by Nicole Fox
There was still Scar to worry about, however. Looking back and seeing that he’d caused Xander to crash, Scar skidded to a halt and whipped his bike around.
Fuck, fuck, thought Xander as he looked around for anything that could be used as some kind of weapon.
Scar cut the distance between the two of them by the second, and Xander saw that he’d be on top of them at any moment.
Then, the blare of a horn sounded. Turning around, Xander watched as a massive semi-truck appeared in the distance behind them and quickly approached. The truck slowed down and came to a halt just behind where Xander and Jack had crashed. Moments later, the driver’s-side door opened and a burly man stepped out and looked over the scene.
“You boys okay?” he asked.
Xander said nothing, instead glaring hard at Scar, who’d come to a stop.
“We’re fine,” said Jack. “And that was awesome!”
Xander continued to watch Scar. Soon, Scar, seemingly realizing that he’d have more on his hands than he’d bargained for if he continued with his plans, turned back around and drove off into the distance. Xander felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realized that he was safe for now.
“We’re good,” said Xander. “Thanks for stopping.”
“No problem,” said the man. “But it looks like you really did a number on your arm, friend.”
Xander looked down at the road rash and saw that the trucker was right; he’d really scuffed himself up.
“We’ll be fine,” said Xander. “Just gotta get back on the road.”
“I don’t know about that,” said the trucker. “I had a biker friend who got jacked up like that on a spill and he ended up getting a bad infection; you really oughta have a doctor take a look at that.”
“I said we’re fine,” said Xander. “But thanks anyway.”
“Come on, now,” said the trucker. “You shouldn’t be riding with a wound like that, especially not with a boy on your lap. I know one of the doctors at the hospital nearby; he’ll take a look at you real quick, in and out.”
“It does look pretty gross,” said Jack, his eyes on the injury.
Xander realized that there was no way he’d be getting out of this without Daphne finding out.
“Fine,” said Xander.
“Thought you’d see reason,” said the trucker. “Come on—let’s hoist that bike of yours into the back and I’ll get you dropped off.”
Once the bike was in the back they were off. About ten minutes later, Xander and Jack were at the hospital. The doctor took a look at Xander’s arm, shaking his head as he did.
“Gotta be careful on those bikes,” he said. “This is just a superficial injury, but it could’ve easily been worse.”
Xander, more than anything else, was frustrated with himself for exposing Jack to danger like this. The boy was seated on a nearby hospital bed, and watched as the doctor cleaned the wound and wrapped it in gauze.
“I called Mom,” said Jack once the doctor had left.
“Damnit,” said Xander.
I had one fucking job and I couldn’t even do that right, he thought.
“Where’s my boy?” came Daphne’s voice from down the hall.
Here we go, Xander thought as he prepared himself for what was to come.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Daphne
Daphne rushed down the hallway of the hospital, her heart pounding and her eyes wide with fear.
“Where is he?” she asked to one of the nurses. “The biker with the big beard?”
“Oh, him?” asked the nurse. “Room 44.”
Daphne hurried towards the room. Once she entered, she saw Xander sitting on the bed, his right forearm wrapped in gauze. Her eyes ran over Jack, and relief overcame her as she saw that he was unharmed.
“What the hell happened?” she asked, running over to Jack and taking him into his arms. “What did you do?”
“The bike crashed,” said Jack, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.
Daphne’s heart wouldn’t stop beating. She couldn’t believe that Xander had put her son in danger like this.
“Tell me now, Xander,” she said.
“I took Jack to the park and, uh, our guy was there. I got Jack and took him home as fast as I could, but he caught up with us.”
Daphne took in a slow, deep breath.
“Jack, baby, your Aunt Caroline’s going to be here soon. Why don’t you go out the lobby and wait for her?”
“But Mom,” he said. “I want to hang out with Xander!”
“Don’t make me ask you twice,” said Daphne.
Realizing he was beaten, Jack harrumphed and left the room. Once he was gone, Daphne shut the door behind him.
“Why’s your aunt here?” asked Xander. “Just what the hell have you got in mind?”
“You’ve got some fucking balls talking to me like that after you almost got my son killed.”
“Our son,” Xander corrected her.
“You can call him that, but no responsible father would take his kid out like that on a goddamn motorcycle while he’s being stalked by a fucking murderer!”
“I had the situation under control,” said Xander.
“That doesn’t look like ‘under control’ to me,” said Daphne, pointing to Xander’s wound.
Xander seemed to realize that she had him there.
