by Zoey Parker
“And during this visit—” which I was pretty sure meant my arraignment, the next time I’d be in Mount Cherry, “—can I assume some people are going to be a little unhappy?”
Dean nodded. “Of course. I know a few people who definitely won’t be seeing you who are planning on it.”
Like the judge and my lawyer. Meaning they were planning on getting me out of there before I ever reached the arraignment. I frowned. Was this a good idea? Probably not. If I were caught, I’d be in a hell of a lot more trouble than a few years in prison. There would be no chance of coming out of this innocent and definitely not with a reduced sentence.
But on the other hand, I knew better than to expect leniency. Mount Cherry had it in for me, and there was no getting around that. Not with my stepfather as mayor, and I didn’t foresee him getting the boot anytime soon.
Still, this was pretty reckless.
“Have you heard anything from Carol?” I asked, seemingly out of the blue.
Dean gave me a surprised look, then thought about it a moment. “Eh, no, I haven’t. From what I understand, she’s on total lockdown.”
I thought about that, then asked, “She hasn’t left at all?”
He shook his head. “No. And maybe that’s not true. Maybe they snuck her out or something, but none of the cars have left that place since they holed up inside. Winston’s made it his personal quest to watch and make sure.” Dean rolled his eyes like he thought Winston was being ridiculous. But he still added, “I don’t think they’ve left, but there are guards posted.”
And that was what settled it for me. Posted guards. No one leaving that place. My baby on the chopping block. No, I was going to have to get the hell out of prison now, and I was going to have to get Carol out, too.
“All right. I’m looking forward to the visit, but we’re going to have to add one more person on the to see list.”
“And who is that?” Dean asked, though I could see by the little smirk at the corner of his eyes that he already knew.
“Carol,” I said simply, and he nodded.
“I’ll set it up, Boss. You just be ready.”
I nodded and got ready to wait. Two days suddenly seemed like an eternity.
Before he went, Dean gave me the other half of the reason that he was here. “Horton isn’t around anymore.”
I blinked at him in surprise. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what that meant. Had he left? Or had he been left in a ditch somewhere? Not that it really mattered to me in the end. I knew he was the bastard behind all of this.
“And here I thought he was your dear old leader?”
Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Eh, didn’t suit him. Nothing much suits a rat other than the gutter, if you catch my drift.”
I did. “So, you found yourself some proof?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah. Hard to miss when he goes bragging after just a few shots. Boy oughta learn how to hold his liquor better.” He winked at me. “But we sent him on his merry way, and I don’t think he’ll be bothering us anymore.”
I considered asking just what that meant but refrained. “Not a problem, then?”
Dean gave a single shake of his head. “Nope. Not anymore. And neither are the people who wanted him to stay.”
I held his gaze for a moment, then gave a curt nod of my head. “Good. I’ll keep a look out the next time I’m in town. Look forward to my visit.”
Dean took that cue as a dismissal and left.
***
Two days later, I was being escorted to the van that was going to take me back to Mount Cherry. I wasn’t necessarily a high priority or risky criminal, but they took their jobs seriously, and I found myself cuffed around my wrists and ankles both. Mount Cherry didn’t have a lot of crime—and according to Mayor Lautner I was the cause of all of it—so I was more of a big deal than I would have been in some place like New York City or Chicago. There, I probably wouldn’t have even been called a criminal. A small fish in a big pond, maybe.
It made me think I should probably reconsider just where I was running my motorcycle club.
The drive back to town seemed to take forever. I was bouncing with impatience, working hard to keep myself calm. Apparently, I hadn’t done a very good job, because one of the guards looked back at me and asked, “The hell’s the matter with you anyway?”
I cleared my throat and forced a smile. “I’d kill for a cigarette.”
The guard made a disapproving face but didn’t say anything. He just turned back around. I managed to keep myself in check the rest of the way. Until I saw the sign for Mount Cherry. That was when I noticed a line of dark spots nestled amongst the foliage. Dark and shiny spots.
Instantly, I realized what they were. Motorcycles. The Anarchy’s Horsemen were waiting just along the line of town to somehow break me out of my current predicament—so I could drag everyone into another.
I did my best to get ready. There wasn’t a lot I could do given that my wrists and ankles were cuffed, but at least I wasn’t attached to the bus or anything. The courts had ruled that that was a safety violation. If there were an accident, a prisoner had to be allowed to have the chance at least to get the hell out of there.
It took a little bit before I heard the roar of the motorcycles. When I did, I knew it was time.
It started with just two of them passing the bus. I recognized them as Bane and Dean. The guard looked over at them, giving them just a cursory glance, before looking away. A couple of guys on motorcycles hardly warranted too much attention.
Maybe you should have been paying attention to what I’m in here for, I thought, biting back a smile.
