Protector: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Four

by Myers, Shannon

  “Jamie?” Celia gripped my wrist. “I did something stupid…”

  The thrashing of my heart inside my chest was the only sound in the room. I held my breath, waiting for her explanation, but she’d given in to the effects of the drugs again.

  I brushed my hand across her forehead, relieved to find her skin cool to the touch. Whatever they’d given her though was still in full effect, leaving me to wonder how much, if any, of our conversation she’d remember later.

  Celia’s left eye popped open again, focused on the bedroom door. “Did you know that the paint doesn’t go all the way down to the baseboard on the wall behind our bed?”

  I tucked a strand of bloody hair behind her ear with a frown. “I, uh, I didn’t know—”

  Angel interrupted with a soft tap on the door. “Hey, how’s she doin’?”

  Celia shifted with a groan. “I’m doing better.”

  “Yeah? You don’t seem better.” His eyes narrowed before he looked over at me. “Lucy’s here.”

  “Lucy?” Celia called out. “She came all this way?”

  He nodded. “Just to see you, doll.”

  “Hey, Celia,” Lucy said, as she stepped out from behind Angel. Her eyes widened as she approached the bed, darting from one wound to the next in horror. Instead of running away, she shifted a massive bag up onto her shoulder and forced a small smile. “I brought you some things.”

  “C’mon, Jamie. Let’s give them a minute,” Angel began, but I cut him off.

  “Ain’t leavin’ her.”

  His jaw clenched. “You’ve been in here with her for hours now. She needs to rest, and we got things to discuss.”

  Celia released her hold on my wrist as she moved away. “I want you to go, Jamie.”

  I squeezed her shoulder. “Celia…”

  “If you have something you need to do, go do it. I don’t want you here.”

  The order was like a knife to my chest, but I knew that I deserved every bit of her rejection.

  Lucy’s lips pursed as she took in the exchange. “We’ll get you cleaned up—”

  “No. Just give me something to sleep. Please.”

  Reluctantly, I rolled out of bed. As I bent to retrieve my boots, I studied the wall. The light blue paint looked the same as it always had; no bare spots to be seen.

  It left me questioning how much of what she’d said was truth, and how much was the result of the drugs. Maybe I’d slipped up and mentioned another club over the years, and in her current state, she’d latched onto it.

  I left Angel and Lucy with Celia and stepped out onto the back porch. Bear and Comedian stood by the rusted cast-iron smoker, deep in conversation while Slim sat with his hands steepled under his chin in one of the lawn chairs. The three looked up, clearly waiting for news.

  I tapped a cigarette from the pack and lit up with shaking hands. After taking several desperate drags, letting the nicotine hit my brain, I finally managed, “Serpents. Hawk was working with the fuckin’ Serpents. Can someone explain to me how the fuck that’s possible?”

  The screen door slammed shut behind Angel. “If you’d sit the fuck down, we can.”

  I raked my fingernails down my jawline with a growl. “Sit the fuck down? Jesus fuckin’ Christ! We need to find them!”

  “That’s what they’re hoping for,” Slim stated flatly. “It’s what you’ve always done; and most of the time, it’s paid off. One of our own rolled over and joined up with a Serpent and a member of Los Dictadores… why? Why them and why now?”

  Los Dictadores?

  Another group that had been wiped out, as far as we’d been concerned.

  “Hawk patched in after the war with the Serpents,” Bear added. “It don’t add up.”

  I took another drag, pausing at the deep rumble of exhaust pipes coming down the street, before slumping against the bricks. “Wolverine’s here. We got anyone else?”

  Angel cautiously walked over to where I stood. “Every brother is on his way here right now. Don’t go runnin’ into this with your dick out. We need a plan—”

  “They beat her,” I ground out with a stream of smoke, hands trembling again. “They—they used their fuckin’ teeth, and you want me to sit back and let ‘em slip away?”

  He took a step back and looked to the others for help.

