Jesus Christ. This isn’t the first time this has happened to Amara, and it won’t be the last with the way things are going. She’s a bright girl, and he should be honored that she’s even part of his life with everything he’s done. He’s just a smart bastard, and I use that term lightly. He’s only smart because he’s made damn sure she doesn’t run anywhere but this house. Motherfucker knows I can’t say jack shit to him either. Amara’s trained so fuckin’ well that she won’t go out in public until she can cover the bruises with makeup. It always looks like nothing has happened, but Melody and I know the truth.
Fuck, I’m not even sure Damon knows whats really going on.
“Why the fuck doesn’t anyone do anything about it?” I snarl it out so loudly that she cringes. Fuck. I pull her to my chest and hold her. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like that he continues to get away with this shit. Fucker gets blackout drunk and takes it out on you.”
“Better me than Rose,” It comes out so quickly. “She’d lose a part of herself if he did this to her. She loves him way too much to see this part of him, in all of his ugliness.”
“Your Mom still doesn’t know?” I ask, and feel her shaking her head against my chest.
Amara pulls away and I watch the tears flow down her cheeks. “I don’t want anyone to know about this. About all the anger he keeps pent up, and how he just loses his shit and takes it out on my face when he’s drunk. He’s not a bad man, Widow. He just does bad things.”
“No father should be doing this to their daughter.” I hiss, running my hand along her opposite cheek. “It’s not right. Trust me.”
Her eyes flutter as sobs break out through her mouth. I just wanna console the girl, but I’m not her best friend. I don’t know what to fucking do. “Sit down on the couch. I’ll be back in a minute.” I instruct her, walking into the kitchen I grab a sandwich bag and fill it with ice. As I’m shutting the door to the freezer, I spot a bottle of strawberry vodka and yank that bitch out. I’m sure she’ll help us both deal with this until Melody gets home and can console her best friend.
I go back to the living room and take a seat next to Amara, handing her the bag of ice, she presses it to her face. Hopefully, it’ll help with the swelling. I unscrew the cap from the bottle and take a swig, and Amara does the same.
For a couple hours we talk about minuscule things, just trying to pass the time. The clock can’t move any slower, that I’m sure of. I’m not the type of dude who will sit around and chit chat with women though. I’m only doing this cause Amara is in a rough place, and I don’t want her to stay in one.
I glance at my phone and see Melody still hasn’t texted me. She’s normally home by now, but maybe she’s working later in the afternoon than I thought. One way or another, she’ll be home soon. I’ll just keep passing the time with Amara by drinking vodka and talking about dumb shit.
That’s exactly what we did, until the hours passed and we ran out of the first bottle. I went to the freezer and grabbed the second. The thing is, she stopped crying after I got some liquor in her. I just didn’t realize that we’d both be that fucked up, or that it would lead to us in bed together.
My intentions were good, just trying to watch out for her …but maybe my subconscious knew this was the way to get Melody to move on with another man. Someone who deserved the ray of light that she brings into their lives.
Shit, I never deserved it and I still don’t. The question is, why the fuck am I going to this club?
4
“There is no sense in punishing your future for the mistakes of the past. Forgive yourself, grow from it, and then let it go.”
-Melanie Koulouris
Widow
I’ve never been in a club like this before. The type where people wait in a line out the door to be allowed in. Not really sure if that’s a normal thing or not, but I’m used to biker bars and clubhouses. Not this. Women are in skin tight dresses, some of them have their asses popping out. My guess is that people come to joints like this to get laid, drink a bunch, and make stupid decisions.
It’s ironic considering getting drunk and making a stupid decision has led me here.
The bouncers eyed me up a good bit at first. I made sure that I’d blend in, removed my cut and packed it away for safe keeping. Needed to make sure I didn’t stir up any shit while I’m out here by myself either. I’d normally never take my cut off, but I needed to in order to get in. Those fucks wouldn’t let me pass if I had it on. I have no doubt about that.
