Page 25

Lizzie—

Darko and I are on the way to work, and I’ve got a cardboard drink carrier on my lap with three coffees. One for me, Darko, and Rob.

It’s a pretty day today, but they’re forecasting snow this week, and I’m excited for it. Christmas is only five days away. A part of me still weighs heavy with the loss of Matt, but there’s a festive cheeriness in the air that’s hard to ignore. The town is decorated, and every time we drive down Main, I can’t help smiling.

I’m meeting Kate later today for lunch, and I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t spent as much time with her lately, and I plan to change that. For so long, I declined every invitation she extended and every effort she made to bring me back from the depths of grief. But I’m finally coming out of it, and I need my friend close again.

We pull into the lot of Darko’s shop, and his phone goes off. Putting it to his ear, he shuts the truck off, then covers the receiver. “Babe, it’s Rock. Give me a few minutes.”

“No problem.” I take the keys he holds out to me and climb from the truck, taking the coffees with me.

Scanning the lot, I see Rob’s not here yet.

I juggle the tray and unlock the front door, then move out of the lobby and across the garage to my office. I don’t have a free hand to flick the lights on. Instead, I move to the old wooden desk and set the tray down.

There’s a sound behind me, and a second later I’m grabbed from behind, a gloved hand covering my mouth. A muscular arm in a black sleeve that looks like a hoodie wraps around me, pinning me tight.

Fear and a jolt of adrenaline surge through my bloodstream.

“Where’s the fucking money?” a voice growls in my ear.

I whimper under his glove, and he realizes he’s got to release my mouth for me to answer.

“I’m gonna let you go, but I’ve got a knife. You scream, and I’m gonna slit your throat. Understand, lady?”

I nod vigorously, terrified for my life.

He uncovers my mouth, and I gasp.

“What money? There’s no money.”

“Don’t lie to me. Places like this always have money.”

I think about telling him that most people pay with credit cards, but then I realize I may need to stall him. Once he finds out I’m of no use, he might kill me anyway. “I… I… there’s a c-cash box in the bottom drawer.”

He shoves me . “Get it.”

I dash around the desk, putting it between him and me. I see he does indeed have a knife in his hand. It’s long and flashes in the morning light. His face is covered with a creepy skull mask that makes him even more terrifying.

I take out the small metal box, but instead of setting it on the desktop, I set it on the edge of the desk, causing it to tip and crash to the floor. I’m hoping Darko will hear it.

“S-sorry,” I mumble, bending over to pick the box up.

Moments later, I hear Darko call out.

“Lizzie, are you okay? I thought I heard something break.”

The man moves behind me, grabbing my hair to jerk my head up and holding the sharp edge of the blade to my throat.

Darko crests the corner, and his body stills. Iciness I’ve never seen before fills his eyes.

The man behind me shifts at Darko’s presence. The blade rubs against my throat, leaving a little nick that burns.

My sharp intake of breath has Darko’s eyes narrowing on the knife.

“I-I don’t want any trouble, mister.”

His choice of words and the slight tremble in his voice fill me with wariness. I don’t think this man is much of a man at all. He sounds young. Really young.

“Unfortunately for you, the moment your foot crossed my threshold you found it.” Darko’s voice comes out cold and steely, sending a shiver down my spine. “If you draw even one more drop of her blood.” His eyes flick to my neck, where I can still feel the sting of the cut the knife has left behind. “It’s not trouble you’ll find; it’ll be the fiery pits of hell.”

The boy notably swallows behind me and loosens the knife from my throat.

The door opens out in the garage, and my stomach churns with worry at the thought there may be more of them.

“Hey, are you guys here?” Rob calls out.

“Yeah, but we’ve got a problem. I need you to call in my club,” Darko commands, never taking his eyes off the knife.

“Tell him not to or… or I’ll slit her throat,” the voice behind me warns, and he hauls me to my feet, providing himself more cover.

The crack in his order makes me question if he’s ever done this before.

“That would be a terrible mistake,” Darko drawls.

Rob’s footsteps approach, and Darko glances his way.

It’s the distraction my assailant has been looking for. He shoves me at Darko, and I stumble, but Darko’s strong arms steady me before I land in a heap. Then the guy darts across the room.

He yanks open the old window, but before he can heft himself through, Darko is on him, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him backward. Darko shoves him to the ground and pulls a gun, aiming it directly in his face.

