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Being a young boy who played hard and slept harder, it’s surprising that the little bit of glow from a small flashlight woke me when my bedroom door opened. On my side, mouth gaping as I slobbered on my pillow, my eyes barely cracked a slit after the door was shut. My parents checking on me wasn’t anything new, nor were the outlines of a set of leather biker boots standing on the wooden floors in the hallway. It was the fact that there were two pairs that told my brain to wake up.
Dad’s club brothers had been to the house many times, but they never wandered in the hallway outside my and Evie’s bedrooms—in the middle of the night. Not on a school night. Mom wouldn’t have any of it. Her kids were to get uninterrupted sleep. Plus, there was only one man who didn’t wear a leather vest that read Steel Stallions who was still welcomed in our house.
Liam. Dad’s best friend.
The bedroom dark again, I tried not to make a sound as I slipped out of bed and crept to the closed door. Noticing my nightlight wasn’t on, I placed my ear against the door and listened but only heard the creaking of the wooden floors.
Immediately, my heart pounded, warning me something was terribly wrong, even though no security alarm was blaring that there was an intruder. My ears strained to hear Dad’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs to charge the strangers, but they never came.
Hiding in the bedroom wasn’t an option I was even close to considering, so, without delay, I tiptoed to the phone on my nightstand, already chanting a phone number in my head. Ever since I was old enough to dial a phone, I had been taught to call the club if there was an emergency, but, on this fateful night, there was no dial tone.
Holding the phone to my ear, my eyes raced back to the dead nightlight plugged into a wall. Then past words of my dad’s hurried through my mind. “Boy, if something don’t seem right, chances are it ain’t.”
Starting to tremble, I stared at the closed door, wondering if I should chance opening it and scream for my dad to wake up, but then more words of his entered my mind. “Never give your enemy the upper hand.”
Not completely understanding his meaning, I wondered if making any noise would give these two men—possible enemies—the upper hand.
Trying to control my wild breathing, I decided them believing I was still sleeping was for the best and snuck my hand between my mattress and box spring. As soon as I touched the cool metal, my fingers wrapped around the butt and pulled the weapon out.
Barefoot, and in pajamas, I held the gun at my side, my trigger finger laying on the side of the gun, ready to slip into action, just like my dad taught me. Then I snuck forward, reaching out to the doorknob with my free hand. I sucked nervous lips into my mouth to quiet my panicked breathing. Every cell in my body was hoping to see Dad waiting for me in the hallway, his hands in the air, begging me not to shoot, but smiling, seeing his training had not gone without me paying attention.
But… he wasn’t there. In the darkness, no one was.
The hallway was empty, and my sister’s bedroom door was open.
No.
With my gun pointed, the butt cupped and secure in my left palm to steady my aim, I snuck forward until reaching the opening to the living room to my right. To stay out of sight, I stepped directly behind me, into the bathroom I shared with Everleigh, while I dared to let my eyes travel upward to the top of the stairs. My parents’ bedroom door was open, elating my stressed heart.
Quickly, I snuck forward to scan the dark living room, silently pleading to see my dad hiding in a corner, ready to kill whoever was in my sister’s room, but every dark corner was… empty.
Horrified, my sight raced back to my parents’ door. I had heard it shut before I fell asleep. I was sure of it!
Oh no…
Whenever my dad was called to the club, he left their bedroom open so Mom could hear Ev or me if we needed her.
I swallowed, now worried for my mom. She slept light, yet I couldn’t see her, either. Was she hurt? Did these men get to her first?
Studying the end of the hallway, I crept to Ev’s door, put my back against a wall, then peaked in.
For the second time that night, I hoped to see something other than what my eyes were showing me. I hoped Everleigh’s door was open because she had left her bed to crawl into Mom’s. I didn’t want to see one man quietly scooping up her tiny sleeping form while the other man peered past a curtain at her window. Moonlight shining in on him, he whispered, “Still all clear.”
Neither man wore a cut. These were no Stallions.
“Put her down,” I said with the shakiest voice I’d ever experienced.
Two sets of beady eyes found a boy in the doorway. Then they saw my gun.
The man holding Ev said, “Easy, kid.”
As the man by the window took a step toward me, I redirected my barrel in his direction while simultaneously hearing more past words of my dad’s. “Now, if you’re going to point your gun, be sure you have the balls to use it, or they won’t believe you next time.”
Why Dad thought there was a high chance that any enemy of his would face him again was beyond me, but the message was clear.
No idle threats.
Boom!
