CONVICT: An Unfit Hero Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  He nods his head, his hair flying all around his head. “Yeah. Fuck. Yeah,” he grins.

  “Get your asses inside, it’s about to start,” Wyatt calls out.

  Rylan frowns, turning his head, he looks at his cousin, then back over to me. “Keep your pants on, shit,” he calls out to Wyatt.

  I watch as Wyatt flips him the bird behind his back while Rylan rolls his eyes. The scene causes me to laugh even harder at the two men. Family. The love they have is unbreakable. Their bond, like brothers, and I for one am beyond grateful that they have one another.

  We walk toward Wyatt who has his gaze fixed on Reese. “Give me the baby,” he grunts as we approach closer.

  “When we’re inside and you’re sitting on your clumsy ass,” Rylan growls.

  Wyatt rolls his eyes. “You know I only dropped you once when you were a kid, and it wasn’t even my fault,” he jibes.

  “Eat shit, Wy,” Rylan chuckles as we walk through the door.

  Ford is already seated in the recliner and lifts his beer toward us in greeting. “What the hell is this all about?” Rylan asks as he sits down. Wyatt plops down next to him and practically snatches Reese out of his hold.

  “Not sure. Beaumont just texted me and said we needed to see it. Claims he’s going to be sayin’ something important,” Ford shrugs.

  BEAUMONT

  The lights are hot, the cameras point directly at me. There is no hiding from this moment. It needs to be said. I need to come clean with my demons. No more hiding. No more buying pictures and paying off people to lie for me. The jig is up. My counselor says I need to come clean to those people that I’m closest to. I can’t do that. Not in person. I’m taking the pussy’s way out. Don’t I always though?

  It starts.

  Anne Miriam is sitting across from me, she’s ignored me until this moment. Until the cameras were on and focused on her. That’s the way she is. That’s the way everyone is. I don’t have the best reputation with interviews, with the press, or anyone else really. The only people that give a damn about me live in Gallup, Texas. They’re the only people who know the real Beau anyway. Everyone else only sees the legend.

  “We’re here today with legend Beaumont Griffin. He came to me with what he says is his truth. An exclusive interview. Please, Beaumont, the world is dying to know why you’ve scheduled this moment. The floor is all yours,” she smiles.

  She’s fake. Everyone is fake. I’m the fucking fakest.

  Clearing my throat, I lift my eyes to the camera. I envision Ford, Wyatt, Rylan, Channing, and Baby Reese sitting in Wyatt’s house. Their faces watching in confusion as I just stare straight ahead. Louis is watching too, except he’s in some suite in Vegas, watching from his tower.

  “I’m a fraud,” I begin. Anne gasps but it’s fake. “Not my music,” I clarify. “Never my music. Personally though, I’m a fraud.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Anne unnecessarily asks me. Why do they do that? Why do reporters ask the stupidest fucking questions? As if I’m not going to explain my goddamn self or some shit. Fuck.

  I don’t rip into her ass. It isn’t worth it, not right now. My sanity is all that I care about.

  “I am checking into a rehab center. I need to take some time for me, and I need to be honest about the man that I am,” I announce. I hear Anne gasp, again, rehearsed and fake. “I’m an alcoholic. I’m ugly when I drink. I don’t like myself, and I need to get a grip.”

  My counselor told me that I would feel lighter, that my burden would be lifted when I said the words aloud. My counselor is full of fucking shit. I don’t feel any better. I feel embarrassed. I feel stupid. I feel—weak.

  RYLAN

  I look over to Ford who is staring at the television, then to Wyatt. “Did you know?” I finally ask nobody in particular.

  “I had no fucking clue,” Ford announces. He leans over and places his forearms on his thighs. “Fuck,” he hisses.

  I shake my head. “He needs us. We’re here for him. No matter what,” I state.

  “You know how to deal with this better than anyone, what do we do?” Wyatt asks, looking over to me.

  I shrug. “I went through all my detox shit in prison. It wasn’t by choice back then,” I remind him. “This is totally different. That being said, I think we should just all text him and tell him we have his back.”

