Chapter 5: Thirty Days

Rhett didn't give me the ring.

He closed his hand around it and turned to face two hundred bikers.

"The service is over," he said. "Rhona Treadwell is alive."

He said it without the microphone, and the lot heard every word.

"Whoever ordered those cards ordered them without my say," he said. "Morton, take them all and burn them. Tonight."

"Of course," Morton said.

He tucked the stack under his arm and looked at me with real, gentle concern.

"Rhona, I'm glad you're all right," he said. "I told you I'd sort it out after."

"You did," I said.

I remembered that.

I remembered it, and for now it only seemed kind.

Dahlia came forward with both hands out.

"Oh my God," she said. "Rhona, I had no idea. I'm so relieved."

She hugged me before I could step away.

She smelled like vanilla and cigarettes, and she held on a long time.

Over her shoulder I saw Rhett watching us, and his jaw worked once.

When she let go, her eyes were wet.

She touched her own left wrist, and I thought nothing of it.

"I'm still going to apologize every day until you forgive me," Dahlia said.

"You don't owe me that," I said.

"I know. I want to."

Rhett took my elbow, and the rest of the lot started to talk all at once.

He walked me around the corner of the clubhouse to the empty smoking bench.

He let go of me as soon as we were out of sight.

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