by Joanna Wylde
“Let me take that suitcase for you.”
She handed it over and I carried it out to the curb, popping the trunk to set it inside next to ours, officially filling the Mustang’s storage to capacity. Dad climbed into the backseat, leaving the front for Mrs. Webbly. Then the engine roared to life and we were off to the high school, which was across town.
It made for a surreal trip.
The sky was getting darker as more smoke covered the sun, and the air made my eyes water. Everywhere we saw people loading cars, and most of the businesses had their “Closed” signs up. I couldn’t even see across the valley—that’s how bad the visibility had gotten.
At least the twins were easy to spot outside the school. They looked just like Carrie, but they had Darren’s height. I waved them over and they came running, engulfing me in their hugs.
“Thanks for coming to get us,” Rebecca said. Her sister, Anna, nodded in agreement.
“This is super creepy,” she added. “Can we stop by the house to grab some of our things?”
“If you go fast,” I told them. “But there isn’t much room in the trunk. It’ll have to be small enough to hold on your lap, and you’ll be squeezed in the back with my dad.”
“Do you think the town will burn?” Rebecca asked, her voice unsteady.
“It’s only level two,” I reminded her, trying not to show any of my own nerves. “But we need to be ready.”
“I don’t want to lose all my stuff,” Anna moaned.
“Let’s worry about staying safe, all right?” I reminded her. “First thing, I doubt you’ll lose anything, but if you did, it’s beyond our control. There’s nothing you own that’s worth dying for.”
Her mouth snapped shut, and for a minute I felt guilty, because that was a little harsh. Then the guilt passed, because I had more important things to worry about, like making sure none of us burned up. Mrs. Webbly handled the girls from there, and I have to say, she was brilliant. She talked brightly the entire time, telling them about the other evacuations she’d experienced through the decades.
“The forests have to burn,” she reminded us. “If they don’t, the new trees can’t grow.”
It only took the twins ten minutes to throw together their backpacks. We left the elders in the car at Carrie and Darren’s house, and while the girls packed, I moved through the house with a lightweight grocery bag, collecting their laptop, the jewelry Carrie’d gotten from her grandmother, and as many family pictures as I could find. Then we headed back to our place, passing the police going door to door as we drove. The girls chattered nervously as Mary Webbly and I shared a look.
I didn’t care how many times she’d been evacuated—this was officially scary as hell.
GAGE
The dump station was only ten miles from the clubhouse, but it took us nearly half an hour to reach it because visibility sucked so bad. We pulled off at one point to talk about turning around, but it really was just smoke—all the fires were to the south. If anything, we were riding away from the danger. Still didn’t like being so far from Tinker, though.
Should’ve hung up when Talia called.
Once we pulled into the station—which was less of a “station” and more of a line of Dumpsters in a dirt parking lot—Taz and Hunter scouted for a place to hide the bikes. They found an old forest service access road back in the trees that was perfect. They’d be hidden in the trees, but still easy to access. We’d just gotten everything set up when an emergency alert hit my phone.
Level-two evacuation notice for Hallies Falls.
Fucking hell.
“Talia’s just gonna have to wait,” I told Pic, holding out the phone. He pulled out his own, looking thoughtful.
“No alert on mine,” he said.
“Me neither,” Taz added, but Hunter shook his head.
“Came through on mine.”
“Coverage is spotty as hell in areas like this at the best of times,” Pic concluded. “You have a tower go offline and anything’s possible.”
“Let me call Tinker, make sure she’s all right,” I said. “Then we can go.”
Dialing her number, I waited for the phone to ring. Instead, I got an error message saying the call couldn’t be completed.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “Call won’t go through. I’ll try sending her a text, but I need to get back there. Her and her dad and . . . shit. All she’s got to evacuate in is the Mustang. BB’s there, but he’s on a bike so that’s no good. If a level three hits, I can load them in the bunk of the semi, and if that can’t make it through the fire, nothing will.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Pic said. “The rest of this shit can wait. Don’t panic, though. Level two isn’t good, but it’s not a full evacuation order, either.”
“It’ll come down to the wind,” Hunter added, frowning. “Think it’s picking up.”
As if listening to his words, the massive old-growth pines above us started to sway. I hit Tinker’s number and tried to call her again, I got the same error message.
Goddammit.
Maybe a text would get through. Typing out a quick message, I started jogging for my bike.
TINKER
By the time we reached the apartment building, Carrie had called saying the highway was closed, so she’d have to drive around the long way. That meant two hours minimum before she got back to town, assuming those roads managed to stay open. We made plans for the twins to stay with me at my place, agreeing that if the evacuation order came, I’d take them with me.
Mrs. Webbly ushered Dad and the girls inside to eat lunch while I started making rounds of the building. Several of the tenants had decided to leave already. Sadie and her family had just finished packing up, and the rest already had their plans. This was a huge relief, because no matter how tight we squeezed in, no way I’d be getting more people in my car.
We didn’t need to leave yet, but we might soon. I’d started back across the courtyard when the phone rang.
Margarita.
“Hey,” I said.
“You guys okay?” she asked anxiously.
