Thunder Road: Walk The Edge Part 28

I power on my phone and it reads seven forty. Twenty minutes until the proverbial Reign of Terror midnight for minors. "Sure."

He inclines his head to the clubhouse. "I gotta say some goodbyes."

It's implied he's telling me to stay. I grin an okay and he does that heart-stopping caress one more time before looking over at Oz and Chevy. They both nod at whatever he silently requested.

"Do you visit Snowflake often?" I ask Emily after Razor disappears into the swarm of bodies.

"Not as much as I'd like. Eli's all paranoid about the Ri-"

Oz interrupts her with a clearing of his throat and her cheeks redden. Something important was about to be revealed and my mind grabs the mystery. There's a heavy silence that follows and none of us can figure out what to say to make it any less awkward.

I choose the old standby for awkward. "Do you mind if I use the restroom?"

The thought of going back into the clubhouse causes my stomach to flip, but it's the only excuse I can think of to get me and Emily alone.

Emily s.h.i.+fts off Oz. "I'll take her to the cabin."

"Eli said no one but you and the board goes into the cabin." There's a bit of repentance in Oz's expression, but his words are firm enough that he obviously won't break this rule.

Emily stiffens like his statement was a blow. "I like her, and she shouldn't have to go into the clubhouse if she doesn't want."

"And you promised to follow the rules," Oz says as if he's implying something else.

Emily shrugs like she doesn't care and pivots away from him. "Fine. Then I'll show her where the bathroom is in the clubhouse and then you should go home or stay in the clubhouse or do whatever you want, since that rule means you can't come in the cabin, either. And according to the rules, I've been ordered back to the cabin after eight, so have fun without me."

Oz's head falls back as Emily s.n.a.t.c.hes my hand and weaves us through the throngs of men.

"You don't mean that," Oz calls out, and I know he doesn't see Emily's smirk. Oh my G.o.d, she's a little devil playing him like a violin.

"Yes, I do," she yells back, then spins in his direction, smirk completely gone. "Have fun being by yourself tonight."

The men around us laugh and I blush when someone suggests something about Oz becoming good friends with his right hand. I expect Oz to be angry, but he chuckles as he and Chevy stand. Emily pulls on my hand again and sweeps me into the clubhouse. I don't understand any of these people or how they interact with each other.

Oz and Chevy track us. It's weird yet chivalrous and it's then I understand what Razor was asking them to do-to protect me.

We enter a hallway adjacent to the kitchen and there's a deep line for the woman's bathroom. Most of the women don't have cuts like Rebecca's and there's more skin than there is clothing.

"It must be getting seriously close to eight," Emily mumbles, then shouts, "Eli's daughter coming through."

"Emily!" Oz yells, and I wish I could own the flirtatious yet angry expression Emily throws Oz.

"What?"

"She can use the bathroom in the cabin."

Emily places a patronizing hand to her chest. "Why, thank you, Oz, what would we ever do without you?"

She lets go of me when Oz invades her s.p.a.ce. Every part of them touches. "I have a few ideas of what we can do together."

Emily smiles wickedly up at him, winks, then grabs my hand again. It's a blur as we slink past bands of men and eventually we trot up the stairs to the log cabin. Once we're in and she checks to see that Oz and Chevy have chosen to stay on the front porch, she whispers, "You have questions, don't you?"

"Yes." It's total disorientation. The clubhouse was so...beyond normal and this...this is like a modern-day storybook cottage. I'm shocked. In a good way. The walls are made of ma.s.sive tree trunks, but everything about it is straight out of one of my mother's home magazines. Nice but comfortable furniture, a television, bright lighting and pictures. A ton of framed pictures hang out on tables and bookcases.

"Breanna," Emily urges. "We don't have much time. What do you want to know?"

I jerk back to reality. Questions. Razor. "What is the RMC?"

"I had a feeling you were going to ask that," Emily says as a curse, then peers outside. At the foot of the stairs, two huge men with cuts that say Prospect stand as if they are sentries to a kingdom. "We can't have ears for this conversation."

Emily drags me down the hallway, we take a sharp left and she shuts the door to the bedroom. On the bed, Lars lifts his head and wags his tail.

Emily peeks out the window as if someone might be eavesdropping. "We have maybe five minutes, so let's get to the point. You can't tell anyone I'm telling you this, okay? Because the reason I'm doing it is that they stupidly tried to keep it from me and it backfired and you're dating Razor now, so you should know."

"Okay."

Emily tugs on the ends of her long hair. "The RMC is a rival motorcycle club in Louisville. The Terror and the Riot hate each other. In the past, it was bad, but they have a peace treaty now, but it seems to be on the edge of falling apart. I'm telling you this because if you see anyone from the Riot, you need to get out quick, especially if they know you're the girlfriend of one of the Terror."

The click in my head is so audible that I'm surprised Emily didn't hear it. I unlocked part of a threat and that threat was from the Riot Motorcycle Club.