  Channing leans her head against my shoulder, and I look down at her. “Proud of you, Rylan,” she breathes.

  I shake my head. She has fucking nothing, not a damn thing to be proud of when it comes to me, but I don’t remind her of that fact. I love her, almost more than anything in the world. The only other person that I love more than her is Reese. Scratch that, I don’t love him more, I love him differently. I love them equally, but differently. Fuck. She saves me, every goddamn day she saves me.

  Leaning over I press my lips against her head. “Thank you,” I grunt.

  She doesn’t ask me what for, she never does, and I thank her a fuck ton. She lifts her hand and laces her fingers with mine, our rings are side-by-side and I sigh at the sight. This is why I thank her. I thank her for loving me as the man that I am. I thank her for being her. For being mine. For saving me.

  “He’s going to go through some serious shit. He also has to figure out why he does what he does,” I announce.

  “I’ve never seen him get trashed, I don’t get it,” Wyatt announces, cuddling Reese a little closer to his chest. Reese calms, he eases pain and he balms souls, it’s what he does.

  “He hides it, then. He probably drinks when he’s alone. Hiding in plain sight,” Channing offers.

  Ford lifts his chin. “He never let me in his place, always says it’s messy or that it’s just a place he crashes. Makes me think that’s why he hid it, probably full of his ghosts, of his addiction,” he says. “I heard rumors, like on them Hollywood news shit sites. I never paid them no mind, but they would pop up on my phone and I’d see his picture. They said he was a drunk, he partied hard, and he was spiraling out of control, but I never believed it. That just ain’t the Beau we know, you know?”

  Wyatt groans. “I’ve seen them too. I thought the same thing.”

  “I’m the only one who’s been in the dark, then,” I chuckle humorously. There’s nothing remotely fucking funny about this situation.

  Channing grips my hand a little tighter. “None of us would ever believe it because that’s not the man that he is. He’s hurting. He said himself that Gallup is his retreat, his break from the world. We see him when he’s his happiest, not when he’s at his worst. Rylan is right, we need to let him know that we’re here for him, in any way that he needs us.” She smiles.

  We all grunt in agreement, then slowly leave Wyatt’s. None of us are in a mood to hang around and talk, we’re all lost inside of our head and feeling badly for our friend. He’s been hurting, he’s been suffering, and he never brought it to us. I know why he didn’t, but I wish he would. I can’t help him, but I can listen to him, and as a fellow alcoholic, I understand a little more than anyone else would.

  “He knows his burden is not yours to bear, Rylan,” Channing informs me as we head toward home.

  “Didn’t know I said that aloud,” I grunt. She reaches out and takes my hand again. Her touch is all I need to feel calm, to feel at peace. “I know they aren’t mine to bear, but as his friend, I want to help.”

  She squeezes. “He’s famous. He’s dubbed a legend. He shouldn’t need help, or at least I’m sure that he feels that way,” she says.

  “Fuck. I bet.”

  “Plus, I think that you have had quite the year of your own stuff,” she says flexing her fingers against mine.

  Pulling into our driveway, I look at the small house in front of us. Our rented paradise. Doubt I’ll ever be able to buy a home of our own, but this is as close as I’ll probably ever get with my background. Looking over to her, I lean forward and press my forehead against hers.

  “I have. It’s been the absolute b
est fucking year of my life too, sweetheart,” I admit.

  “I love you, Rylan.”

  I hum, inhaling her scent before I speak. “You have no idea just how much you mean to me, Channing. Just how much I fucking love you, you and Reese are my goddamn world. I thank God for you every single fucking day when I wake up in the morning,” I rasp.

  Her hands cup my cheeks and her lips brush my own softly, so damn softly. “You’re our world too, Rylan,” she sighs.

  CHANNING

  We make our way inside, and I can’t help but think about poor Beaumont. I wish that I could help him, that I could ease his pain somehow. He’s done so much for me. He was there when I needed him, when James was being insane. When Jennifer and Jacob were being twisted. He helped. He watched me, he protected me, he looked out for me.

