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He nods and bile churns in my gut. No way am I going in for another lockdown. I’m tired of being stuck in that damned clubhouse.
I shake my head.
“No.” My hands move abruptly. “No more lockdowns. I have to go to work today or they’ll fire me, and I need my job.”
The Club doesn’t consider the fact the real world doesn’t care if we’re being hunted by an enemy. It cares about the fact I’ve had nine days off in the past three weeks for no reason. My boss tries to be understanding, but there’s a limit to that.
I’m pretty sure if I don’t come in this time, I’m going to lose my job, and that can’t happen. I need it.
I also happen to like it.
They’re good people and accommodating. Most of the staff there have gone out of their way to learn British Sign Language, so I can communicate without using text-to-speak on my phone or tablet, or simply writing messages. I feel included there, and it took me a long time to find a job that would take someone who couldn’t speak. Discrimination shouldn’t happen, but in a town as small as Kingsley, it’s rampant.
That aside, I can’t afford to lose my job. I rent a small flat in town that costs me an arm and a leg because my brothers wouldn’t let me rent anywhere they deemed ‘unsafe’, which, in Kingsley, happens to be three quarters of the town.
I probably should have shared a place or stayed living with Mum, but I’m twenty-eight and I needed my own space. Mum babies me far too much. In fact, my entire family does. I know they mean well, but between Logan, Jem and Adam, I feel stifled all the time. I don’t know how Beth and Piper put up with my eldest brothers’ antics at all.
“If they fire you, the Club will find you a new job.”
Jem’s getting impatient now. I can tell by the way he’s twitching. He’s also anxious. His eyes keep scanning our surroundings, as if he’s expecting trouble.
I should, for that reason, let this go, but I can’t.
I need control of my own life, and the Club is coming between that ability.
“I don’t want the Club to find me a job. I want to keep the job I have.”
I understand they’re cautious after Weed was dumped at the back gates of the clubhouse beat to hell. I understand the war with the Reapers puts everyone on edge, but life has to go on. It doesn’t do anyone any good to hide in the shadows, scared of everything. I’m getting tired of not being able to live my life normally—well, as normally as you can when your entire family are members of a motorcycle club.
“Kenz…”
“No,” I sign. “This isn’t happening again, Jem. I don’t care if the entire Reapers’ club has taken position outside the clubhouse, I need to go to work.”
He stares at me a beat, and I can see the frustration mounting in his expression. He reaches through the window and tugs my keys free of the ignition.
“Not today you don’t.”
I open my mouth, gawking at the audacity of what he just did, but he doesn’t wait for my reaction. He walks back towards his bike, holding my car keys between two fingers.
Seriously?
This is what it’s come to?
I count back from ten, but only reach seven before my blood pressure goes through the roof. I’m out of my car before I consider what I’m doing and round on my brother, my hand held out. I don’t sign what I want. I don’t need to. My open hand makes it clear I want my keys back right fucking now.
He doesn’t oblige, so I have to give him the words. “Give me my keys back.”
“Not unless you’re coming to the clubhouse.”
I clench my jaw tightly and resist the urge to strangle him. How is it possible to love someone so much, but want to kill them at the same time?
“I’m safe at work, and I have Rabbit tailing me.”
My attempt to allay his fears do nothing. He just stares at me some more, his arms folded over his chest.
Pig-headed bastard.
Sometimes, I wish I could speak, just so I could let all my irritation out, but from the moment I was born I’ve never made a single vocal sound. That’s not going to suddenly change twenty-eight years later.
