Page 7 of Butcher's Honor

"I think everyone likes chocolate chips, baby." I smooth his hair back, marveling at how peaceful he seems today.

No nightmares last night, no jumping at sudden noises. The new door locks have given us both a sense of security we desperately needed.

The late morning sun streams through the kitchen window, creating patterns on our worn linoleum floor. It's almost noon, and soon, we'll have fresh cookies to deliver. I'm not overthinking the fact that I put on mascara this morning or that I chose my nicest sweater—the blue one that actually fits instead of drowning me in fabric.

The peaceful moment shatters with the first bang on the door.

"Open up, you fucking bitch!"

The color drains from my face as Derek's voice booms through our house. Tommy drops the chocolate chip in his hand, his eyes going wide with fear.

"I know you're in there! You think some fancy locks can keep me out? You think that biker trash is gonna protect you?"

My hands shake as I lift Tommy off the chair. "Baby, go to your room. Remember our safe place?"

He nods, already trembling. We practiced this in Oregon—the closet with his dinosaurs, staying quiet until Mommy comes to get him.

"But what about you?" he whispers.

"I'll be fine, baby. Go now. Quick and quiet, just like we practiced."

The pounding gets louder. I hear wood splintering—he's trying to break down the door. The locks might be military-grade, but the frame is still old wood.

"You're alone now! Your fucking bodyguard isn't here to save you!"

As soon as Tommy disappears down the hallway, I grab my phone from the counter. Joey's number is still on speed dial. My finger shakes as I press it, praying he'll answer.

One ring. Two rings. Three—

"Yeah?" His gruff voice sends relief flooding through me.

"Joey?" I hate how small my voice sounds. "He's here. Derek. He's trying to break down the door."

"Motherfucker," Joey growls. More banging, more splintering wood. "Where's Tommy?"

"Safe place. In his closet."

"Good girl. I'm ten minutes out. Keep talking to me."

I clutch the phone tighter, backing away from the door. "He's breaking through. The locks are holding but the frame's giving way."

"Is there a back door?"

"Yes, but it's locked too."

"Keep it that way. Where are you?"

"Kitchen." Another crash makes me jump. "Joey, he's got a weapon. I can see something in his hand through the window."

"Listen to me carefully, Ruby." His voice is steady, calming. I hear a motorcycle engine roaring through the phone. "Go to the kitchen counter. Far right drawer. Now."

I follow his instructions, confused. "Okay?"

"There's a gun taped under it. Our locksmith put it there yesterday. You know how to use one?"

My hands shake as I feel under the drawer. Sure enough, my fingers touch cold metal.

"My... my dad taught me. Basic stuff."

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