“Nah.” I grinned, remembering the night I’d earned my road name. “Fucker had me convinced I’d been born into the role—said I’d shown some real impressive skills and wanted me to wipe out any motherfucker who didn’t respect Silent Phoenix.”
Bear grabbed one of the many empty shot glasses littering the bar and pried the tequila from Slim’s hand. He carefully poured out a shot and looked it over before tipping the entire bottle back into his open mouth.
“Well, that’s one way of dealing with a promotion.” Slim glared at me. “Any other words of wisdom you care to impart? Now, think carefully, because Bear’s liable to end up with alcohol poisoning before it’s all said and done.”
“What do you want me to say? He’s been ridin’ longer than I have. If he don’t know how this shit works by now, then I made the wrong fuckin’ decision.”
The empty bottle landed against the scarred wood with a thud and Bear ran the back of his hand across his mouth. “What are you gonna do, Grey? Where are you gonna go that people don’t immediately know who the fuck you are? You stick out like a goddamn Viking!”
He was right.
We had thirty-three chapters worldwide. The odds of me disappearing forever were slim, at best. Hell, it had been damn near impossible to stay off the feds’ radar over the past three years.
“Who said I was runnin’ away? In fact, I found a nice little mini-mansion out by the golf course. Maybe that’s where I’ll be spending my days. Golfin’ with the other rich fucks.”
Slim hunched over the bar, gasping with laughter. “Shit, I can guarantee that you’ll be the only one on that course. Can you imagine the looks you’d get? Feds would be all over your ass within an hour.”
“You could leave the country,” Bear said, suddenly serious. “We’ve got the connections. A couple of phone calls to our guys, and you and your family are gone forever.”
I’d looked into it, but with the war over, there was no sense in hiding.
“I think I’m good. We’ll let the girls finish school and then maybe rent a camper…” My voice trailed off, and I let myself get caught up in the life we were going to create outside the club.
“A camper?” Slim asked, his lip twitching as it curved up into a smirk. “You’re tellin’ me that you’re going to willingly put yourself in a small space with your Ol’ Lady and two daughters for an undetermined amount of time? Shit, Grey, you’re takin’ more risks now than you ever did as Pres.”
Bear cracked a smile. “What I’m about to do is a piece of fuckin’ cake compared to that shit. Thanks for the pep talk, Grey. I needed it.”
I climbed off the stool, stumbling slightly as I straightened. “Yeah? Well, fuck you two. I’m gonna sleep this off and get on the road—”
“Who the fuck is this?” Wolverine snapped, bolting up on the couch across the room, cell phone pressed firmly to the side of his face. His long hair poked out like spikes from where he’d been laying on it.
“Fuck me, I thought he left hours ago.” Bear propped his arm under his head, watching the old man with amusement. “Didn’t he say that he was out?”
I shook my head with a sigh and leaned against the bar for support. “You know him; never—”
“Where are they right now?” Wolverine growled before looking around the clubhouse. When his eyes landed on me, a cold chill ran the length of my spine.
Something was wrong.
Shit had gone south for someone within the club, meaning I wasn’t going to be getting home as quickly as I’d planned.
“You listen to me—take them to breakfast and—no, dammit, you can’t fuckin’ stay there. Do you want them seein’ that?”
“Looks like someone didn’t get the memo that Wolverine ain’t a mornin’ person.”
When Slim made no move to hand over the bottle clutched in his fist, Bear hopped off his stool and walked around the back of the bar, whistling loudly.
I opened my mouth just as Slim snapped, “Shut the fuck up, Bear.”
I glanced back and saw that the smile was gone from his face. “You heard from Comedian?”
He nodded. “About two hours ago. That ain’t him.”
“How much blood?” Wolverine pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned over. “Fuck!”
“Somethin’ happen with his boys?” I quietly asked.