“Listen,” he said. “I was having fun with Jack and I got a little carried away. It was stupid for me to take him out in public like that, but I’ll know better next time.”
“There’s not going to be a ‘next time’,” said Daphne, venom dripping from her words.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that letting a goddamn criminal like you into Jack’s life was a mistake. I should’ve known better, especially since all of this shit I’m dealing with now is because of some gang war that I’m only caught in the middle of because you and I used to date.”
Daphne sighed and looked away.
“Why couldn’t I have just fallen for a normal man? Why does the father of my child have to be nothing more than a goddamn thug?”
“I am more than a goddamn thug,” said Xander. “And I don’t like where this conversation is going.”
“You shouldn’t,” said Daphne. “Because how it’s going to end is with you staying right here while I take Jack. We’re going to hide out until this fucking mess is over with, just like I should’ve kept doing. Stupid me, thinking you’d make me safer. Shows what I know.”
“If you think you’re gonna tell me I have a son only to take him from me not forty-eight hours later, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“And what the hell else am I supposed to do? Keep going on like nothing’s out of the ordinary while some thug is living under my roof and some other thug is prowling the streets planning on doing God-knows-what? I’m not going to live that kind of life. And I’m not going to put my son through that either.”
Xander appeared to be boiling with rage. But as he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out. Daphne could tell that he knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on.
“Now,” said Daphne, “I’m going take Jack and get the hell out of here. I don’t want you coming anywhere near him; I’m not going to let you put his life in danger any longer.”
Xander stood up and loomed over Daphne.
“You can’t do that,” he said, his eyes almost glowing red. “You can’t bring my son back into my life and take him away just like that!”
“But I have to,” she said. “It’s the only way I can keep him safe.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “Those fuckers are still out there, and they’re not gonna stop until they’ve done whatever the hell it is they’ve got in mind for you and Jack!”
“I’ll just have to look out for myself then, I guess,” said Daphne, doing her best to keep her voice cool and professional, as though she were talking about matters that were far
less serious. “I can’t be dependent on some criminal thug to make sure I’m safe, now can I?”
“You can’t do this to me, Daphne,” said Xander. “You can’t!”
Daphne realized at that moment that there was likely no talking down Xander. He was in a rage, and perhaps rightly so.
“I’m leaving now,” Daphne said. “Stay and get your arm fixed up. And don’t you dare make a scene, or I’ll get the cops involved. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.”
Xander said nothing, his jaw working behind his cheeks. Daphne could sense that he knew he was beaten.
“Bye, Xander,” she said, a tone of finality to her voice.
With that, she slipped out through the door and shut it behind her.
“Come on, Jack,” she said, getting her son’s attention and leading him down the sterile white hallway of the hospital.
“Is Xander mad at us?” asked Jack. “Is it my fault for going on his bike?”
“No, baby,” she said. “That was a stupid decision Xander made. But he’s not going to be around any longer.”
“What?” asked Jack. “I like him; I don’t want him to go away.”
“Well, that’s just how it’s going to be,” said Daphne, leading Jack through the main doors of the hospital.
Outside, Caroline awaited Daphne in her big white SUV. Daphne led Jack into the backseat before getting in herself.
“Everything all right in there?” asked Caroline, a worried look on her face.
“I had a little problem,” said Daphne. “But it’s all taken care of.”
***
“This little beauty here is the Glock Forty-Two.”
The voice of the gun shop owner was gruff and deep, almost reminding Daphne of Xander. In his hands was a small, boxy, black pistol.
“Give it a hold,” he said. “See how it grabs you.”
Daphne took the gun from the man and held it. It was lighter than it looked, and, unlike the other pistol the owner had shown her, was small enough to be comfortable in her smallish hands.
“This is a good gun for a woman?” asked Daphne. “I mean, a good gun for a woman who’s never fired a gun before in her life?”
“Well,” said the man, “if you were to buy a gun like that, I’d take you out back to the range and have you fire off a few dozen shots, just to get you used to it. But yeah, that one right there is a very, very popular choice for women. It’s a subcompact design and about as reliable as they come. One of those ‘point-and-shoot’ guns that you’re always hearing about.”
Daphne raised the gun and looked down the sights. She still couldn’t believe that she was about to buy a weapon—she’d always hated guns and violence, especially after being with a man like Xander—but she knew that if it was just going to be her, a weapon might be the difference between life and death.
“I like it,” she said, tucking the gun into her purse and seeing how it fit.
