I kicked off my shoes, pulled a blanket over myself, and fell asleep within seconds.
I don't know how long I was asleep, but when the noise woke me up, it was dark outside. I thought I'd heard something from the kitchen—a small thump. I raised my head from the pillow, brushing the hair out of my face and listening for it again.
A minute passed, followed by another. I didn't hear it again.
But I definitely heard it the first time. And after everything that's happened to me over the past couple of days, I'm not exactly in the mood to roll over and assume it was probably nothing.
I slipped out of bed, trying not to make a sound. I remembered how I'd done the same thing the morning after my first night with Nic and I felt a pang of loneliness.
I don't have the time or energy to focus on that right now. So I'll just put it out of my mind, check around the house for an intruder who obviously isn't there, feel stupid, go back to bed, and sleep for another twelve or fourteen hours until all this stuff with Nic feels like it was just a bad dream.
But just in case, I reached into the corner behind my bedroom door and grabbed the aluminum baseball bat I kept for situations like these.
After all, one could never be too careful.
I checked the bathroom first, flicking the light on and pulling back the shower curtain. No one there.
Next, I peered into the kitchen. Nope, no one there, either.
Finally, I tip-toed into the living room and switched on the lamp, looking around. Totally empty. I let out a sigh of relief and walked back to the bedroom.
Okay. Good. Bed time. Too bad I can't have a glass of wine or two to steady my nerves a bit first, but now that I've got a baby on the way, that would be a bad way to...
As I stepped through the bedroom doorway, I suddenly felt the barrel of a gun pressed against the side of my head. My breath caught in my throat. The metal was ice cold and my panicked brain wondered if that was the last sensation I'd ever feel, or if I'd be seared by the split-second of heat from the muzzle before the bullet entered my skull.
I heard a muffled voice. “Drop the bat, bitch. This ain't no ladies' softball league.”
My fingers relaxed and the bat hit the floor with a clunk.
“Good. That's good,” the voice cooed. “You keep following instructions this well an' you might just live. Now put your hands behind your back.”
I complied and felt a zip tie drawn taut around my wrists.
“Nice. Stand still a sec.”
I realized that if he wanted me dead, he wouldn't be tying me up and telling me what to do. I thought about the three men who'd attacked me the night before and Nic's story of what had happened to Growler.
“Please...I don't have much money here, but there's some jewelry in the closet and I've got a TV and a computer...” I stammered.
“I ain't here to rob you, lady,” he sneered. “That ain't what this is about. Now shut it, or I'll shut it for ya.”
Please don't rape me, I thought. Please don't torture me or cut pieces off of me. Please, please, please. Kill me, even, but please make it quick and don't make me live through anything painful and horrible. I'm not strong enough for that.
The barrel of the gun withdrew from my temple and I saw the gunman step out of the shadows next to the door. He was tall and skinny, with olive-colored skin and curly black hair. Malevolent brown eyes peered at me over a white surgical mask. Somehow, that mask terrified me most of all.
“Now we're gonna go for a little drive,” he said. “And you're gonna be ridin' in the trunk. But first, I'm gonna need you to stand very still...”
The man reached into his pocket and withdrew a scalpel. I started shaking violently and I lost control of my bladder in a hot burst. He cupped my chin in his hand and leaned in, the blade hovering over my face.
“...so I can cut off a little something to send to your loverboy. Try not to flinch, okay? This will just take a second.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nic
The sun was setting as I rolled up to the Nest in the car Bard had given me, pulling around to the small parking lot in the back. Bard was outside smoking a cigarette. Clearly, his old habit had decided to stick around for a while.
I got out of the car and walked over to Bard. “Hey, do we have any more of that acid around here?”
Bard raised his eyebrows. “Why? Surely things didn't go that badly with Lauren.”
I popped the trunk, showing him Caleb's bloody body. “No, but I did manage to make a new friend and it turned out that he needed a ride.”
Bard peered in, grimacing. “One of Giovanni's?”
“Yeah. He followed us from the hospital and surprised us at the garage safe house, so that's pretty much blown.”