Bane and Dean quickly passed the bus, then lingered just in front of it on the road. They didn’t speed up or go any farther despite having very deliberately passed the bus. It looked like it was slightly irritating the driver, but he likely thought they were only a couple of rude punks.
He had no idea that they were about to force the bus to stop.
Thanks to the two motorcycles in front of us, no one noticed the sound of the others coming up from behind. By the time anyone noticed that two others were coming up along the side of us and that the two in front had yet to move, it was far too late to try to do anything about it.
I didn’t know exactly what the plan was. They couldn’t risk telling me lest the guards overhear anything. All I knew was to anticipate the breakout. And this was definitely it.
The guard beside me finally realized that something wasn’t quite right. He frowned as he glanced out the window at two of my guys who were running along the side of the bus. He wasn’t armed, since transporting prisoners meant the weapons were all locked up. No one wanted something to go wrong and the guns to end up in the wrong hands. Namely mine.
He stood, motioning towards the driver. “Hey, Pete, you seeing these guys?” He gestured to the side but was likely encompassing the two ahead as well.
“Yeah. They’re starting to make me nervous, Harv.”
The guard, Harvey, seemed to agree with the sentiment. “Well, give them a little honk, would ya? I don’t want any damn monkey business on my shift. I got a wife and a baby to get home to.”
Pete, the driver, nodded. He knocked the heel of his palm into the center of the steering wheel twice, causing the horn to blare loudly. The motorcyclists paid him no attention. I noted that none of my boys were wearing their leathers. They were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, wearing sunglasses and bandanas, but not with any color coordination or any indication that they might all be together at all. Although it would be painfully obvious who had broken me out should we all be successful, right now, no one would know for sure what was going on.
Hopefully not until it was too late.
“Bunch of punks,” Pete grumbled out. “Kids these days don’t have any damn respect.”
Harvey said nothing, only nodding absently. I could tell by the pull on his lips that he had sensed something more was going on. He had realized these weren’t just some punks.
These guys had a goal in mind.
“Just keep driving, Pete,” he told the driver as he turned away—turned and looked directly at me.
I did my best to keep my face blank, to not give anything away to this already suspicious guard. There were other guys on the bus with me. Guys who were going to be arraigned. Most of them were white-collar guys. Doctors who had sold too many prescriptions. Forgers and frauds. People who’d embezzled. Our little Mount Cherry wasn’t quite sure what to do with a guy like me. Which was why none of the guys were sitting directly beside me.
The guard came over to take a seat on the bench seat across from me. “You wouldn’t happen to know what’s going on today, would you?” he asked calmly like we were just having a chat, not talking about the men outside who were now clearly trying to herd the bus.
I shrugged my shoulders, the cuffs on my wrists jangling slightly. “Wouldn’t know what you mean, sir.”
The guard clasped his hands together. “Listen, I need to go home today. I need to walk away from this job the same way I do every day. Most of these guys…” He gestured to those sitting on the bus with us. “… they aren’t going to pull any stunts. They still think they can get off. They’ve got money, influence. Hell, they’re probably bribing judges or something. But you.” He pointed a finger at me, and I saw the fear in his eyes. “You’re not walking from this one. No one wants you here, and they’ll do whatever they got to do to keep you well away from their little Pleasantville.”
“Do you have a point?” I asked him, fully aware of my own situation.
“Yeah. I do. My point is that they’ve got something to lose. You don’t. And that makes you a hell of a lot more dangerous than all of them put together.”
I didn’t say anything for a while. I just waited. I heard Pete curse as the bus jerked to the side, then straightened itself out again. I didn’t have to see it to know that my boys were starting to cause trouble. This bus was going to stop pretty soon.
Harvey looked nervously towards Pete, then back to me. He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “I get it. You’ll do what it takes to get out. It’s my job to stop you—but I’m not going to lose my life over it. I have a family to go home to and a little girl I promised I would see tonight at dinner. She likes to have tea at five.”
Something gripped in my chest. I didn’t want to take away some little girl’s father. But I couldn’t promise his safety either. My boys would do whatever it took to get me out of here. Period. Still…
“I can’t guarantee anything,” I told him seriously honestly. “But when things go down, do yourself a favor. Don’t get into that little locked box. All they want is me. Let ’em have me and be on your merry way. No one will think less of you.”
He paused, considering my words, then asked, “Any chance you’ll call this thing off?”
I smiled wryly at him. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. I’ve got my own girl to save.”
I heard him curse under his breath and stand abruptly, clearly not happy. He glanced towards the locked box where I knew they kept the only weapons allowed on the bus. If he went for it now, he’d get to it before my guys could force the bus to stop. And that would mean a firefight. My boys weren’t looking to kill anyone, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t.
