Page 84 of Forty

“What the fuck’s The Clubhouse? Is that a bar?”

“The Steel Bones MC clubhouse. It’s a local riding club.” There’s an outside chance he’s never heard of them, right?

“Yeah, you would be hanging out at a biker bar. Slut.” He pretends to spit. It’s one those mannerisms he picked up from mafia movies. I met his folks; they’re middle class people from Long Island.

Oh, brain, focus. What if Lou comes home? I have to get Carlo out of here now.

“I can take you to it.”

“Yeah.” He gestures with his gun to the door. “You try anything, when we’re done, I’m coming back here and putting one in little brother’s head and one in his chest. Capisce?” He taps the barrel once against my temple and once between my breasts.

I raise my hands higher, nodding. “Can I move?”

“Yes, you can fucking move.” He sweeps his gun toward the door. “After you.”

I slowly get off the bed and walk to the front door. Carlo follows, the gun jammed between my shoulder blades.

My breath comes shallow, and waves of nausea and dizziness keep rising, making my steps wobbly. I’m going to trip by accident, and he’s going to shoot me. I walk so deliberately, he digs the gun harder into my back.

“Speed up.”

Now that I’m actually paying attention to my surroundings, I see that the place is trashed. The coffee table is overturned, and the couch and chairs have been slit open, upholstery ripped from the foam cushions. The TV is face down on the floor. Lou is going to be so pissed.

I should never have come here. I didn’t think I’d be putting him in danger. Like always. I didn’tthink.

Carlo nudges me out the front door.

“Go right.” Oh Lord. The moon’s still shining bright. How did I not notice his car is parked on the side of the road, a few yards from the house?

I missed it.

This time, I really am going to die from my own stupidity.

The car chirps, and Carlo opens the back door. “You drive. You try anything, I shoot. I need that bag. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

What is up with that bag?

“I took everything out. I left it at your place.”

“Get into the fucking car and drive Nevaeh. Or we can wait for little brother to come home.”

I slide into the seat, wiping my sweaty palms on my shorts. It’s cool, no more than sixty degrees, but I’m flushed and clammy.

“Drive!” Carlo sits behind me and leans forward to prop the gun next to the headrest.

“I don’t have the keys!”

“Shit.” He fumbles around and then drops them in my lap. “You try anything, the last thing you see is gonna be your brains flying out of your head.”

That makes no sense. I put the car in drive. It’s a Beamer, an automatic. I’ve actually never driven Carlo’s car before. He did all the macho things—always drove, ordered my drinks, helped me on with my coat. I thought it was quaint. But that’s how you treat a doll, isn’t it? Someone who’s not quite a person. Schlep her around, feed her, dress her.

This epiphany is coming a year too late.

“Faster,” he barks in my ear.

I’m doing the speed limit. I press down on the gas as gently as I can.

I don’t know what to do. When Carlo gets the bag, I’m done. Obviously, there’s something in there I didn’t see. Maybe a false bottom like in a spy movie?

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