Nowhere But Here (Thunder Road #1) (5 page)

Emily

THE OFFICE OF
a funeral director resembles those of normal people: file cabinets, a desk, a rolly chair, paperwork, a computer, pictures of kids and families. No jars of blood, no dead people or dead people parts. Small consolation.

I’m ticked. Extremely ticked. Like a-tick-interrupted-from-a-meal ticked.

She’s alive. My freaking non-grandmother is still alive, and she scared the hell out of me.

Completely spent, I sit in the chair, hold my phone and wait impatiently for it to vibrate. I left Mom a message, and someone went to find Dad. I want to go home.

My legs have the strength of mashed potatoes. I’m cold and clammy, and my stomach churns like I vomited. That’s because I did, in the viewing room, and I discovered that yellow bile does not blend well with red velvet industrial carpeting. My crowning achievement in overreaction.

Through the large window facing the hallway, I can see the crowd hasn’t dispersed. Instead, the mass of bodies has increased since my moment of glory. Almost everyone gawks at me—laughing. My mom said Eli’s family was psychotic, but this...this is...

The door squeaks open and the guy who caught me and kept me from falling to the floor enters the room with a can of Sprite. He’s rocked out in those loose jeans, a studded black belt and a black T-shirt. “Olivia says it’s not officially a party until somebody pukes.”

“Glad I added to the fun.”

He perches on the edge of the folding chair across from me and offers the Sprite. “Eli told me to get you this.”

I keep my hands planted in my lap. Nothing today has gone right and I’m not a hundred percent sure I’m done puking.

“It’s Sprite, not crack,” he says.

“Thank you.” I accept the soda and set it on the desk. “Are you my cousin?”

He doesn’t resemble me or Eli with his blue eyes and grown-out black hair. The type of hair that’s not overly long, but long enough that girls would be drawn to him because it’s the correct length for seductive rebellion. The ends lick the collar of his shirt and hide his ears. He has the type of hair Blake Harris was suspended from school over. But that’s not where my eyes linger. What captivates me is the way the sleeves of his T-shirt cling to his muscles. He’s ripped in a very awesome way.

“No blood relation,” he answers.

Good, because he has that alternative-music-band hotness and thinking someone I’m related to is sexy could send me into another meltdown.

“Will you do all of us a favor?” he asks.

I shrug, not exactly in the mood for conversation.

“Play nice with Olivia, then leave.”

“Excuse me? Play nice? With her? She freaked me out.”

He leans back in the chair and sprawls his legs out in a way that makes him appear larger than life and leaves me feeling claustrophobic. “Look, I know you’re going all prodigal daughter, but this ain’t the time or place. This is Olivia’s party and you’re ruining it.”

“Prodigal what?”

“Daughter. Bible. The long-lost son returning home.”

I stare at him, not sure what to say.

He gives a short laugh. “I heard that about your mom. Gave up God and family.”

No one speaks badly about my mom. “I heard you’re all crazy. And guess what? It’s true.”

“Why? Because Olivia’s enjoying her life?”

“Because she plays make-believe in a coffin and all of you are okay with it.”

“Better than screaming like a two-year-old and puking our guts out.”

I was wrong—he’s not hot. He’s evil. Very, very evil. “It’s sick. This whole thing is sick. You people are absolutely insane!”

The guy stands. “You need to leave. You want to see Eli? Wait for him to spend all his money so he can visit you this summer. This party is for Olivia and the people who care for her. You don’t belong here.”

The door opens and Eli and Olivia walk in. Eli had been smiling, but one flickering glance between me and Sprite guy and Eli’s mouth firms into a hard line. “Is there a problem, Oz?”

His crazy name suits this insane day. Oz flashes an easygoing grin and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to slap him. “Nope.”

Eli surveys me and his jaw relaxes. “Are you okay?”

Embarrassed—yes. Mortified—definitely. Okay—not at all. “Yeah.”

“I need to speak to my granddaughter.” Olivia pats Oz’s arm.

