Everleigh…

“Shit!” Detective Stahl exclaimed.

I jumped and looked over from the television to see him leap to his feet. He was coming towards me, all crackling energy, urgency radiating through him like lighting through a thunderhead. I flinched when he grabbed me by the arms and drew me to my feet.

“Gotta hustle, they’re coming for you.”

Fear lanced through me and I looked at him, stricken.

“Not now, baby doll. Just do what I say and everything’s gonna be fine. In the bathroom and lay down in the tub.”

I shook my head but he towed me through the open bathroom door and shut it behind me, my skirts swishing around my bare legs that I’d only just gotten to shave for the first time that day, my hands finally relenting enough in their deep and abiding aching, the wounds mostly sealed.

I swallowed hard and did as I was told; I got into the still-damp bathtub and lay down, my heart pounding, the blood swishing in my ears. My head throbbed in time with my heartbeat, my face was hot and tingling with fear and the tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

It was quiet, so terribly quiet, then I heard Detective Stahl’s urgent voice, muffled by the door, barking out orders – presumably into a phone.

Quiet again, as silent as my namesake.

I breathed shallowly, as if they could hear me in here, fear doing funny things to my mind, when all of a sudden, Boom! Boom! Crash! Two swift kicks and the sound of splintering wood as the hotel room door gave way out there, in an explosion of shards.

I half-cried out, hunching down further into the tub, when a man gave a strangled yell, and then it was quiet again.

Too quiet.

A male voice said a few words, indistinguishable. Another grunted something in return. The bathroom door opened and I jumped, covering my face with my hands.

“Easy, Si. It’s okay.”

I lowered my hands and Whiskey was standing there, wearing his Knights of Crescentia cut. I cringed, and he put out his hands.

“We gotta go. Come on. It’s not safe here anymore.”

I shook my head but sat up. He reached for me and I cried out, shaking my head vehemently. He backed off and I carefully got up, struggling to do so without using my hands much, bracing my elbows against the edges of the tub.

“Shit, right, we ain’t got time for this.”

I yelped as he reached down and picked me up, hauling me to my feet by my underarms like I was a child. I scowled at him, but it was at his back. The large crescent picked out in the Maryland state flag, the sword behind it, sent creeping shivers over my skin.

I went out into the room, and jumped when Joker started spewing profanities at me from where he lay face down on the carpet, struggling against the shiny pair of handcuffs they had him in. I smirked at him, cruelly. I couldn’t help myself.

“Gonna fucking kill you, bitch! Gonna fuckin’ kill you!” he shouted.

“Shut the fuck up!” Driller yelled over him, but to his credit, he didn’t hit him. He was a better human than me. I wished he would kick him in the face.

Driller was shoving my things that he’d brought to me into my big brown leather bag that was reminiscent of an old carpet bag. He thrust it into my arms, and fished out his keys, handing them to Whiskey.

“Take my bike, I’ll bring yours later on.”

Whiskey nodded and handed him his keys in exchange.

“Thanks, bro.”

“Just go, before the cavalry arrives and tries to get you to stay.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Whiskey held out a hand to me. “Come on, Si, we gotta go.”

I frowned, clutching my bag to my chest, and looked beseechingly at Detective Stahl.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t say it was for the best if it wasn’t. You gotta go, and Whiskey is the best person to keep you safe right now. He’s in the same boat.”

I shook my head and Detective Stahl gripped my shoulders and looked me in the eyes.

“No argument, not now. You’ve got to go. Trust me.”

I bit my lips together and nodded begrudgingly. Joker’s incessant screeching and hollering was setting me on edge. Whiskey stepped forward carefully. He took my bag from me and put a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged him off and he looked grim but nodded.

“Let’s go.”

I nodded and thrust my chin at the door, telling him to lead the way, and looked back reluctantly at Detective Stahl, who nodded his encouragement.

I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit, however, I didn’t know what was going on and I did like and trust Detective Stahl. If he said it was what I should do, then it was probably what I should do.

Whiskey took off the Knights of Crescentia cut and threw it on the floor. He gave a nod to his partner and stepped out the door, and I followed. He moved us up the hallway to the elevators and pressed the button to take us down. I tugged on his jacket sleeve and he looked at me.

“What?”

I stuck my bare foot out from beneath the hem of my skirt.

“Shit, where are your shoes?”

I shrugged and pointed at the bag. He rolled his eyes and hustled us onto the elevator.

“Figure it out in the garage,” he muttered.

We slipped out of the elevator in the lobby and went for the garage elevators, the front desk clerk occupied with someone either checking in or out. Blue and red lights flashed outside, cars skidding to a stop as the elevator doors closed and whisked us down into the garage.

We went to the motorcycle parking and Whiskey – I guessed I should be calling him Narcos, now ‒ dropped my bag to the floor beside one of the bikes. I sat on the seat while he riffled through it.

He said, “Ah ha!” and came up with one of my favorite pairs of knee-high fall boots, which were more than suitable for riding, with their thick brown leather and heavy soles. He unzipped them quickly and, kneeling in front of me, slipped them onto my feet and zipped the zippers along the inside of each leg to the top.

He stood up and shook his head, cramming my bag into one of the saddlebags on the bike.

“I know you like your dresses and skirts, but it really isn’t good for you to ride in them. You need to dress for the slide, not for the ride, honey.”

I rolled my eyes at him and rolled my hand over and over as if to say, I thought we were in a hurry.

He grunted and got on the bike, sticking in the key and starting it up. I got on behind him but barely held on. I wasn’t thrilled to be riding with him, but I couldn’t wait to go outside. I had been suffocating in the hotel. I had only been out once, to go to the prosecutor’s office to write my statement. I hadn't been able to tell if they had been pleased with it or not. Considering I was still in protective custody, I had to imagine they were, indeed, happy with it.

He pulled out of the garage and I had never been so happy to be out with the sky above me in my life; I had felt like a prisoner locked away in that hotel. Of course, wherever we were headed to could be a lot worse. I guessed I would see when I got there. When you didn’t have a voice, you got really good at just going with the flow and seeing what happened.