“You make one move, motherfucker, I’ll blow your brains all over the floor. D rop the fucking knife.”

He immediately does as Darko orders, raising his hands above his head in surrender.

“I think he’s just a kid,” I advise, not wanting Darko to shoot him.

“Grab the knife, Lizzie,” Darko orders, and I scramble across the floor on my hands and knees to snatch it up, then move behind the desk.

“Stay on the ground and roll to your stomach,” Darko barks, and the man slowly rolls over, lying face down on the floor. “Babe, there are zip ties on top of my tool chest. Grab a few.”

I give the man a wide berth and dash to the garage to the tall red rolling cart with stacks of drawers. The top lid is open, and there lay a stack of white zip ties. I grab them and run back.

Darko passes me his gun. “He makes a move, shoot him.”

My eyes widen, but I take the heavy weapon and aim it at the guy with shaking hands while Darko kneels and wrestles his arms behind his back, securing his wrists, then his ankles.

He takes the gun from my hands and pulls my trembling body against his chest. “You okay?”

I feel his big palm stroke my head, and his lips press against my forehead.

“I’m okay.”

“What do you need me to do?” Rob questions, finally coming out of the stupor he seemed to be in.

Darko lifts his chin. “Check the back door.”

Rob disappears and returns a few seconds later. “Looks like he busted the lock and came in that way.” Rob glances at the guy on the floor. “You don’t have a clue who you just fucked with, buddy. You’re gonna be in a world of hurt.”

Darko pulls the mask off him, and they exchange a stunned look.

It’s just what I suspected.

“Fucking Christ. He’s a kid,” Darko mutters. About that time, we all hear the thunder of motorcycles roaring into the lot.

Utah and Trez are first through the door, guns drawn, with Memphis and Baja right behind them. Rock enters with Wildman, Night Train, and the two visiting nomads.

Once the men realize the threat is contained, they lower their weapons, and Rock steps forward, his eyes locking on the kid on the floor.

He arches a brow. “Startin’ young, aren’t they?” His gaze swings to me. “You okay?”

“Yes. Thankfully, Darko handled it.”

Rock looks at Darko. “What do you want to do, VP?”

Darko kneels next to the kid and pulls a wallet from his back pocket, flipping it open to the driver’s license. “1437 Sycamore. Maybe we need to pay that address a visit. Rain hell on your family.”

“No, please.”

It’s the first words the kid has said since he landed on the ground.

Darko grabs a handful of his hair and pulls his head up. “You don’t get to decide, moron.”

“My ma, she’s sick. I just did it for her. We ain’t got no money for her meds.”

Rock and Darko exchange a look, and Rock folds his arms. “I think we need to go see if you’re lyin’ through your fucking teeth. If you are, kid, you’re gonna regret it.”

“I’m not lying. I swear.”

Rock lifts his chin. “Mount up, boys.”

Darko pulls the kid to his feet and takes his knife, slicing the zip tie binding his ankles, then drags him toward the front door.

I follow behind them.

Darko loads him in the back of his crew cab and slides in with him, tossing Rob the keys. “Drive.”

I start to climb into the passenger seat, but Darko shakes his head. “Stay here.”

“I’m not staying here.”

Rob looks at his boss. “Maybe it’d be better if we don’t leave her alone.”

Darko sees the wisdom of his words, but he doesn’t look happy about it. “Fine. You come, but you stay the fuck out of what we do, Lizzie. Understand?”

I nod, not sure I can keep that promise.

A few minutes later, we arrive at a rundown looking clapboard home. Rob pulls to the curb, and Darko opens his door, then leans toward the front seat.

“Stay in the truck, Lizzie.” Then he looks at Rob. “Watch her.”

“No,” I say, surprising Darko. “I’m going with you. If there’s a sick woman in there, she may need help.”

“Then we’ll get her help.”

“What do men know about women’s illnesses? I’m going.”

“You’re not,” he argues, and his eyes flick to the thin cut I know is visible from where the kid held the knife to me. His jaw tightens, his eyes showing no room for argument.

“Fine. Then I’m leaving. I’ll find another job and another place to live.”

“Goddamn it, Lizzie. I don’t need this right now.”

“I’m going inside.”

