Sweet Spot

by Monroe, Evie

  “Hi, mom.”

  “Hi, sweetie,” a definitely male voice said. One that chilled me to the bones. One that used to calm me when I was young, but now terrorized me so much I couldn’t breathe. “How is my little girl doing? And more importantly, where is she doing it?”

  My father.

  I froze.

  “Coming home soon, light of my life?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Or are you still out whoring around?”

  “D-dad?” I started, sputtering, because I had no idea what to say. My heart jammed in my throat, and everything blurred. I gripped the phone tight in my hand and looked around, terrified, as if he was in this very room, watching me. I let out a frightened gasp.

  He laughed bitterly, like he always did when he knew his threats were working and he was on top. This was his power, what got him high. He sounded angry, but I knew he was probably relishing every moment of this. “Right, you little idiot. Why don’t you tell me where you are?”

  “I . . .” I looked around. I couldn’t possibly be anywhere worse, in Slade’s eyes. And from the way he was toying with me, I had to wonder if he already knew. Had his men seen me coming here? “I . . .”

  “I . . . I . . .” he repeated, mimicking my voice. “I thought you were brave, Cait. You sound like a little pussy. Does the little pussy want to come crying back to her mommy?”

  I tried to think of what to do, but nothing made sense. All I could feel was hate. Fear. I despised him. And, I was a little pussy. I thought of what Drake had told me, about not letting Slade win. And I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. For Drake. I owed him that, for believing in me. But my brain was useless, my tongue felt swollen in my mouth and I couldn’t bring myself to speak. My father usually had that effect on me.

  I swallowed back the nausea in my throat and decided to play dumb. “I didn’t do anything, Daddy. I’m just at a friends. At Martie’s. She’s going through a bad break-up. That’s all.”

  “Right. I’ve talked to your little whore friend, Martie. She told me she hasn’t seen you in days.” He paused, allowing that to sink in. He’d contacted Martie? How? If he’d gotten in touch with her, then he’d really done his homework. Who knew what else he knew? I was dead. Fucking dead. “And we pressed her a little more. So you’re right about one thing. She is broken up.”

  My jaw dropped. He’d gotten his hands on her. Hurt her. Because of me. My stomach turned. No one was safe, knowing, being friends with, even talking to me. I was a poison. A poison, because of my father.

  And Drake was in danger. It didn’t matter how strong or amazing I thought he was. No one had ever beat my father.

  “W-what did you do?” I whispered.

  “She’s alive, if that’s what you’re asking. Not hurt or anything, but she’s probably not your friend anymore.” He let out a low, rumbling laugh. “She told me some very interesting things. Said you two were at a bar in South Aveline Bay Saturday night. The Wall, huh? You run into some friends of mine?”

  “Daddy, I don’t know what you’re . . .”

  “I think you do, Cait,” he snapped. “I really think you do. But don’t worry. I’m about to make it right. Oh, and I had your car picked up. Hope you won’t need it because it’s gone.”

  “Dad don’t be angry at me,” I begged. “Please.”

  “Oh. I’m not angry at you, love,” he said, his voice as jovial as ever. “I’m just going to beat your ass the second I get my hands on you. You hear me?”

  I nearly dropped the phone. I pushed out, through gritted teeth, “Please, Daddy. I’ll do anything. What do you want?”

  “What do you think?” he hissed out. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. What I’ve told you I wanted from the beginning. I want your little ass at home. Where I can see you. And where I can be sure you ain’t fucking me over.”

  I clenched my teeth. “Fine. I’ll go home.”

  “I know you will. I’ll be waiting.”

  Waiting? He wouldn’t be going to the clubhouse? I checked around for a clock. It must have been around nine o’clock by now. “Aren’t you going to the clubhouse? No church tonight?”

  “Church? Not tonight, little girl” he said, and I could sense the smug smile on his grizzled face. “Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “No, I . . .”

