Chapter Twenty

Megan

 

 

 

 

Heavy footsteps followed by the click of heels sound on the wooden floor, echoing through the quiet house. I hold my breath.

They’re home.

Tim stands off to the side, out of eyesight of anyone walking into the room, the gun trained on the doorway. I open my mouth but his eyes come to me and he holds a finger to his lips, nodding his head to the gun.

“Megan? What in the world are you doing here?”

Mom walks into the room, pulling off her coat and hanging it over the back of the chair. My father comes in behind her, his eye widening when he sees me.

“Mom, I—”

The click of Timmy cocking the gun makes them both turn.

“What is going on here?” My father moves deeper into the room, closer to Timmy.

“What's wrong? Don't recognize me? That's okay, Megan didn't, either.” Tim laughs a maniacal breathy laugh that leaves me cold. My lower lip trembles and a lone tear falls down my cheek. “Just one of the reasons why you were such shitty parents. That's okay, though. I told you the day you kicked me out I’d be back.”

Timmy looks over to me with such hate in his eyes. “Unlike you, sister”—the word drips with distain—“I keep my promises.”

He turns back to my parents and with two quick shots, drops them both to the floor, their bodies landing with a hollow thud.

Neither of them make a sound.

My hand covers my mouth. I try to scream but I’m frozen, paralyzed by what I’ve seen and the thought that I’m next.

“Don’t cry for them. They were horrible people. You lived here, you knew that. They don’t deserve your sympathy.” He walks closer to me. “You know who deserves your sympathy? Me! The boy you left in this hell hole without so much as a second glance.”

His face drops to mine and the acrid smell of his breath makes my stomach turn.

“You were the only person I ever loved. You pushed and pushed and made me trust you. Then you abandoned me.”

He raises the gun and I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose.

The sound of the door crashing against the wall startles me. I open my eyes and see Ryder standing in the doorway, his eyes ablaze.

“Look who’s here. The asshole who ruined it all.”

Timmy keeps the gun trained on me but his eyes are on Ryder as he steps into the room. “Make one more move and I’ll put a bullet in her head.”

Ryder freezes. “What’s going on?” His eyes move to the bodies on the floor.

“This isn’t Connor, this is Timmy. My foster brother,” I whisper.

Ryder’s face is blank for a minute but I see the moment it clicks because his face hardens.

“The kid whose life you fucked up when you came and took away the only person who ever loved me.” Timmy’s eyes are so big, it looks as if they might burst out of his head.

“Why don’t we just put the gun down and talk about this?” Ryder’s gaze trails over me and I can tell he is trying to see if I’m okay. I give the smallest nod of my head, not wanting to do anything to upset Timmy.

“Fuck you.” Timmy turns, training the gun on Ryder and squeezing the trigger.

My heart stops. Time slows.

I jump to my feet and bolt to Ryder, not caring if I’m next.

But Ryder is on his feet, his arms coming around me and pulling me close. My hands run over him, looking for a wound, my breath coming fast. When I find nothing, my eyes go to a third body on the floor.

Timmy.

He’s clutching his leg, his bloodcurdling screams reverberating off the walls, dark red liquid seeping from between his fingers, pooling on the floor beneath him.

Storm and Cutter walk into the room and kick the gun out of Timmy’s hand.

My legs collapse beneath me and my whole body goes cold. Ryder follows me to the floor, breaking my fall and holding me close as I cling to him, shivering. Finally feeling safe, the adrenaline fades and all I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry.

Everything around me starts to get hazy. The voices around me are distorted; garbled.

I try to focus on Ryder but black clouds the edges of my vision.

Then everything goes black.

 

***

 

The room around me comes back into view and the first thing I notice is that I’m not at home anymore. Just as my heart begins to race, I spot a flag on the wall. I recognize it.

I’m in one of the club rooms.

“Hey.” Lucy sits up straighter in the chair. With dark circles under her eyes and her hair thrown up in a topknot, she looks like hell.

“What happened?” My voice is croaky, my throat dry. I look around for Ryder but other than the two of us, the room is empty.

“I don’t know the whole story, but the guys brought you in about an hour ago. Doc looked you over and said that you were fine and you just fainted. I’ll go grab Tracker.” She rushes from the room. I look around for a glass of water and find an ice-cold bottle next to the bed. It takes me a few seconds to unscrew the lid but eventually I’m able to take a few small sips.

I wait a couple minutes but when no one comes, I swing my legs over the bed and stand up. I sway slightly, clutching the bedside table for support. I know I should get back in bed but I have too many questions that need answering.

What happened?

Is Timmy okay?

Did he get arrested?

Do the cops need my statement?

I run my hand along the wall as I make my way down the hallway toward the main room. And then I hear it.

Screaming.

Not a regular scream. This one is raw and intense and full of agony.

Following the sounds, I make my way down an unfamiliar hallway. The part I never had a reason to go in because I was working in the office.

Opening the door, I’m hit with a strong metallic smell, and something else that burns my nostrils, the mixture of the two so bad enough that I almost choke and I have to breathe through my mouth to stop myself vomiting. I step into the room and gasp, my hand flying to my mouth.

Hanging in the middle of the room is Timmy, his entire body covered in blood, his shoulders angled in a way that even without any medical training I know they must be dislocated.

With my hand over my mouth, I take in the room around me. Everyone has stopped what they’re doing and all eyes are on me.

The first person I recognize is Cutter. His white T-shirt is spattered with blood and in his fist is a knife; a knife that clatters to the floor as he moves toward me. I quickly look for Ryder and see him behind Timmy, something clutched in his hand. He moves to his left and suddenly the smell in the room makes sense.

A blowtorch.

I bend over, completely emptying my stomach of its contents.

Cutter scoops me up, carrying me out of the room and bringing me back where I came from.

I don’t even fight him.

All I can see is Timmy’s body, hanging there.

And Ryder holding the blowtorch.

A second later the door opens and Ryder walks in.

“You need to handle your shit.” Cutter puts his finger in the center of Ryder’s chest and then walks out of the room.

“What the hell were you doing, Megan? Lucy told you to stay here.”

“You’re mad at me? What were you guys doing in there? Why isn’t he with the cops?”

The fact that he would even consider being mad at me after what I just saw is unbelievable.

“We don’t call the fucking cops . . . ever.” He paces in front of my bed. “That asshole deserves everything he’s getting. This is what happens to people when they touch club property.”

“Did you just refer to me as property? Like I’m something you fucking own? That is not some random stranger in there, you know him—we know him.”

My eyes fill with tears as I remember what Timmy looked like hanging there because despite the blood and the broken bones, all I keep picturing is the Timmy from my childhood. The boy who came to me if he skinned his knees, and who would crawl into my bed at night if he had a bad dream.

“That psycho was going to kill you!”

“So you do what normal people do and call the cops. You don’t kidnap him and then do whatever the hell you’re doing.”

“Newsflash, princess, we aren't normal people. I told you there are things about the club that aren't always pretty, or legal, or something you'd agree with. This is one of those times. Now you need to stay in this room and rest.”

He moves toward the door then stops.

When he turns around the anger is gone. “You have no idea how fucking scared I was when I saw that asshole’s gun pointed at you.” His long legs eat up the distance between us until he’s right by me, taking a seat on the bed. “You are my fucking life, Megan. You have been since the day I met you. You might not always agree with everything I do, but just know I do it all because I love you.”

I still as the words leave his mouth. We haven’t said it, even though I think we’ve felt it the entire time we’ve been back together. Maybe we were afraid to.

“I love you too,” I say, adding, “I think my days of roaming the clubhouse are over.” He kisses me, and for a minute everything fades away and it’s only us.