Slim shook his head, watching Wolverine intently. “Kids are home for Thanksgiving break. Lucy’s had them on a tight leash with family activities. Besides, he would’ve recognized the number. Bear, you checked in with Molly?”
“Yeah, talked to her right before she fell asleep.” He paused before screwing the lid back onto the bottle of whiskey and replacing it on the shelf. “The fuck’s goin’ on?”
“Who would be callin’ this early that he didn’t have a number for?” Slim left the question dangling in the air.
The liquor soured in my gut when Wolverine jumped up and began pacing, never once taking his eyes off of mine. “You get them as far away from this as possible, you hear me—I know what it fuckin’ looks like!”
In just a few short hours, I was turning over the entire club to Bear. By all rights, none of it was my problem anymore. I knew better than to involve myself, but that didn’t stop me from pushing off the bar and stalking over to him.
Wolverine lowered the phone and ran a hand over his face. “Jesus, fuck—”
“Give it to me.”
“Jamie…” He mashed his lips together and swallowed. “You need to get home.”
“I ain’t leavin’ you to ride on your own. I’ll stay for whatever the fuck you need me to do—”
The phone fell from his hand, and I saw something I’d never seen before in his eyes—dread.
Wolverine had faced other clubs and done time with little to no emotion. Whatever had happened was worse than anything we’d ever encountered.
I was sure of it.
My face went numb, and I swayed on my feet as my mind raced with worst-case scenarios. Slim put a hand on my shoulder to steady me before asking, “What happened?”
Wolverine’s nostrils flared. “That was Richard. Celia called him this morning, just before six. Asked him to take the girls to school; said she wasn’t feeling well.”
I exhaled. “Shit, old man, you damn near gave me a heart attack. So, she’s sick—”
“There’s blood, Jamie. A lot. He thinks she’s locked in the bathroom but can’t get her to respond. I told him to take the girls and get them the fuck away from there.”
Ma.
There it was—as if twenty-six years hadn’t passed. I dragged a hand through my hair before clenching it into a fist. My heart thrummed against my ribs, fighting to break free from its cage.
Same as me.
“You did what? We don’t know whether my Ol’ Lady is dead or alive and you told him to leave her there? Alone?” My voice rose until I was shouting, the vein in my neck pulsing with each word.
Slim tightened his grip on my shoulder, but I pulled away, moving toward Wolverine.
“Jamie, if you’d just give me a goddamn second. We’re not leavin’ her alone. Comedian is in town—”
“So, you’re gonna hand her over to the butcher? Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” I raised my fist, but Slim quickly brought it back down.
“Jamie, look at me,” he hissed. “Wolverine’s tryin’ to help. Comedian ain’t gonna do shit to her—”
I lifted my hand and pinched my lower lip between my thumb and forefinger; a nervous habit I’d never been able to kick. As I did it, I realized what I’d been missing. “Where’s Hawk? How the fuck did this happen? He was watchin’ her—the girls, are they okay? They’re not hurt, are they?”
Wolverine shook his head. “Girls are fine. They didn’t know anything was wrong. Look, would you feel better if Angel went over with Comedian?”
“Angel?” I repeated, no longer remembering the question. Hawk should’ve been there. It didn’t matter what the fuck was going on; it was his job to keep
her safe and let me know if there was a problem.
He’d pay for that.
“Send Angel. Send Comedian—fuck, send everybody within a hundred-mile radius,” Bear spoke up from the bar. “Slim, you and I are gonna get him home. Wolverine, you’re gonna round up everyone here and have them ride in. We don’t know what we’re dealin’ with and until we hear otherwise, prepare for war.”
I turned to him in surprise. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m the fuckin’ Pres, and I’m gettin’ you home to your Ol’ Lady.”
Chapter One
Celia
Seventeen years earlier
“What are we celebrating today, Yiayia?” I asked, trying not to trip over the long skirt on the satin drop-waist dress as I sat down in the dining room chair.
