“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.”

“But you said—”

“I said you’re safe. Your mom, Jeff and I—we are overreacting to this. Plain and simple. When it comes to your safety, none of us will mess around.”

This little voice in my mind whispers that this is too simple. Too easy. But the rational part says that he’s right. That stuff is only on TV. Gangsters and murderers and anything else are not real life. This is real life and in real life people don’t behave like thugs.

I inhale then nod my head to my internal thoughts. Yes, this is business negotiations and Eli is being overprotective because my mom is being overdramatic.

Eli stands there looking mean and tough because that’s what he is with those stars tattooed up his arm and a skull on his bicep. Anger and wrath and vengeance ooze off him just from existing, but his eyes soften to the point of pleading.

I shift my footing. “What happens now?”

“We’re going to take things one step at a time. First you get some sleep and then we’ll meet up with your parents this afternoon. Okay?”