I make my way down the small set of stairs that lead to the lower area, it’s dark as fuck in here and some sort of fog machine is making it musty. Girls dance in cages hanging from the ceiling and on platforms around the space, and then I see the DJ booth.
Intense beats radiate through the entire area, so strong that I feel like I’m vibrating. This isn’t my type of scene and it never will be. I’m here for one purpose, and as soon as I do what I came here to do, I’ll be leaving. Shit, I don’t even know what I came here to do in the first place besides see her. What I plan on doing after the fact is unknown.
Did I just come here to see her?
Do I just see her tonight, making sure she’s okay and leave her forever? Fuck if I know. I didn’t come here with a plan.
I think the floor is making me feel like I’m vibrating, but I feel it again and realize it’s my cell phone in the back of my jeans. I yank it out and look at a text message.
From: Amara
Get back to the club. Something big happened. Church ASAP.
I curse to myself. Of course, something happened when I’m busy. I type her back quickly.
I’ll be there in 45.
That should give me enough time to see Melody and get back to the club in time. A text comes shooting back, a mere few seconds after I sent my reply.
30 is all the time I’m giving you.
There Amara goes, being a raging cunt. I turn around, knowing where I’m needed right now. I’m sure there will be another time where I can see Melody. At least now, I know where she is.
“Las Vegas!” I stop dead in my tracks at the sound of her voice. I search the club, trying to figure out where her voice is coming from. She’s above us, walking on some sort of elevated stage down to where the DJ booth is. “Who’s ready to party? Hmm?!”
The crowd cheers, shouting profanities and showing that they’re ready to have a grand time. I can’t keep my eyes off her. She looks so different, like she’s an entirely different woman since the last time I laid my eyes on her. No longer does she have that dirty blonde hair, instead it’s magenta, pink, just like on the flyer. She’s wearing some sort of neon rainbow dress and lord, she has lost weight. Not that she was chunky before, but she had some meat on her bones. As she turns, I can see all that weight went straight to her ass. In the most flattering way possible, of course.
My phone buzzes again, over and over. As I look down at it, I see Amara is calling me and I put it to my ear as I make my way out of the club. “Where the f-fuck are you?” She hisses, but I hear the choking sound in her voice.
“I’m on my way back now. What’s up?” I walk out of the club entrance, through the hotel lobby and head out to the parking garage. She hasn’t responded to me as I slide my cut back on and prepare to ride back to the clubhouse. “Amara?” I repeat her name, hoping that’ll bring her out of it.
“Just g-get back here.” On a hiccup, she hangs up the phone. If I know anything, it’s that something isn’t right.
Even though we both may have done some dirty shit to one another, I still care about her, even if I don’t want to care. I make the pavement my bitch and tear outta the city.
As soon as I roll down the driveway of the club I see that it’s packed. Bike’s are flooding the area. I wonder if Fist decided to make a visit, but my eyes land on Roman’s bike. I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I won’t say I hate the man, because hate isn’t the proper word for it. It fucking sucks when your Prez is someone who you c
an’t respect, because you know about the skeletons in his closet.
I roll up to the clubhouse, trying to find a parking spot for my bike. Under my breath, I mumble “What the fuck is going on?”
From the corner of my eye, I see the light in Amara’s trailer turn on. I stop going where I’m headed and approach her place instead. There won’t be any knocking, none whatsoever. I place my hand on the knob and turn, going straight inside. She’s sitting on her couch with an ice pack on her cheek.
She peers up at me with a somber look dragged across her face. “Bet you’re not going to ask what happened. I’m sure you see he’s here.”
I nod once. “Been drinkin’?” I look around her place, not being able to focus on her condition right now. It’s taking everything inside of me to not rip out her door and go fuck her father up.
“Oh, yes. But that’s not the best part.”
I don’t say a word, but instead wait for her to continue.
“Brotherhood is no more. We just patched into the Reapers. He didn’t tell any of us it was happening, not even me. Instead, he orchestrated it with Fist behind our backs. Says he’s tired, wants to go off somewhere with my Mom and rest. That they’re old, blah, blah.”
