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Wyatt shook his head. “What does that mean?”
“What aboutthem?” Becca said.
“Them?”
“Well, how many of these Bone Faces are there?” Becca said.
“Death’s Head? I’m not sure,” Wyatt said.
“A lot,” Griz said.
“Griz,” Wyatt said.
“What?” Griz said. “She deserves to know the truth. There’s a lot of them.”
“Yeah, but they stay down in the city, mostly,” Wyatt said. “It’s only recently that they’ve tried pushing out here, and it’s only been in small numbers.”
“So far,” Becca said.
“You could always stay at the clubhouse,” Griz said.
“Oh, please don’t act that that’s a real option, Chewie,” Becca said.
“I realize it’s not what you’re used to, but it would be the safest place possible,” Griz said.
“Safest is not the word I’d use,” Becca said. “The clubhouse of an outlaw biker gang that’s currently in some sort of turf war with a gang of psychos called Death’s Head? That’s pretty much Ground Zero.”
“Don’t worry,” Wyatt said. “We’ll make sure there’s someone around here keeping an eye out. Me and Griz are here, and we can definitely get more of the brothers to help out with guard duty.”
Don’t worry, he says,Becca thought.As if it were that easy, to just shut it off.
Heavy thoughts weighed down her brain for the rest of the day. She couldn’t seem to shake them. And the night time was even worse.
Every car that passed by was a potential drive by shooting. Every creak of the house settling was a killer creeping up on her.
She’d come out here to get away from her disaster of a life, to spend some quality time with her sister, and now she’d ended up putting her sister at risk. Bad enough that they were after her. She couldn’t stand the idea of Death’s Head going after Kate because of her.
That was exactly what would happen if she stayed here. Muscle Boy Mal and his psycho friends would show up with automatic weapons and spray down the house, and probably kill her sister in the process.
When she finally drifted off to sleep, even her dreams betrayed her. She dreamt she was trapped sitting down, duct-taped to a chair so completely that she could barely even breathe.
There in front of her, Kate, with her hands tied behind her back, down on her knees in front of Steroid Boy Mal. He gripped Kate’s hair tightly with one beefy fist, muscles creaking as they strained, leering at Becca as he wrenched Kate’s head back at a painful angle.
“Snitches get stitches,” he said, holding up a sharp butcher’s knife that gleamed in the light. “And bitches should keep their mouths shut or they getthis.”
With that, the knife came down across Kate’s throat, and Becca woke up with a choking gasp. She was shivering even though she wasn’t cold, staring around at the dark bedroom, squeezing her own arms to shake away the images of that dream that insisted on lingering.
It was the worst thing imaginable. Bad enough that something should happen to her, even worse if that trouble came knocking at Kate’s door.
Becca hadn’t wanted any of this. Not any of it. And then she’d told herself that she had to put her big Girl Boss pants on, and do the right thing to put that hit and run driver behind bars.
But she hadn’t thought of this. She hadn’t considered that it might put her sister at risk. She could never live with herself if something happened to Kate because of her.
Her mind was made up before Kate left for work the next day. There was no way she was going to be the cause of anything bad happening to her sister.
“I’ll be back at seven,” Kate said. “Call my cell if you need anything, okay?”
“Sure,” Becca said.
