Amelia

 

“We’re bringing you breaking news tonight from the headquarters of local motorcycle club, The Angel’s Keepers,” Marta Waters said. “As you can see behind me, the fire that broke out a few minutes ago is being extinguished now, but firemen don’t believe there will be much of the building left when they’re done.”

 

The camera panned the flames. Amelia saw the silhouettes of men armed with water hoses and clad in bright yellow, their reflective tape glinting in the reddish lights as they worked to put out the blaze.

 

“However, the drama doesn’t end with the fire here tonight,” Marta went on when the camera went back to her. “Police will be interviewing two members of The Angel’s Keepers who were caught in the blaze once they are released from medical care. President of the club, Ethan Billings, was shot in the arm in addition to sustaining other wounds and Sergeant at Arms William Hanley suffered mild smoke inhalation while carrying one of the men allegedly responsible for setting the fire out of the building. All three men are currently hospitalized and in stable condition.”

 

Amelia gasped. “Ethan got shot?” She pressed her hand to her stomach when it cramped with nerves. That wasn’t the first time she’d felt that today. It wasn’t quite pain, but it wasn’t comfortable either.

 

Gregorywas staring at the television, his face white and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “How in thehell...” he began, but then his phone rang. “Amelia, go to your room,” he snapped before answering the call, looking almost terrified.

 

She walked out of the living room, but she didn’t head up the stairs. Instead, she hid just out of sight. The guards were patrolling different areas, watching the entrance and exit points of the house. They wouldn't see her there.

 

“What do you mean you’re here?” she heard her father say. “No, I am not going to let you come in! I have guards, I--”

 

Amelia jumped when she heard a very heavy knock on the door. Her father’s voice stuttered into silence.

 

The caller didn’t knock again. The stained glass panel in the door shattered when the door was shoved open. Amelia stayed where she was, her heart pounding. She could see Warren Miller standing in the doorway, accompanied, as always, by Richard Brewer. The smaller man had a strange smile playing around his mouth.

 

“Your office, Gregory. Now,” Miller said.

 

“What the hell are you thinking, showing up here?” Gregory hissed. “After what happened earlier? This is the worst place you could be!”

 

“We have things we need to talk about,” Brewer said quietly.

 

“There’s nothing to say,” Gregory answered, his voice shaking slightly. “It didn’t work and we’ve got to let it die down before we try again. We could even try with another club--”

 

“Another club?” Miller stared at him. “Are fucking kidding me? Ethan Billings just came out of this looking like a goddamned hero! There’s no other club that matters nearly as much! It’s got to be them. He put the target on his back with that charity drive and you promised that you would take care of him.”

 

“And then you hired some idiots behind my back and moved without my permission! How do you expect me to get to him now?” Gregory demanded.

 

“It’s not him that you need to worry about getting tonight anyway, you idiot,” Miller answered. “It’s the little junkie biker we hired to torch the place.”

 

“Michael,” Brewer supplied. “He needs to understand what will happen if he opens his mouth.”

 

“He wasn’t the only one,” her father said. “What about his buddy?”

 

“We’ve got him,” Miller said. “And we’ll be hanging onto him until this is over.”

 

Amelia’s stomach tightened again at the quiet smile on Brewer’s face at his partner’s words. She pressed her hand to it. Now wasn’t the time for something to go wrong.Just hang on, baby.

 

“Your office,” Miller repeated. “So we can see whether or not we need to hang onto you, too.”

 

“Why...” Gregory’s voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. “Why would you think you needed to?”

 

“Because we’ve just discovered that your daughter is pregnant by the biker,” Brewer said. “Maybe family loyalty won out over the money we gave you. We’ve seen it happen. Once the money’s been spent, people start to rethink...until we refresh their memories.”

 

Miller grabbed Gregory’s arm, twisting it up behind his back. Amelia barely bit back a cry.

 

“I didn’t warn them!” Gregory said, breathing heavily, clearly in pain.

