“Who?” I say as my eyes dart around the room. I try to think of a game plan. I know we need to get out of here, but I’m not sure how since I don’t know where the man is. Would he really hurt us, or was this all about just scaring us?
“Uncle Jim, the president of the club. His wife,” she says as she chews on her bottom lip and looks around fearfully. Recognition dawns on me, and I remember who Ruby is. I don’t know what good calling her would do, but I don’t argue. When I nod, Cheyenne pulls out her phone, slides her finger across the screen, and brings it to her ear. We need to act. I reach out and grab her hand and lead her down the back hallway toward Principal Beck’s office. It’s closest to the staff parking lot, and maybe, just maybe, we can get out that way without incident.
I keep my ears open as Cheyenne gives her Aunt Ruby the lowdown at warp speed. I’ve experienced it, and I’m not even sure what she says, she says it so fast. All I can hear on the other side is mumbling. Cheyenne makes the call short and slides the phone back into her pocket when she’s done. Looking at me with tears welling in her eyes, she says, “They’re in Church. They don’t have their phones. Aunt Ruby is calling the prospects now. She said to stay put.”
“You want to stay here?” I ask incredulously. I can’t imagine anything worse than staying here like a sitting duck. Everything in me tells me that I have to get her out of here and to her dad.
“No—yes,” she says quickly, and then corrects, “I don’t know.”
“We’re not staying,” I say. My body buzzes with fear and anticipation of all the awful things that could happen here. If I can get us in the car, we’ll be safe. But here in this building with who knows how many old rusted locks and broken latches? Not just no, but hell no. I am not staying here.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” she mutters. Nothing in her voice or demeanor tells me that she trusts me. I can’t blame her. I shouldn’t be trusting me, either. I just can’t stop thinking of the ways that man could get in here and how we’re isolated enough from anyone else that nobody could hear our screams. The custodian could be anywhere on campus, and we no longer have campus security—they got laid off. So it’s likely just her and me and that crazy bastard outside. No and thank you. We have to go.
At the back door, I tell Cheyenne to stay put, and then I rush around to the windows, looking to see if the man is anywhere in sight. Thankfully, this part of the building has pretty good visibility and not much blockage. Taking a deep breath, I grab Cheyenne’s hand again, tighten my grip, and rush out the door with her. It’s a short distance to my car, parked in the third spot from the door. I don’t pause to look around, for fear that I might trip to waste time.
“It’s unlocked!” I shout to Cheyenne as I let go of her hand and we part at the front of the car. She heads for the passenger door and I for the driver’s side. In a matter of seconds we’re inside the Jeep and locking our doors and then the backseat doors as well. I start her up, and we peel out of the lot with nobody else in sight. Still, I don’t stop shaking until a few minutes later when we’re pulling through the gates of the Forsaken Motorcycle Club’s clubhouse.
Chapter 12
Grady
WE’RE AROUND THE table and about to vote on what to do with Junior. We just got through a waste-of-time rundown of what happened at The 101 Club. We’ve figured out that we don’t got shit—no car, no witnesses, no evidence, and no fucking tracks. Which is just goddamn wonderful if you ask me. We didn’t catch the car that was used to get away when some prick fired a couple of rounds into the place. Didn’t even get a glimpse of it, like it’s a fucking ghost.