“Funny,” said the owner. “Men are the big gun buyers, but they’re always looking for something big to make them feel tough. When a woman looks for a gun, she always gets all practical-minded; just wants whatever will get the job done.”
“That’s what I’m looking for,” said Daphne. “Just something I can use to defend myself.”
“Then that’s your gun, right there. And lucky for you, Missouri has some of the best gun laws in the country—I can send you out with that beauty right now, so long as you can pass a background check. And you don’t even need a concealed-carry license in this state.”
That made Daphne feel a little bit better.
“I’ll take it,” she said.
“Excellent,” said the owner. “But I’m gonna feel remiss if I don’t show you how that thing works before I send you out of here with it. Care to come on back and take it for a spin?”
An hour later, Daphne walked out of the gun shop with a weapon in her purse. The owner walked her through the basics of operating the thing, and though she was still hesitant at being a firearm owner, she couldn’t help but feel a little reassured at the idea of being able to defend herself from anyone who threatened her.
Getting back into her car, she took another look at the sleek black gun and the trigger lock that she’d bought for it. As she held the gun, her phone vibrated in her pocket. She slipped it out and saw that it was yet another text message from Xander.
Daphne sighed and put her phone away, closing the text without reading it. Once in her pocket, the phone buzzed with a few more texts, though she didn’t check them.
He just needs to get it through his head that he messed up, thought Daphne. He fucked up big time, and there’s no coming back from that.
More texts came in rapid succession, and Daphne sighed as she considered just blocking Xander.
That’d be a little crueler than I’m willing to be, she thought.
Driving back to her apartment, she watched the road carefully for any sign of the biker. She felt as though she’d been operating at a high baseline level of adrenaline since this whole thing started, and she wanted nothing more than to get back to her normal life.
Or do I? she thought, arguing with herself. This whole situation was beyond fucked up, but it was a little more exciting than the last year or so of her life, going back and forth to work, coming home to eat some quick food before starting it all over again the next day.
That’s crazy, she thought. My life was boring, but at least it was safe. And I didn’t have to have Jack hidden away at Caroline’s just to keep him safe.
But against her best efforts, she couldn’t help but picture Xander. As she did, the strangest blend of anger and excitement formed inside of her. Part of her hated his guts, but the other part of her wished he was by her side right at this very second.
Just focus on the road, she thought. No distractions.
As soon as she cleared her mind, however, the image of Xander appeared right in the vacuum of her thoughts.
She shook her head whenever he appeared, as though he were a bug caught in her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at the gun, and wondered if she’d be able to actually use the thing if it came to that.
The guy at the shop had said it was easy, and it was—just point and shoot; nothing to it.
However, as she imagined holding the gun, pointing it at a real, live person instead of a paper target, she wondered if she’d actually be able to the job when the time came. After all, she knew that it would come down to a split-second decision of whether to shoot the gun or not.
More ringing came from her phone.
Goddamn, she thought. Get a grip, Xander.
Soon, she arrived back at her apartment. As soon as she shut the door behind her, Daphne couldn’t help but notice just how quiet the place was. With Xander gone and Jack over at Caroline’s, her home was just like any other lonely home, still and empty. As she leaned back against the front door, longing for both her son and Xander flowed into her heart.
Wanting to rid herself of these feelings immediately, she put on some music and popped open a bottle of wine. Checking her phone, she saw that there were a dozen texts from Xander, along with a handful of missed calls. Her heart raced as she wondered if this meant that Xander had lost his mind, and that he was ready to do whatever it took to get his son back. Another text popped on the screen as she held her phone. Like the rest, it was from Xander.
Daphne! Answer your fucking phone! This is important!
Daphne took a deep breath and turned her phone off; angry texts from Xander were the last thing she wanted to deal with at that moment. She sat down on the couch and took a long, slow sip of her wine.
Turning the TV on and flipping it to one mindless reality show or another, Daphne did her best to tune out the outside world.
But a pair of heavy boots trudging up the stairs snapped her back into reality. She recognized those boot steps—they were Xander’s.
A series of bangs sounded from the front door.
“Daphne!” came Xa
nder’s voice from the other side. “Let me in! It’s fucking important! I’m serious!”
Daphne’s heart pounded. At first, she stayed perfectly still, as though she could simply convince him that she wasn’t there.
“I know you’re there!” he shouted. “This isn’t about me; it’s about Jack!”
I’m sure it is, thought Daphne, as she rose with careful steps from the couch and towards her purse where the gun was hidden.