Nowhere But Here (Thunder Road #1) (9 page)

Oz

WIND BLOWS IN
from the north and a few pieces of Emily’s dark hair sweep across her face. One minute Emily’s a bright flame, then a gust snuffs out her light. Her body sways like a top at the tail end of a spin and I lunge forward.

Emily’s knees give out and her eyes roll back into her head. I catch her inches before she crashes onto the porch. She’s light as I swing her into my arms and her head circles onto my shoulder, reminding me of one of those rag dolls Violet used to play with when we were kids.

“Emily!” Eli’s on top of me, attempting to yank her out of my arms. “Open your eyes.”

Her eyelids flutter, but remain closed as her hand limply clutches my shirt. Eli rams his arms underneath mine and he makes Emily a rope in a tug-of-war. I should let her go. I should want to let her go, but then Emily goes and screws it up for me. “Oz.”

It was a damn whisper, but I heard my name on her lips and so did Eli. His eyes flash to mine and Cyrus’s words repeat in my mind.
That girl trusts you.
And screw us both for that.

“She’s exhausted,” I say. “Hasn’t slept at all tonight.”

Eli’s expression hardens as he glares at me. I’ve seen Eli throw a coma-inducing punch for less defiance and I readjust the sleeping girl in my arms. A reminder if he decks me now, he’ll be putting his daughter at risk.

Temporarily surrendering, Eli cups Emily’s face in his hands and angles her toward him. “Emily, please open your eyes.”

She does. It’s barely a crack and they’re completely glazed.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Eli affirms.

“I want my mom and dad,” she mumbles.

“You’ll see them tomorrow.” Eli pushes a strand of hair from her cheek. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

She rejects Eli by curling into me. Her head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck and I loathe the wave of protectiveness that rumbles through my body. Emily’s fingers tighten their grip near my shoulders and the impulse is to shield her from the guys gawking at this intimate scene. Yeah, this is club business, but Emily never asked for any of this.

Cyrus opens the door and I move past Eli. He’s hot on my heels. So close, his breath hits the back of my neck. Mom steps out of the kitchen and is down the hallway before me. She waves for me to enter the spare bedroom.

It’s the bedroom no one ever uses. First it belonged to Eli’s brother and then he died. Most can get over that, but people will crash on the couch and hardwood floor before sleeping in the bedroom that Emily and her mother once claimed. The purple room with white bedding is cursed. No one wants anything to do with a traitor.

I lay Emily on the bed. Her arms fall over her head and her dark hair fans out on the pillow. Her eyes are shut and her breaths come out in a deep rhythmic pattern. I ease back as Eli spreads a blanket over Emily and removes the shoes from her feet, dropping each one to the floor.

Emily’s hand drifts to the edge of the bed and her fingers splay open. The picture Olivia gave her floats to the floor like a feather in the breeze. My heart pounds hard once. I go to retrieve it, but Mom snatches it with death written over her face. Her eyes meet mine and we stare at each other as if we’re looking down the business end of a rifle.

If Eli found that picture in Emily’s possession, he would have spiraled into dangerous quick.

“Where’d she get this?” Mom mouths.

I tilt my head toward Olivia’s bedroom and her eyes slam shut. As Eli straightens, Mom shoves the picture in her jeans pocket then spins on her heel and touches Eli’s arm to gain his attention. “Would you like me to stay with Emily?”

Eli draws a hand over his face and walks over to the window seat. He sags onto it and appears to age ten years.

Since Eli entered my life at eleven, he’s always been badass. All the stories I had been told before he returned to Snowflake made him larger than life. In reality, Eli is larger than life. Over six feet tall. Broad-shouldered. The Reign of Terror’s black leather cut strong on his back. I’ve seen him easily kick the shit out of any man stupid enough to stand in his way.

“Tell Cyrus I’ll update him soon, but I need to be in here,” Eli says. “Emily will need some things. Clothes, personal stuff. A burner phone. Can you handle that for me?”

“Of course,” Mom answers, and I don’t miss how she keeps a hand pressed over the pocket containing the picture. “Let’s go, Oz.”