He envelops her in a bear of a hug, looks at me over her shoulder and mouths “leave.” He walks out and I’ve never been so happy to see someone go in my life. Hot or otherwise.

Olivia eases into the chair across from me, pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her jeans and lights one up. “I have cancer and the doctors aren’t hopeful.”

I steal a peek at Eli, who rests his back against the wall. He’s watching me, and I suddenly feel like a fish in a glass bowl. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Olivia says. “I’ve fought a good fight and lived a great life. God calls us all home at some point.” She blows out the smoke and I swallow the cough that tickles my throat.

“Funerals are expensive,” she states. It’s a pause and an uncomfortable one. She props her elbow on the desk, and I’m strangely fascinated by the way she holds her forearm up and dangles the cigarette from her bent hand.

“Okay,” I prompt, hoping this will continue the conversation.

She nails Eli’s smile and I notice her dark eyes—my eyes. Olivia is pretty and doesn’t seem old enough to have a granddaughter my age. A part of me wonders if I’ll resemble her when I grow older.

“And if I’m going to waste that much money on a party, I prefer to be part of the action.”

“So you planned your own funeral and attended it.” Weird. Very, very weird.

“Yes. Sorry about earlier. Bad timing. I thought I’d test-drive the bed in a box. See what these bones could be spending eternity in. It’s either that or the furnace.”

I shift in my chair. That’s not weird. It’s nuts.

“Eli fucked up the e-mail to your family. Put in the obituary instead of the party announcement. I wrote the two at the same time. Figured I’d be the best person to write what I want people to read after I bite.” Olivia takes another drag off her cigarette and flicks the ashes into a coffee mug.

“Muck.” I’ve heard people say fuck before. Guys say it at school constantly, but...

Her forehead wrinkles. “What?”

“You should use muck instead. You’re a...grandmother...” and the words fall off because they sound stupid.

She cackles. Like a witch. Head thrown back and everything. I shrink farther into the chair and will my phone to ring or my dad to show. Why is it taking so long for him to find me?

“Muck. I’ll remember it. Back to the conversation. I don’t regret what Eli sent.” She sucks in one more draw before dropping the cigarette into the mug. It sizzles in the liquid. “I’m meeting you.”

Simultaneous buzzing. My phone vibrates against the palm of my hand. Eli yanks his phone out of his back pocket. Too bad he didn’t answer it last night. He could have saved us from this terrible torment.

We both accept the calls. “Hi, Mom.”

“Are you okay, baby?” She sounds close to hysterics. I regret leaving the message while sobbing like a lunatic.

“Yes. I’m fine. Just freaked.” Nothing a lifetime of therapy won’t fix.

Mom rattles on and I tune her out while listening for key words that indicate I should speak. I’m more interested in Eli’s conversation.

“I know.” Eli rubs his forehead. “Jeff...” It’s my dad. “Hear me out.”

From the silence on Eli’s end, it’s obvious Dad’s in no mood to listen, and I wonder why he’s not in here talking to Eli face-to-face. Mom pauses. “Em?”

Crap, caught not listening. “I’m here.”

“I said you need to leave. Right now. Walk out the door, do you understand?”

A twinge of panic strangles my heart when I look out the office’s window. Two men guard the door. These guys weren’t present before. At least I don’t think they were. They aren’t laughing or carrying on like everyone else in the hallway. Their backs are to us and their spines are arrow-straight. But what causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end is how they turn their heads to observe the crowd as if they’re expecting something...or someone.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask Mom.

“Outside,” she answers. “He’s outside and he can’t get in. Eli won’t stop you, honey. He’s capable of a lot of things, but he’ll let you go. Do it now, Emily. Leave.”

Eli runs a hand over his face as he continues his conversation with Dad. “That’s not necessary. There’s no reason to change those plans. Emily is fine. A little shaken up, but she doesn’t need to go home.”

He opens the door and snaps his fingers at the two huge men. Both wear the same black vest as Eli. “Emily’s dad is at the front entrance. I told someone to get him in here. I won’t ask nicely again.”

