Page 63 of Retribution

I’m turning to leave as well when I hear the squalling of a baby.

There’s no way…right?

Chapter Fifteen

Isolde

Forcing myself to stay still long enough to pinpoint the sound, I burst into motion, and race up the stairs.

“Where are you?” I whisper before pressing my lips together.

No noise, stay quiet, and find the target. Which is apparently a fucking child.

A gasping scream of a baby draws me to the right, and I wonder who the fuck would have brought their kid in here. This place isn’t even fit for people.

There’s a closet inside one of the rooms where I murdered one of the bikers on the second floor, and I rush to open it. A baby that may be only a few months old is in a bassinet inside the small space, chewing on her fist as if she’s hungry.

“Come here,” I say, putting my gun back in my thigh holster before picking her up. There’s a mostly clean blanket inside of the bassinet and a diaper bag on the ground. Grabbing both, I wrap the blanket around her and turn to leave.

No one is around, but I can hear the fire above me. Walking quickly out of the room, I hold the baby to my chest as I rundown the stairs and jump down the last. The smoke feels as if it’s following me as I run, and for all I know, it is.

I need to get out of here. An obstruction is now in front of the door that wasn’t there before: a large biker who seems to have come inside to see what was going on.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” I rasp, my left arm supporting her against me as I reach for my gun.

“Fuck! I’m not with them. Devon asked me to come check on the club house and you once we saw the smoke. Isolde, seriously. I’m an Anarchist,” he promises.

“Then why are you in my way?” I ask, nodding as he realizes what his damn body is doing. “Back up and let’s get out of here before the rest of this place goes up in flames. Show me your tattoo on the fucking porch.”

Glancing at the bundle in my arms, he frowns before forcing his giant boots to move backward.

“What do you have there?” he asks.

“Who would have brought a baby here?” I ask, shoving him back with my shoulder to get him to move faster.

Finally out on the porch, I bounce a very upset baby that is now crying again.

“A ba…I swear, there weren't supposed to be any kids in here,” he says.

“I asked you another question,” I grunt. The diaper bag on my shoulder can’t be doing me any favors, but then my mask is definitely making this guy uneasy.

“Here,” he says, pulling up his sleeve to show me his club tattoo on his shoulder.

“You can live,” I grunt, moving around him to walk to my vehicle.

“What are you doing with the baby?” he asks, rushing to follow me.

“Taking her with me. If she’s a Reaping Maurader’s kid, she’s not safe here,” I remind him. “The sweet butts have either run screaming naked down the street or they’re passed out in the yard. I used Toad’s asshole as the accelerant for the fire, and now you’re up to date. Bye!”

Hitting the key fob to open the car, I ignore his deeply disturbed look. I don’t know his name, and I don’t really care.

“You don’t have a car seat,” he curses. “Follow me back. You’re clearly attached to the screaming tiny person, and we can help you figure out how to take her with you. Do you know anything about babies?”

“Nope,” I sigh. “I figure the internet is how people learn though.”

“Shit on a cracker,” he curses. “Follow me. Please?”

Glancing down, I nod. “She’s hungry. I can tell by how her head is bobbing and she’s sucking on her fist.”