Page 5 of Archer
With that, the several pairs of boots marched out. As soon as the bell dinged, signaling that they were gone, I heard my dad lock the door. Then, there was a still silence in the bakery. Me, still paralyzed with terror, stayed motionless until I heard my dad scramble toward me saying, “Rose!”
“Dad,” I exclaimed, before wiggling to free myself from the tight quarters of the cupboard. Once I escaped and saw my tall, thin dad looking frailer than ever, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
I pulled away looking confused, worried, and even a little angry, which was unusual for me. At twenty-one, I somehow managed to go my whole life hardly showing a temper toward him. “What is going on?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
“Youcannottell me nothing is going on,” I said. “Who was that? Why do you owe them money?”
“It’s… I had to take out a loan.”
“Yeah. I figured that much,” I said. “But what bank doesthatfor a missed payment?”
“It’s not a bank,” he said. “They’re… they’re bad people, Rose.” He put his hand on my shoulder and talked to me gently. “We don’t have much time to discuss it right now. You need to go home and pack some things.”
“Pack? What?” I said and followed him around as he began pacing aimlessly. “Where are we going? I thought they said we couldn’t leave.”
“I’m not going.” I could tell the next two words he said panged him. “You are.”
I tilted my head. “Where am I going?”
“I…” he started but I cut him off.
“You’ve had me homeschooled since I was a kid, and you haven’t had any friends in over a decade. We don’t knowanyone.”
“I know,” he said with pursed lips, pondering as if he didn’t actually realize it. “I need to figure something out. Please, let’s go back to the house. I’ll make sure it’s safe before you pack.”
“Safe fromwhat?” I asked, my voice reaching a higher octave than usual.
“Rose,” he said. “Now.”
I wanted to say something else but for the first time since I was a child my dad felt the need to use his “strict” face. Even though I was an adult, and he was still far less intimidating than most men his age, being fifty but appearing closer to sixty, it still scared me. “Okay.”
Chapter Three
Archer
The next morning, I was sitting in the Tavern with Tank, Crow, Ripper, and Wrench. Two sunny-side-up eggs and bacon stared back at me happily, framed by peppered hash browns. Next to my plate was a side dish of buttered rye toast and a white mug of black coffee. “You’re too kind, Evelyn.”
“Trust me, I know,” she said as she strutted back to her work behind the bar in her heeled boots and leather pants. In a former life, Tank must have done something pretty spectacular to wind up with her. Turning to Tank I said. “All right, so what’s on the agenda for me today?”
“Gilbert down on Fifth had got a hold of me, saying there was an overdose from some mixed junk I want you to look into. Nothing big, but we should—”
The Tavern’s doors flew open.
Inside stumbled a dishevelled, thin older man I recognized instantly as the owner of my favorite bakery. Under my breath I said, “Ron?”
Scurrying inside, he looked around, appearing relieved it was empty aside from those of us having breakfast. He didn’t seem to notice me gawking at me when he said. “Excuse me? You’re… you’re the Blazing Fires right?”
“Who the fuck is this guy?” Crow grunted. “Comes barging in here, doesn’t even know our name…”
“My apologies, sir,” Ronald said, his voice trembling along with his knees. I couldn’t stand seeing him go against Crow so early in the morning. He hadn’t even had his morning Jack yet, no one should confront him.
“The BlazingRebels, Ron.” I corrected him.
Ronald’s eyes widened and a hint of relief that looked welcomed on his worn-out face appeared. “Oh, Archer! I know you.” His brow furrowed. “Wait, you’re part of a…?”
