Katrin stood in the backroom of the church, staring up at a stained glass window depicting the Ascension. She was praying for the first time since her mother’s illness. Nothing coherent about the prayer, just a stream of random pleas under her breath.
She was shaking.
She looked down at her floor-length white strapless gown, with its beaded bodice, lace detail, and long, swooshing train. The sort of dress she’d spent hours staring at in a catalogue when she was little. Imagining the day she’d be grown up enough, lucky enough to wear it.
Lucky.
It had been four weeks since her father had come to retrieve her from Pete’s Goods. She’d been sitting in a chair by the register, trembling with rage as Rex puttered behind the counter, whistling, his revolver in one hand. She imagined rushing him, imagined grabbing the gun and fleeing the store. Fleeing this town, jumping in her car and driving back to Ohio, back to Maddy and her memories of a happier time.
She’d known Rex probably wouldn’t shoot her. Rex had said Leonard had “plans” for her. Clearly those plans didn’t include her being shot — at least not right away — or she’d be dead already.
But she was scared. Scared of a man with a gun. Scared of what her father would do when he turned up.
Rex had seen her eyeing the door. “Don’t even think about it, girlie.”
So she’d waited, clinging to a shred of hope that this was all a mistake. That her father would show up and demand to know what Rex was doing, holding her hostage. That he’d have an explanation for the guns and the money she’d found in his room.
Like what? Holding them for a friend? I don’t trust banks? Personal protection?
There was no explanation.
It occurred to her that maybe he’d left those things in the bedroom on purpose. Hoping she’d find them.
But why?
Her father eventually showed up. Asked her if she was okay. Acted like nothing was wrong.
No. I’m not fucking okay.
Then he’d thanked Rex for keeping an eye on her. Keeping an eye on her — like he hadn’t showed her a fucking gun and told her to stay put.
The drive home had been tense. When she’d opened her mouth to speak, her father had cut her off.“It’s best not to ask any questions.”
“How can I not?”she’d demanded, too furious and scared to keep quiet.“I found your guns, I found the money. Whoare you?”
A long silence.
Leonard had turned onto their street, keeping his gaze on the road.“In a way, my dear, I suppose it’s good that you found those things. Now you’ll understand how important it is to do precisely as I say.”
Was hethreatening her?
“Dad.”Katrin’s eyes were full of tears of anger and despair.“What are you talking about? Please, whatever this is about, you can tell me.”
He’d gotten that distant look that she saw on him sometimes. That look where he didn’t even seem to recognize her.“Your life is about to change. Katrin. It’s about to change very much indeed.”
And then he’d explained what he intended her to do. She’d been so stunned she almost wanted tolaugh.
“But that’s absurd. You can’t — you can’t order me to marry somebody. This isn’t the 1800s.”
“Do as I say, darling. It’s what’s best for you. Trust me.”
Was it possible? Was it possible that he was doing all this to protect her from some greater danger? Possible that her father was actually a hero, rather than a villain, and that the truth was simply too dangerous for her to know?
“But why?”she’d asked again and again.“Why do you want me to marry him? I barely know him!”
“All you need to worry about is following my orders.”
Oh, that was a laugh. All she needed toworry about?
She’d spent the past few weeks thinking of any possible way to get out of this. She’d followed Maddy on Facebook for a few days, wondering if she could get back in touch, ask Maddy for help. But they hadn’t really spoken since she had left, and she had no idea how to explain this situation to her friend. Plus, Maddy had her own troubles: her financial aid had been revoked; she wasn’t sure she’d be able to continue with school. One of her best friends had recently been injured in a car accident. Katrin couldn’t add to her stress. She thought about confiding in Jenna, but she’d never met Jenna in person.
She could have fled on her own, but she wasn’t surehow. She’d led a sheltered life, and had no money of her own. What little she’d made at her campus jobs in Ohio had gone toward rent and food and tuition for her new nursing program. She had no savings. And besides, she didn’t know where to go, didn’t know who would take her in, keep her safe. Wherever she went, she was sure her dad would find her. He was a more resourceful man than she’d ever imagined.
