I gripped the railing, not missing the way it moved with my body. “She’s about to be. How many times did I warn her not to come lookin’ for him, Slim?”
“Mikey ain’t a kid anymore. Hell, we just watched him graduate a couple months back.”
I looked up at the door. “What am I supposed to do? Let her come after Comedian like a junkie in need of a fix? Me bein’ alive is the least of our worries if she keeps hangin’ around. You know that, right?”
Slim placed a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go grab a beer and some grub at the bar across the road. If you still feel like killin’ the two of them after… then I’ll help you bury the bodies. Let’s just think about it first.”
I kicked a patch of gravel with the toe of my boot before following him across the nearly deserted highway. The white and yellow stripes had long since faded, making the area seem like a ghost town.
Given the abundance of big rigs and motorcycles in the bar’s parking lot, the only people stupid enough to be out this way were truckers and criminals.
Luckily, we managed to stay out of each other’s way just fine.
The bell above the door jingled, and every head turned in our direction. Upon seeing who it was, most looked away again almost immediately. The only ones who maintained eye contact were the ones who shared the same patch.
Bear held up a shot glass, but Slim waved him off and led me to a booth in the back. After ordering us a couple of pitchers of beer, he sat back and watched me. “David’s been teaching Mikey to surf; kid’s shit at it but keeps showing’ up.”
The corner of my mouth turned up, and I took a swig from my pint glass. “Sounds like his old man, doesn’t it? Reminds me of the time we went to the lake house with Phantom.”
I made a sign of the cross and added, “God rest his soul. Thought we were just gonna spend the weekend fishin’, but he dug out the damn water skis.”
Slim grinned. “Jesus, I forgot about that. You were awful. My old man said you must’ve been part fish with the way you kept going under. It’s funny… I thought he was invincible back then. I guess in the end, he managed to handle everything but a bad heart.”
We slipped back into silence, drinking our beers and remembering a time when shit wasn’t complicated. It sure as hell hadn’t felt that way at the time, but at least back then I’d known how to fix things. Donald wanted to beat on my mother? I’d step in and take it for her.
Problem solved.
Faking my death was supposed to have ended the threats. Instead, the Donalds of the world had gone after the easiest target.
Her.
“What are you thinkin’ about?”
I picked at the cracked Formica. “It seems a little fuckin’ obvious now, but don’t you think our lives were easier then?”
Slim put the menu down. “You know the guys used to give me shit for settlin’ down right out of high school. Some even tried to say that Lou was forcin’ me into marriage. There were a couple of times I wondered if maybe I should’ve fucked around with other girls, just to be sure I was makin’ the right decision—”
“Did you?” I was genuinely curious. I’d given him hell a few times, but never once thought I’d managed to get under his skin. It always seemed he knew exactly what he wanted—a patch… Lou… even David. If Slim made a decision, he stuck with it, for better or worse.
He shook his head. “I couldn’t. She was it—then and now. Why would I want to go back to bein’ an insecure teenager, knowin’ what I do as a thirty-nine-year-old man? For that matter, why would you? You were dealt a shitty hand, but ain’t no way was your life better without Celia or your kids.”
“I lost every single one of ‘em, Slim,” I said softly, keeping my eyes on the table. “You tell me how that’s better. At least with Ma, I knew how to keep her safe. The enemy was one man, and I gladly took those beatings. Now, I don’t even know who to trust or how in the hell I’m supposed to fix any of this.”
The waitress walked up and took one look at us before slinking away again.
“We fix it by trackin’ these fuckers down and sendin’ ‘em to the Reaper.” He ran the tip of his index finger around the rim of his empty glass. “The rest we’ll figure out together.”
Suddenly aware of the quiet, I looked around the bar at my brothers. Bear and Torch were deep in conversation at a table near the door; most likely discussing their weapons strategy. Others sat on bar stools or gathered around the three tables that had been pushed together to form one.
The mood was somber as if they were just as pissed as I was over the fact that we didn’t have one damn lead on the Serpents.
