“Wait? What?” I step back from his touch. “Why am I here?” I begin to panic. It’s scouring through me. Rapidly.
“No. Not Zoe,” I scream, my body shaking when I look up and see the hospital’s white emergency entrance sign. I itch everywhere. I start scratching at my tender skin, nearly drawing blood. I try to force the scrubs from my body. I was on duty, while my sister was dead in her own damn house. It’s all too much. God help me. I have to get to her. “Zoe.”
“Hey. Hey,” his gruff voice cuts through the moment. It’s not enough. Nothing will be enough. I need to get to my sister. Save her. “You’re hurting, darlin’. It’s going to hurt like hell. You gotta go through the motions, lady. I got you.” No, you don’t have me. No one does. Nobody does except Zoe. Oh, God. What did I do?
He pulls me into his chest. Holding me with a strong death grip until I can barely breathe. I can’t pull away. It’s not an option. He feels safe, warm, and secure. He has me.
His words are playing on repeat in my mind.
“She was my sister. We were close. I loved her so much. I’ve lost her, haven’t I?” I don’t even recognize my own voice. “I tried. I really did, but…”
“Enough.” The monster shakes my shoulders until my teeth rattle. “You listen to me, yeah? Your sister made choices, and you had no control over that. You are hurting because you fucking loved her. And that’s what you hold on to.”
After long beats, I finally peer up at the man. I step back once again, so his giant paws are no longer on me. His looks don’t mirror his actions in the least bit. The sadness and remorse in his dark gaze threaten to make me sick on the spot. He’s hurting, too. But why?
I nod slowly, making each movement more pronounced than it needs to be. The only thing that sinks in is, I love her, and that’s why it’s tearing me apart. The part about choices and how Zoe made them rips me to fucking shreds. I’ll never forgive myself for not having a stronger hold on her.
* * *
Brick
The devastation in her eyes cuts me wide open. She keeps stepping away from me as if I’m going to bite. This woman is Zoe’s sister. It should be no shock, since the woman who had me entranced from the first glance was a box of secrets. Shit, we were all surprised when she showed up with a child, and now we're finding this out. Jesus H. Christ. Unreal.
I go on truths; as cold and cruel as it sounds, Zoe is dead. Her sister is here and needs me. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. Never cared for doing this kind of shit, but my brother deserves to be where he belongs, and that’s with his wife and daughter.
I grip her hand; something warms in my chest when she tightens her fingers in mine. This woman is crushed. Devastated and hurting. I don’t do this kind of compassionate shit. I glance over at her profile, and all I see is Zoe. Her bright eyes and laughter are missing. I shake the confusion from my head and hold the door open for her to step in. I’m losing my fucking mind. I need to get this done, get her back to where she’s safe and sound and drown in a bottle or two of whiskey.
Once in the sterile environment where you can smell the scent of death, this woman turns on her heels, pushing her palms into my chest. There’s no way in hell her tiny frame could stop me, but I indulge her effort.
“I loved her. I love her, and I tried so damn hard to get her away from that piece of shit.” Her last words are catching on a sob. “He has Wilder. I know he does.” Yeah, I have no doubt he does. I was hoping the bastard didn’t, though.
The sound of my teeth grinding together is the only sound vibrating through my ears. That motherfucker just signed his death certificate. Once I have this woman tucked into safety, my first call will be to Katch Sterling and the president of Hell’s Lovers MC, Curtis. I might not have a title behind my name with our club, but a brother is a brother, and we don’t go for killing a woman, knocking them around, or hurting a kid. That fucking shit is just plain wrong no matter how you look at it, and that kid will not be living with the man who killed his mother. The little guy has got to be scared to death.
Eden’s desperate eyes plead with me. The problem is, I have no response. The blood in my veins thirsts to kill and deliver her a sliver of redemption. I have so many sins that I battle with daily. I’m not the man to save her day. Doesn’t mean shit to me, though. Nothing is going to stop me.
“Did you hear me?” Her brow wrinkles, and I see Zoe.