  “I have more important things to deal with. Namely, my little slut daughter who thinks she can pull one over on her old man. Get your ass home, right now. You understand?”

  At that moment, I understood one thing clearly. If I went home, I was dead. I could tell from the malice in his voice that he wouldn’t let me leave there alive.

  “But . . .”

  “Twenty minutes, Cait, or your mom gets it.”

  I nearly choked on my heart, it jammed itself so hard in my throat. I went completely numb from the shivers coursing up and down my body. “Daddy, I don’t think I can . . .”

  “You get your ass home, tell me what you’ve been up to, and maybe I’ll be nice to you and we can let this little escapade pass this time. If you don’t come home now, your mother is dead. You understand?”

  I managed to let out a, “Y-yes.”

  “Good. Don’t play games with me, Cait. And don’t even think about bringing anyone else. Or I’ll make sure you suffer.”

  And he hung up.

  I dropped the phone to my lap, blood rushing through my head as I tried to figure out what I needed to do first. I quickly opened the Uber app and called for a car. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. There was no way I could get up to my parents’ house that quickly.

  Fingers shaking, I punched in a call to Drake. It rang once and went right to voicemail. I called again. Same thing.

  As I raced to grab my things, hoping the Uber would hurry, tears blinded my eyes.

  Drake couldn’t save my mother or me, now. He was expecting my dad to be at the clubhouse. I knew my father well enough to know two things. One, he was not a patient man. And two, when he made a threat, he always delivered on it.

  By the time I’d reach my house, my mother would probably already be dead.

  Fuck! I hated my life!

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Drake

  Just as Cait had told us, we found the Fury clubhouse with no problem. It was hidden off the road, in the middle of the woods. With Cait’s directions, we navigated right to it. We parked our bikes off the highway out of sight and walked about a mile down a dirt path to get there, hiding ourselves in a clump of trees about twenty yards from the front lot.

  It was a shitty little shack, like Cait had described. Every light in the place was blazing, hard rock music was wafting from the cracked-open windows, and there were several bikes parked outside. In the darkness, I looked over at Cullen.

  He mouthed, Jackpot.

  We’d each carried a pack filled with the homemade explosive devices we’d been stockpiling for the past week. As we crouched in the woods, Cullen whispered orders to us. “Nix and Jet, you go out back. Zain and Hart, stay here and make sure no one followed us. Drake, you come with me.”

  We all nodded. I grabbed my pack and followed Cullen to the front porch of the little shack. It was so old, made of rusted corrugated metal, it was practically caving in. We dove under the window. Crouched there, Cullen raised his head first, peeking in, then motioned me up.

  There were five guys in there, gathered around a table, amidst a thick haze of cigarette smoke. A couple of them were older and could’ve been Slade, but I wasn’t sure. I’d gotten only a quick glance at him that one time, from a distance away. I remembered his beaten body, his scarred face, his graying ponytail and receding hairline, all of which hadn’t impressed me. But there were two guys there that looked similar. I scanned the rest of the room. This was church. He had to be one of these assholes.

  “Come on,” Cullen said to me, unzipping his bag. We took out the three explosive devices and set them up, one on the porch at the front door, and another under each window. We tw
isted the timer to have them go off in two minutes. As we finished setting them up, we saw Jet and Nix in the shadows, running back from the woods. Jet whistled to us and gave the thumbs up.

  I kept looking into the window, wishing I could set my mind at ease that one of those guys was Slade. Cullen tugged on my jacket. “Come on.”

  I followed after him, and we climbed back into our hiding place with Hart and Zain. “Jesus,” Cullen said. “That place is a piece of shit. Looks like a fucking outhouse. Six explosives will blow it to hell.”

  “Good,” I muttered darkly, waiting for the explosion.

