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“Oh! Oh, fuck you, no!” he hollers.
Lifting my right heel, I bring it down hard on the outside of his knee. He goes down like a stack of canned goods, curling into a ball on the floor and yelling just like he did the last time.
The old guys jump out of their chairs, shouting and confused. I stride to the middle of the stage and grab Angel, throwing her over one shoulder. As I come back down the middle, I grab the Colt and the cash and stuff them both in my trousers.
Everybody's too surprised to do much of anything. For a bunch of hillbilly hard asses, they sure do know how to back up when a pissed-off holy man comes through the middle of their filthy hellhole of a bar.
Owen’s already got his bike running. He drops the helmet onto Angel's head and picks her up, puts her behind me. For a moment he hesitates like he wants to say something, but then he walks away.
We roar out of the parking lot, gravel spraying up behind us as Owen idles there, waiting for anybody who might want to give chase, making sure they don't catch us first.
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Her arms are tight around my middle, and I feel her shaking against my back, sobbing probably, but safe.
Safe with me.
Chapter 21
Angel
The motorcycle roars through the darkest parts the county, filling it with noise. With my arms tightly locked around Father Daddy's strong body, it's not nearly as frightening. I squeeze him with my thighs, my body aligned with his, just like he told me to do. When we turn, he scrapes so low to the ground that it seems as if we’re going to fall right off and go tumbling into the ditch. But he told me not to turn away. So I don't turn away. I ride with him, leaning into the turns just like he does.
Our bodies move together, navigating the machine over hills, past anywhere I've ever known. Even through the heavy helmet, the noise is almost deafening.
But I don't mind. We're together. He's going to keep me safe. I just know it.
After a while, there are lights coming up on the horizon again. It looks like a lot of lights. Maybe a town. I've never seen a town in real life, only in books and occasionally a movie or something that somebody would play in the compound. But I’ve never been out here. It's like a dream someone else had, but it's undeniably real.
There are lights of all colors. As we get closer, I can see that there are tall signs. Waffle house. Country buffet. A giant fat boy with a checkered waistcoat and hamburger over his head.
I squint at the sights as we fly by, barely having enough time to piece out any of the details before the thing is gone. He swerves again, turning across traffic into the parking lot under a big sign that says Motel.
It’s an L-shaped, two-story building with dozens of doors facing the parking lot. He stops the bike in a parking spot and shifts slightly. I know he wants me to get off, so I do, standing next to him as he turns off the motor and leans the bike on its stand.
“You just let me do the talking,” he says.
Of course, I think. I wouldn’t have a clue what to say.
The bell rings over the door as we walk into the room marked Office. A skinny man sits by the desk with his feet up on the counter, peering at a magazine with a underdressed girl on the front cover.
“Evening,” Father Daddy says politely.
There’s a bulge in the front of the man's lower lip and he pokes at it with his tongue before he says anything.
“You got ID for her?” is what he says.
“Just give me a room for the night. I’ve got cash,” Father Daddy answers. His voice is tight and unforgiving. I hope this man complies quickly.
He shrugs and looks down at his magazine, flipping a couple pages before he speaks up again. I hear him sniff for a long time, the mucus sound crackling wetly through his sinuses.
“Can’t do it,” he snorts. “It's against policy.”
“I don’t care about your policy,” Father Daddy answers. He nudges me with the heel of his hand, directing me to stand behind him. Obediently, I shuffle out of sight. He's so broad, I just disappear in his shadow.
“You can do it, friend,” Father Daddy says in his preacher’s voice. “It's just one night, then we will be on our way.”
“Can't do it,” the guy says again. “Sheriff will be here in just a minute, too. I already hit the buzzer when I saw you in the lot. You gotta be twenty-one to get a room in this county, and I bet you already knew that. Why don’t you weirdos just be on your way then?”