"Eli and the club are freaking out. The Riot ran through on their bikes a couple of weeks ago and then Razor went after them on his own. If Cyrus hadn't caught up to him, there is no telling if Razor would have been hurt. Because of that Eli has been stonewalling me on visiting."

My mouth is completely dropped open. "Razor what?"

"Went after them," she repeats.

"Is that who shot Razor?" It's like I can't draw enough air into my body.

Emily goes completely still as if she's a statue. "Say that again?"

Secrets. Violet told me that this is a life of secrets. "Razor was shot. It's part of the reason why they're throwing this party."

Emily's eyes dart to the thoughts in her head. "I was told it was for me, but this makes more sense. But we're off track. Look, I like you. You're funny and nice and everyone in the club is seriously praying you two work because, to be honest, Razor's freaking suicidal."

I blink several times and Emily's expression falls. "I don't mean, like, he's tried it or he's vlogging his last words or anything. I mean he does these stupid things like that fight you talked about or chasing after the Riot or..."

Teetering on the ledge of a bridge over a rus.h.i.+ng river. "I understand." I try to force myself out of the long tunnel of shock. "Then it's safe now? You're here in Kentucky, so the Riot is no longer a problem?"

"I don't know. I wasn't supposed to know about Razor going after the Riot, but I overheard Oz and Eli talking about it when they visited me in Florida. It drives me freaking insane, but this club is super secretive and that's not going to change. I mean, for G.o.d's sake, I consider Razor a friend and he was shot and no one told me."

"If it isn't safe, then why are you here?"

Emily gestures to the dresser and on it are two wooden boxes. "Those are Olivia's ashes. She was like a mom to Oz and Razor, but she was my biological grandmother. She left us instructions of what she wants us to do with her remains. One box is for me and Oz and the other is for Razor. Her letter to me and Oz said that we had to spread her ashes in Kentucky. Eli let me come because I told him we were being disrespectful to his mother if we pushed it out any further."

I walk over to the boxes and take an interest in the one that has an envelope with Razor's name resting on top of it. "What is Razor supposed to do with the ashes?"

"No one knows. Not even Razor. Olivia left him the bylaws of the club and said when he figured it out, he would know what to do with her ashes. What's even odder is that Oz and I received our letter after she pa.s.sed, but she had specific instructions for when Razor was to get his. He received his a few weeks ago and it was related to some sort of event that no one will tell me about. Olivia was awesome, but she could be weird."

I note the wistful tone in her voice-the same one Razor has when he speaks of Olivia. She must have been someone truly amazing. Behind the box is a stack of papers stapled together and I tilt my head. "Are these the bylaws?"

"Yes, but we need to go. Razor will be looking for you and Oz will be p.i.s.sed if he finds out I'm telling you this."

A screeching of a screen door, boots down a hallway, and Emily is pleading, but my focus is on the page. The first code's a cipher...a key to unlock something else...

Razor involved me with the code because a detective brought him a file on his mother. Olivia-a woman he admitted he loved and who loved him in return, a woman married to the president of this club-this Olivia left bylaws to be given to him after a specific event. An event where Razor was trying to discover what happened to his mother?

I s.n.a.t.c.h the bylaws off the dresser and Emily rushes toward me. "What are you doing? I know you're new, but you cannot read those. Seriously, they will freak out and-"

"I need a printer." I fish my cell out of my pocket. "I have a file and I need to print it."

Emily squints in confusion and there's no way she can understand. No one knows what this is about and I won't tell her, but even worse, this isn't only about Razor anymore. This is also about me. I've seen the code. It's there in my head, when I sleep, when I eat. A constant nagging.

The door to the room opens, Razor enters, and when he spots what's in my hands, he warily eyes Emily, then me. I show him my cell. "She needs to go, and I need a printer. Full page. Eight-by-ten. Nothing smaller. Nothing bigger. This has to be precise."

A shadow crosses his face as he notices the picture I had promised to delete off my phone. "Get out, Emily."

I don't cower at the pure anger radiating from Razor, but Emily is out the door in seconds. I maintain eye contact with Razor, and he steps closer, towering over me as if he could will me into compliance. He can glower, he can yell, but this is Razor and he could never hurt me because he is built to the core to protect.

"I can crack this code, but I need this printed out."

"This isn't a game. It's not a crossword puzzle or a seek-and-find. What's on your phone is a powder keg and I will not allow you to be a casualty of the explosion."

My heart aches at the pain in his eyes. He's lost so much, more than I could ever comprehend. "No one will know I cracked this unless you tell or I tell, and we're both capable of keeping secrets."

Razor's head falls back and he stares at the ceiling. A battle wages inside him between protecting me and gaining the answers he craves. "You don't understand how bad this is."

"I don't understand. None of it, but I understand me. You think I can stop hunting for a solution, but I can't. This code is in my brain and the wheels won't stop, not even for you."

