Page 41 of Flyboy's Nightingale
“No, not kidding. He left here about twenty minutes ago,” Smith informs her, pulling on his helmet and kicking his bike over.
She stands there looking at everyone. The ire on her face would send us all to hell. “If I’d known that, I’d have stayed in my damn room,” she mumbles, moving toward the van.
Coin stands there glaring at Candy. I don’t know what’s going on with the guys and Candy, but this behavior isn’t exactly normal. Turning, I pull the back door of the van open and climb in, taking the seat furthest from the door. I watch Candy and Coin as they have a silent argument.
“If you’re fucking coming, get your ass in the van,” he tells her as he turns, heading into the clubhouse and returning not long afterward with Noah, the longest running prospect due to his inability to keep his opinions to himself, in tow.
Candy’s feet unstick, and she finally makes her way toward the van, climbing in. The prospect closes the back door before getting in the driver’s seat. Flyboy finally climbs in after a brief conversation with Coin. Whatever Coin tells him causes a look of disgust to cross his face before he can wipe it away and hide it from us.
“We’ll be behind Duck, who will be driving behind Torch, Razor, and the rest of the boys will line up behind us,” Flyboy informs Noah.
Noah just nods his head, not saying a word. Turning to look out the window, I do everything in my power to tamp the anxiety starting to rise at the thought of being off the club's property.
Holy shit, I feel safe at the clubhouse. I’m in such shock that on my next inhale, I start coughing. I never once would’ve believed after my mother died that I could ever feel safe in another clubhouse.
“Are you okay?” Candy muses, watching me in a way that causes my “shit ain’t right” radar to go off.
I just nod. Any words I’d usually say, feel like they’re clogged in my throat. The closer we get to my street, the harder it becomes to pull oxygen into my lungs. My head starts spinningand my vision begins to narrow into a black tunnel. I lean forward trying to get Flyboy’s attention. Turning my head, I find Candy watching me once again, with odd interest. I’m finally able to get my arm to respond, so I tap Flyboy on the shoulder. The movement causes Noah and Flyboy to both turn and look at me.
“Fuck, She’s having a panic attack,” Noah declares, pulling the van to the side of the road.
Flyboy throws his door open, just as Noah pulls my door open. I hear Flyboy giving Noah commands. He slowly eases me out of my seat and helps settle me between Flyboy’s thighs, who to my surprise, doesn’t wrap me in a tight hug. Instead, he starts handing me random shit just like Lil’ Red did that day in the hospital. Slowly, I come out of my fog, sagging into Flyboy with tears running down my face.
“That’s it, Sunshine! You’re safe and cared for. It’s all going to be just fine,” Flyboy mumbles to me repeatedly.
“If she’s doing better, we really need to get moving, and off the street,” I hear Smith express tensely.
Flyboy cups my face, asking, “You good until we get to your place? It’s only another two minutes.”
All I do is nod, not even wanting to try and speak right now. Flyboy kisses my forehead, nose, and then lips. I step back, my heart squeezing when I see the wall of men keeping us safe on all sides. I’ve never felt safer in my entire life. This right here, in this very moment, is what it means to be looked after and protected. To have people at your back.
As I make my way back into the van, I glance over at Candy, taken off guard by the malice I see in her face. This is not the woman that I’ve always known. The woman I knew was quiet, always seemed scared and watchful. This woman always seems to be acting as if she’s scared, now, it seems like it’s all been forshow. Taking my seat in the car, we get on the road heading to my place.
Candy leans over to me, speaking quietly, “How did you do it?”
Confused, I ask her, “Do what, exactly?”
She just raises an eyebrow like she's talking to an idiot. “Get these assholes to protect and care for you the way they do? I’ve been here for months, and still, they show nothing but indifference.”
“Candy, I haven’t done anything but be kind, understanding, and hangout with the Ol’ ladies.” I don’t know what she’s talking about or why she would think this.
Her laughter is harsh and grating. “That’s complete bullshit. We both know there's more than that to get these men to do what they are. Just tell me what it took. I’ve tried coming onto them. I’ve tried being the scared and broken woman. All any of that shit got me was dismissed and forgotten.”
I can’t help but be shocked by her words. “Candy, you can’t be serious. You’ve got a bedroom at the club and they don’t ask anything of you. I’ve seen the way Pretty Boy looks after you.”
“If you only knew half the truth,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out her window.
As we pull down my street, I’m shocked to see that nothing has changed. Over the last twenty-four hours, I feel like everything in my life has been turned upside down, and set to rights, exactly how it’s always supposed to have been. The men in front of us pull past the driveway, right in front of the house, parking on the street while Duck backs the truck up my driveway, leaving us to pull in tight in front of it. The guys behind us line their bikes up next to everyone else, effectively letting anyone and everyone know that we’re here together. I grab Flyboy’s crutches and step out of the van as Coin and Smith make it up the driveway to us. Flyboy takes the crutches, glaringat them. I embody the bravery that I’m feeling and step into his bubble.
I lay a soft kiss on his lips. “You’ll be off these before long. Just keep doing the work.”
Flyboy’s boyish grin, that I haven’t seen in so long, slowly slides across his face. “If I get sweet kisses like that all the time, maybe the crutches aren’t that bad.”
Warmth blossoms in my chest at his words. A woman sure can get used to this feeling. Flyboy kisses my forehead and I step back, holding tight to the feeling in my chest. As I’m guided up the driveway and down the walkway, that seems to run for miles, and up to my front door, I’m drawn to a stop, pausing when I see scratches embedded on the handle and deadbolt. The momentary pause must be long enough to get everyone's attention.
“We good there, Riles?” Vixen’s voice right behind me causes me to shudder.
“Yeah, sorry! Just got a feeling that something isn’t right,” I clamor, reaching into my pocket to pull my keys out. I unlock first the deadbolt and then the door knob. A feeling of foreboding is so thick through the air, that if I was a betting woman, I’d put money on being able to taste it.