I’d been so preoccupied with Celia, that I hadn’t had time to think about what leaving the club would’ve meant for me. These were men who’d offered to go to battle for me, no questions asked. They’d kept watch over my daughters while Celia was recovering, and not once had I worried that they’d turn on me.
I might’ve come into the world an only child, but the men around me were my brothers, in every sense of the word.
It could’ve been the pitcher of beer I’d downed, or maybe I’d never sobered up from the last time. Either way, now seemed as good a time as any to turn into a sentimental jackass and drag my sins into the light.
“They raped her, John.”
He blew out a sharp breath and dragged a hand through his hair before bringing it back to rest against his forehead. “They—you’re sure? I mean… fuck!”
I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Say we do find ‘em, it doesn’t change what happened to her. I can’t fix it.”
“No, you can’t fix it, but if we destroy the threat, it gives Celia at least a fightin’ chance at recovering.”
The muscle in my jaw tightened. “How in the hell am I supposed to look her in the eye and promise to protect her when I’ve already proven I can’t do shit to keep her safe?”
Slim sat back, draping his arm over the back of the booth. “You don’t.” When I flinched, he shook his head. “What do you want me to say? That you can show up like before and fix everything with your dick? Think about it, Grey. She’s always been the one to come after you—”
“That ain’t true! I went after her when Betsy took her to Vic’s… and when I found out she was hurt…”
I wracked my brain, trying to come up with another instance.
“Isn’t it? You only go after her when you’re tryin’ to fix the shit you caused in the first place. When have you ever shown up for her? Not to gain somethin’ or get her to fall in line, but just for her?”
I opened my mouth to argue, only to realize he was right. It had always been about me. Even that night on the patio had been about me selfishly thinking I could be the one to put her back together.
Instead, I’d only hurt her more.
“You’ve gotta keep showin’ up, but ultimately, it’s her decision. You can want her to choose you from now until the world ends, but if that’s not what she wants, you’ve gotta be okay with walkin’ away.”
I swiped the pint glass off the table with the back of my hand, sending shards of glass across the wood floor. “I ain’t ever walkin’ away, asshole.”
“Good,” Slim dryly noted over the ringing of his cell phone. “Glad to see you’re gonna be mature about this. Now, my kid’s callin’. You think you can keep your temper in check for a goddamn second?”
I shrugged and watched in amusement as our waitress reappeared, wide-eyed and holding a broom. “Bumped it with my elbow.”
She nodded shakily and began sweeping it up, keeping her eyes on the floor.
Slim flipped me off and answered the phone with an easy grin. “Hey. You’re still in Galveston? Thought you were gonna help me out tomorrow mornin’—he what? Shit. How bad is it? You call Betsy?”
At the mention of her name, an electrical current of awareness raced through my body, and I mouthed one word.
Mikey.
He held a finger up with a nod. “Tell
me where his truck is. Just leave the key in the wheel well, and I’ll have someone swing by and get it. Yeah, call your mama and let her know. Love you too, kid.”
My heart was lodged somewhere in my throat as I waited for him to break the news. It didn’t escape my attention that this was the second time someone else had gotten a phone call meant for me.
“He’s gonna be fine,” Slim immediately said. “Busted his leg open surfin’ and they had to take him to the ER to stitch him back together.”
I flopped back against the booth with a relieved laugh. “Jesus, he really does take after his old man.”
Instead of seizing the moment and giving me shit, Slim dropped a wad of cash on the table and slid out of the booth.
“Where are you goin’? Thought you said he was fine.” When he didn’t respond, I jumped up and followed him outside. “Slim! Goddammit, Slim!”
He stopped in the middle of the highway and faced me. The vein in his neck pulsed rapidly, and his hands clenched into fists. “I was wrong!”
Seeing that we had an audience, I waved everyone else back into the bar. “Get back inside. None of this shit concerns you.”
