Page 54 of Harper's Song

“We’re riding,” Cross says. “But we’re bringing both of them in.”

“What the fuck for?” I snap. “Jax’s not one of us.”

“No, not anymore,” Cross says. “But he might know what the Renegades and the rest are planning. You can make sure he tells us everything.”

Now that makes me happier than I’ve been in weeks.

“Cross, come on, now… ” Rook starts, but Cross silences him with one of his hard black looks that are impossible to argue with.

“Jax made his choice,” he says simply. “And now he’s gonna answer for it. If he’s got nothing to do with it, then we’ll know that too. Now get ready.”

I leave first, already calling Lynn as I do. Finally, I can tell her our daughter is coming home. It’s all she’s been waiting to hear, even if she insists all is well. So at least I can give her that.

19

Harper

I gave our cabin stay two more days and nights, because I was in no hurry to leave and wanted to show him he was wrong about the eleventh hour thing. But then we also ran out of food, so we agreed it’s best I go on my own into the town that’s roughly a half an hour's drive from the cabin, get some supplies and call home. There’s a chance he’d get recognized as one of the prison break fugitives despite the stubbly beard covering his face, since in small towns like that one, all strangers get looked at very carefully. He insisted that it’s probably a small risk, but it’s not one I’m willing to take now that we’re so close to sorting everything out.

And while I’m there, I’ll also update my social media some. There’s actually a lot of news I have to share and a lot of apologies I need to make for missing the last five of my scheduled gigs. I’ll probably have to miss a few more now, but then everything will be as it should be and I’ll have all the time in the world to make it up to my fans and supporters.

I still taste the berries he picked for our breakfast. They were nothing I’d ever eaten before, with sweet flesh and a tangy juice, and I joked, asking if they were poisoned and he was staging some sort of Romeo and Juliet thing. I shouldn’t have done that. He didn’t laugh, just assured me he’d already had some and they were fine, and I didn’t want to explain that being nervous about calling Scar was the reason for my edgy humor.

I am very nervous.

Because I’ve seen my father angry and I know how long it takes him to calm down. And in this last week, I’m sure his anger has become a volcano ready to blow. And spill all over my plans, burning them all before I can even make my plea.

I’m better off not worrying about that on top of everything else. And to do that, I better just get it over with sooner rather than later. I don’t plan on taking anything other than a yes for an answer, even if it means Jax and I have to hide out in the woods for another year or three.

So I take the turns of the winding country road leading into town too fast, almost spin out a couple of times and am parked at the edge of town within twenty minutes of leaving the cabin. I stopped by the side of the road, on a gravel and dirt shoulder, next to a large, abandoned junk yard. The trucks, tractors and other farming equipment strewn across it are covered in so much rust there’s no way to tell what color they were originally and tall tufts of grass are growing amid them from the cracks in the asphalt.

This empty, decrepit place is a good spot to call Scar, since I might have to say things that best not be overheard by nosy townspeople.

I get out of the truck, grateful for the fresh air on my face as I lean against the back to make the call.

Maybe I should be calling my mom first, get her help with persuading him to see things my way. But I do understand that the obstacles to Jax returning to the MC are huge and don’t just have to do with Scar’s objections to our relationship. It’s club business and whether Jax gets to come back will ultimately be Cross’ decision. My mother has no influence over that. Nor do Hunter or Chance, so I won’t be calling them for help either.

No, this is my wish, my favor to ask, and my plea, so I have to be the one to make it.

My hands are shaking as I dial my father’s number and it gets worse as the line only rings once and then disconnects.

The next time I try, the lady on the recording tells me the number can’t be reached right now.

Great, just what I needed, network troubles. I quickly text him that I’m fine, that I need to speak to him and to call me as soon as he gets the text, trying not to see this failure to speak to him as a bad omen.All’s well that ends well, and all that.

I hear a Harley approaching as I dial his number one more time with the same result. And I suppose that’s a good omen. It kind of makes me think he got my text and everything is going to work out.

I don’t see the rider though and the sound is gone by the time I open the truck door again to continue on my way into town. I’ll try again later, once I’ve done all my shopping and taken care of the other things.

“Are you broken down?” a man asks behind my back, his voice gravelly yet sickly sweet at the same time.

“No, no, I’m fine,” I say without even turning around. And when I do, I wish I hadn’t.

It’s him. The man from the bar where I played my first gig on this tour. The man wearing all black staring at me and toasting me silently across the barroom. Up close, his face looks somehow very familiar, even though I’m certain I don’t know him. Though if he’s some crazed stalker of mine, maybe I have seen him in some social media profile photo. Or the familiarity could just be stemming from be the friendly way in which he’s trying and failing to smile, showing me two rows of nasty, yellow and black teeth. His eyes are like the deepest, scariest part of the forest.

“I’m all good, but thanks for stopping to check,” I say pleasantly and practically leap into the truck to get away from him. My compulsion to be nice and friendly even though this guy scares me to the depths of my soul is a complete mystery to me.

He makes no move to stop me from getting in the truck and driving away. I do it so fast that pebbles and dirt pelt the windshield, and I don’t slow down even once I reach the town proper. I’m also not yet able to take a full, satisfying breath.

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