 

“Then why were they there?” Brewerasked, casually drawing a switchblade from the pocket of his designer suit. “We could play a little game. One finger for every time you lie. Or should we do one for every time I think you might bethinkingabout lying to me.”

 

Amelia’s knees went weak and dark spots swam before her eyes. She couldn’t afford to pass out. Not now. But what could she do? She was trapped where she was and she didn’t think the two men who had just burst through the door would have a qualm about playing “games” with her, too.

 

“I’m not lying!” Gregory said, trying his best to sound reasonable. “My intel was that the whole motorcycle club was in the Valley of Fire for the weekend. I got it from someone who was there! I don’t know why Billings came back and I don’t know why the other one wasn’t there to start with!”

 

“Then maybe you should have planned better,” Miller said. “We didn’t fund your campaign so you could fuck this up for us! We’re talking more money than your life is worth here, Stratton.”

 

Brewer and Miller shoved Gregory into his office and slammed the door shut. Amelia didn’t waste any time in bolting out of her hiding place and up the stairs. A cramp nearly sent her to her knees halfway up and her mind began working overtime.

 

Her father might be about to die. Something was clearly wrong with her, baby wise. The security guards were either paid off, distracted, or...worst case scenario, dead. She tried to force her mind to slow down. Of the three options, distracted seemed more likely. She’d spoken to a few of them and they seemed pretty decent. And Miller and Brewer weren’t exactly the type to walk in with guns blazing. They obviously preferred to let other people do their dirty work. What could she do? There wasn’t time to call the police and explain the whole situation.

 

The answer slid into place neatly. She could call the ambulance. They wouldn’t hurt her father in front of official witnesses, and she could get herself checked out at the same time.

 

She grabbed her cell phone and dialed quickly with shaking fingers.

 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

 

“I’m about a month and a half pregnant and I think something’s wrong,” Amelia said, her voice hitching as she said it out loud. “I’m cramping pretty badly.”

 

“Name and address.”

 

“Amelia Stratton.” She rattled off her address. “Please, please hurry. And make sure they use the sirens; we have a security gate.”

 

“Someone will be there shortly, Ms. Stratton.”

 

Amelia hung up and looked around her bedroom. It was half packed up already, but she knew there was no way she could figure out which bag to take to the hospital. And no way she could carry it even if she’d had one. The cramps were coming faster now.

 

She dragged herself over to the stairs and walked down. Then she leaned against the wall beside her father’s office. She had to time this just right or she risked a lot. Possibly both her and her father’s lives. And the life of her baby. The hospital wasn’t too far from the house, but it seemed like an eternity before she heard the wail of a siren.

 

“Did you call the--” she heard Miller begin.

 

Amelia flung open the door, “Daddy, something’s wrong!” she cried dramatically. “I’m bleeding and my stomach’s cramping and you have to ride in the ambulance with me right now!” She wasn’t actually bleeding. At least, she didn’t think that she was, but it certainly grabbed their attention.

 

Brewer and Miller stared at her with their mouths hanging open. Gregory pushed his sweaty hair back off of his forehead and said, “What?”

 

The sirens were ringing through the open front door now. Brewer swore and shoved the knife back into his pocket.

 

“Hello?” a paramedic called. “The gate and the door are open, we’re coming in.”

 

“Get out there,” Miller hissed, shoving Gregory up.

 

Gregory staggered to his feet. “In here,” he called. “She’s in here.”

 

The stretcher was wheeled in and Amelia, who was shaking now that her plan actually seemed to be working, allowed them to help her onto it. She wasn’t sure her legs would carry her down the front steps.

 

“He’ll follow her in his own car,” Miller said.

 

“No!” Amelia shrieked, making sure she sounded absolutely hysterical. It wasn’t hard, under the circumstances. “I need him to go with me! Daddy, please!” She grabbed his coat sleeve and held on as tightly as she could, refusing to be dislodged.

 

“It’s fine,” the first paramedic said. “We need to go. You can come with us, sir.”

 

Amelia relaxed just in time for the next cramp to hit and tears filled her eyes. Not this. She couldn’t lose this, too.