She’d let me borrow it just for the occasion but had yet to tell me what exactly that was. The lace cape tickled along my shoulders while the crepe slip crinkled loudly with every movement. My hair had been drawn into a loose chignon and wrapped in ribbons, making me feel like the Greek goddesses we loved so much.
Yiayia added blueberry scones to the three-tiered caddy on the dining room table with a sly grin. “Lady Celia, you must know how honored I am to have you for afternoon tea.”
Her own hair was piled on top of her head in a bun, and she wore a dress and cape similar to mine. I imagined the looks we’d get if we ventured out of the house together, and it brought a smile to my face.
“Is it Zeus and Hera’s anniversary?”
She paused to consider it. “Good heavens, could you imagine the fiasco that would be? No, today we’re celebrating… the summer solstice!”
I frowned. “By taking afternoon tea?”
“Well, why not?” She asked with a wink. “In ancient China, the summer solstice was yin, or feminine energy; while the winter was yang or masculine energy. So, my dear, today we are celebrating our sacred femininity by eating sweets and drinking tea.”
My mother once told me that Yiayia’s mother had filled her head with crazy ideas. Apparently, she’d been known for her lavish parties as much as she was for her wild political views. Yiayia often claimed that my mother took life too seriously; something her son, my father, had never done.
“So, what do you say, Lady Celia? Tea, and then a little dance around the maypole?”
I placed the linen napkin across my lap with a giggle. “Sure. Can we build a bonfire again like last year?”
She passed me the tray of cucumber sandwiches with a shake of her head. “The fire department strongly recommended that we not. You burn down one fence, and everyone loses their minds.”
It wasn’t just the one fence; the neighbor’s prized Bradford Pear tree had gotten caught up in the fiasco as well. It had been both exhilarating and terrifying to watch.
“Makes sense.” I piled my plate high, ignoring the pulling sensation in my belly. I’d been feeling off since I woke up but wasn’t about to let it stop me from celebrating with my grandmother.
We spread fresh strawberry jam and clotted cream on the scones and stuffed ourselves on the cucumber sandwiches, but the ache didn’t go away. If anything, it seemed to be intensifying.
I finally excused myself to the guest bathroom and began the nearly impossible task of freeing myself from the many layers of lace and satin. After a brief struggle with the zipper, I managed to get the slip down, only to find a bright red stain.
I’d gotten careless with the jam.
I stared down at it in horror, knowing I was going to be in a lot of trouble. The heaviness in my lower belly reminded me of my reason for being in the bathroom, and I reluctantly placed the slip on the side of the tub.
What was I going to say?
Maybe if I ran it under cold water, the stain wouldn’t set. With a groan, I began tugging my panties down and then froze, hovering over the toilet in shock.
It hadn’t been jam.
Blood.
I knew what it meant. My mother had been warning me for a year now that it was coming. The other girls in fifth grade had begun wearing training bras, but when I asked if we could go shopping for one, she’d been horrified.
Who are you trying to impress, Celia?
“Celia?” There was a soft knock at the door. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I buried my face in my hands to stifle the sound of my sobs. I’d just sit until the bleeding stopped and then ask Yiayia to take me home.
Everything was going to change; hadn’t my mother said that?
The crystal door knob squeaked as it turned, and I looked up in embarrassment.
“What seems to be the trouble, Lady Celia?” Her eyes landed on the slip, and I held my breath, waiting for her anger. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” I cried. “I’m trying to stop it.”
“Trying to stop it?” Yiayia’s brow furrowed. “My darling girl, this is a cause for celebration.”
I studied the tile pattern on the wall and shook my head. “I know what it means. I can’t talk to the boys at school anymore or wear dresses—”
“Why not?” Yiayia demanded.
“Because,” I gestured down. “I might make them feel… sexual. My mother told me that as women we have a responsibility to not make men lust after—”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. I knew she was behind this. Celia, look at me.”
I reluctantly brought my eyes up to meet hers.
