I nod to Eli, because I haven’t been granted permission to speak. Because of Eli’s past and the club’s bylaws, he can’t be a board member. While I don’t know the details, I do know that when Eli returned home after a long stint of being away, the club had a special meeting, a vote was taken and they allowed an exception to the rules in his case.
While Eli may never be an official board member, he is part owner of the security company, and, besides Cyrus, the most respected man in our club. As Cyrus explained once, while Eli will never vote, he’s part of the board as a consultant and when he talks, people listen.
My eyes sweep the room. The five other men eyeball me like we’ve never met. Eli’s words become a gathering storm in my mind and my gut twists. I’m a guest here. Not welcomed—no privileges.
In this club, a member can’t hurt another member. You throw a punch on a brother then you’re out. But I didn’t make prospect last night, so there’s nothing stopping any of them from nailing me. If Eli swung at me now, Dad wouldn’t stop it. The patch is thicker than blood.
“Want to tell me what happened at my daughter’s motel last night?”
Best way to handle this? Short and to the point. “I fell asleep.”
Eli’s nostrils flare. “Do you have any idea what would have happened to Emily if you hadn’t woken up?”
The imagined possibilities cause a coldness to creep along my bloodstream. “No.”
Eli lifts his gaze and meets my father’s stare. “Walk me through this, Oz. I need to know exactly what happened.”
I work hard to school my expression though everything’s unraveling inside me as I explain—from waking, seeing the guys from the Riot, driving to the other side of the building and then pulling Emily into the crevice by the vending machine. All of it.
When I finish, Eli rocks the chair back on its legs and continues to glare at Dad—not at me. Never at me. In the seven years I’ve known him, Eli’s never ignored me.
I risk speaking out of turn. “What’s going on?”
“We drove north for a while last night and found a member of the Riot.” Cyrus strokes the length of his beard. “We chatted and after some persuasion he told us that the Riot had heard a rumor that Eli had a daughter and they came to check it out.”
“We have a rat,” says Eli.
“Until last night, Emily’s pictures were all over Olivia’s house,” says Dad. “She’s not the highly guarded secret you think she is.”
“Baby pictures,” Eli argues. “Nothing over the age of two. Hell, there were Reign of Terror members who’ve been patched in for over ten years who had no idea who Emily was yesterday.”
“Why Emily?” I ask.
Eli assesses me. Boots to jeans to T-shirt until he reaches my eyes. “Why your dad the other night? Why does the Riot do anything? They’re looking for a way to break us and they don’t have a problem using my daughter to do it.”
“You said that they were there to confirm the rumor,” I say. “Olivia already wore herself out over the brief time Emily spent here. Wouldn’t it be better if we send Emily home?”
Eli’s head ticks to the side and before I can register the exact threat, he plows into me. My back slams into the wall and a frame falls to the floor and shatters. Glass flies across the tile. Large chunks and small shards hit our feet.
I raise my hands to push him back, but the click of a safety causes the entire room to fade. The only movement is my heart beating and the cold steel of a gun sliding against my forehead. “Do you think this is a game? That I can take pieces off the board and the Riot will believe they’re no longer in play?”
A numbness eases into my brain and I keep my sights locked on him. If he’s going to pull that trigger, he’ll have to kill me while staring straight into my eyes. “No.”
“The Riot is after Emily.” Eli twists my shirt tighter in his grip. “They’re pissed because we won’t give them a cut of our profits since we’re riding through their territory. They’ve been taking it out on us on the road and because someone told them about Emily, they decided to make this personal.
“My daughter’s life is in danger. I’ve had to rip her from her home and I’m going to have to work like hell to keep the integrity of this club and my business intact while keeping Emily alive. I asked for one thing from you and you put my daughter’s life in danger. On your fucking life, will that happen again?”
I overpronounce each word. “On my fucking life, I will never fail you or this club again.”
“Do you know what I’ll do to you if you put Emily’s life in danger again?”
Eli swings the gun away, the bang reverberates through the room, then the muzzle of the gun is back in my face. A loud ringing in my head disorients me. My survival instincts scream to fight, but Eli’s not through with me and I’m not done standing.
Not a guy in the room moves from their seat. The ringing gives way to silence and then Eli’s voice comes out clear and calm. “You know what Cyrus told me?”
“What?”
“That Emily trusts you.”
The safety clicks back on, Eli flips the gun away from my head and he offers me the grip. For the first time, I glance in Dad’s direction and he subtly nods. I raise my palm up and Eli plants the gun in my hand. “It’s yours. Keep it with you at all times. Do you understand?”
Not at all.
Eli reclaims his seat at the table, the tension from his body gone. “We have several runs over the next few weeks that are back-to-back and long-distance. The majority of the club will be working them, including me. I want you by Emily’s side twenty-four-fucking-seven. If she has to pee, I want you outside the door listening to the toilet flush. If she’s asleep, you better be stalking the outside of her window. You got it?”
Jesus Christ. I check the lock on the safety. I’ve shot guns multiple times in my life, but I sure as hell haven’t carried one. Age of open carry in Kentucky is eighteen and with the job I’d be taking with the security business, I knew I’d be packing, but somehow, this gun feels heavier and hotter than anything I’ve handled in my life.
“What are you expecting to go down while you’re gone?” I ask.
“Hopefully nothing, but I won’t run the risk of them going for another grab at her.”
My eyes snap to his. “Is that what it was? A grab?”