“Yeah, darlin’, I did.”
We check in at the front desk and wait until Eden’s name is called. She rattles on about how she and Zoe were raised. I learn about their hippy parents and how school was easy for Eden, then about the guilt that resides so deep in her chest. I feel you, sweetheart.
The only thing that’s keeping me grounded while waiting is her tiny little hand squeezing mine in a desperate fashion. I may have been attracted to Zoe, but something else is happening with Eden. It’s wrong. So fucking sick. It’s twisted. Fits the pattern of my life.
As we turn each corner, the sterile yet putrid scent of death hits us hard. I find myself dragging Eden along, not wanting to lose track of the office assistant leading the way. The internal battle ensues. I know it’s Zoe. Found her dead body in a pool of blood in her kitchen, studied her beautiful features, and felt every single one of my past sins sear my skin. It’s branded behind my eyes. Lasered and fucking tagged.
Now, like a coward, I’m holding her sister’s hand in a twisted turn of events. If this is some kind of punishment for my sins, then let it be on me. Life doesn't work that way, though, does it? Hell is all around. Even on a day like today when my brother and Amelia should be rejoicing in the sunshine, they're stuck in hell. Fucking hate it.
I can’t tell the world how deeply I cared for Zoe and would’ve taken her and Wilder in a heartbeat. The irony does not skip over me. Zoe’s heart is no longer beating. Fuck!
I stand as a fraud as we‘re escorted through a door. The room is frigid and chilly. Eden nods her head up and down, letting the mortician and detective know it’s her sister. I can’t fucking look. I feel sick to my stomach.
Her knees go first, then her spine collapses. I scoop her up in my arms, hauling ass out of that place. Heading in the direction of my bike. I tell the detective yelling at me that he needs to speak to her to fuck off in much nicer terms.
I try sitting her on my bike; she won’t let go of me. Her sobbing frame is clinging to my shirt. I jostle her around until I’m able to dig my cell phone out of my back pocket. Speed dialing number three.
“Katch.”
“Brick? What the hell is going on? You alright?” His woman’s laughter drifts in from the background. Fuck no, I’m not.
“I need you, man.”
“When and where?” I end the call relaying all the pertinent information without trying to freak her out. If I frighten this fragile woman any more than she already is, she’ll be gripping hold of me as if I’m her lifeline to the silent killer who solves all problems. Don’t worry, sweetheart; I called the silent killer. He will find Wilder and teach that motherfucker Ricky a lesson. A slow, tortured death.
“Who was that?” It’s barely a whisper.
“Nobody,” I growl, setting her down on her legs.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
I debate giving her my birth name or the name society has gifted me. The sad reality is, Saxon is dead. He’d never want to be associated with Brick.
“What’s your name?” she asks again.
“Brick. My name is Brick.” I push the helmet her way. “I’m not a good guy.”
I hope my final words scare her, but Eden shocks the hell out of me when she leans forward on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek.
“I don’t believe that. Thank you, Brick. Now, take me home.”
Her tears never stop on the drive to her place.
This woman has a long road in front of her. The pit in my stomach tells me it ain’t gonna be a smooth ride.
4
Eden
It
’s been two weeks since I buried my sister. Two weeks of doing nothing but living in hell. I’m so ashamed of myself. So bitter and scared. I can barely remember the night she died when I’m awake, and yet the minute I close my eyes, it’s all there to remind me. She’s dead. Killed by a blunt force object to the back of her head. That’s not even the worst part. Well, her death is the worst part, but what I’m holding in my hand, what I’m about ready to toss into the bottom of my pool in my home in Beverly Hills is what has me out here at three o'clock in the morning wanting to claw my eyeballs out or jump in my pool and sink to the bottom myself.
Her autopsy report is in my shaky hands. Her name stamped in black and white.
Ricky beat her so bad before he killed her that over half of her body was covered in bruises. Handprints around her neck. Claw marks down her arms. My stomach fights against itself not to throw up.
