“Shit,” I whisper, hugging her tightly to my chest.
I can’t do this anymore. It was one thing when it was just me, but I can feel him becoming hostile toward Addie; it’s getting worse. The way he sneers at her, eyes her with distaste from the corner of his eye when she’s around him; it’s a time bomb ready to detonate at any moment. I have to get out of here, but I have to be smart about it. Just thinking about running makes my heart accelerate at a dangerous rate. The last time I ran, he almost killed me. I shake my head; I can’t think like that. I have to try. I have to try to get away. For my daughter. That means no calling my mother, no taking credit cards. I lift Addie up and go into the bedroom, open the safe, and take all the cash. Grabbing my purse from the counter, I run toward my car barefoot as quickly as I can, praying none of the house workers see us.
“Go bye bye?” Addie asks me.
“Yes, baby, we are going to go far, far away. Where daddy can’t hurt us anymore, where we don’t have to be afraid,” I whisper, locking her into her car seat. Tears spill from my eyes as I think of taking Addie from her father, but he’s not a father to her. He’s not a husband either. He’s just the warden to a fucked-up life that he’s imprisoned us both in. I climb in behind the wheel, my hands shaking with adrenaline. What if he catches me again? What if he follows me? I shake my head; start the ignition, and just drive. Where? I have no idea, but I will keep driving, to the point we can’t drive any further. Hopefully by then, I will have a plan.
Bobby
As I take a sip of what’s left of my beer, my eyes catch Babs coming through the kitchen over the top of the bottle. Her red hair is sticking to her face from the summer’s heat, and she’s mumbling about something. I set the empty bottle on the counter and watch her put up glasses and fill the ice bin. It’s quiet here. Too quiet. Nights in the clubhouse are usually filled with easy women and drugs. Well, somewhat easy. Seeing as I’m still a prospect, I don’t get near the amount of ass the patched-in brothers do, but I do all right. I peel the label from my beer and fold it in on itself out of boredom.
Old Guy crashes through the club’s front doors, catching everyone’s attention.
“Where’s Bull?” Old Guy asks, his voice frantic.
I shrug, not sure.
“I think he’s in his room. You want me to grab him?” Shadow asks, sitting next to me. I look over my shoulder at Shadow and grin. Ever since we became prospects, he’s been kissing ass. I can’t help but make fun of him, and I can get away with it because I knew him way before the club.
“Yeah. Hurry up,” Old Guy demands. He runs his hands along the sides of his head, smoothing back the long hair that’s escaped from its ponytail.
I slide off my bar stool and toss my bottle in the trash. I’m curious as to what has Old Guy in such a state. Bull comes out of his room, buckling his belt.
“This better be good, goddamn it,” Bull mutters as he makes his way toward the front door.
Before we make it to the door, Old Guy comes in carrying a woman. She’s curled up against his chest making it hard to see whether I know her or not. She has blonde hair, stained with blood in some spots, and clothes that look like they haven’t been washed in days.
“What the fuck?” Shadow whispers with disbelief. My eyes widen, shocked at the state the woman is in.
“Who is she?” I ask.
“Not sure. She pulled up in a nice car and kept asking to talk to whoever was in charge about wanting to make a deal, before collapsing to the ground,” Old Guy informs.
“A deal?” Bull asks. He walks up to the woman and brushes the hair from her face. “Someone did a number on her.”
“There’s more,” Old Guy shifts his feet and looks downward. Movement catches my eyes. I look down to find a child clinging to Old Guy’s legs.
“Fuck me,” escapes from my mouth in shock. A little kid with long, blonde hair and red cheeks hugs onto Old Guy like her life depends on it. I notice her pink dress, and kneel to the little girl’s height.
“Hi there, sweetie, is this your momma?” I ask, in a soft voice. I notice her left cheek is a little redder than her left, making me wonder if she fell down, or ran into something. Her face is stained from tears, and she has snot running down to her lips. She blinks her eyes a couple of times, as her bottom lip pouts. She looks at the woman in Old Guy’s hands, and begins to wail. Shit.
“I don’t think she can talk yet. She looks like she’s only two,” Old Guy says, shifting the unconscious woman in his arms. I shrug; I know nothing about kids.
“What do you want me to do, Prez?” Old Guy asks.
Bull nervously runs his hands through his black hair. “Shit, just take her to one of the rooms.” Old Guy heads down the hall with the little girl clinging to his legs, crying.