“All these years I thought I did the right thing by tellin’ you to forget the kid—”
“Keep your goddamn voice down,” I hissed, as I approached him. “You did what you thought was right.”
He shook his head. “No, I did what I thought would keep the club together. You see, I had it in my head that Betsy was a good mother.”
“Well, she ain’t awful; just thinks with her cunt instead of her head.”
His chest heaved up and down. “I think we go with your original plan. Kill ‘em both and say they died.”
I stared at him for a beat before forcing out a laugh. “Thought you wanted me to think about it.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Killin’ them is the best option.”
“And your reason is…”
“David called Betsy to tell her about Mikey hours ago, and you know what she said? Make sure he gets home safely. She’d rather get dicked down than be a mother. Jesus fuck, how many years were you fightin’ with her to stay gone, but she just kept runnin’ right back to him?” He yanked his .40 caliber from the holster. “Let’s go.”
There was nothing I wanted more than to send Betsy to the Reaper for the multitude of shit she’d pulled over the years, but Slim himself had reminded me that Mikey was a man now. If she wanted to fuck away every remaining brain cell she had with the man who’d beaten her senseless on more than one occasion, who was I to judge?
My boy would be leaving soon for college, and if he were smart, he’d never go home. I joined Slim on the stairs. “Guess I should start by thankin’ you—”
“Don’t. Your life was fuckin’ chaos from the beginning, and you deserved better.” Knowing I wasn’t going to let him kill the mother of my son, he returned the gun to his hip. “You all deserved better.”
I clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. They did. I, on the other hand, had been reaping what I’d sown since the night I killed my old man.
Slim didn’t bother knocking. He turned the handle and waltzed into the motel room like he owned the joint. Betsy lay face down on the mattress, her dark brown hair spread out like a fan across the comforter. My heart stuttered in my chest because, from where I was standing, she almost looked like Celia.
Comedian stood at the side of the bed, thrusting into her body like a man possessed. The maniacal look in his dilated eyes further confirmed that he was strung out on something.
Initially, I assumed he’d killed her until she began rocking back, meeting his thrusts with soft moans and pleads for more.
Jesus.
The two of them really did deserve each other.
Comedian finally looked over at us, not once slowing down as he growled, “The fuck do you two want? A turn? You’ll have to wait until I’m done.”
Betsy’s head came up off the bed, and I took sick pleasure in watching the blood leave her face when she saw me. “G-Grey? You’re alive?”
She scrambled across the bed, leaving Comedian alone with his still very hard cock in his hand. No wonder Slim had lost his shit on me a few days ago. Seeing another man stroke his own dick felt almost menacing in a way. At least in the clubhouse, the lights were low, and the music was loud enough to drown out the sounds of fucking.
“For the love of god, put your dick away.” Slim turned to Betsy. “Where’s Mikey?”
Keeping her eyes on me, she planted a hand on her hip. Her tits bounced from the movement, and I tried to decide if they were as big as Celia’s. I couldn’t remember if I’d even used my mouth on them the one time we were together.
“Mike is not a child who needs a babysitter, Slim. He’s perfectly capable of—”
A robotic musical tone began playing from the phone on the nightstand, and she turned her back on us to grab it. I let my eyes wander down her backside before remembering how much I despised her. I wouldn’t have touched her again for all the money and drugs in the world.
I had to be in a dry spell if I was getting hard looking at Betsy Sullivan. If she’d had her way, I wouldn’t have ever had Katydid. Fuck, I wouldn’t have had Celia or Dakota either. Regardless of what little time we’d had as a family, I’d take it over not having had them at all.
My cock backed down immediately, and I swiped a hand over my face, fighting to focus on the one thing we’d come up here for.
“Hello?” Betsy answered the phone like she was working a goddamn telethon, giving absolutely no indication that she’d been test-driving Comedian’s cock only moments before.
He stood in the exact same spot, glaring at the phone pressed against her ear. “Betsy,” he snapped before pointing down. “On your knees. You wanna be a fuckin’ brat, I’ll treat ya like one.”
