Goldie
The yellow envelope was back in Twister’s hand, folded carefully like it held something fragile instead of a stack of papers that had almost gotten me killed.Men moved around the clubhouse with purpose now.Not panic.Not confusion.Purpose.Chairs scraped, boots thudded, low voices passed orders and confirmations back and forth, and within minutes, everyone had something to do.
Everyone except me.
I stood near the table with my half-finished beer still sitting in front of me, feeling like the one loose screw left behind after everyone else had figured out where they belonged.
Hodge, Method, Sully, and Chewy headed toward the back hallway, already talking about the basement and what they were supposed to be looking for without tearing the place apart.Podge and Gramps gathered the copied documents into neat stacks, though Gramps looked about as excited as a man being handed a root canal.Rev and Magnum were discussing the library, old city records, and where they might find historical building maps.Swift and Nugget stood near the door, both of them waiting for Twister to finish one last quiet word with Tempi before they left to track down Marv’s family.
I didn’t move.
For the first time since I had run from my apartment, I had stopped moving, and now I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Wheels did.Of course he did.
He stood beside me like he had been assigned to my shadow and intended to take the job seriously.His arms were crossed, his cut hanging open over a black T-shirt, and his eyes kept moving.Door.Windows.Front room.Back hallway.Me.Door again.
“You planning on standing there until your beer gets warm?”he asked.
I looked down at the bottle.“It’s already warm.”
“Then you’re wasting it.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve had enough.”
“You’ve had half.”
“I also slept until noon and woke up in a biker clubhouse after being chased through the dark by people who may or may not want me dead.”I tipped my head.“I’m trying to make smart choices.”
His mouth twitched.“That what we’re calling it?”
“That’s exactly what we’re calling it.”
He reached for my bottle and moved it a few inches away from the edge of the table like it had personally offended him.“You okay?”
That question again.
I looked around the room.Tempi was still by Twister, her hand tucked in his.Britta stood near the kitchen, pretending she wasn’t watching Swift like she wanted to follow him out the door and maybe tie herself to his arm.Men were leaving, coming back, opening drawers, grabbing keys, moving with the kind of coordination that said they’d done this before.
Was I okay?No.
But I wasn’t on the side of a highway anymore.I wasn’t in my car with headlights closing in behind me.I wasn’t alone in my apartment staring at a printer while documents spilled out and my hands shook.
So maybe okay was relative.
“I’m standing,” I said.
Wheels nodded like that was a perfectly acceptable answer.“Good enough.”
Twister called his name from near the bar.“Wheels.”
Wheels looked over.“Yeah?”
“Show her around.She needs to know where things are if she’s staying here.”
Staying here.The words hit harder than they probably should have.
I knew I couldn’t go home.I knew going to my sister’s place would be a terrible idea.I knew running wasn’t as simple as throwing my backpack over my shoulder and walking out the door.
