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“I’m Molly,” she says, suddenly, as she hands the phone back to me.
“Hunter.”
“Real name or road name?”
“Road.”
“So why are you really here tonight, Hunter?”
“Because of him,” I say, tapping the phone. “He and I have been on the road for a while and we need a break. But I don’t want to stick around anywhere I’m not welcome.”
“It’s just you and Charlie? What about his mom?”
“She died.”
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
“So am I. It was sudden. Unexpected,” I say. Something softens, almost breaks, in Molly’s hard green eyes and I push on it, sensing a weak point and maybe a way in to whatever she’s trying to keep me away from. “I was out on a ride, and I came home thinking it would just be a nice family dinner. Except it didn’t work out that way. I found her dead on the living room floor and Charlie crying his lungs out in the other room. My entire world changed in that one moment, and I knew I had to get Charlie out of there — just too much darkness for a little one like him to be around. We’ve been on the road since, but it’s time we settle for a while. The road is hard on him. I’m no stranger to the life. I’ve ridden as a nomad for a long time. Worked in this life, did some occasional honest work as a welder when I needed to. All I want is somewhere for Charlie and I to recoup and the chance to do a few jobs and maybe earn some cash before we get back on the road. That’s all.”
She nods and pours me a second beer. “You did the smart thing in coming here first. To do what you want to do, you’ll need to talk to the MC’s president. His name is Rabid.”
I put a twenty on the bar and then raise the glass to Molly. “Thank you, Molly. You want to point out which one is Rabid, so I can go introduce myself?”
“I will not do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to deprive Charlie of his daddy.”
Briefly, I flirt with the idea of taking the money back, but only for half a second, and never seriously, because I’m a killer and a nomad biker, not a tip-stealing asshole. “What are you talking about?”
“The club’s involved in some business right now that makes them real suspicious of outsiders. And, even before the business started, Rabid was as suspicious as they come. You can walk right up to him, be polite, hold out your hand, and the only thing he’ll give you is the shovel for you to dig your own grave. Go home, Hunter.”
I think about Charlie, about how tired he looks, about how hard life has already been for him, about how I’m the only person he’s got left in this world, and about how, last night, for the first night in too fucking long, I finally got some fucking sleep; I like it here in Ironwood Falls, and I have been through too much shit just to walk out that door.
“I’m not leaving here empty-handed.”
“You’ll leave without hands if you don’t take my advice.”
“No. No way in hell I’m leaving here just to take Charlie back on the road again. It’ll break him. Whatever it takes, I have to try. So point me to this Rabid and let me handle the rest.”
“Not a chance,” she says. Just as I reach for the money — because, fuck it, if she’s going to send me packing, I’m going to need to keep every penny I’ve got — she grabs my hand. “You approach Rabid without anyone from the club to vouch for you, you’re as good as dead. But there might be a way.”
“What do I need to do?”
“I can think of two members who might need your help and might just be crazy enough to vouch for you in return. There’s one problem, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Dealing with these two… you might end up wishing you were dead.”
Chapter Thirteen
Emily
The world freezes as Maggie brings the phone to her ear. Sophie and I trade a look and an entire conversation silently passes between us in a second, in the way it only can between best friends. Do we run?
No, Maggie’s my friend, and she already knows… Or thinks she knows. What good would running do except make us look guilty? Then we’d have to explain to Hunter why the police and child services are looking for his son.