  Seconds later there was a slight, sizzling noise, then an ear-splitting sound, and then the other explosives started to go off, one after the other. The ground quaked. The glass blew out of the windows, and the roof blew off. In seconds, the entire place was engulfed, flames licking the sides of the building and rising toward the sky. A couple of the men dove out the windows, and one ran out the back, hurling curses into the night air. Zain muttered, “Would you look at that show,” and Jet pumped his fist.

  “Come on guys,” Cullen said, racing off the way we’d come, over the scrub brush. I followed, ignoring the brambles tearing at my jacket. I was out of breath by the time we all jumped onto our bikes. Without speaking, we roared off down the street.

  We made it all the way to the gas station, a couple miles away from the site. When we stopped, we high-fived and fist-bumped each other. “You see the way we sent them running?” Nix laughed. “What a bunch of pussies. Damn, it feels good to finally do something. Give them some payback!”

  “Hope that sends a message,” Cullen said.

  “Hope that asshole got fried,” Jet seethed. “Hope they all got fried. Slade was in there, right?” He looked at me.

  “Yeah. I think so,” I said, because I didn’t want to have to deal with any more shit that I’d likely get from him if I told him otherwise. “Now, let’s go get Cait’s mom.”

  Cullen nodded. “We’ll bring her back to the clubhouse, so we can talk to her. We’ll all be there waiting so it’ll be secure. Then we’ll hole up and wait for their retaliation. Because you know there will be one.”

  I shook my head, my back and shoulders tense and tight as I thought of what I’d promised Cait. I’d feel that way until this was all behind us and I had Roxanne and Cait safe. Who knew when that would be? Even if Slade was in there, I doubted they’d stop. They’d be crippled, but they’d fight back. “I don’t know if the clubhouse is the best place for them. That’s the first place the Fury will hit. I should get them both and take them out of town. Just until this blows over.”

  “All right. Let’s get Cait, first. Then her mom. Then you can head out,” Cullen said. “But we’ve got to be quick about it. No doubt they’re already scrambling, getting ready to retaliate.”

  I nodded, got back on my bike, and sped off to the clubhouse with the guys behind me. The moon was full as we rode, lighting up the night sky, but all I could think of was Cait. She was an ache deep inside of me, one I had to satisfy. I just wanted to see her again, smell her, hold her against me.

  We all pulled up in a line outside the warehouse. I saw the problem the second I cut the engine.

  The lights in the warehouse were off.

  I walked to the door and tried it. It was locked. I fished for my keys, but Cullen found his first and tried the lock, giving me a hard look. “You did tell her to stay here, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. Of course,” I breathed, as we walked inside and looked around.

  Jet snorted, crossed his arms, and gave me an I-told-you-so look. “All right. Then, where is she?”

  Fuck. She wouldn’t just leave on her own.

  There was something really wrong about this. And in my gut, I knew Slade was responsible. Had he just been waiting for me to leave her alone? Had I just walked Cait right into this?

  Shit. SHIT.

  I dug my phone out of my pocket and stared at it. I’d had it on silent because I didn’t want to make noise at the Fury clubhouse.

  I squeezed my fist around the phone as I looked at the display, and my nostrils flared as I saw red. I had six missed calls from her.

  And I’d just fucking left her. Alone.

  FUCK ME.

  My gut coiled with rage. My throat felt so raw I couldn’t make a sound. I dropped the phone and balled my fists with the urge to punch something.

  “That fucking asshole,” I breathed out, rage filling every part of me, consuming me. “He doesn’t know what he just did. But I’m fucking going to kill him. Mark my words. Tonight. I’ll rip him apart before I let him touch her again.”

  I turned on my heel and raced out of the clubhouse. I climbed on my bike, speeding off, damning anyone to stop me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Caitlyn

  I rode in the back of the Uber, tearing at my polish and biting my fingernails. I had my phone in my lap, and every couple of minutes, I’d put in a call to Drake that always went to voicemail. Of course, he was too busy to be looking at his phone. He probably had it silenced. He had a lot on his mind.

  I should’ve known this wouldn’t be easy. That Drake couldn’t just end it cleanly. Nothing was ever clean or easy where Slade was concerned.