 

# # #

 

“All right, make a fist,” the nurse said. “We’re just going to get an IV started. You’re a little dehydrated. I’m Martha Kendrick and I’ll be your main nurse.”

 

Amelia winced as the needle punctured her skin. This nurse was friendly, but she was a little heavy handed with the sharp objects.

 

“When will you know?” she asked tightly. “If I’m losing the baby?”

 

“We’ll keep you here until we’re sure either way,” Martha answered. “It’s hard to pinpoint it when you're this early in the pregnancy. We’ll get an ultrasound soon and go from there. Is there anything you need?”

 

Amelia shook her head. She needed reassurance, guarantees, and Ethan. The nurse probably couldn’t do anything about any of that.

 

“What did they say?” Gregory asked once she was settled in her room.

 

“They said it’s too early to really know,” Amelia answered. “I could be losing the baby. Or it could just be stress.”

 

“Stress?” Gregory said with a half laugh. “For you?”

 

“Yeah,” Amelia said, her tone venomous. “Stress. From the fact that my father is an asshole who’s in completely over his head with some wannabe gangsters in designer suits, probably.”

 

Gregory closed the door and spun to face her. “How much do you know?”

 

“Enough,” she answered.

 

“Tell me right now, Amelia!”

 

“What are you going to do?” she asked. “Let Brewer cut off my fingers? You already nearly got Ethan killed!”

 

Gregory stared at her. “How did you know...” He stopped himself, but it was too late.

 

“Because I’m not an idiot,” Amelia snapped. “And just because you tell me to leave a room doesn't mean I have to go!”

 

“Did you tell Ethan?”

 

She threw her hands up. “You are missing the point! You nearly got two men killed! Three if you count whoever it was that they hired to actually do the job. And for what? Another term in office? My God, Dad. That’s sick!”

“It’s not sick! I’m helping--”

 

“You’re not helping anyone do anything!” Amelia said viciously. “Your numbers are in the toilet; your popularity is sliding because of this stupid war on motorcycle clubs--”

 

“That wasn’t even my idea, but I had to promote it because of--”

 

“Because you're a puppet!” she shouted. “And that makes anything else you were planning to domeaningless!”

 

She thought for a second that her father was going to hit her. Then he stuck his finger in her face and said, “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, so don’t act like you do.”

 

“And where’s my thank you for saving your life?” she demanded.

 

He wrenched the door open and stormed out. Amelia grabbed her cell phone and dialed a number she’d never thought that she’d use.

 

“News 6?”

 

“Hi, this is Amelia Stratton and I need to leave a message for Marta Waters.”

 

“Okay,” the receptionist said. “Amelia...wait. Did you sayAmelia Stratton?”

 

“Yes, I--”

 

“Hold one moment, please.”

 

She’d barely gotten to hear the hold music before the call was picked up again.

 

“Hello, this is Marta Waters.”

 

“Um, hi.” She hadn’t expected to actually get to speak with the woman. “This is Amelia Stratton. I...I was just wondering if you might have time to talk to me today?”

 

“Well, that depends,” the news anchor said. “Right now I’m at Nevada General interviewing someone else. When would be a good time for you to do an interview?”

 

“What a coincidence,” Amelia said. “I’m on the fourth floor of Nevada General myself.”

 

“Are you here to see Ethan?” Marta asked, her voice growing more interested with every passing moment of the conversation.

 

“No, I’m a patient. But I have information about what happened at The Angel’s Keepers headquarters. I’d also like to talk to the police, so...”

 

“I’ve got some good contacts down at the station. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

“Wait!” Amelia said suddenly. If Ethan had been shot, there was a good chance he might be in the same hospital. “Are you interviewing Ethan?”

 

“I’m sorry; I can’t divulge that I’m interviewing Ethan.”

 

Sounding like a yes to her. Amelia chewed her lip. What else did she have to lose? “Tell him I’m sorry about his club. Tell him I didn’t know. That’s not why I left.”

 

The call disconnected and Amelia let her head fall back against the pillows. She’d done everything she could do. Now she just had to hang onto the baby.