Nobody knew.
In the meantime, Deke wouldn’t let Cookie go to her shop. He wouldn’t let me go to work, either, which wasn’t such a big deal because I’d just been picking up shifts as needed. But she could tell things were falling apart without her, and Deke didn’t even seem to care.
On the bright side, the guys were back in their clubhouse, which meant the house wasn’t full of bikers anymore. The water damage still needed to be fixed, but apparently it was workable. That was a big relief. Cookie didn’t want her house to be a target, and even Deke had to acknowledge she had a point.
He still left guards with us, though, and he’d spent almost every night at her place. Silvie had moved into Cookie’s room, so at least he had a bed. Of course, that bed was pink and covered with stuffed kittens.
Apparently, Deke was above worrying about such things.
Around six, the front door opened and Deke walked in . . . home from work just like a 1950s sitcom, only with guns and cartels and lives at stake. Cookie came out of the kitchen, a determined look on her face and a plastic bag in her hand.
“Deke, we need to talk,” she said, her tone ominous, thrusting the bag at me. “Em, would you keep an eye on Silvie? I have a Lunchable in here, and some fruit in case she’s hungry. Not sure how long it’ll take.”
I nodded quickly.
“Out here or back in her room?” I asked, wondering what was the safest distance. I had a bad feeling about this . . .
“Room might be best,” Cookie said. Deke glanced over at the prospect he’d left with us that morning, who was watching uncomfortably.
“You can head out,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door. “I’ve got it from here.”
The prospect and I met eyes, and I’m pretty sure we were thinking the same thing. World War III was about to break out in that kitchen. I wished I could leave with him. Instead I grabbed Silvie and took her to my room.
Outside the house, I heard the prospect driving away. Coward.
“I’m hungry,” Silvie declared. “Mom lets me eat the treat first.”
Yeah, right.
“Start with the meat and crackers,” I told her, peeling off the plastic and handing her the food. Then I wondered why I bothered—the chocolate was probably healthier than the waxy, fake cheese in the little carton. I dug a granola bar out of my purse for myself, wishing I’d thought to grab a Diet Coke or something.
During the next hour, I read Silvie four books before starting a movie for her on my laptop. Then I crept out into the living room to scope out the situation.
I heard yelling in the kitchen, and then I heard something hit the wall and shatter.
I crept back into the bedroom.
Around eight Cookie knocked on the door.
“Sorry about that,” she murmured. Her hair was all messed up and her cheeks were flushed.
“Deke still here?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head.
“Nope,” she said. “He called someone else to come over. I think he’s got some stuff to sort out . . .”
“Everything okay?” I asked hesitantly.
She shrugged.
“Not sure,” she admitted. “But he’s gone for the night. I guess we’ll see what happens tomorrow. I’m planning on going to work. If he’s smart, he won’t try to stop me.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
My phone rang at eleven that night.
“Yeah?” I asked, not quite asleep but not entirely awake, either.
“I just got back to town,” Hunter said. “I know it’s last minute, but can I come and pick you up?”
“Of course!” I said, a wave of excitement perking me up. “When?”
“I’m just down the street.”
“Um, I need to grab some stuff,” I said, glancing around frantically. “Give me fifteen minutes? Or at least ten?”
“Ten,” he replied, his voice low and sexy. “Fuck, I can’t wait to get my hands on you, babe. The shit I’m gonna do to your body . . . Don’t forget to grab that dirty book of yours. You don’t need clothes, but the book sounds like my kind of reading.”
I giggled, feeling all silly and happy.
“See you soon, babe,” I said, hanging up the phone. I started grabbing things quickly and throwing them into my backpack. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and nearly screamed. My hair was all lank and flattened, I’d already washed off my makeup, and even my teeth felt grimy.
Like something out of a horror movie.
I darted across the hallway to the bathroom and brushed my teeth, then sprayed some dry shampoo into my hair and slapped on some lip gloss. Full makeup wasn’t really an option at this point, but it was better than nothing. I dashed off a quick note for Cookie and crept quietly out of my room to the kitchen, where I propped it up on the table. I figured I’d email her, too, that should cover things well enough. Then I walked out into the living room to find one of the prospects, Gordie, on the couch watching TV.
Pisser. I’d been hoping he’d be asleep.
“What’s up?” he asked, taking in my backpack and shoes.
“I’m going out,” I told him brightly. Nothing to see here. “Don’t worry about it.”
He stood up immediately, fully alert.
“I have orders to keep all of you safe in the house.”
“You don’t get to make that decision,” I told him, sounding far more confident than I felt. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m not a prisoner.”
“I’m calling Deke.”