Runaway ✔

002 • Dana

Two hours passed by. She'd talked with Opie for a while, but eventually, he'd returned to the garage to finish his job. A few other men had entered the clubhouse as well, but they'd been too busy to notice her and Dana hadn't tried very hard to get their attention. Chucky, the bartender with the strange gloves, had talked a while with her as well. She found out he had only two index fingers, but what had happened to the other eight, she couldn't remember. The whole time her thoughts went to Casper. Her friend. And he was dead, because of her.

He'd done terrible things and others would think she was crazy for calling someone like him a friend, but the bitter truth was that there hadn't been anyone else who fitted that description better.

The door swung open. A group of men swarmed inside, talking loudly and laughing. There was some grinning and whistling when they spotted her. Dana only paid attention to the latest one who stepped in and was a foot taller than the others. She wiped her clammy hands off her jeans. What if he sends her away?

Three of the men walked to her, their eyes shimmering with curiosity. She got the impression they were not often visited by unknown girls. Before they could say something to her, her brother tapped the outer two against their heads. "That pussy won't be yours, gentlemen."

The left one, a man who was at least ten years older than she and had intense blue eyes, looked at him with a grin. "Oh? Since when do you hook pretty women, Hap?"

"Dana is family," he answered, giving him a threatening look. "So keep your dick in your pants."

Dana suppressed a sigh. So far my alias.

"The message is clear, bro," the man chuckled and he walked away, just like his two friends.

Tom stood next to her, turned to her and leaned with his elbow on the bar. "Whatta you doin' here?"

Dana wondered what was wiser: first apologizing or getting to the point immediately. Her brother had never been charmed by people who weren't straightforward. Although he wasn't charmed by her anyway, whatever she would say. "I left him."

He snorted. "It's about fucking time."

She sighed and nodded thankfully to someone who'd taken Chucky's place and shove a glass of beer to her. She needed it. She took a sip and considered her next words. "A year ago I already wanted to leave, but he locked me up in his house."

Something changed in her brother's eyes. Something cold, something terrifying. Had he really banished her out of his heart? "And he let ya go now?"

She looked at the floor. "Not really. I fled. He will come for me."

Tom grabbed her chin and put up her face so that she couldn't avoid his glance. "Did he hurt you?"

"He locked me up for a year," she grumbled. "What do you think, Tom? I'm not the kind of girl that crawls into a corner and never stops cryin'? There is not one inch of my body that hasn't been covered by bruises!"

He let go of her. "I'm going to kill him."

Even though she should feel relieved that he still cared about her, she kept the joy at distance. She grabbed his arm. "Five years ago you warned me, said he was dangerous. Turned out you were right. But back then he was a good citizen, compared to the monster he is now. You can't just go to him without putting many, many innocent lives in danger." She looked intensely into his eyes. "I'm looking for a place to hide, Tom, a place where they can't just drag me out of my bed. I'm not looking for a gang who will rip off his arms and legs."

Tom grimaced. "He may thank god on his bloody knees if I leave it at that."