  Then, my mind drifts to Jennifer, Jacob, and James. They’re all in prison. Jacob and James were placed in the same prison that Rylan was sentenced to spend five years in. They’ll be there a bit longer than he was, thank goodness. Jennifer is enjoying an all-women’s facility herself. The only person in that entire family that I feel sorry for is the baby.

  Jennifer gave birth to a baby girl, and her parents took custody of the baby and are raising her far away from me, in Nebraska. They moved shortly after the trial, unable to live in the town where everyone knew what their daughter had done.

  I wasn’t the only person they abused, neither was Emily. There were at least a dozen young girls that they manipulated. They are foul people. Disgusting individuals, and if I had my way, they would never see the light of day again. I don’t care if I’m not following the same forgiveness attitude that I preached to Rylan earlier today. He didn’t kill that woman out of malicious hatefulness and a sick head and heart. They abused over a dozen girls with their sick games.

  “You okay?” Rylan asks me. I can feel his heat against my back as he wraps his arms around me from behind.

  I’m standing at the kitchen sink staring at a stack of dirty dishes. Turning my head to the side, I attempt to look back at him. “Thinking about Beaumont, turned to thinking about James, Jennifer, and Jacob,” I admit.

  He shakes his head. “They are not worth your time. The case never even went to trial. They don’t breathe free and easy, sweetheart. They ain’t shit, Channing.”

  I inhale through my nose and let it out through my mouth. “I know,” I sigh. “They’ll always be this black spot though.”

  Rylan hums, his eye twinkling as he smirks. “They will only be a black spot if you let them. I don’t think about them, because they aren’t worth it to me. I have you and Reese. I’m the one who has absolutely everything. I’m living a fucking dream and they’re living with the regrets of being fucking sick whackos,” he shrugs.

  Rylan’s words cause me to smile. “You’re crazy,” I laugh softly.

  He winks. “Never said I wasn’t. Now, help me figure out what I should text to Beau. As much as he was here for us, we need to be there for him, too.”

  Turning around in his arms, I cup his cheeks with my hands. “I love you, Rylan.” I kiss his lips, they’re soft and sweet, but I don’t deepen the kiss.

  His hands move to my hips, squeezing them before he lifts his head. “Love you, sweetheart. Fuck, but I love you, Channing.”

  We make our way to bed, foregoing washing any dishes. They’ll be there tomorrow. There will always be dishes in the sink. Today was long, it was rough, and it was emotionally draining. There will be trials and tribulations to come, and I’m okay with that. In fact, I welcome them, because I know that Rylan will forever be at my side and we will wade through those troubled waters together. Every damn step of the way.

  Afterword

  HAVE YOU READ UNSCREW ME (A SAVAGE BEAST MC #1)?

  Get a first look here:

  Prologue

  SILVER

  “Fuck,” I hiss as she walks into the clubhouse. Her little blonde haired daughter toddles behind her, but my eyes are focused on her tits.

  They shouldn’t be.

  She’s Hawk’s. She ain’t mine. Never has been. Probably never will be, either. No matter.

  Trista veers away from her mother and heads straight for me. Her favorite surrogate uncle. Scooping her into my arms, her fingers immediately find my beard and fist it tightly. She pulls, yanking it hard.

  “Mornin’ niña,” I murmur.

  “Where is that no-good son of a bitch?” Savanna screams.

  The entire clubhouse freezes, turning to her. At twenty-four she’s still young, but she’s been Hawk’s Old Lady since she was sixteen. He plucked her from the hell she was raised in, brought her into the fold, then married her immediately.

  I was twenty at the time, a prospect, and couldn’t have attempted to lay claim to her, no matter how badly I wanted to. Even if my dreams were filled with sinking into her sweet cunt over and over again. Even if every time I closed my eyes, I would get hard, had to fist my cock and jack off, to what I imagined she looked like naked and riding my dick.

  Just watching her, even pissed off, makes me hard. Goddamn, I need to get her outta my fucking head. Eight years, eight years I’ve been jonesing for a piece of that cunt.

  Dragon, our president, appears out of nowhere. “Now, darlin’, you need to calm down,” he says lifting his hand.

  “Fuck calm,” she screeches.

