child is in my house. I wake up frequently to check if she’s run off. Am I just dreaming the feel of her hand in mine? I finally sleep deep around two.
Five hours later, Pixie wakes me as soon as the sun lights the sky. She squats next to me in bed with her face inches from mine. She keeps saying my name, even after my eyes are open. I finally say her name, and she stops.
“We need to get Mama, Dove, and Future.”
“Yes,” I mutter, sitting up.
Pixie wraps her arms around my shoulders and gives me a gentle squeeze. “You sleep like Future,” she whispers, pouting her lips to show me how I look. “Did you have a bad dream?”
“No, I dreamt of you.”
Smiling, Pixie nearly crawls on my back when I get up. Instead, she jumps off the bed and wants to come into the bathroom with me. I tell her I have to piss. She still shoves the door open and stands at the mirror, studying her unbraided dark hair.
“Did you piss already?” I ask, using the other sink to wash my hands.
“Yes.”
“We should get food.”
“No, we need to save Mama, Dove, and Future.”
“You can’t go, wearing this,” I say, gesturing at my large white T-shirt. “I need clothes for you. I also need my club to agree to help me help your family.”
Pixie opens her mouth to squeal in protest. She looks threateningly at me and even swings her fists, but I just shrug.
“If I go in there by myself, the Volkshalberd might not let me take your family. Then I could get shot, and your family could get hurt. This is better.”
For thirty seconds, Pixie keeps her mouth poised for screaming. Then she nods at my idea and smiles.
“You’re very smart, Anders. Lots of men are dumb, dumb, dumb. John of the Marks is stupid. Not you.”
I smile at her compliment. My heart feels lighter when she says nice stuff about me. Pixie isn’t fake. She doesn’t like everyone, and she’s very, very obvious about her feelings. Her approval is a prize few people enjoy.
Once in the kitchen, I check my messages. Bronco tells me to meet him at the Woodlands’ clubhouse in an hour. Another message is from my VP’s wife, who came by overnight and dropped off clothes at the front door.
Looking through the bag left by Topanga, Pixie says no to them all. She doesn’t like pants, and pink is the color of baby butts. Yet, when I explain how she needs to change so we can get her family, she instantly strips down and dresses in the clothes.
The shirt goes on backward, of course. I have to help her with that, which makes her laugh. Through the process, she keeps eyeing the door. I make her eat some of the leftover food from last night before we leave. Not wanting most of it, she acts as if the food tastes weird. I guess it probably does to someone who rarely eats meat. I have her put together a bag of snacks for her family. Finally, we get in my SUV, where she refuses to wear a seat belt.
“You’re beautiful,” she says when I try to strap her in. “But no.”
“Yes. Or we can’t go.”
Pixie backs down immediately, and we’re able to leave the garage.
Only the Executioners can live in this gated community. There are a dozen empty lots on the back end of the subdivision where my house is located. At the center of the Woodlands is the community’s clubhouse. There’s an indoor pool and a play area, along with plenty of space for parties. Today, the clubhouse’s parking lot acts as a meeting place for the Executioners.
My SUV is the first to arrive. A handful of bikes roll in a few minutes later. Bronco and Lowell appear next. Once they arrive, I know I need to join the group.
When I get out, Pixie tries to follow. No way does she want to be cooped up in the vehicle. I beg her to stay put while I talk to my boss. Maybe remembering how we need them to get her family, Pixie obeys. I show her how to work the radio and hope the music calms her down.
“Long night?” Bronco asks me once I join my club brothers near the building’s double door entrance.
“She couldn’t sleep most of the night. Too worried if her family is dead.”
“They probably are,” mutters my club brother, Wyatt. “Hell, the Village could have gone the