’s Silverado. If not, then she and the child she’s carrying—your child—may ride with you in your Tahoe.”
I stop when I’m close enough to my bike and look over at him. Then, after blinking at him for a few seconds, I debate on setting little miss sleeping beauty on top of it. But, for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the hell this old man’s talking about.
“I brought my bike, not the Tahoe. It’s not here.” I shrug, quickly cut my eyes to Philip with a what-the-fuck look on my face, and then raise my eyebrows before glancing back at “King” with a smirk.
“My uncle Renee had one of our prospects drive your truck up here from your club. Figured this,” Philip says, motioning at me as I carry Eve, “would pose as an issue with his definition of careful where Miss Eve is concerned. Unless...you’re fine with her riding with Beau and me?”
“Fuck no!” I shout as the inkling of a headache starts circling the edges of my consciousness. And fuck no, I didn’t bring my damn yellow pills. “She’s not going anywhere with anyone besides me.”
Phil jerks his head in my peripheral, and after I follow his line of vision, I catch sight of my white truck a few yards down the dirt road from where I rolled my bike. We pulled up under the low hanging trees behind the cabin “King” rented out an hour ago tops. I nod at the men standing around then make my way towards my truck.
I glance over my shoulder, shouting and suddenly pissed as hell at everyone around me. “I dunno why you made your prospect bring my truck, ‘King’, but it was a good call! However, she’s not going to no fucking hospital. She’s going to see the Butcher. The man’s a certified baby catcher by day. What he does on nights and weekends when he’s not on call is no one’s business. And the cops aren’t asking any questions about the missing gunshot victims. That’s for damn sure. If Butch says she needs to go, then we’ll go—I’ll take her. But, with all due respect, I know this town, Renee. And I know how to get your daughter the help she needs and the quickest way for her to get it.”
A prospect wearing “King’s” colors via a blue-and-black cut is standing closest to my white, jacked-up Chevy Tahoe, the keys in his left hand. As I step towards him, he holds them out.
“Here ya go, man. She’s got plenty of gas. ‘King’ had me check.”
After nodding, I swipe the keys from him and hit the button on the key fob. Once I have my little Vagabond gently laid out across the back seat of my Tahoe, I glance over to where ‘King’ is still standing. I shrug again when he doesn’t respond.
“Butch is good for you, then, right? I gotta head back here after I drop her off at the compound.” I lightly close the door at Eve’s feet and walk around the driver’s side.
Philip steps forward in front of “King” like he wants to say something.
And between him, the headache that’s now slicing through any more important gray matter I already didn’t have, my quickly swelling closed eyes, and my bloody nose, I’m surprised when my only subtle response is to rest my hand on the Kimber 1911 my pops gave me when I turned eighteen and patched into SOS. With one hand on my pistol, which is holstered under my cut, I slide my other inside the driver’s open window and roll down the window above Eve’s head under the passenger’s seat. Maintaining eye contact with Renee “King” O’Malley the entire time, I slowly make my way around the car, and when I’m at Pipsqueak’s open window, I shrug my cut off and wad it up. After raising my eyebrows even farther, I jerk my chin towards him.
“So? What’s the call? I’m not gonna fucking overstep your orders again, old man. She’s your daughter. I can’t really afford to fuck up this alliance, and we both know it.”
I tuck my cut under Vagabond’s head from outside the window, and once she appears somewhat comfortable, at least by my standards, I lock eyes with her father. And wait on him to make his call.
“King, she needs to be assessed, man, either way. And soon. Make up your mind.”
After being stuck in a staring contest with the man for more than a minute, I end up sighing in defeat before looking up at the pitch-black sky, the waiting having caused exhaustion to set in. I squint when the leaves in the trees move and something—a memory? It’s something I’ve been chasing around my scrambled head since I woke up and remembered the quiet prayer I kept hearing being whispered in my unconsciousness while I was lying in a coma. It’s something real—and I don’t know if it’s the oak trees and their low-hanging branches or the stillness of the dark, moonless night sky peeking around the edges of it, but something profound happens, and it’s so profound the memory of it ricochets through me.
Vagabond in the trees when we were kids. Yeah, of course. I already vaguely recalled that. I just couldn’t remember the importance of it. I didn't understand the moment’s significance. But, now, Vagabond—or the memory of her...the tree that makes no sound—suddenly makes all the fucking noise and sense in the world.
I look down at Eve only to squeeze my eyes shut and look back up into the trees. But I don’t see the trees when I open my eyes. Rather, I see different trees. Trees that have little girls up in their branches, whispering a child’s bedtime prayer to me, as darkness creeps in. While I’m pinned between my favorite bike and that same damn tree. Then men stepping from around the trees, then slinking back into their shadows...
King moves forward and it draws my attention to him before I glance back down at Eve and lean my forearms and my head against the roof of the truck. I’m almost on bended knees when Slim runs up and shuffles a pill bottle from his pocket.
“Butch said one of us should carry a few as backup. We don’t need any seizures happening. We came too close last time. Here, bro. Take two.”
My sweaty palm slaps his before scooping the pills from his hand. I don’t ask for water, nor do I look around for any—I just toss them both in my mouth and chomp them to bitter bits before running my tongue along the roof of my mouth and swallowing.
“I want you to drive five under the speed limit the entire way back to the compound. I’ll have Philip call HQ and let them know we need them to round up Butch if he’s not still at the club. I want you to keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel while you’re driving her.” He tightens his tie and adjusts his cuffs, and when he looks into the car at Vagabond, a hint of a smile lightens his hardened features. “My cher bebe has been through so much, as I’ve already mentioned. And, when I think of all the times I wanted and prayed for a child, especially after my maman passed… And, now, I have one, finally. She’s precious, that child. You understand me, son, yeah?”
After snatching a couple of old T-shirts from the very back of the truck, I wrap them around my forearms in hopes it will help stop the bleeding. Or at least slow it. Then I nod towards “King.” “Yes, sir. Will do. I understand.” I tie the last T-shirt around my bicep, and after it’s good and tight thanks to my pearly whites, I round the driver’s side again and slide behind the wheel.
“King’s” men’s bike engines roaring to life split the quiet night, and they’re revving in unison when Dreads comes up to the truck and pats the hood. I roll my window down, jerking my chin towards him.
“Hey, man. Like I said, keep them back. If he returns before I do, just fucking hogtie his ass. I’ll be back when I fucking get here. I need to make sure this one’s okay.” I glance over my shoulder at Eve, and my heart suddenly feels tight as fuck. I’m forced to cough to clear my throat when I look back at Dreads just to get the words out. “You, ahh...know anything about paternity tests and shit?” I chuckle around the awkwardness, but Dreads immediately calls me out.
He leans his forearms against my car window and jerks his head. “Nope. Don’t need to. Neither do you. You know as well I as I do—”
“I know. I fucking know.” I glare ahead, watching as the members of DDDs slowly file out onto the main path from the park. “I’ll be back. Hour—hour and a half tops. Keep our boy on ice. Don’t fuck him up too bad though. I wanna be here for that.” I point my index finger forward. “Text me as soon as he returns, yeah?”
After Dreads slaps me on the back, he nods. “You got it, brother. Drive safe, or ‘King’ is gonna fucking kill you.” He chuckles.
I release my foot off the brake. “No fucking shit, man. Right?” I chuckle before rolling the window up and toeing the gas.