Long Way Home

Another thing Cyrus taught me: to spill it instead of being a coward. “Skull told me my dad was a traitor. That he worked for the Riot while being patched in to the Terror. He said the detective in Louisville recently figured it out and it wouldn’t be long until he told you.”

An inferno. Cyrus’s face is cool, but his eyes are a raging fire. “My son was no traitor.”

Don’t know how to respond, so I keep going, searching the table for support from someone, and instead I’m met with relatives of the grim reaper. “Skull said he wanted to talk to me before you guys found out. Out of respect for my father. He said James was a friend of his, a good man...” And there’s nothing else to say.

“Do you believe him?” Cold. Deadly. Not a voice Cyrus has used with me before.

“No.” But it bothers me Skull brought it up. Bothers me he said there’s a woman out there who has proof. Bothers me my father isn’t buried in Snowflake. Lots of things bothering me and none of them are wise to mention.

I just survived a kidnapping. Not feeling suicidal at the moment.

Multiple cell phones chime and I jerk as if brought out of a trance. Eli pulls his cell out of his pocket, then whips his head when someone bangs on the door. Not just banging, kicking the hell out of it. The door shakes within the frame.

Man O’ War shoots to his feet and Eli shows Cyrus his phone.

The banging continues, with such force I check to see if the hinges are holding. Even though no one at the table is freaking out and there weren’t gunshots from downstairs, adrenaline pours into my veins.

“Open the door,” Cyrus says and angles his chair so he can get a view of the door.

Man O’ War pulls the door open and Violet barrels in. A flash of red and she catches herself on the wall as she stumbles. I’m out of my chair so fast it rocks, but I become locked in place. Violet possesses a superpower and it paralyzes everyone in this room, including me.

Wrath.

She wears it like no one else I know.

“Are you serious?” she spits. “You bring Chevy up to talk and not me?”

“Women aren’t allowed in Church,” Cyrus says. “And you know better than to be interrupting us. You were raised better than this.”

Violet pushes off the wall and hobbles toward Cyrus. “You mean women aren’t allowed unless they’re here to clean, right? Or is this the one place you do that yourself? Know what? Don’t answer. Chevy was kidnapped and so was I. Anything you have to say to him, you say to me. I have just as much, if not more, at stake here as Chevy.”

Cyrus folds his hands over his stomach. “Maybe we weren’t discussing the kidnapping. Maybe we were discussing Chevy’s prospect period and his eventual patching in.”

Violet’s eyes land on me and the pain written on her face punches me in the stomach. She then shakes her hurt away. “No, this is over the kidnapping and all of you need to pull your heads out of your misogynistic asses and tell me what the hell is happening.”

Pigpen walks around the table, and as he nears Violet, she stumbles back, but he’s faster. With one longer step, he engulfs Violet in a hug and lifts her into the air.

She slaps his shoulder. “Put me down, you fucking asshole!”

“She’s back!” Pigpen rocks her like she’s a doll and then gently deposits her back on the ground. He places his hands on either side of her face, looks into her eyes with that crazy-ass smile on his face, then kisses the top of her head. “It’s good to have you back, kid.”

Violet smacks his hands off her face. “Get off me.”

He winks. “Love you, too.”

“Are you going to let me in on this or not?” she demands. “Or are you going to continue to play your reindeer games with the Riot and let people like me be collateral damage?”

I will them to tell her. I think of how Violet fought not only for me, but for her brother. The cold loneliness of the basement. The way we depended upon each other to survive. Violet’s right, and if they don’t let her in, they’re wrong.

Eli stands, and when he walks in her direction, she lifts her hand. “Touch me and I’ll knee you in the fucking balls.”

Knowing she’s serious, he allows her space. “You shouldn’t be on your leg. Strutting across the yard, climbing staircases, kicking the hell out of the door isn’t going to help you heal.”

“Do you ever bother listening to me, Eli, or is there a translation function in your brain that screws up whatever I say into you hearing what you wish I would have said?”

Eli cracks his neck to the left. “Why can’t you see all we’re trying to do, all we ever try to do, is take care of and protect you?”

“Protect me? I was coming home from a football game. You know, being a normal teenager, and I was kidnapped by your rival motorcycle club. That’s not safe and posting men at my door at the hospital because you’re scared they’ll make another grab at me isn’t protecting me. That’s called cleaning up your mess. The only thing that is going to keep me and my family safe is knowledge. It’s up to you whether or not I’m worthy enough in your eyes to let me know what’s going on.”

Eli and Cyrus exchange a long glance and Cyrus sighs. “I’ll talk about it with the board.”

My shoulders sag and Violet turns away in disgust. That was a nice way of saying no-fucking-way. She’s out the door, using the wall as a crutch, and I’m chasing after. Cyrus grabs my wrist and I pause.