“You do not have to change one thing about yourself. Every woman has a period—it isn’t something that makes you sinful or unclean or, or any of the other garbage you’ve been told.”
I protested, “But, my mother said that it changes everything. I can’t sit on the furniture during my time of the month because I might leave a stain behind, and I can’t touch a boy’s arm because he might think I want to do… things.”
Yiayia opened the cabinet by the sink and retrieved a washcloth. She ran it under the faucet with a shake of her head. “I swear, I will never understand why a woman’s cycle is made into a shameful event. Every month, our bodies shed the old and rebuild. A new start, every twenty-eight days. What’s wrong with that?”
“But it hurts.”
She nodded as she picked up the slip and placed it under the running water before coming back over to me. “It does. In order to change, we have to endure the pain. It’s your body’s way of telling you to let go.”
She handed me the warm washcloth. “And you’re much braver than you give yourself credit for. Women like us, Celia? We’re like that bonfire we built last summer. Beautiful to look at, but we can’t be contained or controlled. Once you realize that, my dear, you’ll see how powerful you truly are.”
More tears fell onto my cheeks. “I don’t want to feel like this.”
She knelt in front of me and wiped them away with her fingers. “You won’t feel like this forever. The pain will lessen, but you won’t forget it. You’ll take that hurt and use it to become stronger, and heaven help anyone who gets in your way.”
* * *
The sky was still dark when I woke up, in the same position; slumped against the bathroom wall next to the shower. My right eye opened to no more than a slit, but it was enough for me to see that the window was sitting wide open.
The curtains flapped against the cold breeze; their rustling enough to have roused me from my stupor. I stared into the dark, waiting for my tormenters to reappear.
How had I ever believed we were safe?
I tried to straighten, and my tongue connected with the back of my front teeth, sending a jolt of pain throughout my body. The vice around my belly tightened, and I bore down with a guttural groan before blacking out.
The next time I opened my eyes, the sky was tinged with red and pink, just like the pool of blood surrounding me.
The outer edge had begun to congeal into something resembling gelatin, and I gently touched it with my big toe.
The sticky mess spread along the grout lines in the tile, looking like
outstretched fingers, reaching toward the door for help.
Help that would never come.
My lips were sealed together with a combination of dried blood and vomit, and I tried shifting my jaw from side to side to loosen them, but it was no use.
Panic bubbled up in my chest, along with another round of nausea. My stomach muscles cramped up, and I retched onto the tile. The force reopened the wounds around my mouth, prying my lips apart and sending fresh streams of blood and vomit down my chin.
The bitter taste of bile lingered in my mouth, and I stared longingly at the faucet above the claw-foot tub before sinking back down to the floor in exhaustion.
I just needed to rest for a minute, and then I’d crawl over for a drink. With a grunt, I pushed myself up onto my forearms and began inching forward.
My body was a mess of tender flesh and broken bones; even the smallest movements left me clinging to consciousness with all the strength I had left.
The girls.
I dragged myself away from the tub and toward the door before remembering my father’s pleading.
Celia, baby, open the door!
They were safe now.
My back ached, and my head throbbed to the point that I was seeing double, but that didn’t stop me from reaching up to pull a towel down from the bar on the wall. I wadded it up between my legs and closed my eyes again.
Endure the pain.
Low voices carried through the open window before moving inside the house.
They were back.
“No.” With a moan, I rolled onto my side and searched for a weapon. They’d taken my gun; I was sure of it. The only comforting thought was that my girls were safe and would never see their mother like this.
I wouldn’t live through another assault, but I wasn’t going down without a fight this time. I lightly bit down on my tongue to keep from crying out as I pulled myself across the tile, leaving more blood in my wake.
The mirror above the sink had shattered when Cobra threw my head into it, littering the floor with bits of glass. The smaller shards embedded in my skin as I moved over them, but I managed to snag a larger, jagged piece to tuck away in my hand.
Protector: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Four Page 2