And so she’d gone along with it. Hadn’t seen her husband to be since that night in the bar, but had been assured by Leonard that Pistol wasvery interested in getting to know her better. Katrin was terrified to think what that might mean.
She was interrupted by the arrival of the very sweet old lady from the church who’d been wrangling guests all afternoon. The old woman smiled gently at Katrin. “It’s time.”
Katrin nodded numbly.
“Such a pretty dress,” the old woman said, looking her over. It was the third time she’s said it today. “You’re such a beautiful girl. And the church looks so lovely, the way you’ve decorated it.”
I didn’t decorate it.
Or, she had, but under duress. Her father had sent her links, the way he’d once sent her links to funny videos online. He’d stood over her while she selected various decorations.
He’d come with her to the bridal store and watched her try on dresses, finally choosing the one he liked best on her.
This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She’d always thought if she were to get married, it would be on her terms. A small yet elegant ceremony. Guests she’d invited. Centerpieces she’d chosen, on her own. A man she loved.
Instead she was marrying some tattooed asshole who thought she was another notch for his belt.
God, she wasscared of him. He could be anyone. If her father was a criminal, if that was how he knew Pistol, then Pistol could be someone ten times worse than Leonard. Someone her father was paying to get her out of the way — marry her, then kill her and make it look like an accident.
You never let me ride a motorcycle. But you’d force me to marryhim.
She stopped herself. She’d been down this rabbit hole too many times in the past few weeks. She needed to get herself together. She had to be strong now. For herself, and for the memory of her mother.
She was eleven. Her mother had just started playing for the Cin City Crushers. She was the only woman on the team. Said the guys were mostly good about it, but gave her some crap once in a while. She’d told Katrin:“Nobody else dictates where you go in this world. The world is as much yours as anybody else’s, and if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, prove them wrong.”
Yet here Katrin was, going dumbly along with her dad’s plan. She ought to be embarrassed to call herself her mother’s daughter.
I’ll figure something out. I will. I’m not gonna be other people’s pawn forever.
She swiped her thumbs under her eyes to get rid of any smeared makeup, and followed the old lady to the door.
###
Pistol threw back another slug of whiskey. “It ain’t working.” He passed the whiskey bottle to Deion.
“Mm.” Deion took a swig. Coughed. “You just need to keep drinking.” He handed the bottle to Pistol, swiping at his burning eyes.
They were in an alley behind the church. Pistol was trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Trying to numb himself to this outlandish reality.
He stared at the bottle. “This isn’t gonna help. I mean, it’s not gonna change anything.”
“Yeah. But it’ll drown your fuckin’ sorrows if you drink enough.”
Pistol didn’t take another drink.
When the Blackened Souls had returned to the clubhouse after that night in the desert, Pistol had rounded on Kong, expecting an explanation, expecting aplan.
But Kong had simply helped Bones guide Mica to the bathroom to clean and bandage his shoulder. The wound was a graze — it bled a lot, but wasn’t serious. Bones set Mica on the toilet and cleaned the wound with some whiskey. Mica was already furiously insisting that they track Leonard Smith down so Mica could personally rip his head off.
Pistol had looked after Deion. And “looked after” meant “handed him the remaining whiskey and asked, ‘Does your face hurt? ’Cause it’s killing me.’”
Deion wheezed out a laugh and took a long drink.“Fuck, man. I must look pretty badass, huh?”
“You look like you stuck your fucking face in a blender.”Pistol peeled off his bandana and threw it at Deion.“Wipe some of that off, man.”
Deion spat in the bandana and started wiping the dried blood from his face.
Once Mica and Deion were both tended to, Pedro gathered everyone in the main room. Deion and Ford took the old sofa that reeked of cigarettes and had stuffing coming out in all directions. Mica sat on the pool table, his left arm in a sling made from an old shirt. The others sprawled on various pieces of furniture, or leaned against the walls. Pistol paced, restless as a panther.
“Cool it,”Kong said to him.“You’re gonna want to stay still and listen.”
