“What the hell is going on?” she demanded, and for once there wasn’t a hint of playfulness or laughter in her voice. “I just saw my phone—there’s about a hundred messages here. I want to know what I’m getting into before I get hold of Dad. Do you think I should wait a couple hours to make the call, when he’s awake?”
“Definitely don’t wait until later,” I told her, keeping my voice low. The house was crawling with people, and I didn’t want to wake anyone up if I didn’t have to. We were all exhausted. “Someone tried to shoot Shade last night in Boise. Swinger is dead. Not only that, they shot up some of the clubhouses, including Portland. Everyone’s been scared you were kidnapped or murdered or something.”
“Oh my God. I’m calling Dad right now.”
She hung up on me, and I flopped back down on my bed, throwing an arm over my eyes. What a clusterfuck. Ten minutes later my phone rang again.
“You were with Hunter last night!?” Kit demanded, her voice incredulous. “Dad says he brought you home. What the hell is going on? It’s like the world turned upside down while I was getting laid.”
“Yeah, I was with Hunter.”
“You want to give me the details on that?”
“I’m not sure even I know the details. We had sex, but before we could talk about anything our phones blew up and everything fell apart. He took me home and then left. Hopefully I’ll hear from him today.”
“I hate to say this, but have you considered he might be playing you again?” she asked quietly. “I know I’m the one who dragged you over to his place last weekend . . . But I didn’t think there was any danger then. Now people are dying. This is bad shit, Em, and Dad says the Devil’s Jacks could be behind it. He wants us to come home.”
“Hunter’s not playing me,” I said firmly. “You didn’t see how he reacted last night—totally shocked. Someone tried to kill their president, too. He’s dead now, along with another Jack. They got hit worse than we did.”
“Sweet baby Jesus on a stick. That’s f**ked up.”
Hard to argue.
“Where are you?” I asked. “I’m assuming Dad told you to come to Cookie’s place? I guess this is where we’re holing up for now. The Portland clubhouse had some water damage. Nobody got hurt, but one of the bullets burst a pipe, of all things. Weird.”
“Deke’s sending someone for me right now. Not sure whether I’ll make it back up to school tomorrow or not. Dad wants to arrange some kind of family emergency leave or something. Next week is Thanksgiving break, so that’ll give me a little breathing room. I was planning on driving over on the Wednesday before, but even if I head back to school, I’ll leave the minute classes end. I know it isn’t like me, but I want to be with Dad, Em. This is scary shit, and I don’t like the idea of him alone.”
I snorted.
“Dad is never alone.”
“You know what I mean,” she replied. “He’s always had you to keep an eye on him. I know he’s a big bad MC president, but we both know how lonely he gets. Why do you think he drags home all those losers to sleep with?”
“Because he’s horny,” I said, my tone flat. Sometimes the truth isn’t pretty. “I’m not going back. I just got away from him for the first time in years, and he’ll use this as an excuse to try and keep us there. You know he will.”
“You’re not a slave, you know. You can leave whenever you want.”
“Or I can just stay here. They weren’t shooting at women, and if it’s safe enough for Cookie, it’s safe enough for me. I’d rather stay in Portland and keep moving forward. I’m not going to take stupid risks, but I’m not getting locked away forever, either.”
“You’re letting hormones cloud your brain,” she said bluntly. “This is about Hunter. But he’s just a guy, Em, and there are millions more all over the country. A dick is a dick.”
“It isn’t just about Hunter, Kit. Okay, I’ll admit, maybe it’s a little about him. But I also fought hard to get out. I’m not like you—I’m not independent and strong . . . If I go home, I might just stay, and I don’t want that.”
“We’ll talk more when I get there,” Kit said, sighing. “I see them pulling up right now. I feel kind of bad for this guy I picked up. He was talking about making me breakfast, but I’m just gonna leave him a note. No point in waking him up.”
I snorted.
“You’re a slut.”
“Probably,” she replied with a hint of her old spirit. “But he’s shit in bed. It’s better this way. See you in a few.”
• • •
By nine that morning, the kitchen was warm and full of good smells. Cookie and I were making a king-sized batch of pancakes while Kit sliced fruit. Deke and the brothers had a council of war going in the living room, so we’d closed the sliders that separated the kitchen and dining room to give them privacy. Silvie sat at the table coloring and singing some weird, unending little song about pizza fairies.
I couldn’t seem to stop checking my phone. No word from Hunter. I wasn’t particularly surprised—I assumed he was in his own council of war right now. I just hoped he stayed safe.
“I think Kit is right,” Cookie was saying. “You should go home to Coeur d’Alene with her. If this thing with Hunter is real, it’ll still be real in a couple weeks, when we’ve had a chance to wrap our heads around what’s happening.”