“Hospital?” Bard blinked, confused. He closed the trunk, pulled another cigarette out of a pack, and lit it with the butt of the last one. “I think you'd better start from the beginning, Nic.”
I told him about Lauren's news, the shoot-out with Caleb, and the fight that came afterward. He listened quietly and when it was over, Bard did the last thing I would ever have expected.
He put his arms around me in a tight embrace and kissed me on the cheek.
“I'm so sorry, kid. First Kong, then Growler, and now this. You must be completely heartbroken.”
I felt embarrassed by this show of affection and didn't know how to answer him. Thankfully, before I could respond, he clapped me on the back and released me. “Listen, I'll take care of this fellow in the trunk. Why don't you go in, have a drink or two, and get some sleep?”
I started to shake my head. “No, we need to find Giovanni and end this...”
“We will,” Bard said gently. “Growler's resting up after Giggles amputated his feet. I'll wake you when he comes around and we can talk to him together. Maybe he heard something we can use to find Giovanni. But in the meantime, Nic, you need to rest. We'll need you at your best if we're going to take down the Bonaccorsos. You're no good to us if you're stumbling around depressed and shell-shocked.”
I wanted to argue, but I was too tired and I knew Bard was right. The way I was feeling right now, I wasn't even sure I'd really mind catching a bullet, and that was definitely the wrong head-space to be in before going into battle. I nodded and allowed Bard to lead me into the Nest.
Sperm and a couple of other Reapers were playing pool in the corner, but the place looked mostly empty. “Where is everyone?” I asked, walking over to the bar.
“I sent them to hole up in our other safe houses,” Bard said. “After the Bonaccorsos firebombed our bikes, I figured the safest play would be to have most of the guys split up into smaller cells and go to ground. It'll make them harder to attack and easier to mobilize when we need them.”
“But what about you?” I asked. “Are you safe here?”
Bard shrugged. “The captain goes down with the ship. It's an old rule, but I've always appreciated it. But if you don't feel safe resting here, I can give you an address for one of the other safe houses...”
“No, there's no place I'd rather be right now,” I said, laughing bitterly. The hell of it was, I meant it. This damn bar was the closest thing I'd had to a real home. “It's funny. I remember when all of this started, you were so sure Giovanni wouldn't risk a full-on assault on the Nest.”
Bard smiled wearily, pouring a double shot of whiskey for each of us. “Well, I'm the president of an MC, not a psychic. Besides, that was a different time for all of us. I still thought we could resolve this somehow without an all-out war and I'll bet Giovanni thought so then, too. Doing something loud and bloody would have attracted unwanted attention and made things worse. But now that we've been openly defying him for months, he feels like he needs to send a heavy message or the other gangs will start circling like sharks.”
I nodded and clinked my glass against his. “Still playing chess, huh Bard?”
“Always,” Bard agreed. We both swallowed the whiskey. “I still plan to teach you how, too, when this is all over. Maybe you can teach your kid someday.”
I sighed. “Don't joke about that, man.”
“I'm not joking,” he replied levelly. “Don't lose hope, Nic. Maybe Lauren will be too scared to let you see the kid for the first year, and maybe she'll feel the same way for the second and third years. But when it comes to parents and their children, never say never. I think you'd be a good father and I believe that someday you'll have a chance to prove me right. Just have a little faith and a little patience and things will work out.”
I was touched by his words and felt a twinge of embarrassment again. We'd been through a lot together and shared a lot of moments, but he'd never talked to me like this before. I briefly wondered whether he'd ever had any kids of his own. He'd have been good at it.
The whiskey was starting to numb me a bit. Usually it would take at least four or five shots to slow me down, but I was so horribly tired. I didn't remember sitting at one of the tables in the corner and putting my head down.
# # #
A few hours later, Bard shook my shoulder, waking me up.
“It's Growler,” he said. “He's awake.”
Growler was lying on a table in a room in the back. His feet had been taken off at the ankles, which were wrapped in blood-stained bandages. He heard us come in and turned to look at us, his lips parting in a wordless greeting.