Slim’s eyes rolled back as he shook his head. “Fuckin’ hell, Comedian. Give it a rest.”
“Where are you? I can be there in thirty. Cline Nature Sanctuary near Stewart Beach. Got it.” She placed the phone back on the nightstand and calmly said. “Mike’s in trouble—”
I took a couple of steps forward before catching myself. “What kind of trouble? Is he hurt?”
She shook her head and whispered, “I don’t know; he didn’t say. I just have this feeling that it’s bad, Grey. Like really bad.”
Comedian hurriedly threw on his jeans and boots, searching the sheets for his t-shirt and kutte. “Where’s my boy?”
My back teeth connected together painfully.
Slim was right. We should’ve just killed them.
Chapter Six
Grey: 2001
Slim and I sat with our bikes idling in the shadows, about a hundred yards behind Comedian’s truck. He’d jokingly said he was taking the cage because he couldn’t stash a body in his saddlebag.
I hadn’t laughed.
In fact, I’d spent most of the ride fighting off the sick feeling in my gut. First Celia. Now Mike. It was like dominoes. One had fallen, sending the others toppling onto their backs.
“I know you wanna be up there, but he don’t know you’re alive and I’m not sure now’s a good time to drop that shit on him,” Slim noted before his eyes narrowed. “Oh, fuck.”
“What? I craned my neck, struggling to see what was up ahead without drawing attention to myself. Not knowing what had happened or why Mikey needed help had me on edge and ready to snap.
Suddenly, Slim looked a little green. “I think that’s David’s truck.”
“Go. Make sure he’s alright.”
He shook his head and dropped his fist against the instrument panel. “And what? Reveal to him that his daddy’s a biker? I’m just as fuckin’ trapped as you right now.”
The three moved around to the bed of David’s truck, but we were too far back to hear what was being said. Comedian pointed toward his own before helping Mikey over to the passenger’s side. I couldn’t see the wound on his leg, but judging by the way he wa
s limping, it appeared to be quite the injury.
After getting him situated, Comedian led David around to the driver’s side, leaving me to wonder if he was hurt or just sick over whatever had happened. The truck fired up but remained parked.
“C’mon, David,” Slim pleaded quietly. “Just fuckin’ drive off.”
Finally, the brake lights kicked on, and the truck backed up before disappearing into the night. We rode up to find Comedian leaning against the tailgate with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
“What’d I say, boys? Life is good.” He dropped it to reveal the body of a kid who couldn’t have been much older than Mikey, and the ground quaked beneath my feet as my worst fears were confirmed.
Slim brought his fist up to his mouth with a shake of his head. “The fuck? Who is this?”
Comedian punched the sole of the kid’s sneaker with a chuckle, making his body jolt like a puppet on a string. “He’s dead, so I don’t guess it matters much now, does it? By the way, your boy don’t handle murder real good, Slim.” He slammed the tailgate shut and turned back, his smile suddenly gone.
“It’s funny. I spend five years tryin’ to find my wife and kid, and I could’ve just asked you.”
“The fact that you think I keep up with David’s friends in between runnin’ a business and helpin’ the club is a fuckin’ laugh,” Slim stated flatly.
“Don’t you?” Comedian pushed off the truck. “Thought that was the requirements of bein’ Daddy of the Year, or whatever the fuck it is you seem to think you are.”
I continued staring at the kid’s body while they snarled at each other like rabid dogs. Comedian caught Slim’s shoulder and began shoving him back toward the tree line.
Deciding I didn’t want the hassle of dealing with three bodies, I stepped in between them with a terse, “We need to focus on cleanin’ this shit up.”
“I’d hate to think you knew somethin’ about this, Pres.”
I lowered my chin and glanced down at him. “You really think that I was concerned with where your kid was while I was in the middle of a goddamn war? Now, Slim and I are out here cleanin’ up the mess he made. If you’ve got it under control, we’ll leave you to it.”
Protector: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Four Page 8