Despite his casual behavior, Anders moves slower. He also winces in pain as we walk upstairs.
Everyone is awake when we arrive in the kitchen. Bronco’s older girls are at school. He sits on the back patio with his bundled-up baby. One of his sisters pets the dogs and talks to Mama. Future shivers in our mother’s arms, needing warmer clothes but likely wanting to be outside anyway. Dove sits in the grass and meditates.
Seeing us awake, Lana offers food first. Followed by pain medicine when she notices Anders hurting. He pops a few pills in his mouth.
“Papa was shot in the chest, too,” I whimper when Anders insists he’s fine.
“Not on the same side,” he says, holding my cheek in his wide palm. “The bullet last night didn’t hit anything important.”
“It was in your body!” I cry, startling myself.
While Lana excuses herself to let us talk, Anders finally realizes his fake bravery isn’t working. How can I not be terrified of losing him? Would he be so calm if the bullet went in my body? Of course not, but he thinks his pain doesn’t matter.
“Today, we’ll go to the Village,” he says, holding me against his warm body. “Afterward, I’ll ask Bronco for a few days off.”
“Off what?”
“From work,” he says, chuckling at how I don’t understand. “I’ll take a vacation and stay home with you and the family. I can drive you around, and we’ll buy the stuff for the backyard and anything else we need. There’ll be no parties or meetings. No one will bother us. I promise.”
“And I’ll take care of you,” I say, stroking his jaw with both of my hands. “You have to rest. Promise you’ll do that, too. Not only the stuff for us, but you need to promise to care about you, too.”
“I swear to you on my Executioners patch.”
Studying his pale blue eyes, I believe Anders is telling the truth. He wants a break. His vacation isn’t only for us.
Yesterday, Anders brought an extra pair of clothes to Bronco’s house. I help clean the blood from his skin and dress him. He eats well despite the pain. I imagine us at his house with Anders stretched out in his bed or on the couch. We could take care of him while his body heals. That’s what I want to happen.
Instead, Anders, Mama, Bronco, and I drive in the club president’s red SUV to the Village. We arrive to find a dozen trucks parked in the community’s lot. The scene is chaotic until Topanga, Barbie, and Bambi start yelling at everyone. They get different groups of people doing various activities. Supplies are brought in, mainly food. I notice doctors set up in tents, seeing primarily children.
To avoid him making his wound worse, I insist Anders only supervise. Bronco overhears me and orders his titan to sit this one out. I smile when the Executioners’ president takes my side.
“You can’t overdo it, either,” Anders tells me, and Bronco nods.
“Why? I’m not shot.”
“You’re malnourished,” Bronco says in his mean, biker-man voice. “And you clearly didn’t sleep well last night. Topanga needs an assistant. That’s your job. I don’t want to see you carrying shit or helping sick people. Just follow Topanga around as she does inventory.”
I can see why Anders listens to Bronco. When he uses his president’s voice, I have trouble telling him no.
Topanga enjoys having me at her side. I know the Volkshalberd’s names and where everything is, which makes her job easier.
When Mama finds Perry, Topanga has them talk in the main hall. I notice blood on the walls and floors from the battle last night. Perry seems aware of it, too. If he wasn’t afraid of the Executioners before, he definitely is now.
Despite his fear of the biker men, he mostly seems angry at Mama. Their conversation gets heated very quickly. Normally, Perry is weak with Mama. Today, he wants to blame her for all his failings.
“We’re supervising,” Topanga explains to me as we stand just outside of the main hall and eavesdrop.
Inside, Perry puts the blame on Mama. She was too rude to the elders. She never learned the rules. Her children were greedy. Now, he’s become a pariah with the Volkshalberd. He accepts no responsibility for the situation he currently suffers.
“You brought shame to my bloodline!” Perry yells.
Topanga frowns hard when he says that, and I want to go inside to help Mama. How dare Perry attack her? When I went missing, they beat Mama, but her helpmate shows no signs of punishment. Coward!
“You were willing to sacrifice our children to appease a tyrant!” Mama yells back, feeding her monster and standing up for herself.
“Marks wanted those girls, and they are not my children!”
“Vile, cowardly man!”
Topanga whispers, “I hope she hits him.”
The main hall falls quiet, and I wonder if Mama’s rising temper scared Perry into silence.
Suddenly, he yells, “Future’s blood is tainted by your involvement. He can never be a true Volkshalberd!”
“Good riddance to your failed fatherhood! Pathetic cretin!”
Mama storms out of the main hall and right past me. She’s so angry she forgets I was nearby. Yet, I’m relieved she doesn’t waste more time talking to Perry. He’s always been weak. Now, he’s cruel, too.
Topanga looks at her clipboard and nods. “Perry is getting a whole bunch of extra crap assignments.”
“Can we do that?” I ask as she and I return to our inventory.
“Of course. The Volkshalberd have been ordered to create a new committee. I’ll act as one of the Executioners’ representatives. After the Volkshalberd allowed John Marks to take over, I get to be as big a dick as I want to them.”
“Thank you,” I say, hugging her in the way she often wants to hug me. “You are a good friend.”
Topanga smiles softly. “You know, Anders pissed off plenty of men in the club when they found out he was sneaking around with you. But the man knew he’d found someone special. You’re a keeper, Pixie Yabo.”
Grinning, I
