“There’s a way,” I clip, pressing back against the rage threatening to overtake me as I sift through possibilities.
Dread covers both their expressions as Tyler presses me. “What are you thinking?”
“Get her to Layla, and don’t let her go home.” Tyler nods and, without another word, walks back to his truck before backing out.
Ginger’s eyes stay glued to mine as Sean speaks up beside me. “I can see a thousand scenarios going through that fucking head of yours.” He exhales more smoke as I stalk toward my Camaro. Sean opens my passenger door, opting to stick with me until he knows it’s safe to leave me to my own devices, dread in his tone. “Wonder which one will cost me less skin.”
Splintering the front door open instead of a polite knock, my birds flood in from behind me. Scanning the space, I’m met with the sight of Jeffrey’s friends scattered throughout Ginger’s living room and kitchen in different states of a fucking high. One with Toby’s baby bottle tipped up, drinking from the nipple.
Cloaked from head to boots in black, my inked brothers begin to pluck away Jefferey’s tribe one by one. Russell drags one kicking and screaming through the front door just as I zero in on the motherfucker and his wide eyes. In a flash, I’m gripping him by the neck and his jeans, lifting him chest level before dropping him onto the littered coffee table—which shatters beneath him. In seconds, the apartment is cleared, and the only remaining screams are those of the baby down the hall, echoing his mothers. I lift Jeffrey by the collar to see him conscious with only a few cuts—which won’t do.
His eyes widen when he realizes who is staring back at him through the ski mask. His scream cut off with my first blow. Knowing time is of the essence, I rain down on him as many times as I can, feeling his flesh give way to my knuckles to make sure he’s unrecognizable until Tyler rips me away.
“That’s enough, brother,” he urges before dragging Jeffrey’s unconscious body through the door. Marie follows, begging Tyler to release him—a fucking lost cause. Pulling my gloves from my pocket, I slide them on and dial the number with my burner phone while making my way toward the baby’s room.
Pushing open the door, Toby’s screams ring in my ears from where he stands in his crib. Diaper weighed down, tear streaks—both new and old—coating his filthy cheeks.
Tamping down the rage at the sight of him, I pull my mask up as I approach before lifting him from his crib. He stares back at me, terrified, as I run my gloved hands down his back in a soothing motion. “Shhhh, little man, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
“Please don’t take him, Dom.” This comes from Marie, who now stands at the door, her plea echoing throughout the quiet apartment. Time ticking, I hear the operator on the other end of the line speak up as I walk over to Marie and hand her Toby. “No more chances.”
Putting the phone on speaker, I toss it into Toby’s crib as the operator’s voice fills the air. “Sir, are you there? Sir . . . we have a unit on the way now with an ETA of four minutes. I want to confirm that you asked for child protective services. Can you tell me the age of the child? Can you get them to a safe location? Sir? . . . Sir?”
Marie gasps, face twisting in panic as I pull my mask down. Stalking past her and clearing the front door, I jump in and close the double doors on a van full of screaming drug addicts.
Limbs heavy, I pull on the blunt while making both a literal and physical attempt to drive some of the restlessness out of my body. Tension starts to marginally disburse with every long pull on the blunt. Sinking further into my seat, I click on the radio.
“It’s 1 AM in Western North Carolina. And now for Today’s forecast and your local news on the hour. You can expect clear skies for most of the day and a high of 87 with the slight possibility of a late afternoon shower. Now for the news . . . wow, get this, folks. Eight men were just arrested for public intoxication and indecent exposure. The men were found naked and disoriented, walking down a median on Highway Eleven. Each had conflicting stories on their whereabouts prior to their arrest. One of the men was reported as saying they were captured by birds before they were disrobed and left on the highway. Consider this your PSA to take it easy on the Moonshine. Let’s kick off our next half hour of uninterrupted music with my man Marvin’s “What’s Going On?” Feels appropriate.”
Grinning at the stoplight, I grab my cell to call Sean and let him in on the secret we handled while he was working his shift at Tech and pause, tracking his Nova instead.
Grandad’s Apple Farm.
Tossing the phone, I decide this is another secret he won’t be privy to. When he got no word from us after he clocked in for his shift, I’m guessing he assumed we weren’t making a move today. He’s so preoccupied that I doubt he’ll bother to ask.
Downshifting, I decide that the longer I wait for everyone to get on the same page, the less gets done. We’ve got a severe kink in our system that needs to be worked out before we can take things further.
Sean’s words about counting on people’s loyalty are ringing truer than ever. Over the years, he’s been a part of everything, and his continued and voluntary absence from the day-to-day lately has me questioning whether his ink matters as much as it used to. Sting ringing in my chest, I floor the gas and let the road guide me until my vision starts to blur. Even then, I push through as the truth of it settles in my gut. The truth that life moved on when Tyler and I left, and no one waited for either of us.
Just as no one is waiting for us now.
Tyler appears in the doorway before tossing some paperwork on my desk. Pulling my earbuds out, I scan the report as he gives me the CliffsNotes.
“Marie didn’t implicate us, even though Toby’s now in Ginger’s temporary custody. Marie took full responsibility for all of it and has to make state-mandated efforts to get him back.”
“I have zero fucking regrets,” I toss the paperwork aside.
“It was risky,” Tyler adds.
“Yeah, well, that’s our daily bread.”
“We need to get going.”
I nod, logging out of a few windows. We’re meeting at the warehouse to discuss what inventory we want to barter with before taking it to trade with other chapters at the Meetup.
“Any word from Miami?” I ask, clicking out of a dozen active windows on a few screens.
“Still haven’t paid dues since we denied them in on our big secret.”
The big secret being our new connection with birds infiltrating government agencies to help cover their asses in the future. We decided not to take the risk since they’ve always skated moral lines and have no intention of stopping.
“Fuck them.”
“My sentiments too, but something is definitely up.”
“They coming?” I ask, making a few more clicks.
“The invitation was sent, but they’ve missed the last two.”
“Might be time to send a few birds to fly south.”
He nods as I roll back in my chair and glances at my desktop. “What were you working on?”
He reads my hesitation and grins. “Now I have to know.”
Standing, I move the mouse to hover over my last open window before clicking it and turning up the volume. In the next second, Cecelia’s voice fills the air.