I go to leave, but Eli stops me. “Tell me you didn’t fall asleep on lookout.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and point-blank meet his glare. Eli shakes his head in disgust. “We’ll deal with this in Church later. Cyrus says that Emily trusts you.”

If Eli believes it to be true and it works me back into his good graces then I’ll take it. “She hasn’t run away from me yet.” At least not far enough that I couldn’t catch her.

“We’ll be leaving here around three. Get some sleep. If she trusts you then I want you riding with us when we meet with her parents. You better wow me if you want to make prospect.”

I nod to him then glance at Emily as I leave. Amazing how someone so innocent and beautiful can wreak so much havoc.

Mom shuts the door behind us and leans into me like a rabid animal. “Did you know Emily had the picture? Did she bring it with her? Tell me that nod of your head did not mean that Olivia gave it to her.”

From the living room, Cyrus pokes his head around the corner and we stay silent until he resumes whatever he was doing. I keep my tone down when I answer Mom. “Olivia did give it to her. I told Emily not to tell Eli.”

Mom rams her fingers through her hair. “Eli will go ballistic if he finds out. You need to stay away from Emily.”

I chuckle. “I’m not stupid enough to hook up with Eli’s daughter.”

“Ew.” Her face crinkles. “Emily’s practically family to us.”

No, she’s not. She’s an outsider causing problems.

“But that’s not what I mean,” she says. “There’s a lot of old unmapped land mines surrounding her and I don’t want you to end up collateral damage.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Mom does that sad smile that she gave to me time and time again when I was younger after I came in bruised and bleeding from whatever trouble I had found. She touches my cheek. “That’s what I’m scared of. You know your father and I are here if you need us.”

“Yeah,” I answer.

Mom presses, “I mean it. If you need anything—”

A ring of a bell cuts her off and both of us turn our heads to Olivia’s room. We bought her that bell after her initial chemo treatment so she could call us in. She threw it at Cyrus and told him to shove the bell up his ass. She hates acting like a victim. “I hear the grumble of your voice, Oz. Get in here and give me answers.”

“She needs sleep.” Mom wavers on her feet and I despise the circles under her eyes. “But she won’t settle down until she finds out what’s going on with Emily.”

“I’ll take care of her.” I hold my hand out. “And I’ll get the picture back to her.”

Mom digs the photo out and gives it to me. “This isn’t the life I wanted for you. I had hoped you’d choose something different.”

Something within me shifts and my forehead furrows. What the hell? Mom collapses against the wall and scrubs her face with her hands. A pang of worry ricochets through me. There probably isn’t a person in this house who has slept in days. Because of that, I let her comment go. College Mom mentions, but walking away from Snowflake and the club—never. Exhaustion is causing everyone to talk nonsense.

I wrap an arm around my mother and pull her into me. She hugs me back and I kiss the top of her head. “Get some sleep.”

“Promise me you’ll sleep, as well.”

“Sure.” Whenever I can.

“Izzy?” Dad stands at the end of the hallway in the living room. He surveys both of us and I hide the picture from view. If I had a patch on my back, I’d be required to tell Eli what Olivia divulged to Emily. For once, I’m happy I’m not currently under that obligation.

“You ready to go home?” he asks Mom.

Mom sends me that sad smile again before seeking the shelter of my father’s body.

“You gonna man up tomorrow about falling asleep on the job?” my father asks as he hugs Mom.

“Yeah,” I answer, then jack my thumb in the opposite direction of him. “I’m going to sit with Olivia.”

He nods his approval and I leave my parents behind as I head into the room of the one person I can’t imagine living without.

Emily

I SUCK IN
a large intake of air and roll to my side. On instinct, I reach for James, but then remember that he’s not in my bed anymore. I banished the pink elephant that I slept with for years to my dresser back in middle school. It was my way of breaking a bad habit, but for some reason, I still wake up searching.

My entire body except for my brain is zoned out. My muscles are warm and heavy and I must have swum too much with Dad then had a long run with Trisha... My eyes snap open... I’m not home and I’ve been separated from my mom and dad.