“Zoe. Why didn’t you let me help you? Why didn’t I do more?” I scream, not giving a shit if I wake up my snobby neighbors. The main reason I bought this place a few years ago was because I wanted a safe place for Wilder to live. The school district is top notch, and the backyard was already set up with a swing set, a gym, a sandbox, and a pool for children. I bought it for her. For Wilder.
And now, here I sit at the bottom of the slide my cute little nephew loved to play on with so much guilt coursing through me that I’m drowning in it. The beautiful moment when we set Zoe free does nothing to ease the pain. She won’t be free until I get her son back.
It’s a living nightmare. Funny how I always thought when someone used that analogy, they were dramatic. But with each step I take, my foot sinks into the sand and my heart cracks a little more. I feel every ounce of the nightmare I’m living in the center of my chest. The beautiful urn clutched between my hands resembles everything Eden loved. Her favorite color a deep plum with intricate silver designs covering every inch of it. She was a wild soul, just like the pattern. Just like our parents. Now, she’s being held by them.
“Eden.” Zeke walks up to me. He slips his hand into his pockets. I know it’s because he’s not sure what to do with me. The poor man has been there since my world fell apart. I haven’t been the most pleasant person. Not that I’m rude. I just don’t know what to say when he calls or stops by. The man is persistent to say the least.
I nod biting back the tears threatening to spill over. They don’t stop, and I have a feeling they never will. Amelia walks up behind Zeke with a baby carrier strapped to her chest. Their little miracle hiding out of sight swaddled tightly to her mom’s chest. I’m thankful and jealous. I look up, and that’s when I see him. The man who held me through the darkest part of my life. I should thank him. I simply can’t speak right now, or I’ll lose it. My words need to be saved for my sister.
I offer up a weak smile to everyone. Look away and focus on each footstep toward the ocean. Zoe deserves to be free from the bonds of life. She fought so long for it; even when we were kids, she never once gave up. Not until it was too late. We all stop at the shore. I don’t flinch when the tide rolls up over my toes. The water is freezing, but I really don’t care.
Amelia’s tears have begun rolling down her face. She clears her throat, begins speaking, and I choke up. She loved Zoe; that’s clear. It hurts too much to focus on her words or watch her tears flow. I flip my gaze out to the enormous body of water that will soon be Zoe’s resting place.
Zeke says a few words as well. He’s able to keep his emotions in check, and I know it’s because he’s his wife’s rock. When the silence sets back in, I peer over at the small crowd. Saxon is staring out into the ocean just like I was. He never offers to speak.
Zeke told me his brother's real name is Saxon. I love it. To me, it fits him.
“Zoe.” Her name catches in my throat. “I love you. I’ll always love you. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be responsible for your funeral and burial arrangements. It’s always been the two of us against the world. We had so many years to conquer. Adventures to go on; and our bucket list. It was a small one-bucket list. Tattoos, falling madly in love, and getting married.”
The sobs hit me hard, threatening to knock me to the ground. A large palm reaches into mine, then the scent of smoke, leather, and all man assaults me. I don’t have to look up to see who it is. He grips my hand in his, offering a silent promise of comfort.
“It’s only been four days since I last talked to you, but it feels like an eternity. Zoe, I couldn’t save you. I’ll love you forever, my beautiful, sweet girl; you deserve to be set free.”
I drop Saxon’s hand and twist the top of the urn, taking a step into the ocean.
“Your soul is free, and the world is yours. I love you.” I scatter her ashes with a heavy heart.
“I will bring Wilder home,” I whisper to myself. “He will know how much you loved him.”
We all stand united for long moments before making our way back up the beach. Zeke clears his throat, tugging at his collar. I cringe knowing I won’t like what’s coming next. They’re all going to leave. I’ll be alone. I hate feeling this way. Guilty and lonely.
“Eden, thank you for letting us join you. We loved Zoe,” Amelia says.
Zeke places his arms around Amelia, peeks down at little baby Clara who hasn’t made a squeak.