  “Grey, ain’t no one tellin’ you to let them get away with it.” Slim stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his boot before standing up. “We need to find out who knows you’re alive. You go after them like this and—”

  “What if it was Lou?” I spun toward Bear. “Or Molly? You expect me to believe that you’d all sit on your asses and wait to come up with a plan? Fuck, Comedian, I think even you’d agree with me here.”

  He nodded. “You’re fuckin’ right, and those pricks will be screamin’ for mercy long before I’m ready to send them to the Reaper, but Slim and Angel got a point. We need numbers—”

  I flicked the ash from the cigarette and took another long drag. “I don’t want ‘em breathin’ the same air as her…”

  Bear rested his arm against the smoker, nodding along. “We fucked up, Grey. Before, I mean. With the Serpents, it was a goddamned ambush, and we were lucky to have made it out of that alive.”

  “You’re welcome,” Slim stated flatly as he lit up another cigarette, knowing that his sniper skills alone had gotten us out of that one.

  “Yeah, fuck you, Slim. What I’m sayin’ is that we made mistakes… just took a few years to catch up to us. What is it Wolverine always said?”

  “Better to leave your enemy thinkin’ you’re weak while you come up with a strategy than to run in and get your goddamn head blown off. Is that the one?” Wolverine asked, before stepping out of the early evening shadows.

  I shook my head with a bitter laugh. “Yeah, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? When it came to Molly, we sat back and formulated a plan—oh, shit. No, we absofuckinlutely didn’t!”

  “That was different—”

  “How in the fuck was that different, old man? Because unlike my Ol’ Lady, Molly was stupid enough to involve herself with gangbangers? And not only that but let one of them knock her up?”

  Bear pushed off the grill and stalked toward me. “You better watch your fuckin’ mouth, Grey. We’re tryin’ to help.”

  With a curse, Angel stepped in between us. “Can we at least agree we need a fuckin’ plan and go from there?”

  I nodded with a smirk. “Yeah, just as soon as Wolverine takes responsibility for this shit. Have you seen her? Have you seen what they did to her?”

  His brows shifted together. “How in the fuck is this my fault? Way I see it, the club kept your ass out of a federal prison. That’s your problem though, Grey. Always assumin’ you’re somehow above everybody else. Maybe take a good long look in the mirror the next time you want someone to blame.”

  I cracked my neck and launched myself forward with a roar, slamming into Bear as he moved in front of Wolverine. “You think I don’t? I can’t even look at her right now without seeing every wrong decision I ever made!”

  Slim pulled me back before turning to Wolverine. “Celia told Angel and Comedian that one of the guys was from Los Dictadores and the other was a Serpent. If that’s true, then we all have blood on our hands.”

  Wolverine stumbled back, panting. “Jesus fuck. Jamie, I—”

  “They’re goin’ to die… all of them. Anyone who had a hand in what happened to her.” Realization struck, and I paused. “What the hell am I sayin’? Bear, you’re in charge now. Do whatever the fuck you want.”

  I stubbed my cigarette out against the bricks and rubbed at my eyes, wincing when my knuckles came in contact with the bruises Angel’s fist had left behind.

  Defeated, I made my way back inside, stopping at the kitchen sink to try to catch my breath. I’d made the decision to hand over the keys to the kingdom; there was nothing I could do to change it now.

  I let my head drop onto my forearms, somehow
managing to knock over a drinking glass with my elbow. “Fuck,” I muttered, before searching for a dish towel to mop up the mess.

  After checking several drawers, I found one and swiped it over the counter before scanning the kitchen with a frown. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, something Celia never would’ve allowed.

  It didn’t make sense.

  “Jamie?”

  I slowly turned to face Angel. “You said the girls didn’t know anything had happened, right?”

  He nodded. “Richard said they were still asleep when he showed up. They had no idea.”

  “What time did this happen?”

  “Early mornin’? I couldn’t get much out of her.”

  I was overthinking things. Maybe she’d just been tired and decided to leave it for the morning. Hell, I’d been up for over twenty-four hours; anything was possible at this point.

