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“Maddie.” He acknowledges my smile and adds a teasing curve to his lips.
“Can I get you guys anything? You’ve been out there for hours.”
“We’re done. I came in to take you out and show you what we’ve put together. You can fill me in if anything is missing or if you want anything else added,” he states.
I jump off the couch and run to the door, passing Risk and chattering, “Let’s go! I’ve been dying to see it.” I can hear the rumble of chuckling as he follows me out the door.
I step into my studio and am awestruck at the detail and care that has been given to this project. It’s amazing. It had the latest equipment and I know it’s the best because I researched this over and over, wishing I had my own space and thinking that one day I might have this for myself. I touch the buttons on the console and look around. My CDs and awards are framed and mounted on the walls. War has even taken the time to look through my pictures and hand-picked some great shots of me and Paul, the entire band, and one of me singing. The one of just me is from the night of the concert with Satan’s Pride. I was so deep into the song that every emotion is visible on my face.
Risk interrupts my thoughts. “Let me show you the security I installed.” I shake my head a little to refocus my attention on Risk.
“Here is the key pad. Code is 623343. You walk in and immediately the code needs to be entered. Once you are in you will re-enter the code to rearm. When you leave you will have twenty seconds to enter the code to arm it before locking the door. It is rigged that the lock must trigger in order for the alarm to be secure and will send a signal if it is not,” he states. He shifts his attention to the space throughout the room. “I have made special provisions for this room that no one knows about, Maddie. Not even War. I did the work myself and I know it’s solid.” His voice is serious, and his gaze states the same.
He walks across the room to the wall. The wall is wainscoted in a cream colour with antique accents throughout. A row of buttons is on the wall. He goes through each one, pointing at each as he explains their importance. “This one work the microphone on/off, this moves it across the ceiling and back, this one locks it in place.” He waves me over to come closer. I approach and he points to the last button. “This one is for emergency use. This button,” he hits the button and a panel slides open in the wall, “is for a panic room.”
I know my mouth is open. I gape at the space in the wall. Then look up at Risk. Then back to the room. “Oh my God,” I whisper loudly.
Risk ignores me and continues. “This room is if you hear anything happening outside or if someone is trying to get in here that you believe is a danger. It only fits three and that’s a tight fit. If anyone is trying to get in here, chances are they want you or Paul. You two get in here and the others leave through the emergency exit in the back.” He points to a door that I thought was a closet and understand he hasn’t labelled it so that it won’t tip anyone off.
But Risk isn’t done. “In this room there is an emergency phone. It connects directly to the club and there is always someone who will pick up. It goes through every phone of every member and someone will pick up. I have placed some water and protein bars as well as blankets in there just in case we have to act cautiously and may take some time to get you out. Chances are you will never need to use them, but I would rather have them there than not. This room is impenetrable however if someone by any dumb luck finds a way in, I have a gun placed here.” He walks me into the room and on the built-in shelves I see the blankets and other items he mentioned. Risk reaches for the black case and in it is the same model gun that I have been practicing with at the shooting range, ammo included.
His hand touches my arm and I look up at him. “You mean everything to him. Now you mean something to all of us. We are keeping you safe. Not only from this lunatic but however and whenever you need to be safe.”
I mean everything to him. He means War. War has publicly declared this to his brothers. I blink up at Risk. “I’m taking my life back,” I said.
Risk looks at me curiously, “What?”
“He has taken enough time out of my life. I am taking my life back.” I look at Risk. “I hate that War is constantly having to worry about me. I hate that I have caused you all distress. That stops today. He doesn’t get anymore.” I state.
“Maddie, you are not to do anything foolish,” he starts, but I interrupt him.
“No never. I would never do anything to cause you guys any more grief. I want him caught. I want this to end so Ava and Vi can lead normal lives. I want to see War settled so that we can go on our ride together and laugh freely.”
“We have a plan,” he says.
“What is it? How can I help?” I ask.
“War is waiting in the house. That’s our next stop,” Risk smiles.
Risk makes me practice opening the panic room and loading and unloading the gun and then teaches me how to make sure it is sealed properly when we go inside, just in case we ever have to use it.
Twenty-Two
Color of the Sky
Maddie
War is on his cellphone. His side of the conversation is limited to essential words only. The occasional “Yea, brother”, “Got it”, “Stay with him”, and the one that he emphasizes the most is, “All eyes”. He is so concentrated on the call that he is unaware Risk and I are in the room. He stands by the large window, looking out onto our property, his forehead leaning against the pane of the glass. He is anguished with worry. He is worried about me and his brothers. I am not sure who was on the other end of the phone however I know that he was reassuring War and with a heavy sigh and a final, “Thanks man”, it’s the end of the call.
Risk decides to announce our presence. “Yo, we’re back.”
War turns to face us. I stride over to meet him. I roll to my tiptoes and brush my lips against his. His fingers squeeze lightly at my waist. I love that. I also love that crinkle in his brow when I surprise him. I plan on surprising him more often.
War does his chin lift to Risk. It must be in the hot biker playbook.
“Take a seat, Kitten. I want to run something past you,” War says. I curl into the corner of the couch. It’s become my spot and one of my favourite places to write.
“War, I want you to stop thinking I am going to fall apart. I am strong; you let me see just how strong I am.” I tell him.