“For now,” I said. “I’m waiting for Carrie to get back—her girls are with me. Smoke is real bad, and some people are already pulling out. We’re watching for now. I’ve packed as much as the car can hold.”
“That’s good,” she said slowly. “Um, I’m going to text you a link. It’s to one of the news channels, their live stream. Don’t freak, okay? They just announced an interview that’s coming, one you’ll probably want to see.”
“Okay . . .” I answered. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s just watch and see what happens,” she replied, her voice strained. “Then call me back if you need to talk.”
Sheesh. Nothing ominous about that. She hung up, and seconds later a text came through with a link to a Seattle news station. I touched it, bracing myself as the little loading thingie circled around. Then the video started and I saw a shot of Brandon in front of our house.
He looked very serious as a blonde reporter raised her microphone.
“This is Melissa Swartz, live, with Brandon Graham, who is director of the King County Prosecutor’s criminal division. Mr. Graham, can you tell us about your wife and what you know of her situation?”
She turned to him, concern written all over her face. He nodded his head, the portrait of a worried husband.
“Tinker is in Hallies Falls with her father, at their family home,” he said. “We’re very worried about their safety, of course, because officials have just announced a level-two evacuation warning for the town. I think it’s important for all of us to remember that real people are suffering right now, my wife among them. Fortunately, she has a home here in Seattle, so she doesn’t risk losing everything. So many of our friends in the area may not be so lucky.”
My blood pressure started to rise. Friends? Brandon didn’t have any friends here. He’d only come to visit maybe three times in the last ten years, the fucking hypocrite.
&nbs
p; “Has it been stressful, seeing this happen? Are you planning to travel to the area?”
Brandon sighed, shaking his head. “The authorities have asked us to stay away. So many roads are closed, and those that are open need to be kept clear for emergency services and those evacuating.”
“Have you been in touch with Tinker?” she asked. “Has she described what it’s like in the town?”
“We’re in close touch,” Brandon told her. “I’ll admit, as a husband, what I really want to do is go to her. But as a public official, I understand how important it is for all of us to work together. This is a state of emergency, and the residents of King County can help most by offering shelter and raising funds to help those in need. We just hope that Tinker’s family home isn’t lost. I know it would break her heart. On a less personal note, I want everyone to know—on behalf of law enforcement and the entire legal community—that we’ll investigate the causes of these fires, and if they’re found to be arson, we won’t rest until the perpetrators are found and punished.”
Melissa nodded gravely as the feed switched back to the main anchor. I stopped the transmission, then took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. The smoke was heavy enough that I started coughing instead.
How dare he?
“That fucking asshole,” I muttered, pushing into the kitchen. I scrolled through my contacts, finding Brandon’s number and punching it.
“Tinker?” he asked. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“You’re still right there with the reporter, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “We’re all so worried about you. Just pack up your dad and come home, all right? I’ll feel so much better once you’re out of there.”
“That’s not my home and you’re the last man I’d turn to for help,” I told him. I heard his hand muffling the phone as he asked the reporter to excuse him.
“This isn’t the right time for this, Tinker. Stop being so melodramatic.”
“If you want to help, send your financial papers to my lawyer,” I snapped. “Or is there some kind of problem? How about this—you let me worry about evacuating and you worry whether your documentation can stand up to a forensic audit. I’ve been hearing some ugly rumors lately. Got anything you want to tell me?”
Silence.
Of course, it was too good to last. Brandon always landed on his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we can deal with that later. I love you. I need you. Come home, so we can move forward with our lives.”
“How many times do I have to say the same thing before you listen to me?” I asked. “Brandon, there’s fires everywhere. People could lose their homes, but all you see is an opportunity for publicity. It’s disgusting. You’re disgusting. And what’s this bullshit about bringing people to justice? None of the fires are even close to your jurisdiction!”
“Tinker, I don’t care about publicity,” he replied, his voice paternal. “You think it’s all about the campaign, but it’s not. It’s about wanting you back in my life.”
“You really that crazy about me?” I asked. “You want me back? Let me guess, you love me unconditionally and it’s all going to be flowers and roses if I come home, right?”
“Things will be different,” he insisted, his voice low. “I promise. And of course my love is unconditional. It always has been.”
Liar. Time to call him on it.
“Okay, Brandon, I’ll make you an offer.”
“What?” he asked, his voice eager. “You won’t regret this, Tinker. We’re the perfect couple—you know it’s true.”
“Once I get back inside the house, I’m going to upload a sex tape to the internet, and then I’m sending links to everyone I know in Seattle. Including the people at your office,” I said, smiling smugly. “It’ll make you look terrible and probably ruin your campaign hopes, but that’s nothing compared to saving our love, right?”
Brandon didn’t answer, and I laughed, savoring the moment.
“You made a sex tape of us?” he finally asked. “Tinker, how could you—?”
“No, you fucking egomaniac, I made a sex tape with someone else. I didn’t make it on purpose, but it exists. Right now it’s not being spread too far, at least that I know of. I’d prefer it stay that way, but if it takes a video of me fucking a stripper in a hotel room going public to get you off my back, it’s worth it. Last chance, Brandon. You want me, tell me to upload and I drive to Seattle. It’ll be rough—all your friends and co-workers will see it—but like you said, our love is unconditional, so we’ll survive it, won’t we?”