I take his hand and squeeze it. "You know more about me than anyone else. I've told you more, told you secrets about my brain, and while you're the one that understands me better than anyone, you still don't truly understand. I'm not able to stop what happens in my mind. I'll go crazy if I don't solve this, so you can help me or you can fight me, but here's the thing-the reason we get along so well is because you're like me. Once something's in our brain, it doesn't stop."

Razor's shaking his head as he cups my face. There's a desperation in his voice I've never heard. "It's not the same. My mind is nothing like yours, and you're right, I don't fully understand, but I can't drag you any further into this. I can't lose you."

I lay my hands over his. "You won't. Because where my brain won't stop, you can't stop protecting the people you care for. I can crack this code, Razor, and I can do it knowing that whatever it is you're scared of, you will never let it touch me. I trust you."

Razor searches my eyes for an answer to a question he has yet to pose. "Stay here. I mean it, Breanna. You don't move a foot." He yanks the bylaws from my hands and he's out the door.

RAZOR.

EMILY'S SITTING IN Cyrus's recliner, and her eyes are puffy. She wipes at a tear, but d.a.m.n if her chin isn't lifted in that p.i.s.sed-off way of hers. Not sure what happened, but it could be on the same radiation fallout level as what's going on with me and Breanna.

Oz is a wall in front of the screen door with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Emily in the same angry way she's glaring at him. "Emily told Breanna about the Riot."

f.u.c.k me, this night keeps getting better. "Why?"

"Because she needed to know," Emily spits out. "The same way I deserved to know."

Emily's not from our world. She's Eli's daughter, but she was raised far away from here and then was dragged into the middle of our worst nightmare earlier this summer.

There's a reason why we keep our business to ourselves and Emily has a lot to learn about being a club girl. It isn't lost on me how much Breanna will have to accept if she sticks with me and what I'm about to do will make it tougher for her to understand why I keep secrets.

"Do you remember what happened when Violet told you things she shouldn't?" Oz says.

"Are you talking about the things that would have been easier to tell me from the beginning? Yes, I do remember. If Breanna's life is going to be in jeopardy, it should be up to her whether she wants to be in the line of fire."

Oz morphs into twelve shades of red and I'm out the door. Emily's right. Oz knows it, but Emily promised Oz and Eli that if she visited, she'd play by their rules, not her own. Oz and Emily are a blowtorch and gasoline together and odds are they'll be in the horizontal position within the next fifteen minutes.

I head to my motorcycle, slip Breanna's folder out of my saddlebag and fly back into the house. Emily and Oz aren't kissing on the couch, but they are in the kitchen and they aren't screaming. Instead, he's hugging her, comforting her, and by the way her shoulders shake, she's crying. The two of them shared a seriously f.u.c.ked-up summer. Turns out I'm not the only one still capable of crus.h.i.+ng fireflies.

Breanna's watching the party unfold from the window seat. I close the door behind me and it doesn't cause her to jump or tear her gaze away from the window. It's like the world that seemed hurried before spiraled into slow motion.

"There's a lot of drunk people out there." Her voice is lifeless.

There are. "Lot of drunk people at Shamrock's, too."

"Are the girls you had s.e.x with out there?"

Why doesn't she just put a nail gun to my head and continually shoot one sharp piece of metal into my skull after another? That'd be less painful. "Probably. They love parties."

She doesn't respond and my boots sound too heavy on the floor as I walk toward her.

"When I'm eighteen, will you take me to these parties?" she asks.

I sit beside her and lean my back against the wall. Outside a guy from the Lanesville chapter is enjoying a lap dance near the bonfire. If Breanna's hung up on that, she ought to love the debauchery going on within the clubhouse. "If you want."

"What if I don't want to go?"

"Then you don't."

"But you'll still go, won't you?"

"Already told you, if you're with me, then I'm yours. You either trust me or you don't. But it's my goal to remain in the club."

I extend the bylaws and the folder I stole from her. Doing this could buy me a ticket out of the club, it's putting Breanna in danger, but... "I trust you."

Her face crumples as her shoulders roll forward. "This is so different from my life."

"But it doesn't make it wrong. The party is what you make of it. Stuff goes on that may not be your thing, but it doesn't mean you won't have a great time hanging with Emily or Rebecca. Don't let your fears create walls or define you."

Breanna accepts the folder and I'm not sure I like the way she studies me. "Have you tried living up to that advice?"

A punch straight to my heart, and the f.u.c.ked-up thing? I don't know why her words hurt. "This place doesn't scare me."

"I'm not sure about that. I think your demons haunt you wherever you go."

My mother's ghost haunts me like a second layer of skin. I strive for numb within the chaos of my emotions, but the emotions win every time. Breanna's right, it doesn't matter where I'm at-home, the clubhouse, Olivia's, even my bike-my mother's death claws at me like an evil spirit bound to rip through my skin so it can gain possession.

"You really do trust me," Breanna says in a quiet voice.

"Yeah."