Page 45 of Outlaws’ Runaway

“No, you can’t just fucking shoot him.” Hellfire stops pacing. “Yet. As bullshit as it is, I think we should make that meeting.”

I bristle at that. “You saying we’re going to hand over Paige? Think hard before you answer.”

He cocks his head and looks at me closely. “It’s like that?”

“It might be, but even if I wasn’t fucking her, I wouldn’t turn an innocent girl over to the mob. Whatever he wants from her, it’s not good.”

Crank nods, still leaning his back against the wall, but looking ready to square up if he has to. “I still want to shoot him.”

“Seconded,” Poe adds.

Hellfire rubs his hands over his face like he’s hoping we’ll disappear. “Shit. No, I wasn’t planning on forcing you to hand her over to get her hands chopped off or whatever that jackass would do, but he has a point.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nobody is arguing that the money isn’t theirs, or that her uncle made a deal with the Fabbris and then fucked it up. Not a single fucking leader can let that shit go. I wouldn’t have left Walt in a bag to turn into cursed soup for who knows who to find, but I wouldn’t have given him a slap on the wrist, either.” Hellfire holds out his arm, where a series of hash marks are inkeddown the inside of his forearm. Each hash represents one of the traitors he executed after the Pit Vipers tried to take us out from the inside. “People don’t fuck with us because they know we’ll do what we have to to survive. As much as I hate to admit it, Stefano is doing the same.”

He isn't wrong.

I loved General like a father, but if he had one weakness, it was wanting to give people chances. It allowed poison to seep into the club in the form of survivors from the destruction of another MC. They swore loyalty, lived alongside us, and then when the time was right, made a play to take over the whole fucking club. I glance over at Poe. Crank and I had been in for a while when it happened, but Poe hadn’t been blooded long before the purge. He was on the right side of the fight, but he almost got his throat sliced open by someone he thought he could trust because they’d come up as prospects together. We took him under our wing after that, and now he’s one of the men I’d trust at my back no matter what.

Hellfire stops. “Alright, here's the fucking deal. We're—as much as I fucking hate to say it—on the backfoot here. If not by strength, then by rights because we currently have that fucker’s money. That makes for tough decisions. It's clear you’re not turning over the girl. Fine. But I need to think about the whole club, not just the three of you. Unless something new comes on the scene, we're at least going to that meeting, and we’ll have to bring her as a show of good faith.”

As expected, Crank's the one to blow up first. “Are you fucking kidding me? He could put a fucking bullet in her head as soon as we show up.”

“This is a shit situation. Believe it or not, I'm not out to murder your woman, so instead of fucking yelling, let's see what we can do to make sure that doesn't fucking happen.” Hellfire snarls back. “It's entirely fucking possible that we're gonna have to play along long enough for an advantage, and we're not even gonna get in the door if we don't have Paige with us. Are you saying you’re not up for the challenge of keeping her safe?”

Just the idea of her getting killed makes something go tight inside me, a feeling I'm not used to feeling. Fuck, I didn't become officer by letting my emotions lead me, but the idea of Paige getting hurt makes me wanna eliminate every threat. That Hellfire is triggering that feeling, if only for a fucking moment, shows how fucking bad I got it. “No, we’re not fucking saying that.”

“Good, because it’s game on again boys. Time to fortify the club and start prepping for a potential siege. If the Fabbris come, we're gonna be fucking ready. Savage, you find Ghost and get on that. I need my officers with me and focused, is that fucking clear?” He dares me to say anything else, with a tactically raised eyebrow.

I want to tell him to fuck off and that I'm taking Paige somewhere safe, but there's nowhere safer than here. This is our fucking home. So I nod. “Clear.”

Poe and Crank go out the door ahead of me. I'm almost out after them when Hellfire stops me, his face a grim mask of determination. “We'll find a way to make this work. Just get the boys ready.”

I nod. “I can’t fucking wait until someone gets under your skin. You’re going to fight it every inch of the way and it’s going to be fucking glorious to watch you squirm.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

26

PAIGE

There's nowhereI can actually hide in this compound where the guys won't find me eventually, but I slip into a gap between the old rectory and the outside wall where it's both shady and quiet. I'm not much of a drinker, and definitely not this early, but this felt like a good day to make an exception, so I took two bottles out of Savage's fridge before coming out to think. I sit down on the grass, my back against the wall and take a sip.

Uncle Walter is dead.

The guys won’t give me details, but I heard the whole thing, so I know it has to be bad. Like really bad. Stefano Fabbri had him killed, and it’s my fault. At least partly. Uncle Walter wasn’t exactly blameless, but now I might never know if it was his decision, or maybe the mafia that bullied him into helping them. I can't tell if I'm feeling guilty, sad or angry. Or just numb.

I take a long drag from my bottle, then grimace. Beer's okay, but it's not my favorite, but then I didn't come out here to enjoy myself. Just to try to… process.

God. My uncle wasn't anyone's definition of a hero, but what about Aunt Heather? Did they kill her, too? Not to speak ill of the maybe-dead, but she was kind of a bitch, always encouraging him to try whatever new scheme he’d come up with. Or maybe Mom just didn’t like her and I was too young to form my own opinion about her. He wasn’t a child. She didn’t hold his hand and make him do anything.

How did this become my life?

It led me to Crank, Poe and Savage, so even if everything else is horrible, I don’t regret that part. My heart skips a beat. If the only thing that can make me even react emotionally right now is three men who've done their own share of killing and law-breaking on this short journey we've been on, then maybe I’m just as much of a problem as anyone else.

I bonk the back of my head against the wall a couple of times. I feel so useless, sitting here moping while other people do the real work. The Outlaw Sons might end up at war with the mob because of this and is that my fault, too? If they hadn’t seen Uncle Walter’s bounty, they would never have tracked me down.

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