I heard a choking noise through the phone and I laughed again, feeling liberated.
“It’ll ruin your campaign,” I continued, savoring every word. “Destroy your reputation. You’ll be a laughingstock and everyone will know you’ve been lying about our marriage. Or I can keep my mouth shut and you can send the fucking paperwork to my lawyer. What’s it gonna be, Brandon? True love forever or a divorce?”
“I . . . I can’t believe—Tinker, how could you do that?”
“I’ll give you thirty seconds. Then I’m hanging up and hitting the upload button.”
“No!” he said. “Okay, you win. My attorney will talk to yours. We’ll get the paperwork figured out.”
So much for unconditional love.
“Lovely,” I replied. “Make sure it’s all legit. I’d hate to have any unpleasant truths come out in divorce court. Whatever shit you’ve been pulling, it will not touch me. Tread lightly, Brandon, and don’t fuck around.”
Then I hung up the phone and walked in through the side door, feeling like I’d lost fifty pounds. Well, probably more like a hundred and seventy—at least, that’s what it said on his driver’s license. Should’ve done it a long time ago, because I knew one thing for sure. I really would rather upload that video for everyone on earth to see than go back to his lying ass.
“You okay, honey?” Dad asked, wandering into the kitchen. I smiled at him brightly.
“I’m great,” I told him. “Finally figured out how to get Brandon off his ass and move forward on the divorce.”
“That sounds promising,” he replied, returning my smile. “Never liked that fellow. You think you could come into the living room? There’s someone at the door who’d like to talk to you. Says his name is BB. Big guy, wearing a leather vest.”
I followed Dad back to the living room, where sure enough, there was a great big guy standing by the door wearing a leather Reapers MC vest. He was built like a teddy bear, all round and soft-looking. His skin was medium dark and his hair was pulled back into a long braid.
“Hi,” I said, wondering why he was here. “You must be a friend of Gage’s.”
“I’m a Reapers prospect, Miz Garrett,” he said, his voice very polite. “My name is BB, and I was assigned to keep an eye on you today. I’ve been cruising by every twenty or thirty minutes, but the smoke is real bad and it’s getting harder to breathe out there. I figured it would be better if I came in and introduced myself.”
I heard a giggle, looked over to find the twins and Mrs. Webbly watching us from the stairwell.
“What do you mean, keep an eye on me?” I asked slowly, trying to process his words.
“We’ve had someone watching over you whenever Gage isn’t around, ever since the arrests this weekend,” he said earnestly. “He’s been worried that someone might come and hurt you—mostly likely that Talia chick he was—”
I held up a hand, cutting him off.
“I get the picture,” I said, trying to decide how I felt about that. On the one hand, it was the same kind of controlling bullshit that Brandon would pull. On the other, I’d been attacked last night in a public bar by a crazy woman. Having someone around in case she decided to come back wasn’t such a bad idea. “So what’s your plan?”
“I’d like to stay in here with you,” he said. “I haven’t heard from Gage or Picnic—he’s the president—for an hour now, and they aren’t responding to
my texts. Until my orders change, it’s my job to keep you safe.”
I studied him, shaking my head. BB seemed very earnest, but also young. Just what I needed. Another chick to shepherd.
“Have you had lunch?” Mrs. Webbly asked, coming down the stairs. He shook his head, looking sheepish.
Suddenly a massive boom exploded the air, and the entire house shook. We all stared at each other, eyes wide.
“What the hell was that?” Rebecca asked, her voice trembling.
“I don’t know,” I said as police sirens started to wail. “Some kind of explosion.”
“I’m going to look outside,” BB said.
“I’m coming with you,” I told him, but he shook his head.
“It’s my job to keep you safe.”
“If whatever that was comes for us, we’re fucked,” I said bluntly. “We’ll go together.”
He swallowed and nodded, opening the front door. We walked out together to find even more smoke billowing. Visibility made it hard to know for sure what had happened, but there seemed to be a big plume rising north of town.
That’s when both our phones went off, and I looked down to find another alert.
Level three—immediate evacuation for all Hallies Falls residents and the surrounding area.
BB and I shared a glance, and then I made for the door. Inside, the girls were freaking out. Mary Webbly shot me a sharp, questioning glance.
“There’s been an explosion north of town,” I said, wondering what the hell could’ve caused it. There wasn’t much up there—just trees and the Nighthawks’ clubhouse. There was a forest fuel depot, but that was to the east. “We have to evacuate. Go to the car. You’ll be safe with us, girls.”
“What about my dad? He’s out there fighting this!” There was a touch of hysteria in Anna’s voice.
“Save it,” I said, my voice firm. “Your dad is strong and smart. He’ll be just fine, but only if he knows that you’re safe. Out to the car. Now. BB, you’ll have to ride your bike—there’s no room for you in the Mustang. Just stick close to me and we’ll get through this just fine.”