Jesus. I expect a lot out of Roman, but not this shit. “Is he fucking with you or something?”
She points to her face, “Here’s my answer to that very question. Does it look like he’s fucking with us, Widow?” Her lip curls up and I know her too well. She’s trying to hold back the tears, to not let everything come bursting out of her. It’s crazy to me how she went from such a naïve woman to one who doesn’t take shit from anybody, but when it comes to her father…well, that’s a different story.
“Fist decided that Damon will take over the entire Vegas charter. I’ll be his VP as of tonight.” I swallow as she tells me what’s been decided. This has to burn her badly. Her and Damon’s relationship is complicated at best. Truthfully, I’ve never witnessed siblings communicate in the way that these two do. It’s damming, and odd.
“Where’s your father going?” I ask, wanting to make sure he’ll be far away from us all.
“Fuck if I know. Hopefully Australia. I want him as far away from me as possible.”
“Understandable. What’s happening with the Brotherhood charter out in Utah?”
She cocks an eyebrow, “You mean the Reapers charter?”
I nod.
“Fist is overseeing it for now, but we all know that’ll change. He has to pick who’s worthy.”
“So, your Pops isn’t our Prez anymore?” I ask, a thought running through my mind.
Rolling her eyes, she replies. “No, Widow. He isn’t.”
I smirk at Amara and walk right out of her trailer. Shit is about to get really good in about two minutes. Each step I take is full of anger. A rage that has been festering inside my body for years, and let me tell you. I can’t fucking wait to unleash it. For far too long he’s gotten away with his shit, and today that ends.
I open the door to the club and immediately spot Roman. He’s standing a few feet away from Chaz, lookin’ like they’re chatting it up. I knew walking in here that he wouldn’t be close to Damon. If you think Amara and her father have an odd relationship, you should see those two. They hate each other’s fuckin’ guts.
“Ah! Widow!” Roman’s face is red, hinting at the fact that he’s been drinking a fuckton. His head is gonna hurt tomorrow, and it sure as hell won’t be from his hangover.
I slide my hands into my pockets and discreetly put on my brass knuckles. It may be playing dirty, but who the fuck cares. I’m here to send a message, and it’ll be a clear one at that.
I pull my right fist back quickly and give him an uppercut to the jaw, catching him off guard. Before he realizes what’s happening, I hit him with my left and then my right. It amazes me how no one has stopped me yet. I see Chaz staring me down, contemplating getting in the middle of it. “Ah-ah. Don’t take another step unless you want a taste of this. Roman’s getting what he deserves, brother.”
“What the fuck is happening!?” Damon roars. Roman picks up his fist as he wobbles to the right and I slam my fist back into him.
“I’m just here to be your Pop’s own personal form of karma.”
“Care to explain,” Damon mutters, I hear his footsteps approaching me as the room goes silent. I take a quick look at Roman and see he’s far too fucked up to even put up a good fight.
“Did you know your good ol’ Pops uses Amara as a punching bag anytime he gets drunk? He’s been doing it for years, Damon. For fuckin’ years I had to stand by and be there and not interfere. He’s no longer my Prez, so I don’t give a fuck what happens to me. I give a fuck about what happens to her, though, even with everything that happened. She’s not ever gonna feel unsafe around the one man that was always supposed to protect her. Instead, he hurt her the most outta everyone.” I don’t mean to make a speech about it all, but it’s what happened.
I see every single brother’s opinion of Roman change right before my eyes. No longer is he the fearless MC Prez that most of us respected. Now he’s despicable to us.
“I think it’s time someone takes out the trash,” Damon speaks up, looking to the brothers, but he turns to his father and in the most sinister tone I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth, he speaks. “Don’t you ever show your face here again or I will kill you. I’ve had it with men like you harming the women I care about. Drunk or not. There’s no excuse.”