Finally, I saw the guard run his hand through his hair, then shoot me a look. He looked pissed but nodded once. Then he sat back down, the locked box untouched.
Just then, the bus swerved again. Pete cursed. “Dammit! The hell are these jackasses doing?”
“They’re forcing us off the road,” Harvey answered calmly, still sounding angry and maybe just a little scared. He didn’t trust me; I wouldn’t either. Probably, he was having second thoughts about not getting out that gun when he had the chance.
“I’ll radio in backup,” Pete said quickly, reaching for the radio on the dash.
Harvey glanced at me nervously but didn’t stop him. I didn’t care; the police wouldn’t get here in time at this rate. Pete called it in. He explained what was happening even as he cursed as my boys forced him off the road. They were on motorcycles, and it was entirely possible that the bus could just ram them off the road, killing the riders. Pete was trying to avoid that, I was pretty sure, but he finally got frustrated enough that he swerved hard to the left, trying to take out my guys. They dodged out of the way, and for a second it looked like they were backing off.
“Damn bikers,” Pete muttered.
A second later, the front tires popped and we swerved, slamming onto the left side of the bus, causing us all to tumble to that side. I fell into Harvey, who cursed as the glass of the window shattered around his shoulders. I saw blood on his face, but he was breathing.
I reached for his keys and undid my cuffs. He moaned and tried to move, but I shoved at his shoulders hard. “Stay down. Not worth losing your life over.”
The other prisoners, those who weren’t seriously injured, seemed to clamor. Some wanted me to get them out, too. Others begged me to leave them, yelling at the guard that they were playing by the rules, and that counted for something.
I ignored all of them.
I crawled over the debris to the door. As I reached for it, forcing it open, I felt something tug on my leg. I looked back to see that it was the driver, Pete. “You son of a bitch! This is your doing!”
He was injured, but definitely alive and kicking. He was jerking me down, tugging on my pant leg, but I wasn’t having it. I jerked my leg back, my shoe making contact with his face. I broke his nose, I thought, blood spurting as he let out an angry curse. But he was alive. As I reached for the door again, I saw Winston was leaning into it, reaching down to me.
“C’mon, Boss! We got a rescue mission to get started on!”
I grinned at him. “Two in one day. Impressive.”
He let out a booming laugh as he hoisted me out of there. We rode off, stopping to get me changed out of the ugly orange jumpsuit that made it far too easy for me to be spotted and to plan the logistics of our next rescue mission.
Getting Carol out of there.
Chapter Nineteen
Caroline
I paced the length of my room. My father was downstairs on the phone making arrangements, and it had me absolutely terrified. He wouldn’t listen to reason when it came to the baby. He felt it was detrimental to my health, that by making the choice to keep this baby I was resigning myself to a second-class life.
I didn’t bother telling him that maybe if he was more of a father—and by extension a grandfather—and actually helped us out, that wouldn’t be the case. He wasn’t interested in how any of this might be connected to him or how he could make the situation better. All my father was interested in was making all of this go away. As quickly as possible.
What am I going to do? I thought as I paced anxiously, biting my nails to the quick.
I really was starting to panic. If Asher weren’t in prison, I was sure he would come to help me. He’d save me. But he was in prison, and that wasn’t likely to change any time soon. Worse still, since I was stuck in here with no way to contact the outside world, I couldn’t even do anything to help him with that.
And now my father knew I was really serious about the baby and that I wouldn’t go along with his plans. What would he do in retaliation to that? Would he make me do it anyway? Surely the staff at whatever clinic he took me to wouldn’t go along with that, and they definitely wouldn’t do anything to me while I was unconscious. The legal repercussions of that would be out of this world.
But he is the mayor.
The thought made me stop in my tracks, a slow, dreadful feeling filling me. He could bribe a lot of people. He could convince the doctor I was sick, that if I kept the baby, something terrible would happen to me. That this was all for my own good and my own safety.
It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the truth. With enough backing and enough money, I was sure my father could find someone willing to go along with it.
That was enough
to convince me that I had to figure out something before it was too late. Dad was going to force me to get this abortion if I stayed, which meant that I couldn’t stay. I didn’t know where I would go or what I would do, but I’d find a way to get out of town and go somewhere that my father couldn’t reach me. I’d figure out a way to survive. I’d get a job and find a place and have the baby, even if I had to do it all on my own.
Thinking in terms like that utterly terrified me. How could I possibly expect to do it all when I hadn’t even managed to have a job on my own? Sure, I’d done a few volunteer things—food drives and SAT study groups—but those weren’t the sorts of things you put on real-world job résumés. Those were the sort of things that country clubs and important colleges liked to see. But for someone looking to hire a waitress? What the hell did they care?