A puff of air to my face and there are two large dark eyes. Adrenaline shakes through me, my mouth gapes and a scream ravages my throat, but no sound escapes. I scramble back as the eyes inch closer. I push away. Kick at covers, but I become ensnarled and entangled. The eyes lunge forward and then they...lick?

Hot, sticky wetness across my face, on my cheeks, in my hair. Ugh. The smell of wet dog engulfs me. My hand grabs the muzzle of the beast in my bed and I nudge it away, but the drool monster keeps returning.

“Get down, Lars.” Eli rakes a hand over his short hair as he sits up on the long window seat. A pillow crease streaks across his cheek and he has the groggy appearance that accompanies just being woken. Eli wears the same white T-shirt as last night, the same pair of jeans and his leather vest hangs on the post of the bed.

I shake my head and rub my eyes. Sleeping Beauty must have been seriously disoriented after she woke up, but then she slept for years and me—I’ve obviously only slept an hour or so. “What time is it?”

“Too early to be awake,” Eli answers. “Go back to sleep, Emily. Your mom mentioned you don’t like the dark, woods or the unfamiliar so she said Olivia’s would make you uncomfortable. I’ll stay up if it’ll make you feel better.”

A pang of hurt shoots through me that she’d tell Eli, or anyone, my fear.

Another huff of warm air on my arm and the basset hound blinks at me before easing onto its hind legs to sit—while still on the bed. Nice to see it listened to Eli’s earlier command. Lars opens his mouth to allow his overly large pink tongue to spill out the side. He pants bad dog breath and looks at me like he’s smirking.

I detest dogs.

I wipe the slobber off my face then choke down the dry heave. Thick drool clings from finger to finger. Bad form to now deposit the slime anywhere else. Eli stands, pulls a white handkerchief out of his pocket and offers it to me. “Here.”

I accept the folded white square and take my time drying off my hand. According to the clock on the dresser it’s six in the morning and it’s too early to be attacked by drool. “When can I talk to Mom and Dad?”

“Soon,” Eli says. “They’ve moved locations. Once you get some sleep, I’ll take you to them.”

“Take me to them now.”

“You’ll see them in a few hours. Chill and go back to sleep.”

“Yay for your plans. Take me to them now.” I stare straight at Eli and he stares straight back at me. My biological father should scare the hell out of me with his glowering, but I’m too tired to be smart enough to worry. People obviously don’t talk back to him. My instincts must be right that he doesn’t have any other children. Or at least not ones he interacts with.

There’s a hard set to his jaw when he yanks his cell out of his back pocket and tosses it onto the bed. “They’re worried. I told them you had a rough night and were asleep. You’re so tired you passed out. You should be sleeping, not talking on the phone.”

I take his cell and scroll through the list of text messages already appearing on the screen. A grin attempts to pull at my lips. My mother is going absolutely ballistic. Not that I enjoy her panic, but it’s nice to see something familiar. The text conversations between my parents and Eli confirm it: I really wasn’t kidnapped.

I swing his phone back and forth. “Can I?”

“Contact them? It’d calm your mom down.” Eli relaxes back on the window seat and that stupid sloppy smile that I stupidly love crosses his face. “The past twenty-four hours have been so messed up that I haven’t had a chance to tell you how happy I am to see you. Because of Mom’s condition, I wasn’t sure when I was going to make it to Florida for a visit.”

My heart plummets and I focus on the texts even though I stopped reading. The expectant hope on Eli’s face cuts right through me. God, I’m an awful person and I don’t want to be an awful person. Eli’s a good guy and he has no idea how much I dread his annual visit to Florida.

When I was ten, I made a horrible mistake. One I continually pay for. A mistake that has brought heartache to my mother and a ton of continual hurt for me. I asked if I could see a picture of Eli because...because...I was curious.

Until then, Eli was a figment of my imagination. He was this floating nonexistent guy who had spared a few minutes of his life to create me. Thanks to a school report on family trees that included pictures, the eyelid-flipping boy I had hated since kindergarten pointed out that I resembled no one in my family. Not Dad’s parents, not my mother and definitely not my father.