He blows out a frustrated breath. “My guys clear the place first. We don’t know what we’re walking into. Understand?”

“Fine.”

I wait until they go in and say it’s clear, then follow Darko and the kid inside. Darko’s hand is tight on the boy’s arm.

“He was telling the truth,” Trez says. “There’s a woman in the back bedroom.”

Darko shoves the boy ahead of him, and I follow down the hall. The club files in behind us.

The woman looks much older than what her real age must be. If this kid is in his teens, she can’t be more than late forties, but she looks closer to sixty. Her skin is sallow, and her hair is lank and turning gray.

Her eyes widen at the sight of us. “Joey. What’s going on? Who are these people?”

Her voice is barely a raspy whisper.

The nightstand is littered with empty prescription bottles.

“He broke into my garage, threatened this woman with a knife, tried to rob her,” Darko says.

Her tired head drops on the pillow. “Son, I told you not to do anything stupid. My next disability check will come on the first.”

“Ma, that’s almost two weeks away. You need your meds now.”

“I’ll be fine.”

I sit on the side of the bed. “What’s wrong with you, ma’am?”

“She’s got cancer,” her son answers for her.

I look back at her, studying her sad eyes.

“Breast cancer,” she whispers, clutching my hand.

When she says those two words, every man in the room shifts uncomfortably, some filing out to give her privacy.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t have insurance. I lost my job. The doctor wants to operate, but I can’t take on that kind of bill. Ain’t no way I could pay it. I found another doctor who prescribed me some pills, hoping to at least slow it down, but I ran out three days ago.”

I twist to Darko.

He drags in a long breath, then pulls his knife and cuts the bindings on Joey’s wrists. He grabs the kid's jaw and gets in his face. “I ever see you around again, there won’t be any mercy. Got it?”

The kid jerks his face away but won’t say a thing.

“He’s a good boy,” his mother rasps. “He was just tryin’ to help me. He done wrong, I know, but he’s all I’ve got. Please don’t hurt my boy.”

My heart breaks for this woman. It’s all so sad.

Rock pushes past and jerks some money from his wallet. I see several hundred dollars flash before he tucks it in her hand. “I’m sending over the club doctor to look at you, ma’am. Maybe he can help.”

“Thank you.” She reaches her other hand to clutch his. “Bless you.”

“Mind if we talk with your son in the other room?” Rock asks.

“You won’t take him, will you?” Her look is pleading.

“No, ma’am. I won’t take him.” Rock pats her hand, then turns and jerks his head toward the door. “Let’s go have a chat, Joey.”

I sit with the woman as they all file out. “What’s your name?”

“Maisy Rydell.”

“Do you have any other children?”

“Just Joey. His father run out on us when he was a toddler.”

I nod. “My father left me, too.”

“Then you know. It’s especially hard on a boy to lose the only male role model in his life—not that his father was any kind of role model. I did the best I could. I love my boy.”

On the dresser sits a framed photo of her and Joey when he was about three or four years old. He was a cute little blond with a mop of curls. Maisy was beautiful, and it just reinforces how this illness has taken its toll on her body.

She gestures to a glass of water, and I carry it to her lips, holding her head.

I clasp her hand and pat it.

A few minutes later, Darko comes into the room. “The club doctor is here. He brought his nurse, ma’am.”

The two of them walk in, and Darko ushers me out into the living room. Rock is talking to Joey as we walk to the front door.

“The nurse is going to stay with her for the next few days until they can find some home healthcare workers to take over. If you’re serious about finding a job, come by the clubhouse tomorrow.”

The kid nods.

I don’t hear anymore, because Darko leads me to his truck. Leaning against the door, I turn to him. “What’s Rock doing? Is he going to find him a job?”

Darko shrugs, and I tilt my head, knowing there’s more he’s not saying.

“What?” I press.

“That kid is headed nowhere good unless he gets some structure and discipline. Only two places he’s gonna find that. The recruiter’s office or us.”

“You mean the club?”

“Yeah. I mean the club. We’re a family, and we take care of our own. That kid is lost, and if the worst happens and he loses his mother, he’s got no one. Club wouldn’t be the worst place he could end up, so don’t look at me like that.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I admit.

“Maybe?” He puts a hand on the door and opens it. “Gee, I guess that’s a start.”

I roll my eyes and slide onto the seat.