Eli closes the door then returns to talking to Dad. “They’re going to let you in. Give me your word that she can visit with my mother. Not here, though. Somewhere...quieter.”

“No.” Olivia’s eyes widen and she touches Eli’s arm. “You promised.”

Eli gives his head a small shake. Olivia pivots in my direction. “Tell Meg to let you stay.” Her voice rises with each syllable. “Tell her you want to meet your family. Tell her you want to spend time with me. With your father!”

“Tell her?” My forehead furrows. I don’t tell my mom what to do. It’s Mom.

“Tell me what?” Mom asks.

“Olivia wants me to tell you that I should stay.”

“No.” Mom grows suddenly firm. “Leave now.”

“Thanks for the reminder!” Eli smacks his hand on the wall. A corkboard tacked up beside him crashes to the floor. I jump with the impact and draw myself in, wishing I could disappear.

I don’t know these people and they don’t know me and my dad’s outside and not inside and these people could have tempers and they could hurt me and...

“I’m aware I have no rights to my daughter,” Eli snaps. “I’m the one who signed the damn papers!”

“Baby,” Mom says in my ear. “Say goodbye to Eli and leave. The cab is waiting.”

“Okay.” I focus on my shoes. I never want to wear them again. “I’ll see you soon.”

Even though Mom’s still talking, I end the call and drop the phone to my lap. Eli, on the other hand...

“No, Jeff. Let her stay... No. No.” He opens his mouth to speak again and then lowers the phone to look at the screen. “Fuck!”

I flinch with the anger shaking out of his body and Eli swears again under his breath when he notices. “Dammit, I mean...I’m sorry, Emily.”

“It’s okay.” I comb my fingers through my hair and pretend to be interested in the strands. Mom said Dad’s outside and I’m going to ignore any reason for why he can’t make it in. It’s not because I’m trapped here. It’s not because these people are trying to force something I don’t want.

This is okay and I’m going to be okay. Deep breaths in. Long breaths out.

“Call her back,” Olivia says to me. “Call Meg back and tell her you’re staying.”

My hands tremble as I pick up my purse and slip my phone into the pocket. “She told me to leave.”

“Do you always do what you’re told?”

I cling tighter to the handles on my bag. My mom told me to come home. Home. A place that is safe and familiar and nothing like this insanity. This place is scary and confusing and... “She’s my mom.”

“Don’t, Mom,” Eli mumbles under his breath.

“And you’re seventeen,” Olivia points out. “Old enough to make this decision.”

“Barely seventeen,” I whisper.

“Leave her alone,” Eli says. “It’s me you’re upset with.”

Olivia wheels around. “Not you. Your daughter is caving to that woman and I’m tired of Meg telling us what we can and cannot do with our flesh and blood!” She rounds on me. “McKinley blood runs in your veins. Take a stand and tell them you’re staying.”

My wrist begins to itch and I scratch, not caring that it will make the welts bigger. Hives, my Achilles’ heel. The physical manifestation of the chaos inside me. I slowly stand, but not in the way she desires. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“Eli!” It’s a plea, and it causes guilt to ripple within me. I glance out the window and catch Oz watching me from the hall with his thumbs hitched in his pockets. He lowers his head and shakes it.

“She’s a good kid,” Eli says in defeat.

“What does that mean?” Olivia yells.

Eli pushes off the wall and settles his hands on Olivia’s shoulders like he did with me earlier. “It means she’s a good kid. She’s a good kid with good friends and she makes good grades at a good school and lives in a good neighborhood in a good house in an even better community. She’s a good kid with a great life and every now and then I get to be a part of it. Think about what Meg’s given her. Think about what we really have the right to demand.”

Olivia crosses her arms. “You mean she’s locked up in a safe padded world and she does everything everyone tells her.”

“Yes.” Eli nods. “And she’s happy.”

My would-be grandmother studies me and for some reason, she appears to pity me. “And that is sad.”

Oz

HOOK AND PIGPEN
guard the door to the office, and it’s a good thing, too. Otherwise I probably would have bolted in and shaken the hell out of Emily.