“I hate to do this today. But I need to know something,” Saxon asks.
I nod.
“Does Ricky have any family he may have run to? Do they know what happened?”
I clear my throat, not finding this topic easy to talk about. I need Wilder back. That’s where I draw my strength from.
“The only thing we know is, he was raised by a single mother. He ran away at seventeen. He hated his mother. The poor lady.” I shudder.
“So, his mom didn’t know about Wilder or Zoe.”
“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “Not that we know of. Ricky had no friends or family around here. He kept to himself. I’m sorry. I have nothing more to give you.”
I’m unable to finish the rest because instead of them leaving me, I walk away first.
I tuck the papers back into the folder knowing I won’t be throwing them away. I grab my empty glass of wine, then scoop up a handful of sand and let it slip through my fingers.
“This is how easily you slipped away from me, Zoe. I hope you’re resting in peace now.” She isn’t. I don’t know what to do, where to go, or what to say to anyone anymore. All I know is, I can’t continue sitting around here doing nothing. I need to find that little boy. Teach him how to grow up to be a man and not some brutal murderer.
I make my way into the house, lock up the file in my safe, and take a look around until my eyes land on the boxes of toys in the corner of my living room.
“I’m going to do everything I can to find you, Wilder. I’ll hire the best private detectives to hunt your father down if I have to. You belong with me.” I mean it, too. Maybe I should call Zeke and poke around to see if that big, burly man of a brother could be of any help. He did say something along the lines of not being good. There’s was something about his presence both times I’ve seen him that screamed he could get the job done, too. I know he’s been out there looking or he wouldn’t have asked about Ricky’s mom. And the police; they have nothing either. It’s as if he took Wilder and vanished.
“Brick. Saxon.” I let both of his names roll off my tongue. That man is incredibly handsome. I actually smile. The memory I do have of him is far from bad. In fact, it’s one of the things I do remember very well.
He’s a wall of a man with muscles screaming out of every inch of the white T-shirt that was hugging his broad chest. Built like a heavy Brick. His name is quite fitting.
His chest is so big it demands attention. His arms are ribbed with thick, muscular veins. His face is deliciously handsome. Eyes nearly as dark as his hair. Yup, I definitely remember.
“God, I’m losing my mind. The man is an animal. I’m sure of it. So unlike me, it’s ridiculous.” I’
ll more than likely never see him again. If he does find out anything, I’m sure he’ll tell Zeke. The guy has no reason to come see me. It’s not like we run around in the same circles. I don’t have a circle at all. In fact, I’m more like a square. I have very few friends, no family left. I’m basically pathetic.
“Go to bed, Eden,” I say, sauntering down the hall to my bedroom. I don’t bother to strip out of my clothes or pull the blinds shut. I fall face first, grab my nephew’s blanket he can’t sleep without, and curl up in a ball. Another night of crying myself to sleep.
* * *
“Ugh. Why does a person’s phone ring at the wrong time?” I wipe the sleep from my eyes. For one split second, I think about not answering it. Then reach for it on the nightstand thinking maybe it will be the police. I answer without checking.
“Hello.” I clear my raspy voice.
“Eden.” I shouldn’t have answered. I’ve been avoiding this call for two reasons. One, she just had a baby. Two, Amelia Hartley was my sister’s best friend. I really haven’t talked to her outside of the funeral. I know what she wants without her even asking.
“Hello, Amelia. How are you doing? Is everything going alright?” I know it is. I’ve talked to Zeke several times on the phone. I’ve also stayed in contact with both of my associates at our practice. My patients are all doing wonderfully. Some of them have sent flowers to the office.
However, I know Zeke is worried about his wife, me, and of course, his newborn baby. The man is like a smothering older brother. He calls all the time to check on me now that we don't see each other at work or in my office. My guess is he put her up to this to try and help us both.
The night this woman gave birth to her daughter was a night of hell for her. Such a strong person. So much stronger than I seem to be.
BRICK Page 3