I called the boy a jerk. He called me a brat. We were both called into the principal’s office. My parents were also summoned and in the middle of the parent-principal powwow, I asked if I resembled Eli.

My one question snowballed into a slew of arguments between my parents, a whole lot of tears from Mom, and it avalanched into a day at McDonald’s PlayPlace with this freaky-looking guy with tattoos and holes in his earlobes. He crouched in front of me with a sprig of daisies in his hand and introduced himself as my dad.

I’ve never been slapped before, but that’s as close to the pain as I could imagine. I curled myself around my father and he had to repeatedly pry me off him like dried-on glue. Since then, Eli, my father and I have been playing this game of once-yearly awkward visits because I was curious.

Curiosity is highly overrated.

Pushing reply, I text my mother:

It’s me. Just woke up with a dog next to me. Eli’s here. Glad to know you’re safe. I love you. Tell Dad I love him too. What’s going on?

Mom’s response is immediate. The cell buzzing every couple of seconds as she sends a flurry of texts:

We both love you very much. A dog? Please tell me they at least let you have a bed in the house. If you are in the clubhouse, tell Eli I’ll castrate him. Did Eli explain?

Not one explanation. Will demand one now.

“Mom threatened you with castration. Besides that, would you mind filling me in on what’s happening?”

Eli chuckles then pulls on his earlobe.

“She’s serious,” I say.

He chuckles more. “I know she is.”

I can’t stop gawking at his ears. I don’t understand plugs. It’s holes in your ears.

In your ears.

Holes.

Like stick-your-finger-through-them holes.

That will never close up.

I drag my eyes away and focus on the dog that currently has a sticky line of drool hanging from its mouth.

“You know the business I own?” Eli asks.

I should say yes because that would imply I know Eli, but the truth is I don’t know much about him or his business. “No.”

Eli’s expression falls as if my answer disappointed him. Dad asked me once if I ever told anyone I was adopted or that my biological father was part of a motorcycle gang. I told him no. He asked if I was embarrassed by either and I gave him the truth: Dad was my dad, Eli was Eli and the most I ever felt about Eli was ambivalence.

I’ve never told any of my friends about Eli, not even Trisha, and she’s the type of friend you can tell anything—the type that doesn’t judge me for being scared of the dark or adopted.

“I’m part owner of a security company,” Eli explains. “There’s a ton of different aspects to the job, but the one that concerns you involves a company we do business with in northern Kentucky. We escort their most expensive semi-loads to make sure they aren’t hijacked on the road.”

He pauses. I make eye contact long enough to confirm I’m listening. Eli continues. “It’s in a territory that another motorcycle club claims and they aren’t happy that we’ve been running in their area without their permission.”

“What do you mean ‘claim’?” I ask.

“Think of it in terms of invisible boundary lines. Some clubs claim certain areas as theirs. We don’t do that, but this other club, they do, and they expect other motorcycle clubs to ask for permission to ride their bikes through the area they consider theirs.”

He gives me a second to digest and I’m not sure there’s enough time in the world to comprehend this insanity. “They’ve been trying to sabotage us. Hitting us on the road with the business and our club, but we’ve taken whatever they dish out so they’ve changed tactics.”

“Hitting? Like they’ve been attacking you?” Panic starts to crazily grow inside me.

Eli waves his hand like my questions are the type to be easily dismissed. “It’s a part of our life but I promise none of this will touch you.”

Not liking where this is headed, I tuck my legs underneath me. “What does this have to do with me?”

“You’re my daughter.”

“And?”

“They decided that since they couldn’t get what they wanted through hurting the business or the club, they’re going after my family.”

“You have a ton of other family.” Not that I’m wishing a mean motorcycle club would stalk Olivia or Izzy, but I’m in favor of them not chasing me.

“Yes, but I only have one child. One they didn’t know existed until yesterday. They must have had someone at the wake willing to give them information on me and word spread rather quickly that I had a daughter and that she showed.”

