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I checked all the supplies in the cabinets.
I washed the towels and clothes that were in the bathroom.
I took the dogs to go potty on the roof.
I played fetch with them inside when they started getting restless and tussling with one another.
It was a big, open space, with lots of room for dogs to walk around. Yes, even fourteen of them. But they were dogs used to roaming the grounds all day. This was torture for them. Plus, well, they probably missed A and the rest of the guys who I’d seen sneaking them bits of food at meal times.
I couldn’t help but wonder how many of those men I would never see again. How many of them had known, like Luis had known, that I was an imposter.
Maybe, morally, I should have been appalled to know A had come home covered in blood the night before. That I’d washed it out of his clothes myself. That I was not telling authorities about what he was doing.
But I’d been trained my entire life to understand that outlaw lives were different than normal ones.
As a child of an outlaw organization, I understood that nothing in the world was more important than loyalty, than protecting what was yours.
A was right. My dad and uncle had all killed people to protect what was theirs, to defend their women and children and club brothers.
I couldn’t fault him for doing it if I didn’t fault them.
God.
How the ever-loving hell was I going to explain this to said family? That their straight-and-narrow daughter and niece and cousin and friend was shacked up with a cartel kingpin?
It was going to be an interesting conversation, that was sure.
If A lived through this.
That thought stopped me in my tracks.
I didn’t want to think of that, but what if that was the outcome? What if Luis killed A, and took over in Navesink Bank?
My stomach twisted hard enough to force me to bend forward to ease the ache.
My family would need to get involved.
The biker club would have to… take out the cartel to keep me safe.
And the dogs…
Well, the dogs were mine, damnit.
It would honor A.
He’d want that.
“Enough,” I grumbled to myself, forcing the thoughts away as I turned and walked toward the window.
And thank freaking God for that.
Because I would have missed them.
Five men.
Guns drawn.
Making their way toward the building.
Fuck.
Oh, fuck.
I shoved my shaking hand into my pocket, dialing the only number in it.
A was panting when he answered.
“A!”
That was all he needed.
“I’m on my way,” he said, and I could already hear him running, hear doors slamming. “How many, mama?”
“Five that I can see. Shit,” I said, hearing the alarm trigger.
“Luis one of them?”
“Yes.”
“Get the guns,” he demanded as the dogs started barking and snarling, either knowing that the alarm was a bad sign, or sensing my panic as I ran across the room, going into the cabinet, and grabbing weapons, shoving them in my pockets and waistband with a protective Val standing right at my side.
“Got it,” I said, feeling better with a gun in my hand.
But only a little.
Were those footsteps I heard on the steps?
“You stay on this phone with me, you hear me?” A barked, tone sounding just shy of frantic. And it was so disarming coming from someone as calm and collected as he was.
“I’m right here,” I assured him. “I think I hear them on the steps,” I said, inching back toward the living room, eyeing the main door like it might bust open at any moment.
“What does the cameras show?” he asked, trying to keep calm, but there was no mistaking the edge in his voice.
I took a few steps closer, seeing the men coming up the stairs like I’d thought.
Luis.
And three other faces, only one of which I recognized.
“They’re in,” I told him. “Moving up. Four. I only recognize Luis and one other guy.”
“Harold?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, nodding.
“He wasn’t home when I went to grab him this morning,” A said. “Fuck. Stay with me.”
“I am,” I told him, inching away from the monitors, wanting to be further from the door, closer to the roof. It wasn’t a great bet, but if it was all I had, I could go up there. Wait for help.
I wasn’t sure if I could take the ladder and go down, leaving all the dogs there on the roof, defenseless. Stuck.
I cradled the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I reached out to pat Val’s head, feeling a little comfort knowing he was right there with me.
“Hey A?”
“Yeah, mama?”
“What is the command?”
“What command?” he asked, and there was the sound of horns blowing as he, I imagine, ran a red.
“For the dogs,” I told him. “To make them attack.”
“They’re not getting in, Hope,” he said, using my name as he so rarely did, trying to drive home his words, assure me that I was safe.
