“Do you have someone close that can come?” I asked my dad, leaning against the wool coat behind me, then jerking back upright when the hanger squeaked along the rod it was hanging on. “Because I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stay in here.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ve got some people that owe me favors. You got a piece on you?”
“Always,” I replied. “But I have no idea how many people are in the house.”
“You know of a safer place you can hide?”
“I could probably find one,” I said, reaching up to wipe at the sweat on my face. Jesus, it was warm in there. “But this house has cameras everywhere. If they’re in the office, they’d see me moving around.”
“They got cameras, they can go back through them and see that you’re in the motherfucking house,” my dad replied. “Fuck.”
I closed my eyes in defeat. He was right. After a couple silent seconds, he spoke again.
“We’re gonna assume that they aren’t doin’ that because they haven’t found you yet,” he said, his voice grim. “They decide to do that, you stay put. Take ’em out one by one as they come through the door. Don’t fuckin’ miss, Cecilia.”
“I won’t,” I replied around the frog in my throat. I was so fucked.
“Your mom’s got our shit packed and we’ll be on the road as soon as I can line up someone to come get you out. I’ll keep this shit quiet for now because there’s nothin’ the boys can do at this point, but if I have to pull the others in, I’ll do it. Don’t care if that pisses you off.”
“Okay,” I said through gritted teeth, trying hard not to cry. Crying wouldn’t help the situation. Crying would only upset my mom more than she already was. Crying would make me lose focus. It would make noise. And frankly, it was a waste of fucking time.
“We’re coming, baby,” my mom said, her voice firm. “You stay safe until we get there.”
“Send me those coordinates,” my dad ordered. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I whispered.
“Love you more than your dad does!” my mom called right before the call disconnected.
I rolled my eyes and sniffed as quietly as I could as I sent location pin to my brother Cameron’s phone. After he replied with a thumbs up, I set it down next to my thigh and shifted, trying to get comfortable. It wasn’t easy in the confined space.
There weren’t any cameras in this closet, I knew that much, but I still couldn’t move anything to make the space more accommodating. If the gunman came back, I couldn’t take the chance that they’d notice if something was out of place. God, how did I get myself into messes like this?
I was a barber. I owned a condo. I liked to eat white cheddar popcorn and binge watch entire seasons of television shows on my time off. I hadn’t been laid in… longer than I wanted to contemplate. I paid my taxes and drove like an old lady. So, how in the hell did I end up hiding from a fucking shooter in the closet of a house that I could never in a million years afford, or even want to live in?
Liv was the one who wanted more, who liked exciting shit and was always reaching. She’s the one who had grabbed the attention of the guy who owned this place and somehow married him. And, yeah, Cane seemed like an okay guy. He was into some shady shit, I was sure, because he never seemed to work, but always seemed to have endless supplies of cash, but he was good to Liv. He freaking worshipped her, and because of that, he’d always treated me like family. So, even if he wasn’t my favorite person and something about him always rubbed me the wrong way—who was I to judge? I lived the straight and narrow myself, but I hadn’t grown up that way. My entire family, who I loved and respected, lived a life that kept them perpetually on the FBI’s radar.
As the baby started to stir, I pulled a little green pacifier out of the bag next to me and popped it in her mouth. She was wet, I could tell by how squishy her diaper was, but changing her was going to be a problem. She hated being undressed and made that known in a variety of ways, not the least of which was screaming at the top of her lungs. I laid her on the floor between my legs and ran my finger over my bottom lip, a nervous habit that I’d never been able to break. If I left her in the wet diaper, she was going to scream anyway.
I was just going to have to move as fast as humanly possible and hope I could have her dressed again before she got loud. Pressing the button on my phone screen, I used the little bit of light to see what I was doing. Even with everything happening around us, I couldn’t help the way my lips twitched when her little hands shot up to her face to hold the pacifier in her mouth, her fists completely uncoordinated and awkward as they pushed at her chin and nose. She was going to be hungry soon.
Grabbing a diaper out of the bag, I unfolded it and pressed the tabs out so they’d be ready when I needed them. It was kind of funny. When I’d first seen the newborn diapers, I hadn’t been able to imagine them actually fitting on a baby, but she practically swam in the things. If the tabs didn’t overlap at her belly, her legs were so skinny that she’d pee right out of the leg holes.
“Let’s do this,” I whispered as I unwrapped her.
Thankfully, the little gown she was wearing meant easy access to her diaper, and I shoved it up and put the clean diaper under her quickly. Then, as fast as I could, I unwrapped the wet diaper, slid it out from under her and closed the clean diaper around her. Before she could let out a whimper, I pulled the gown back down and rewrapped her blanket.
I let out a long breath while I wrapped the dirty diaper into a little ball and stashed it behind me. I’d conquered one small mountain, at least. The phone screen went dark again as I picked her up and snuggled her back against my chest, turning so that my back was against the wall. It was hot in there, but at least we had a little space to move, and I’d remembered to grab her bag off the dresser. It could’ve been worse. We could’ve been trying to hide outside in the cold. That really would’ve sucked. Or we could’ve been stuck in a crawlspace, like my aunt when my grandparents were killed when she was a teenager, waiting for a man she’d just met to come rescue her. I felt a new respect for her as I curled my legs under me. The waiting was excruciating, and I wasn’t sixteen years old like she had been.
“We’ll be okay,” I whispered as she jerked her legs inside the blanket. “My dad is taking care of things, and he’s a good guy to have on our side.”
My phone lit up beside me and I opened it to a text message from an unknown number.
It’s me, Bumblebee. Got someone headed your way. Stay put until they get there.
I will, I texted back.
I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes, relief hitting me hard. My dad was the only person in the world who’d ever called me that, and it had been years since he had. He’d sent in the cavalry and I just had to wait it out. God, I hoped they got here before things went to hell.
It was pretty telling that I’d called my dad and not the police. I grimaced. I’d left the club behind, but I guess the lessons I’d learned hadn’t been so easy to forget. It was instinctive to take care of things in-house, to keep the government—and more importantly, the police—in the dark. Maybe if I’d been at home, or a public place, I would’ve called 911. But I knew in my gut that Cane was into some shit that I didn’t want any part of, and calling in the police would put me right in the middle of it. In the eyes of the law, I’d be tied to him, and so would the tiny human that was currently scratching her razor sharp nails against my collarbone.