Hero holds out his hand. “Give me your bag, and we'll get out of here.”
“God, I thought you'd never ask.” I toss the bag in his direction, or as far as I can, which is the floor somewhere halfway between. He picks it up like there's nothing in it, though.
“We need to hurry up and get out of here, before they figure us out.” King's glancing up and down the hall, obviously eager to get going. I don't blame him. If I never have to spend another minute in his house, that's still too long.
The door from Dad's library slams open, revealing Mom. Even now, in the middle of the night, she's got blush and eyeshadow in place, making her eyes look bigger than natural. She's got a short skirt and a flowing blouse on, looking all the world like she's heading out to party for the night, instead of orchestrating an escape. Even her glittering Louboutins, which makes it a wonder that we didn't hear her.
“They're coming back,” she hisses while looking the guys up and down. It's obvious that she likes what she sees. “If you're going to make a run for it, you have to do it now. Your father's awake, but he's still at the front of the house.”
God, he's going to be furious. “Will you be okay?” It's crazy that the closest we've ever had to a solid mother-daughter moment is her helping orchestrate my escape from my own house, but I'm starting to think my life isn't exactly normal. “I don't want Dad to—”
“I'll be fine,” she says in a rush, but she's looking over her shoulder like a deer that has smelled a wolf in her corner of the forest. “Just go.”
King is already moving, and Wild Child, after kind of dancing around Mom to get past, follows. Hero throws my bag over his shoulder and indicates for me to go ahead of him. Mom clutches the door handle with both hands, looking terrified but determined.
“Come with us.”
Mom looks at me like I'm crazy. The guys too, to be honest. Maybe I am.
But the idea's stuck in my head now. “No, seriously. Dad treats you like shit, just like he treats me like shit. He's going to freaking explode when we take off, and he's going to know that you had something to do with it. I don't want him to hurt you because of me.” I grip her arm as if to pull her along, but she winces. “Oh.”
“No, it's not you, it's—”
A dreadful realization comes over me, and I yank her sleeve up, exposing a forearm covered in bruises. Holy shit. “Mom!”
“It's—I mean… Emily, you need to get out of here before he finds you.”
“King, take her.”
“What?” Everyone in the hallway says it at once, Mom and bikers alike.
Except King. His gaze goes straight to Mom's arm. “Okay,” he says simply.
“We're leaving, and you're coming with us.” I grip her hand instead. “If you don't want to help me, then at least think about how pissed Dad will be when we're both gone. It'll be amazing.”
“I can't just…” Mom looks up at King, who's taken a step closer.
“You can. You have to. He's going to freaking kill you this time. He'll be furious. Come.” I pull her with me. King squares up as if he's going to carry her.
Mom looks at me, then over her shoulder, then back at me, and finally down at her bruised arm. She shakes her sleeve so it falls back down to her wrist. “My life is here.”
“What kind of a life is it?”
“Emily, we have to get out of here,” Hero interrupts. “Or none of us are going home.”
Home. The club is home now. “Mom. I'm going home. I think you should come home with me. You'll be safer there than you ever will be here.” One last stab.
She swallows nervously, glances once more over her shoulder, then nods. “Okay.”
“Okay? Really?”
“At least until the worst of it blows over.”
“Yeah.” The worst of it will never blow over, not as long as Dad's in a position of power, but I just nod and pull her along. We pass dad's portrait that's now hanging in flaps. Wild Child, obviously. Good freaking riddance.
A few moments later, we burst out the back door, right into a yard full of security guards.
Crap.
We waited too long.
38
KING
Motherfucker.
How many? Ten? Fifteen? And they'll have backup soon. If we're busting out of here, we're doing it now.
“Hold it right there!” says the front guy, holding up a bright yellow taser. I don't know if any of them are packing real heat, though I bet they are, but even a taser is enough to fuck up someone's day.
But we don't have much choice, do we?
“Hero? Wild Child?” They don't need instructions. We've been together for too long. They know exactly what I mean.