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I bite my bottom lip and Oz swipes his thumb over my mouth, causing me to let it go. His thumb stays at the corner of my mouth and I swear he must feel my pulse pounding in my veins.
He lowers his hand and I clear my throat. “I believe we were talking.”
“Yeah,” answers Oz.
I search frantically for what we were discussing. “You were going to give me some great insight into your world.”
“Yeah. That. In my world, we don’t have to worry about half the shit that you do.”
This I have to hear. “Like?”
“Backstabbing. Trust issues. The Terror is about family and loyalty. When someone says they’re going to do something they do it. When one of us has a problem, every man in the club will drop whatever they’re doing to help. I’ve seen how the rest of the world works and I don’t care for it. Everyone out for themselves. Shoving knives into each other in order to reach another rung on the ladder. Lying to save face. Once you’re in the club, you have a family you know won’t abandon you.”
My mind wanders to the countless relationships I’ve had over the years with girls who swore to be my friend one minute and then wouldn’t speak to me the next. The hours of gossip that fill my school day. The lying, the manipulation, the constant power struggle between social groups.
And then I go home and listen to my parents talk about the same issues, but in adult terms. How someone cost Mom her spot on the PTA board. How another doctor lied to my father and took credit for research he had accomplished.
Me, Mom and Dad—we have each other, but how many times have I felt hollow because the three of us were outnumbered?
Oz’s words sound seriously pretty, but it’s easy to disregard the ugly when it doesn’t fit your argument. “Eli left me and you’re currently lying to me. The club can’t be as perfect as you think.”
Oz reaches behind him and my eyes widen when he produces a very real, very terrifying handgun. I draw my feet onto the couch and scramble back, but only end up a few inches farther from the weapon.
“Calm down, I’m not going to shoot you.”
“That’s a gun. It could go off and kill me. Those things happen. I’ve seen it on the news.”
“The safety is on. Look.” He tilts the gun and slides his thumb over something, shifting it toward him. “Safety off.” Click. “Safety on, but if it will make you feel better...”
A louder noise and out pops a part that I assume contains the bullets. He holds up both parts in the air for me to see then rests them on the end table at two different corners. “I’m carrying a gun. See—I told the truth.”
I slowly edge my feet to the floor as if I’m testing the temperature of the water surrounding us. “Why tell the truth now?”
“Because when it comes to the club, I won’t be the one to put a bad taste in your mouth. Yeah, I haven’t been completely honest with you, but it’s either because I’ve been ordered to keep my mouth shut or I’ve been doing it to protect you. I didn’t tell you I carried a gun because I knew it would scare the shit out you. It’s nice to see I wasn’t wrong.”
“So if someone from the club orders you not to tell me something, you won’t? Isn’t that the same as lying?”
Oz’s jaw ticks. “You’re not a brother and as a woman you will never be, but you are important to this club. We will protect you. There isn’t a need of yours that won’t be met if you allow us in, but my obligation is to the club before anyone else.”
“If that’s the way it is,” I hedge, “then why don’t you wear one of those vests that everyone else is wearing?”
“I was supposed to start my initiation period, become a prospect and get my cut the night of Olivia’s party, but you showed and messed everything up.”
“How?”
“My job was to watch you until you stepped on the plane, but then I fell asleep in the parking lot at the motel. I woke up as you walked out of your room.”
“I’m not the one who fell asleep,” I say. “So I’m not seeing how this is my fault.”
“You’re right.” Oz cracks his head the side. “You coming to Snowflake changed everything, but I’m the one that fucked up and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Scares me more than you know that they could have taken you—that my mistake could have hurt you.”
I pause at that. A few minutes later and how different would my life have been? Would Dad have been right? Would I have bought my water and returned to the room, and I would now be home getting ready to attend Blake Harris’s next party? Or would
my mother and Eli’s fears have come to life and I’d be a pawn between two groups of men who detest each other?
“Am I in danger?” I ask again as a whisper.
Oz is quiet. Maybe thinking or fighting internally, I don’t know, but either way his answer could change everything. “Eli says you are.”