  His gray eyes narrow and I watch as a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Silver, take the baby to one of the bitches in the back,” he grunts.

  I take a step back to follow my president's orders but halt when I hear her growl.

  “Silver you take my baby from me and I’ll call the cops. I’m not fucking with you assholes anymore,” Savanna grinds out.

  Dragon lets out a breath and clears his throat. “He’s gone, darlin’.”

  “Where is he?” she demands, a tremble in the back of her throat, and if I’m not mistaken a bit of fear.

  “Don’t know. But it’s up to him when he comes back. He has an open invite to be part of our charter. His status isn’t revoked, but he’s gone nomad.”

  I can tell the words taste bitter on his tongue. He doesn’t want to say them aloud. He cautioned Hawk, tried talking to him, tried explaining that what he was doin’, it wasn’t right. Abandoning his family, his club, and for what? Because he felt tied down, or at least that’s what he claimed. None of us really believes it, but we don’t have a choice, that’s the only explanation he gave us.

  He did that shit to himself, though. He married Savanna eight years ago, planted his seed in her. He made his bed, he needs to own up to it all. Take care of what was his. But Hawk being Hawk, he didn’t do that shit. He turned tail and ran like the fucked up piece of shit he is. If I see him again, he’s going to get a fuckin’ face full of my fist for doing what he’s done.

  “Nomad?” she breathes.

  Dragon nods and I watch as her face crumples. Without thinking, I hurry to her side and wrap my arm around her shoulders, tucking her into me, attempting to shield her from the internal pain she must be feeling.

  “We’ll take care of you, Savannah. You and Trista, we got you,” I attempt to soothe.

  She struggles against my hold. As much as I don’t want to, I release her. Before she steps completely away from me, she takes Trista and holds her in her arms. I watch them together. She’s shaking, and I want to take the baby away from her to ensure that she’s safe. Savanna looks like she’s seconds away from dropping her.

  “So what, I’ll be the Savage Beast’s charity case, no thanks,” she spits.

  “Don’t be stupid, Savanna,” Dragon grunts. “You’re still his Old Lady, he hasn’t renounced that and even if he did…” His words trail off and Savanna frowns.

  She takes a step back, her eyes glancing around. I watch as the defeat fills her features. Her fight is done. Her man left her alone, swingin’ in the goddamn wind. No fucks given. Hawk, the stupid fucking bastard.

  Dragon’s gaze moves over to me as Savanna wa
lks out of the clubhouse. “You’re on Savanna duty. Since you’re the money man, I want you delivering her cash, and making sure she and Trista are good when you do,” Dragon announces.

  My heart picks up, races in my chest, unsure if I can handle that task. Fuck, but I want to. Even if she’s my brother’s wife and Old Lady, doesn’t make my dick any less hard for her.

  Shit.

  I am fucked.

  * * *

  ONE YEAR LATER

  Knocking on the door, I frown as it slowly creaks open. “Sav, babe?” I call as I walk through the house.

  “Fuck you, Silver,” she screams at me as a bottle goes flying through the air.

  I’m here delivering her monthly money. As the treasurer, it’s my duty, as the man who is half in love with her, I take every opportunity I can to see her. Even if she fucking hates me.

  “Sav,” I shout, dipping my head to the side and catching the bottle. Ten in the morning and she’s drunk off of her ass. “Where’s Trista?”

  “Preschool,” she slurs.

  Walking over to her, I set the bottle down on the counter and wrap her in my arms. Her dead eyes look up at me, the anger she has inside of her twists her face, mangles it and shockingly makes her gorgeous features snarled and ugly. She’s never looked ugly to me before, but right now, she looks goddamn hideous. She needs to get her shit together, she needs to take care of her girl and herself.

  “Baby, you gotta let him go. He ain’t comin’ back,” I murmur.

  Tears fill her eyes and I watch them fall. “He’s the only man I want. The only man I’ve ever loved. I need him,” she whimpers.

  Her body shakes as I hold her. When she’s completely wrung dry and exhausted, I take her upstairs and tuck her into bed. Placing the money on her nightstand, I leave her place and head to the preschool to pick up Trista.