Outlaws’ Property (Property of Outlaw Sons MC #1)

9. Jessica

9

JESSICA

Anne and I follow Bonnie out of the church and over to the house next door. I bet it used to be where the priests lived, but now there’s a staircase built onto the side that leads up to the second floor that she leads us up.

Bonnie’s hair is long and full, a wavy mane pinned back in the center of her head. She’s not particularly tall. A little bit shorter than me even, and I’m only five-five. But there’s something about her that feels larger than life. Anne can’t take her eyes off her.

She shoves open the door, which leads straight into a small kitchen full of mess and clutter. The walls are painted a warm coral color, and there isn’t a spot that doesn’t have some sort of knickknack or decoration. The walls are covered in posters and photographs. Most aren’t framed, but there’s one larger one of Bonnie with a biker that has to be about her age. He has long, gray-black hair and a thick handlebar mustache, and in the photo he has his arm slung over her shoulder and his fingers running through her hair.

“Bathroom’s through there and to the right.” She points into the next room. “Don’t even think about running. It’s a long ways down and you won’t make it over the wall before someone spots you.”

Anne looks up at me with pleading eyes. She’s hardly said a word since we were taken, and it worries me.

“Thanks, we’ll be right back.” I walk Anne to the bathroom and wait outside. “Go on. I’ll wait here, promise.”

The toilet flushes after a few minutes, and I hear the water run for a good long time before Anne comes out. Her eyes are red rimmed and her face is wet. “I want to go home,” she whispers, breaking my heart.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her close. “I know.”

“Either of you hurt? Need sewing up?” Bonnie calls from the kitchen.

Anne’s jaw drops and she actually lets out a small laugh. “Who are these people?”

“No, I think we’re okay,” I shout back.

We go back to the kitchen and find Bonnie rummaging through her small refrigerator. It looks to be mostly full of diet soda, energy drinks and pickles. She pulls out a couple of cans of something labeled ‘Electric Blue 24 Hour Kick!’ and puts them on the table. “Sorry, I wasn’t exactly expecting company. I’ve got roasted peanuts and protein bars. You girls hungry?”

Anne takes one of the cans, gripping it like she’s afraid someone is going to swoop in and rip it out of her hand. “I’d like a protein bar, please.” Normally I would never say yes to her having an energy drink, but she more than deserves a break, and it’s not like anyone is around to find out.

Bonnie nods, opening a cabinet door and pulling out a box that says Salted Caramel Chocolate. She tosses one to Anne and one to me. “What about you? You’re too young to be her mother. Sister?”

Anne giggles. “Jessica’s my nanny.” She peels the bar open and nibbles on a corner before taking a huge bite and chewing in absolute bliss.

“Nanny, huh? Fancy. Bet you wish you were getting overtime for this.” Bonnie grins.

Overtime would mean I was getting paid in the first place, but I smile back. I’m used to playing my part. “Something like that. Do you know what’s going to happen to us? How long do you think we’re going to be here?”

She sighs. “I wish I could say, honey. I’m not in the loop anymore, and even if I was, I get the feeling this job is so far off the rails that nobody has the answers you want. All I can tell you is that you could be in worse places. The Sons are a rough bunch of assholes, but this isn’t the kinda club you need to worry about having a pretty girl like Anne around. They might teach her a whole new vocabulary, but they won’t mess with her. You maybe, but only if you’re up for it.”

Anne washes down the last of the protein bar with a big gulp of sugar and caffeine. “What do you mean?”

Without even giving me time to think of a nice way of explaining, Bonnie answers. “I mean we don’t put up with rapists and predators around here. Civilian law might not apply inside the walls, but some things are just being a decent fucking human being. General didn’t let that shit float, and neither does Hellfire.”

It might not just be the guys that are going to give Anne a new vocabulary.

“Oh!” Anne’s eyes go wide. “That’s good. Right?”

“Yeah… yeah that’s good.” I’m struggling to focus. Too much has happened in the past couple hours, and it feels like something out of a movie.

Bonnie seems to understand. She tosses Anne another protein bar and motions to me. “Come on. I’ve got a spare bed in my junk room. I don’t know what Hellfire expected me to do with you two, but he gave you to me so it’s my call now. Just because you’re in a shitty situation doesn’t mean it needs to be worse than it is.”

She flips on the light in her living room. It’s just like the kitchen, colorful and packed full of stuff, but warm and friendly. There’s a well-worn couch with a crocheted blanket thrown over one end. A big screen TV with some sort of video game console underneath, and more pictures of bikers, many of them including that same man from the kitchen photo. On the wall is a frame with two patches inside. One reads “Property of” and underneath, “General.”

I'm very tempted to ask about it, but it feels special. Personal. The kind of thing a friend would know, and I don’t know Bonnie well enough to know if it would be rude, so I don't.

Her junk room is exactly that. It looks like everything she couldn’t find room for anywhere else just gets thrown through the door and forgotten about. There’s nothing gross or dirty about her apartment. It’s all clean, just nothing like the empty, minimalist style that Victor prefers. Every inch of Bonnie’s place feels like her. Warm, friendly, kind of a mess, but in a way that makes you feel like you could curl up on the couch and be at home. Tears spring to my eyes. I try to stop it, but once the first hiccup comes out, the sobs follow right after.

“Are you okay? Jess? What’s wrong?” Anne freezes. For the first time, she looks like she might really panic. Up until now, I think she’s been taking her cues from me. So long as I could hold it together, so could she.

Bonnie’s in the middle of sorting a pile of clothes off the bed. She drops what she’s doing and rushes over, putting her arm around me and helping me sit on the edge of the mattress. “She’s fine, baby. It’s just a lot. Sometimes it takes a while before the feelings kick in. Right, Jessica?”

“Y—yes,” I stammer, trying and failing to keep from bawling.

“Anne, help me get this bed cleared off. Just the clothes in a pile. A night on the floor won’t hurt anything. I think you both could use some sleep, or at least the chance to lie down and not have to be strong for a while.”

I swipe away the tears, angry that I’m finally out of Victor’s reach, and instead of celebrating, I’m crying. This woman looks tough as nails. She probably thinks I’m useless. “I’m fine. I’ll help.”

“Sit your ass down and take a breath for Christ’s sake,” Bonnie snaps. “You’ve seen who the hell knows what today and been taken hostage by a motorcycle club. Instead of going home and curling up in your own bed, you’re stuck here with me. Cry if you need to fucking cry. You earned it. I’ll make sure nothing else happens to either of you tonight.”