Sarah
Sarah pulled her car into the parking space in front of her apartment complex. She was exhausted from her shift, her entire body ached, and she hated the way the scents of River Oak clung to her skin no matter how hard she tried to wash them off. Every time she inhaled, her nostrils were filled with piss, shit, filthy concrete, rusty metal, bland food steamed in plastic, and male musk so raw and pungent it was like being in a zoo.
Sometimes, she imagined she could smell something else hovering above it all—a harsh, meaty scent that was primal and dizzying.
Was it desperation? Hopelessness?
Or just the smell of evil men, thinking evil thoughts and doing evil things until the air around them was a cloud of constant poison?
Hawkeye's threats had been banging around in her head ever since he'd made them. She hadn't been able to eat or sleep since then, and she was gripped by a penetrating sense of dread and despair. No matter what she did or didn't do, it seemed like she was doomed to go to prison, die, or both.
Even if she did everything she was told, how long would it take for Hawkeye to grow bored with tormenting her and start demanding sexual favors from her anyway? Worse, how long would he hold Kurt's well-being—and that of the other Dogs, for that matter—over her head? Could she really live with this level of terrified anticipation day in, day out, indefinitely?
No. She couldn't. She was sure it would eventually drive her insane.
For the first time, she seriously considered going to the police. It was an alien thought—her uncle had been the president of the Black Dogs for as long as she could remember, and he'd always told her, “No matter what happens, never, ever call the cops. You have a problem, you come to me. If I ain't around, you talk to the VP or one of MC's other senior officers. But you call the cops, and no matter what happened or who's in the wrong, you can bet your ass they'll end up arresting all the wrong people and letting the right ones go.”
But she couldn't go to Ron, or any of the other Dogs. Not about this. They were good guys, and she knew how much they cared about her—but their methods tended to be blunt, and no matter what they did to try to fix it, she was afraid all they'd do is make it worse.
Maybe the cops have dealt with situations like this before, she thought. Maybe they've got ways out of this that I haven't even thought of, since I'm so scared. Sure, okay, she'd lied on her CO application, but surely they'd overlook that when confronted with crimes that were so much more serious. She was still basically an innocent person, and that meant they had to do everything they could to protect her.
Didn't it?
Sarah went up the steps to her door and put her key in, but the handle turned and the door swung open before she felt the lock turn over. Her breath stuck in her throat like a jagged bone.
It was open. Someone was here waiting for her.
Why? She'd done everything they asked, hadn't she? Was Gable here to intimidate her again? Was there a gang of Aryans standing in her living room, ready to teach her a lesson over some perceived slight?
She was unarmed. Defenseless. She could turn and run, but where would she go?
Sarah stepped into her apartment and took a deep breath. She tried to keep the quiver out of her voice, but she was unsuccessful. “Who is it? Who the fuck is in here?”
A lamp switched on, revealing Bib. He was sitting in an easy chair in front of the darkened TV screen. Under his bushy eyebrows, his eyes looked sad and concerned.
“Uncle Bib? Jesus, you just about scared me to death! I hope no one saw you, or else they've probably already called the cops to report you as a burglar.”
Ron shook his head. “Nope, no one saw me come in. I was very careful. There's just you and me here, no one else.”
Sarah frowned. “Okay. So what's up? I thought we were going to hang out at the garage tomorrow night, like always. Why did you want to see me before then, and why are you sneaking around in the dark like this? Is something wrong?”
“I don't know, Sarah. Why don't you tell me?”
Sarah forced an uncomfortable laugh. “Have you been drinking? Because I have no idea what you're talking about. You sound weird.”
Ron nodded. “I probably do. That's because, for the first time since you've known me, I am just about terrified out of my goddamn wits. I truly am.”
“I, uh, don't...I mean, I'm not really sure what you could possibly be so afraid of,” Sarah stammered uneasily. “Everything's fine at work, and—”
Ron pointed a finger at her. “Yeah. That, right there. That look in your eyes when you tell me 'everything's fine at work.' That's what's got me so fucking petrified. Sarah, do you remember when you were six years old and you wanted to sit on my bike?”
Sarah was caught off guard. Yes, of course she remembered that. It was one of the only times Ron had ever yelled at her, which made it one of her most unpleasant childhood memories.
“I said no, so you waited 'til I left the garage and then you tried to climb up on it by yourself,” Ron continued. “The bike fell over and got all scratched up on one side, and you tried to feed me a line of crap about how the wind blew through the door and knocked it over. You weren't good at lying then, and you ain't gotten no better at it as you've gotten older. You get that same pinched little rabbit-looking expression on your face, and you've gotten it every goddamn time I've asked you about Kurt and your job at River Oak. I figured whatever was wrong, you were just too proud to let me know, and you'd find some way to fix it yourself.
“But so much time has passed, Sarah, and you've still got that same look on your face. And now I'm starting to wonder if you just feel so trapped and confused by whatever it is that you think it's too late to talk to me, or it won't do any good. But that just ain't true, hon. Whatever's happened, I'm sitting here and begging you to tell me. Every problem in this life has got a solution, and we'll find it together, no matter what it takes.”
Sarah's lower lip trembled, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She wanted to shake her head and insist that everything really was fine. But the look of hurt and worry in his eyes was too much for her to bear.
She told him everything.