“Has someone explained to them that the only connection between us is genes? You know...that you didn’t want me...and...you gave me up?”

Eli goes still—like a rock—and the dog beside me whines. As if this wasn’t awkward enough, I also have a dog willing to do sound effects in Eli’s favor. Wasn’t this mutt supposed to hop off the bed?
He left me and Mom, Lars, not the other way around. You’re rooting for the wrong team.

“They know,” he answers. “But it doesn’t matter to them.”

“If they just found out I exist, then how do they know all of this about me and you?”

Eli merely looks at me as if I never asked a question and I rub my temples as my head begins this slow pound. “Have you at least called the police?”

“And tell them what? That there were people outside your motel room? People who never made contact with you?”

Touché. “If that’s the case, maybe you’re overreacting. Maybe those guys were there to sleep because that’s what normal people do at motels. And let’s say that isn’t true. Why not just ask these guys for permission to drive through their area?”

Eli looks me over. Not exactly in a disapproving way, but as if he’s realizing that he has no idea who I am...which he doesn’t. “Why should we have to ask anyone for permission to drive our bikes on a road? This is America. Constitution gives us the right to roam free. Over half of our members are veterans who’ve fought overseas. Do you think men who have been shot at for this country should be asking anyone’s permission to walk down the street?”

Okay, stumbled into a live gun range there. “So we’re back to maybe you guys were overreacting.”

“Being part of a motorcycle club is a different life—whether you’re a legit club like ours or an illegal club like theirs. You’re going to have to trust me on this and if you can’t, then know that your mom and Jeff agree with how I’m handling this.”

“What do you mean by illegal club?”

Eli crosses his arms over his chest. “Complete outlaws with no regard for society’s rules. Yeah, we have our own code and our own rules, but we don’t make money by working something illegal.”

I concentrate on my nails and pretend I’m infatuated with the pink paint. The way Eli described the illegal club is exactly how Mom described Eli and his club, but I choose not to bring that up. As far as I’m concerned, they sound similar. “Are my parents safe?”

“Yes. Just like you are.”

“Can you fix this?”

“I can fix this.”

Nausea rolls through me. He’s not exactly being forthcoming. “How?”

“That isn’t your concern.”

I straighten. “Yeah, it is.”

“No, it’s not.” A wave of annoyance rumbles off Eli and I’m finally smart enough to shrink back. “I said I’ll take care of it and I will.”

Lars sighs again with a whine, but this time he moves closer so that his head is on my knee. My hand finds his body without thought and I pet him because
I
need the comfort.

“Listen,” Eli continues. “I know you’re scared, but I swear to you, you’re safe. You have an army of men willing to lay down their lives for you. Fort Knox would be envious.”

I don’t want an army of men. I want my dad. Images pour into my mind of Oz grabbing me. The dark, serious set of his face as he hid me from view. My blood pumps faster as I remember the sound of the bottle rolling. Of how it had grown closer and closer... “What would have happened if Oz wasn’t there?”

“What?”

“I went to get something to drink. Oz yanked me into a corner and guarded me. I mean—” my eyes dart in front of me as I watch the memory play in my mind “—he pulled out a knife and he told me to stay put while he made sure it was okay for us to leave. If Oz wasn’t there, what would have happened? How dangerous are these people?” The reality of everything Eli is saying is sinking in. “Are you like those TV shows? Do people die around you? Oh my God, do you kill people?”

“No, Emily. Listen, you’re safe...”

And he keeps talking, but I can’t listen because the fear inside me is becoming a monster and I slide my feet off the bed until they hit the floor. The walls are closing in and so is the ceiling and it’s hard to draw in air. “I need to go. Like now. Right now. Aren’t there witness protection programs or something?”

Except I didn’t witness anything to be protected from and they won’t save me and this terrible pain happens when I breathe and... “I need to go home. Take me home.”

“Emily!” Eli shouts.

I quake with my name and freeze in the middle of the room. He releases a long breath and crosses the room to me. Eli settles both of his hands on my shoulders and lowers himself to meet my eyes. “You watch too much TV.”