Pistol let out a hollow laugh.“Hope you got a miracle up your sleeve. Because I’m pretty sure I just got saddled with an old lady and a baby.”
Kong addressed the room.“Brothers. What happened tonight in the desert was unfortunate.”
Mica snorted.
Kong ignored him.“Leonard Smith is not an ideal ally. However, he is a very, very powerful man, with a lot of connections. Particularly across the border. He’s offered us a way to double, even triple our profits.”
Bones whistled. Pistol raised his eyebrows.Shit. Triple our profits? No wonder Kong was hopping into bed with this psycho. Still, that didn’t change the fact that Pistol was pissed.
Kong looked at Pistol.“This doesn’t have to be permanent. As far as I’m concerned, we work with Smith and his boys until we start reaping the benefits, then we drive them out.”
“Uh,”Ford said.“This guy’s powerful enough to triple our profits, and you think we’re gonna be able to just … run him out of town when the time comes?”
“We’re gonna use some of those profits to strengthen our own brotherhood. To build up the Souls, so that when the time comes, Smith’ll know he has no choice but to tuck his tail and leave.”
Pistol fumed.“And in the meantime, I gotta get married and knock some girl up?”
“Hey man,”Ford said.“There’s worse girls you could be forced to marry.”
No kidding.
Kong stared evenly at Pistol.“Pistol. I’ve never known you to refuse to do something for the good of the brotherhood.”
“This isn’t for the good of the brotherhood. This is foryour own good. You thought you could make more money, so you jumped in bed with this guy without knowing who he was. Am I right? Who’s rash now?”
They stared at each other, hackles raised, teeth practically bared.
“It’s temporary,”Kong repeated.
“A baby,”Pistol growled.“You really think it’s okay me bringing akid into the world just to appease some psychopath?”
Something flashed across Kong’s face. Something Pistol couldn’t read.“It won’t get that far. Say you’re having problems conceiving. Say she’s barren, say you’re shooting blanks. Delay until we can get the fuck out of this.”
Pistol just stared. Then he laughed harshly.“He’s got us by the balls, hasn’t he?”
Kong didn’t answer.
“You’re afraid of him.”
Kong’s jaw tightened.“We don’t have a choice any of us.”
Pistol nodded and started pacing.“Great. Just fuckin’ great.”
Delay until we can get the fuck out of this, Pistol reminded himself now, passing the bottle back to Deion. He checked his phone. “Shit. Shit, I’m supposed to be in there.”
“Hang on, hang on.” Deion dusted off Pistol’s rumpled suit. Pistol’d had to borrow it from Kong; it was too short in the legs and sleeves. Pistol felt ridiculous.
He stepped inside the church and was immediately set upon by some random woman who hustled him into position, straightened his tie, and positioned him at an aisle entrance. The organ music fired up.
Okay.He let out a long breath. Go time.
The walk down the aisle was interminable. Surreal. He was barely stumbling, which was something, he supposed. It was like the alcohol hadn’t done a damn thing for him.
God, why was he so alone here? Weren’t there supposed to be other people? A flower girl, and a ring bearer and some shit? And where was Katrin? He looked around but couldn’t see her anywhere. He had no idea how weddings were supposed to work. But the usher got him on the altar, standing where he was supposed to be. He had nothing to do but try not to make awkward eye contact with the priest. The other option was to look out into the pews, which was disturbing as hell. The Blackened Souls sat on one side of the church, wearing their grubby Sunday finest. Their expressions held a mix of discomfort, anger, and anxious amusement.
Smith’s men sat on the other side, looking far more put together, but far blanker.Bunch of garbage-faced goons.
Pistol decided to distract himself by thinking about Katrin. Thinking about those curves. Thinking about kissing her, hearing her soft exhales as he worked his way down her body. Her cry of pleasure as he entered her. In his fantasy, she wanted him. They were both in doing this willingly. They were fucking like animals, and she was the hottest, wildest woman he’d ever slept with.
He was snapped out of it by more organ music.
Shit.
It was time.