5
“You’re not something I could ever learn to just get over. You’re something I have to live with. Without you.”
-S. Stepp
Rebel
I woke up with the oddest feeling this morning. I tried to put my finger on it, but I just couldn’t. I don’t know why I get these weird feelings every now and again, almost like it’s a warning that something bad is going to happen. A nauseous feeling always washes over me and I just know, but at the same time I don’t know. How much of a mindfuck is that?
“Mommy!” I turn around to see Zoe smiling wide. She has Bubbles leash in her hand. I already know what she’s going to ask.
“Go ahead and take her on a walk. You know the rules.”
“To the stop sign and back!” She giggles, jumping up in excitement. The only reason I even let her take the dog out is because we live in a residential neighborhood. A gated community at that. I don’t have to worry about any creepers living here because I pay for that reassurance.
I watch her go up to Bubbles and hook the leash around the loop on her collar, and see the two of them head out the front door. Turning, I go back to the counter and continue to make the yogurt and fruit parfaits that I’m making for Zoe and I. If Bubbles is lucky, she might even get a little bit of vanilla yogurt and some blueberries. I hate admitting it, but I spoil that little ratty dog to death.
I find myself getting stuck in my own head for a few minutes, thinking about Nikolai and what he said to me. The man is insanely infuriating, stubborn as hell, and I can’t forget about his arrogance. Even with all of that, I don’t know how I’m still attracted to him. I want to think it’s just the accent, but I know it’s more than that. It’s the way I catch him looking at me whenever we’re in a room together, how he just stares at me like I’m a piece of art.
Suddenly, I hear Zoe scream. It’s so loud and everything in my world goes black. I stop what I’m doing and run out the door and see her kneeling in the street. Jesus. Did someone hit my child? How is she in the middle of the road? More importantly, why is she there? My eyes move over the area and I spot Bubble’s leash at the end of our walkway.
Fuck.
No.
The possibility runs through my mind of what could’ve happened, and as I see the soft little white fur, I know that I’m right. I don’t want to be right in this moment. I rush over to Zoe and see her holding Bubble’s small, lifeless body. Blood is everywhere and I know there’s no point in trying to do anything. One look at Bubbl
e’s and I know she’s gone. If her body doesn’t tell me that, her eyes sure do.
“Mo-mmy,” Zoe hiccups and I pull my baby into my arms. Let me correct myself, I pull both of my babies into my arms. Bubbles was just three years old, a puppy that Zoe begged me for. I didn’t want to do it, to get an animal and have yet another mouth to feed. Not to mention another responsibility, but now I can’t imagine my life without this little rat.
I kiss the top of Zoe’s head. “I’m so sorry baby. Bubbles is at rainbow bridge now,” I murmur, trying to not let my voice choke up. I can’t bear to say these words, especially not now when I didn’t want Zoe to learn about death for a long time. I know it’s unavoidable, but no little girl wants to lose her puppy.
“I was just taking her for a w-walk … s-she slip-ped out of her c-collar.” Zoe sobs, telling me the story of what happened. I want to smack myself for not getting that fenced in back yard. You can bet your ass I’m going to now.
I know that there is nothing I can say at this moment to make my little girl feel any better. Instead, this is going to be a long few days filled with nothing but grief. I just need to be grateful for the fact we had Bubbles in our life, and that she was with us for as long as we did.
“I know, baby. I know. It wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?” I say to her and watch more tears flow down her cheeks.
“It was his fault …” She points to the new dick bag neighbor that I already didn’t like in the least bit. He’s just moved to the house on the corner and he’s insanely loud. My bet is that he was born into money and that’s how he got in here.
I cock my head at Zoe, “The new guy?”
She nods once, looking down to Bubbles in her arms.
“Okay, honey.” I feel the warmth rising behind my eyes as they start to water. “I need you to be a strong girl and go in the house and get Bubbles favorite blanket. Can you do that for me? Mommy has to go have an adult conversation with that guy.”
Widow (Reapers MC Book 4) Page 3