  I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. I had a feeling there was a lot more trouble to come.

  There was traffic on the main drag to North Aveline Bay, due to a minor fender bender. I kept checking the clock on the dashboard, wondering if my mother was okay. I looked up at the full moon and prayed that he’d spare her, or lose track of time, or remember that he once loved my mother and be merciful.

  “Are you all right, miss?” the driver said. The guy was probably my age and kept glancing at me in the rear-view mirror. “Any trouble? You need me to call someone?”

  “No,” I said, forcing a fragile laugh. “I’m fine. No trouble. Just heading home.”

  Home. What a joke. This place wasn’t home. It was more like a war zone. But I didn’t need to drag any more innocent people into my fucked up life. Anyone who tried to help me got destroyed. I should’ve known that by now. Slade knew about the Cobras. Maybe he even knew which one I’d fallen in love with. He was luring me back to the house not only because he wanted to end me. No . . . he knew he could end Drake, as well. Maybe even the rest of the Cobras.

  The thought made me go cold. I chewed on a thumbnail, ripping the half-moon off so close to the quick that it began to bleed. I could hardly feel the pain.

  By the time we pulled onto my street, it was nearly forty minutes after the phone call from my dad. It wasn’t that I was screwing around or anything. I’d been in go-mode from the moment I’d heard Slade’s voice. But he was asking the impossible. As usual, he demanded the impossible, and then crushed heads when he didn’t get it.

  “Thank you,” I said to the Uber driver as we pulled up at my house. My whole neighborhood was quiet. The place was dark except for a dim light coming from the living room picture window, but the curtains were drawn, so I couldn’t see in. I dreaded the thought of what I’d see when I went inside. My mind conjured up all sorts of ideas, ranging from bad to downright ugly.

  I pushed open the car door and my legs wobbled as I tried to stand and pull myself out onto the curb.

  Slamming the door closed, I willed my body to take step after step, reminding myself that I was late, and Slade didn’t stand for late. I felt like I was going to throw up. But I had to do this, no matter what I might find behind the door.

  I climbed up the cracked, weed-choked asphalt of the driveway, past my father’s precious Harley parked under the carport, the thing he cared about more than his own family.

  I stood at the side entry, where we kept the washer and dryer, trying my best to collect myself, the sweat pouring down my slickened palms. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, cringing when the hinges creaked, closing it slowly, silently behind me. I crept through the darkened laundry room to the kitchen.

 
; What I saw made me instinctively take a step back.

  My mother was bound to one of our kitchen chairs with what looked like strips of a white sheet, her arms behind her, her feet tied to each of the front legs. There was a gag cutting deep into her mouth. Her curly hair was falling against her face, and her eyes were wild. When they landed on me, they went wilder yet. She tried to speak, but it came out as gibberish.

  “Mom!” I whispered, rushing to her. I reached for the gag, but it was too tight around her mouth. I found the knot and started to pick at it as I looked around. “Where is he?”

  Her eyes darted around, but she couldn’t answer, until I finally loosened the knot and pulled the gag from her mouth. “I don’t know,” she whispered as I started to pull on the ties around her arms. “He might be in the bedroom. You shouldn’t have come back here. Don’t try to get me out. Just go.”

  “I’m not leaving you!” I said, tears streaming down my face as she jerked her arms and legs, trying to move away from me.

  “Cait. Listen to me. You should not be here. I’m fine.”

  Only my mother would say she was fine when she was tied up in her own kitchen by her husband. “You are not fine. He’s going to kill you!” I hissed.

  “He’s going to kill both of us if you stay,” she said, her voice suddenly calming. I stooped to look in her eyes, and though they glistened with tears, there was also acceptance there. Like she’d become resigned to this fate. “He knows what you’ve been up to. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

  “But Mom—”

  “Please, baby girl. Listen to me. Go. Don’t worry about me.”