My teeth grind as I witness the drama unfolding through the window. Olivia, the strongest woman I know, is close to tears. She’s been the focus of my life since I was a child, and I’ve never seen her this way. Not when she discusses the son she lost around the time of my birth. Not when she told me I wouldn’t be living with her anymore when I was eight. Not when she hurts year after year as she marks another passing of Emily’s birthday with no contact from her or Meg. Not when she found out she has greater odds of being hit by lightning than surviving the cancer.

Tears. Olivia’s eyes are glassy and she lifts her chin like she doesn’t give a damn, but there’s only a fragile veil of pride hiding her devastation.

Emily stands in the middle of the room with her purse in her hands, looking completely lost as Olivia cups her face. Fuck Emily for hurting Olivia. Fuck Emily for returning and ruining this day.

The door to the office opens and Eli walks out. Hook and Pigpen grant Eli their undivided attention and Eli points at me. “I need you in on this, Oz.”

I slide closer and the four of us create a tight circle. Eli talks so only we can hear. “Pigpen, clear this hall. Hook, tell her father we’re taking Emily out the back. I want a wall of leather cuts giving her shade, do you got me?”

They mumble their agreement and Pigpen rounds to face the crowd. Like a lot of the brothers in the club, he’s ex-military. The voice of the six-two, massive former Army Ranger rumbles against the walls. “If you ain’t a brother, clear out!”

The volume of conversation in the hall rises along with the sound of shuffling feet. Everyone associated with us comprehends that a demand is a demand, not a request. Hang-arounds, people not associated with the club, are permitted to party with us, but are only allowed on our terms. If they don’t like it, they can get the hell out.

I shift to help Pigpen with the herding, but Eli catches my arm. “Walk with me.”

Eli’s on the move in the restricted hallway of the funeral home and I keep step by his side. We turn the corner and he imitates a Navy SEAL on a mission when his eyes roam the area. He’s performing a run-through to confirm the area is clear. “What the fuck was Meg thinking letting Emily come here?”

His hand slams on a swinging door that’s marked “No Entrance” and I keep my mouth shut. That question wasn’t for me. We enter a barren hallway and I stay near the exit as Eli checks a room at the end. “Fifteen years since they’ve been in this town and now with the Riot breathing down our throats Meg allows Emily to show.”

Eli kicks an empty cardboard box and it bounces against the wall. He breathes hard and I meld into the equivalent of paint. I’ve known Eli since I was eleven. He’s the biggest badass I’ve met and he doesn’t easily lose his shit. It’s best to let him ride this out.

“I e-mailed Jeff.” Eli stares at the wall. “I e-mailed him in the vain hope he’d let Emily come, but I didn’t think he would. I knew Meg would say no, but I had hoped and then he did call and I didn’t answer. I had turned off my cell, forgot I had and now...”

His hands go to his hips and his head falls back. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Name it.” This is the moment I’ve been waiting for since I was sixteen.

“I need you on Emily. Follow her until she gets on the plane. Stay close enough to make sure she’s out of trouble, but far enough away that no one figures out that you’re tailing them. If you do this for me, you’ll have a cut on your back the moment you walk into the clubhouse and you’ll be our newest prospect.”

“Not a problem.” I’ll follow Emily through hell in order to make prospect. “Do you mind telling me what I’m watching for?”

Eli works his jaw. “The Riot.”

Never thought of Eli as paranoid. My mind races for why the Riot would give a rip about Emily. “The Riot would never step into Snowflake, so how would they know that she’s here?” And why would they care?

“The Riot’s pissed we’re doing security business in Louisville. Even more pissed we won’t give them a cut of our profits because we’re running through their area. Remember what I said to you last night? The Riot can make a business issue personal fast.”

“Yeah, but you think they’ll go after Emily?”

“There’s a scar forming on your father’s head that tells me the Riot is ready for a war, and there are over two hundred people in this building. I can’t risk the chance there’s someone loyal to them here gathering info on us. I wasn’t worried until I saw Emily. We’re strong together as a club. We protect our own, but she’s not one of us and I won’t have them go personal with her. The Riot don’t think straight when they’re mad. They act first and never ask questions later. She’s my daughter and I don’t want her caught up in my shit.”