  “The bite marks…”

  Angel gnawed at the corner of his lower lip, following my stare. “What about them?”

  “It doesn’t strike you as odd? When have we ever done that to someone we wanted to get information from?” I took a deep breath and forced myself to say it. “There’s something you’re keepin’ from me. Just put me out of my misery… please.”

  That was the thing about love. It had torn down my walls, only to leave me defenseless in the end; begging for answers to questions I could never ask.

  Whatever Angel said was only going to send me into a downward spiral. It was already taking everything in me not to drink myself into a stupor.

  “I bet Lucy’s finishing up. Me and the guys are gonna stay on watch… why don’t you get some sleep?” He clenched his jaw and kept his eyes trained on my boots. “We’re gonna take care of this.”

  “Thank you… for being here for her.”

  He squeezed my shoulder and led me back to the bedroom. “She’s gonna be okay, kid.”

  I nodded and pushed the door open. Celia lay on her side, fast asleep and wearing one of my old sweatshirts.

  My clothes were still in the dresser drawers; just another cruel reminder of how close we’d been to freedom. Tonight should’ve been a celebration.

  Lucy hurriedly closed her bag and stood up. “I gave her a little something to control the pain and help her relax. How are you holding up?”

  I bit down on the inside of my cheek and shook my head. “Don’t worry about me, Luce. Is she—does she need a hospital?”

  “She just needs to rest so her body can heal. Um, I heard Wolverine’s bike—”

  “He’s out back.”

  Celia’s lashes twitched against her cheeks, leaving me wondering what it was she was dreaming about.

  Was she seeing the men who’d hurt her, or imagining the girls and me? Maybe there wasn’t enough good left to outweigh the hell she’d endured. I brushed a damp curl back and kissed her forehead.

  “Did she shower?”

  Lucy tightened her grip on the bag as if she was afraid someone was going to take it from her. “I gave her a bath. If you’re good with her, I’m just going to find Wolverine… you should try to sleep.”

  Everyone wanted me to sit or sleep, but I couldn’t. The ticking from the clock on the nightstand was a reminder that the bastards who’d done this to my family were still out there. Each second that passed was another missed opportunity for vengeance.

  I suddenly found that I didn’t care if every MC in the country knew I was alive. There was no more hiding… no more running. I hadn’t wanted a war back then, but now?

  Now, I’d kill any motherfucker who got in my way.

  “Jamie?” Lucy tried again.

  I shook off my thoughts and nodded to her. “Go on. I’ll stay with her.”

  The blue paint on the wall taunted me as I kicked off my boots, nagging me with the feeling that there was something I was missing.

  After ensuring that Celia was still asleep, I walked around to the other side of the bed and knelt down, my knees crackling in protest.

  I’d been twenty-two when we went up against the Serpents the first time, and twenty-six when we ambushed Los Dictadores.

  Thirty-six might as well have been a hundred, with the miles I’d put on my body since then.

  Instead of sitting with the club and coming up with a plan to end the men responsible before they made it out of the state, I was crawling around on the bloodstained carpet, searching for missing paint like a fucking idiot.

  “Fuck me,” I groaned, before reaching up to switch on the bedside lamp. Shadows danced across the walls as I shifted onto my forearms, but besides a few cobwebs, nothing stuck out.

  I spread my arms out at my sides and lowered my head until my chin was resting against the carpet while contemplating again why I’d felt indulging Celia’s hallucinations was necessary.

  My shoulders ached from the position, and I stretched just as a flash of something under the nightstand caught my eye. Ice flooded my veins, and I froze, straining to get a better look, before shifting forward.

  There was the missing paint, clear as day. It hadn’t been some drug-induced illusion after all.

  I rocked back a few inches, and the wall appeared to be blue again. When I rolled my hips forward again, the bare spot came back into view, and everything suddenly clicked into place.

