Page 85 of Nightmare

No answer.

I have to get over there. I need to explain this to him. I need to do something to try and fix this horrible mess.

Getting out of my bed, I call in a nurse and tell her I need to leave. I explain it’s an emergency and either she lets me go, or I’ll walk on my own. A few papers and a doctors visit later, I have the all clear to leave. I don’t waste a single second rushing out of the hospital, even though my head is still pounding. I call a cab and when I’m inside, I stare down at the paper in my hands.

This is the worst possible thing that could ever happen.

Bill Whart is going to come after me.

The police officers involved are going to come after me.

The town is going to go into an uproar.

It’s going to be utter chaos.

Arriving at the club, I get out of the cab and toss him some money before taking my small bag and rushing to the front gates of the club, which are securely locked. Two bikers are standing by those gates, and when their eyes fall on me, they harden.

They know.

God dammit, they know.

“You’re not welcome here. If you have any sense about you, you’ll fuckin’ leave before you get a bullet put through your skull.”

Fear grips my chest as I curl my fingers around the wire mesh and lean in close. “I didn’t do that. I swear I didn’t. Please. I need to talk to Western.Please.”

“Western has made it very clear that if you step foot on these grounds, we are to take you out. Now, because you’re a woman, we’re not goin’ to do that, but I promise you, if you push your luck, you’ll find yourself six feet under.”

Oh my god.

They wouldn’t.

Surely, they wouldn’t.

Not caring in this moment, I take a deep breath and scream. “Western!”

One of the bikers, Jerry, I think his name is, pulls out a gun and walks over, shoving it through the mesh and pressing it to my forehead. I freeze, the air in my lungs being sucked out as it feels as though the world stops spinning.

“I won’t tell you again.”

“You want to shoot me?” I say, my entire body shaking. “Fucking shoot me. I’m not leaving. Go on, do it! Do it!”

I’m screaming now, my voice cracking.

“Western,” I scream again.

A minute later, Western exits the club house. I’ve seen his face expressionless before, but I’ve never seen him look at me with such vile hatred. He looks as though he couldn’t care if the gun to my head right now went off and killed me right in front of him. That hurts, it rips me to my very core. I know I fucked up, but I was never going to release that story.

Walking toward me, he exits the gate and then pulls a gun from his jeans, pointing it at me. “You have five minutes to say whatever the fuck it is you’re goin’ to say, before I shoot you.”

My bottom lip trembles. He wouldn’t shoot me.He wouldn’t...

“I didn’t release that story,” I say, my voice a broken mess. “I swear to you I didn’t release it, Western.”

“Did you write it?”

I hesitate. I did write it, technically, but not in the way it was presented. Those aren’t my words. They’ve used my facts and spun it to suit themselves. Whoever did this, wanted to bring me down. They wanted to hurt me. Otherwise, my name wouldn’t be on it.

“I...”

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