I nod. This is the guy Eli is—loyal to those he loves. But it’s lost on me why he has this sudden commitment to Emily. He visits her once a year. From what I understand, he never tried for custody, but I’m not going to question my path into the club. He wants me to watch Emily, so I’ll watch Emily. She officially has a stalker.

“Meg will be able to spot a Terror member,” he continues, “so you’ll be driving my truck. If anyone can own the role of teenager out for a joyride who doesn’t give a shit, it’s you.”

From Eli, that’s a high compliment. “Emily will know me.”

“Emily won’t be looking for you, but Meg will be searching for the club.” He digs into his pockets and tosses the keys to his truck to me. “Tail them until she boards the plane. I need to know that my problems with the Riot don’t follow my daughter.”

“Consider it done.” I open the exit door and Eli stops me from walking out into the summer sun.

“Anyone who messes with Emily messes with me,” he adds.

Which means anyone stupid enough to cross paths with her is suicidal. “I got her back.”

Eli smiles like we’ve been chatting about the weather. “You’re a good man, Oz.” And he disappears back inside the funeral home.

* * *

In pleated khaki pants, Emily’s adoptive father, Jeff, paces outside the sidewalk of his motel room talking on his cell. He sports a pair of Aviator sunglasses and holds himself like he’s God. Heard he’s a doctor so he probably thinks he is. I’ve been ordered to maintain my distance, otherwise I would have offered the three of them a ride into Louisville hours ago.

My cell buzzes. Eli’s hourly check-in.
What’s going on?

Same thing as the past ten hours.
Nothing.

I followed Emily and Jeff here after they left the funeral home. Three hours ago the rental-car company showed and dropped off an SUV. Emily and her parents piled into the rental and I rapped my head against the headrest of the truck when the engine of the SUV wouldn’t turn over.

Since then, Jeff’s bought takeout and talked on his phone. No sign of Emily or her mother. Both have stayed safely inside the motel room.

Buzzing.

I don’t like them staying here overnight. We’re hearing some chatter that the Riot are riding closer than normal, but we don’t have visuals. Don’t like the feel of the situation. Keep vigilant.

Like stalking a girl who hurt Olivia is my definition of a wet dream.
Will do.

I toss my cell onto the bench seat and press the balls of my hands to my eyes. Last night’s lack of sleep is catching up. First the private party at the lake with a twelve-pack, Chevy and two blondes more than willing to be on the back of a bike, then the hours waiting for Dad and then the adrenaline rush of all that followed.

I got an hour’s worth of sleep, maybe less, before Eli picked me up to retrieve Dad’s bike. I stretch my legs in the small space against the floorboard and roll my neck. Eli checked flights after it was clear their rental wasn’t moving and confirmed that it would be impossible for them to reach Louisville and still board a flight out tonight.

It’s killing Eli to do nothing, but they haven’t asked for help and they aren’t answering his “benign” texts asking if Emily’s okay and if they arrived in Louisville without issue. Any further contact by him would tip them off that they’re being tailed and Eli’s adamant this remains on the down low.

Jeff ends a call and looks up at the sky. Night’s falling. The lights on the motel overhang flicker on. He glances around the mostly abandoned parking lot, but dismisses me and the truck. I’m in the corner, near the Dumpster, and in the shadows.

Taking the key card out of his pocket, he enters the motel room. Another buzz and I wish Eli’s cell would run out of power.

You gonna be able to stay awake on this?

Do I want Eli to think I can handle the club?

Yes.

Don’t fail me.

Won’t happen.

I wait for Eli’s next text, but the silence confirms that he has faith. Should’ve asked for some coffee or a shot of adrenaline, but there’s no asking for help here. I do this or I don’t, and I won’t let Eli down.

I rest my head on the seat and stare at Emily’s motel room. If there’s one thing that’s been confirmed today, it’s that she’s more trouble than she’s worth.