Oh, God.
McCoy.
All alone to face at least one of the guys who had taken Belle, who had hurt her, who had been willing to turn a normal person into a killer.
He would be okay.
He had to be.
"Belle, we're okay," I called, voice just loud enough to be heard, not wanting my voice to carry too far. "Everything is going to be okay," I added, even if I had no proof of that. I was blindly putting our very lives in the hands of men we barely knew.
I had no reason to believe it, but I felt like we were right to put our faith to rest in them, that they were good men. Especially McCoy. Who was willing to forget about my shooting him, who was putting his whole life on hold to act as a live-in bodyguard, who had been nothing but selfless and good since I'd met him.
My stomach twisted at the idea of something happening to him.
Because despite it being brand freaking new, I had a feeling things were heading in an interesting direction.
Sure, if you asked Belle, I had a tendency to be able to see futures with men who only wanted to see me for the night or the weekend or until someone 'better' came along. I guess I just liked to hope for the best.
None of those men in the past, though, had given me even half of the reasons to see good things coming that McCoy did.
I mean, logically, of course it wasn't so simple.
McCoy wasn't a normal guy. He was an outlaw biker. He was a criminal as a profession. His life involved people trying to kill him and take what he had. I imagined it also meant that people would hurt or kill people associated with the Henchmen to get whatever they wanted from them. Which meant if I wanted any sort of future with him, I would have to learn to accept that possibility.
The possibility that in the future at any given time, I might once again be hiding on a roof using my body as a door wedge and clinging to a kitchen knife like I had any idea if I could actually use it to stab somebody with.
The sound of bikes revved in the distance, moving closer by the minute.
Backup.
Huck and the rest of the guys.
There must have been a lot of comfort in that. Knowing you were never alone, that you would never have to face down any danger on your own, that you were part of something bigger, that there were people in the world who were ready and willing to throw themselves in danger for you.
It was a hard concept to wrap my head around. People as a whole had always come across as selfish, self-serving, with minds only for self-preservation. They trampled others on their way out of doors to escape fires and gunshots. They spent millions of dollars to put up anti-homeless architecture instead of working toward getting people off the streets.
Sure, most people would fight to protect their partners or children, but that was typically as far as it extended.
These men were going to put their lives on the line for Belle and for me, who they barely knew, who they shouldn't have cared about at all.
The engines cut off, and it was the first deep breath I had taken in several minutes.
"They're here now, Belle," I called to her, getting worried at her reaction. She was still rocking, still curled into herself, kind of lost in her own little world. "It's almost over," I told her, even though I had no proof of that. "Hey, so I've been thinking. When all this is over for good, maybe we should take a small chunk of our savings, and go on a little vacation? We've had so much sun for so long. We should go somewhere super rainy and dreary. Or, better yet, snowy. I know, I know. Neither of us are particularly graceful on two feet. We would make fools of ourselves on skis or snowboards. We'd probably break something the first day and then spend the rest of the week in the lodge drinking hot chocolate in front of the fire. But, hey, that sounds good too, right?"
I thought maybe babbling about something else, anything else, might help pull Belle out of the weird episode she was in. But she just kept rocking and clutching herself.
I thought she was doing okay.
Maybe it had been too soon to think anything.
It could be days or weeks or even months before we knew for sure how much the whole experience would impact Belle's life. It could be a long road full of therapy and healing.
But before any of that could happen, we would have to try to get through this situation. However long that would take.
I was worried, though, about what might be left of her if she just kept shutting down. Would it be possible to get the old Belle back?
I was so lost in my thoughts that I shrieked when there was a soft tap at the door a few moments later.
"Hey, babe, it's okay. You're safe," McCoy's reassuring voice called through the door. "Open up," he added when I sat there frozen for a moment.
"Right," I said, taking a deep breath, sliding away from the door, then pulling it open. "What happened?" I asked, voice low, standing in the doorway, trying to shield Belle from whatever McCoy had to say until I was sure it was good news.
"Not much," he admitted with a shrug. "They came around the corner, saw me, and froze. Then retreated. They were peeling out before Huck got here. A few of the guys are driving around, though, trying to catch sight of the car. I got a good look at them, though. Which is good. We can use that to try to build up a sketch of some sort."
"Good," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "Because I'm not sure that Belle is going to be much help on the description front," I told him with a grimace. "She's... she's not doing so hot."
McCoy gave me a knowing look as he moved onto the roof to look over at her. "I'm not surprised. She thought she was safe. She probably didn't expect to ever see them again."
"What now?" I asked, wondering if I was going to have to have McCoy carry Belle back down.
"Now, for the time being, we are going back to the clubhouse. They know I'm alive now. There's no way to protect you here."
"But they know where you live too."
"I know, babe. I'm not saying it is a permanent plan, but we need to head in that direction for right now. We need some time to compare notes. Get a plan together. Then we will likely move you two out to Teddy's place for the time being."
"Okay," I agreed, nodding. "We need to grab the animals then," I told him.
"Remy will be happy to share supplies," he told me, eyes bright. The light dimmed a bit, though, as his hand rose, resting on the side of my neck. "You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I insisted, but heard the weird edge in my voice.
"Babe..."
"I'm worried about Belle."
"Okay. But how about you? That wasn't easy for you either."
"I was actually... is it weird to say I was calm?"
"Not if that was how you felt."
"I expected to freak out. But I was weirdly calm about it. Even as I was sitting here using my body as a wedge."
"It's alright if you don't always feel calm about it," he said. "Like if after you know you and your sister are safe, you freak. That would be okay too."
"Oh, I reserve all rights to freak out about any large or small thing when it comes to being a part of the criminal underbelly in the future. But until then, I'm okay. We should be worrying about Belle."
"I'll get her," McCoy said, tucking his gun away, and making his way over toward Belle, crouching down, and talking in a low voice to her for a minute before looking over his shoulder, giving me a shrug, and reaching down to lift her up, and carry her back toward me. "Che brought his car. He can take Belle back to the clubhouse with the animals," he told me as we made our way back down the stairs.