Page 64 of Outlaws' Single Mom
“Doesn't matter much, does it? Now shut up, we're almost there.” He took my phone, and his gun is in the passenger seat, ready for use. I'm not going to argue with him.
He cuts through the city and I try to pay attention to where we're driving. If I get a chance, I need to be able to tell where I am. I glance at Logan. Where we are.
“Mommy, I want my seat.” In all the chaos, Logan's grasping for something familiar, something that feels right, and I don't blame him. I wouldn't mind that either.
“Lo, honey, it's okay just this once. We don't have your seat right now. Next time, okay?” I just hope there's going to be a next time.
“Why are you doing this, Jay? How does having me and Logan help you at all?” Dillard is seeming a little unstable. I always knew he was an abusive asshole, but there's a slightly manic edge to him now. Is something going wrong, or is there something else going on?
Logan clings to his helmet with both arms. I wish I had something to hug for support, like Lash, Jackal, orStiff. I’m trying not to pay too much attention to it, though, because I don’t want Dillard to notice. Logan’s dumbphone should still be tucked away in there, and having that might be the difference between living and dying. All we need is an opportunity.
“You know, this never would've happened if you’d just kept your fucking nose out of my business. I didn’t want a beef with the Outlaw Sons.” Dillard sounds like he's half talking to me, half just talking out into the air. “And I warned Ross! I gave him so many chances! He wasn’t cut out for undercover. He didn’t understand what it’s like.” He snorts derisively as he takes the corner. Am I supposed to say something?
“What happened with Georgia?” I ask softly, not really expecting him to answer.
“I told you to shut up,” he snaps.
“Sorry.” I wet my lips and glance at Logan, whose eyes have gone wide at how Dillard's talking to me.
“Mommy, he?—”
“I know, Lo. I know.” I want to panic, but I have to keep things steady for him. Be his rock, when all Iwant to do is crumble. I'm proud of him for holding together as well as he is.
When we pull off the street into a parking lot, we're not far away from Georgia's apartment. At least I don't think so. He drives up to park right in front of a brick office building. “Welcome to casa de Jay. I definitely prefer my house uptown, but when Georgia's place wasn't available, this is where you'd find Jay hiding out when I needed him to be available. I’m going to miss Jay.” He sighs, like he’s talking about a real person and not himself. “I had such a great fucking setup until your bitch of a sister ruined it. She was always fucking snooping around, digging her nose into things, but I could usually set her straight. Her biggest flaw was that she wasn’t quite dumb enough not to pay attention to what she shouldn’t.”
“You…” I trail off, catching Logan looking at me, his big eyes getting watery and his lips trembling. Crap, he's about to lose it. I want to draw more out of Dillard, but Logan doesn’t need to hear this, and I don’t want to risk Dillard doing something to him if he has a meltdown. “It's okay, Lo. We're going to be fine.” I want to reach over to at least hug him a little, but I can't even do that with my hands cuffed. “I promise.”
Please, Dillard, at least don't make a liar out of me.
“Alright, out we go.” He turns off the ignition and picks up his gun from the passenger seat. “I'll let you out, one at a time.”
Like Logan is some kind of threat.
He opens the door on Logan's side first and unlocks the belt. “Come on. Move those stumpy little legs. I'll get yourMommy.” He leaves the door open and comes around, leaving Logan to get out on his own. God, what if I can't keep him safe? As soon as Dillard unlocks my belt and gets out of the way, I climb out and hurry around to where Logan stands, clutching his helmet. At least Dillard doesn't feel the need to cuff a four-year-old. Even with my hands cuffed, I can put them over Logan's head and give him a good hug.
Dillard looks around as he guides us into the building, keeping the gun hidden in his jacket pocket. He taps the door code in, four digits, hiding them from me. Logan watches curiously, always interested in technical things. And then we're inside. The foyerseems to give access to several small businesses, heavy doors with textured glass windows in them and little plaques next to the door indicating what's in there. There might even be people in the building, but getting attention won't help if Dillard just shoots us.
Dillard brings us straight across to an office that only has a bare spot where the plaque used to be. He waves a card in front of the reader next to the door, then pushes it open.
“This used to be a lawyer's office if you believe it. Went bankrupt and we ended up with the keys.” Other than a thin layer of dust and a slight musty smell, like the ventilation system isn't working, this office could've been moved out of yesterday. The walls are a bland beige and ash-gray carpets lead the way deeper into the space.
“It smells.” Logan wrinkles his nose.
“It does, doesn’t it? We'll leave soon.”
“And get donuts?”
“All the donuts you want.” That gets a little smile out of him.
There's got to be some way to overpower Dillard. Orescape him, or at least get out a call on Logan's phone. But not while he's got the gun pointed at us.
The office is bigger than I expect, going in an L-shape that covers most of the floor, with a kitchenette and sitting area in the middle. The fridge hums and the dishwasher is half open with dirty dishes in it. A twelve-pack of bottled water sits on top of the counter next to the sink. Past it, we come to an office that's been converted to a bedroom, with a cot, blanket and a space heater. The desk at the end has papers and a laptop on it.
All the windows are barred.
“It's not much, but it's home,” he says with a dry laugh. “I’m sure you understand why I preferred your sister's apartment. She wasn’t a half bad cook, and I didn’t have to pay for laundry, but I've held on to this shithole, just in case. Not even my own people know about it, so for short periods of time, it can come in handy. Like now.”
“Your own people?”
