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The door interrupts the silence when Alex bursts through it, Squealer following behind her with a huge duffel bag in his hands.
“Have you not packed yet?” she asks, looking surprised.
“Packed? What for?” Now I'm certain something is off. The look that Screwy and Squealer exchange only confirms it.
“The whole club is going into lockdown. We’re gonna have to stay at the clubhouse for a few days,” she explains, and I immediately feel myself relax.
“What happened?” I ask Screwy when he takes my plate and gets up to put it in the sink.
“Screwy picked a fight,” his brother answers for him, chewing the inside of his cheek as he smirks.
“You mean Screwy saved your ass,” Alex corrects him with a hard slap on the shoulder. “Didn’t you explain?” her head turns to Screwy, who simply shrugs back at her.
“He wouldn’t have had time to explain. You know how us Harrison boys get when we get blood on our hands. That shit’s like moonlight to a werewolf.” Squealer snaps his teeth at the air savagely, and I’d laugh if I wasn’t so confused.
“I killed Verretti’s nephew last night. He was at the house we raided, and he put a gun to Squealer’s head,” Screwy explains matter-of-factly.
“And right before Screwy blew the brains out of his skull, the little shit told Brax that Grace is Verretti’s retaliation plan for what Brax did to his brother. So we all decided they’re getting taken down a little earlier than we planned,” Squealer continues, and I feel my mouth drop open when I think about Grace being at risk.
“Come on, I’ll help you pack. The boys have got church. We should get there early and get a good spot in the hall. I refuse to sleep in one of those rutting rooms.”
Screwy places a tight kiss on my cheek before he leaves with Squealer, but it’s colder than the ones he’s given me before, and I try to ignore the feeling of dread in my stomach as Alex leads me into our room so I can pack a bag of my own.
When we arrive at the club, the whole place is in chaos. Marilyn is flapping like a hen kicked off her nest, rifling through the kitchen cupboards frantically and reeling off a list of what she’ll need to Storm.
“You need some help?” I check, not wanting to interrupt but needing to be of some use.
“Lydia,” she smiles, despite the fact steam is practically billowing out of her ears. “Take over from Storm here, sweetheart, he keeps moaning that I’m talking too fast.”
He hands over the notepad shamefully, and when I look down, I can’t make any sense of the scribble in front of me.
“You can go and help Maddy put up some cot beds in the hall instead.” She shoos him away.
I tell Marilyn to start from the beginning, and we make a fresh list.
“I’m gonna go with Tawk to the wholesalers and get this before they lock the gates,” she explains. “You go find yourself a bunk and try not to worry. Lockdowns are only precautionary, but they are always interesting.” Her eyebrow raises.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when you get whores, and old ladies locked together in the same building for more than a few hours, people tend to get agitated.”
“I thought we were going to Grace’s cabin. The organization still doesn’t know about that, right?”
“That was the plan if they launch an attack on us. From what Maddy's told me, they aren’t gonna get the chance to do that. Prez wants to move in now and take them out before they come to us.”
“I’m scared for Screwy,” I admit out loud. I know he puts himself at risk with what he does, but what Marilyn is describing sounds like war.
“Screwy?” she laughs. “Child, don’t fear for him. When you’ve seen him at his worst, you’ve still only seen his good side. I heard he slashed the dick clean off a guy once.” She stops smiling when she notes my reaction. “I’m sure that’s not true, though, honey,” she laughs nervously.
“Don’t be worried about Screwy. Fear for those who stand against him.” She places her hand over mine and smiles at me warmly.
Every man here is tired and on edge. Especially the ones whose old ladies are currently making the clubhouse their temporary home. It’s not even 9am, and the place is in chaos.
“You good?” Squealer asks me as church starts to fill.
“Yeah.” It’s a lie, and he probably knows it, but I don’t want to get into it now. “Guess that twin communication thing really does work, huh?” I point out, he’s the one always talking about the connection. I thought he’d have been the one to bring it up, he loves being right.
“What the fuck you talkin’ about?” Squeal looks at me like I’m talking crazy.