  Angel refusing to look me in the eyes…

  Lucy’s wariness…

  “Oh, Jesus,” I whispered, mashing the back of my hand to my mouth to stifle the sob. Cold sweat ran down my back as images invaded my mind. I knew that I’d never feel a fraction of the physical pain they’d put her through, but emotionally, I’d been shoved into a garbage disposal.

  It hadn’t been just a beating.

  They’d taken something from her; something we’d never get back. It didn’t matter if I hunted every last one of them down, they’d scarred her from the inside out, and those marks would never fade.

  How could we ever come back from this?

  I bolted into the bathroom and fell to my knees in front of the toilet, unable to shake the images of her being violated.

  I’d done that to her.

  Just as much as them.

  As my muscles spasmed in grief, my body purged what my mind never would. The darkness I’d tried to hide for years resurfaced, stronger than ever before.

  Mikey.

  Celia.

  Katy.

  Dakota.

  How had I ever believed that I deserved them?

  I was a killer; had been since the night I sent my old man to the Reaper. As much as I’d wanted a family, I’d always known that a depraved fuck like me would never get a happily-ever-after.

  Helplessness sucked the air from my lungs with the realization that I’d never been a husband or a father.

  Not really.

  My tears fell soundlessly against the toilet seat as everything I thought I knew came crumbling down.

  Instead of fighting it, I surrendered and let the monster fully consume me. A jagged piece of mirror on the tile reflected the madness in my eyes.

  Maybe I hadn’t been her protector, but I sure as fuck planned on avenging her. I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth before pushing down the handle and letting the last traces of my softness circle the bowl before disappearing completely.

  According to the records, Jamie Quinn had been dead since October 18, 1996. I left his body lying on a bathroom floor, surrounded by broken glass and his wife’s blood.

  Chapter Four

  Celia: 2000

  “Celia?” Lucy rubbed my forearm. “It’s time to wake up and eat.”

  I kept my eyes closed, feigning sleep with a deep inhale. In truth, I’d been awake for hours, listening to the faint sounds of Fleetwood Mac coming from one of the other rooms.

  With the music, came memories. I saw Jamie crooning Pink Floyd to a fussy Kate as he rocked her in his arms. I remembered the way my chin seemed to fit perfectly against his shoulder as we swayed back and forth across the living room carpet. />
  For the first time, I understood why people became addicts. The drugs that Lucy had given me over the last couple of weeks kept me in a suspended state of reality. In my world, Jamie chose to stay, and we were a family.

  We were safe.

  I never wanted to leave.

  The music faded into white noise, but I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to face the truth. Even with people coming and going regularly, I was alone.

  I’d been told that my girls were safe but didn’t know where they were. Bikers filled my house, continually reminding me of the hell they were going to bring to Hawk and the others, while conveniently leaving Jamie’s name out of it.

  Maybe they feared suddenly alerting me to the fact that he’d never come home; as if I wasn’t painfully aware of his absence with each day that passed.

  Early on, I prayed. I begged and pleaded for a second chance, all while knowing what the steady flow of blood meant. I prayed that Jamie’s love for me would somehow outweigh what I’d done.

  I wanted his forgiveness so badly that, in my drugged state, I’d become convinced that he had rushed home to get to me; completely devastated and blaming himself.

  My prayers stopped when I realized they were nothing more than delusional fantasies. God and the saints were saving their miracles for someone more worthy, and my husband had finally given me the separation I’d demanded for the better part of two years.

  This was my purgatory.

  “Celia, come on. Rise and shine.”

  Maybe it was for the best.

  He’d never have to see what I’d become.

  I reluctantly opened one eye and then the other before meeting Lucy’s concerned gaze.

  “There you are. Thought you were going to sleep the rest of the day away.” She pulled a bowl off the nightstand and held it out for me. “I saved you some of my potato soup—”

  “No, thank you.” I pushed it away.

  Lucy sighed. “Celia, you have to eat something.”

  The mere thought of food turned my stomach, and I shook my head before sitting up. “Not right now. I need to shower.”

  “But you just took one this morning.”