Floating

by Natasha Thomas

  Not my best move, going out after midnight, my son asleep in his bed, alone at home because Patrick was away on a business trip, or a fuck fest which ever explanation you prefer. I was desperate, and desperate people do stupid things.

  I was wet, cold, and had reached my breaking point. It had been raining all night, and the chill in the air made it feel like it was at least twenty degrees colder than the temperature gauge in my Mercedes said it was. Not to mention, what I was about to do chilled me to the core way before the sudden temperature drop.

  Downtown Indigo, Louisiana, is NOT a safe place to be after dark. Crime rates are high, murders go unsolved indefinitely, and I was standing in the middle of what was considered its worst neighbourhood within Indigo’s city limits. Regardless, I have a plan. I was going to carry it out no matter the cost to me, or my safety.

  I drove from Austin earlier this evening, after coming by some information a few weeks ago that would lead me to the man I was now waiting to meet. I won’t tell you the specifics; they’re irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Needless to say, if I’m in an area with a reputation like the one I just described, you know this man isn’t a good man.

  Steam, or so I’m told the name he goes by, is a beast of a man. At least six foot four, I would guess weighing somewhere around three hundred pounds, he wears a scruffy unkempt beard covering his entire face. Its coverage is so full you can’t make out any discernible features; probably a good thing in his business. His eyes are the only exception to that. His eyes, I can tell even in the dark are black and cold, dark like he is. That doesn’t matter to me, either. Actually, that’s exactly what I need right now, someone as dark as my husband, if not more so.

  The plan is relatively simple. Pay Steam to procure his protection to transport my son out of state, away from the monster we live with. Hopefully after that, I’ll find somewhere to settle after I make sure Nathaniel will take Kellen in. Where I’ll head, I’m not sure yet. All I know, is wherever I go it has to be far, far, away from Kellen and Veronica.

  Here’s where my relatively simple plan gets shot to hell. I made it back to Austin, with Steam in tow. I had his agreement that for 100K he would travel with me to pick up Kellen, and safely escort us to our final destination. I really wish people, namely Steam, would be specific in their requests for information. It would have made this whole thing a lot less of a clusterfuck, in the end. Honestly, he never asked where I was going, and for 100K I didn’t think it was pertinent. I’m paying the man goddamn it. He can drive to fucking Timbuktu, if that’s where I need him to go. Sadly, regardless of the fact he didn’t ask and I didn’t tell, the second we crossed the county line into Blackwater, Colorado Steam immediately freaked the fuck out.

  Now, if you don’t know as I didn’t then, MC territories are sacred. Like an illegal Holy Grail, I suppose. You may never be able to see it, touch it, hold it in your hand, but you know it’s there, and the rules governing it are set in stone. According to the hairy, overweight, supremely angry, hired goon Steam, I have unknowingly caused a shit storm strong enough in its severity to rival hurricane Katrina. Biker law states you need prior permission and/or notification to/by the MC holding controlling interest in the territory you are wishing to pass through before a rival MC is allowed passage without ramifications. As I said, THIS is where everything gets fucked up the ass sideways with a rusty chainsaw…

  Steam is a Satan’s Son.

  Yes. Unwittingly, I’ve hired Devil’s Spawn MC’s most hated rival, Satan’s Son MC, and their Road Captain, to boot. I still have no clue what THAT means, but apparently it’s a big deal in the hierarchy of it all.

  I would love to tell you I pay the man his money, receive a warning, and am told to fuck off, continuing on my merry way. That’s not quite how it plays out. Of course it doesn’t, it is me we’re talking about.

  The paying him, being told to fuck off, and continuing on my way, for now, parts are all true. The variation on the aforementioned is me being made aware that Steam will now have been tagged by Devil’s Spawn crossing into their territory. Worse, Steam will have to inform his president, Marcus Givens, or Lucifer, cliché much, of the problem in case there’s blowback. Again, I have no idea what that even means. I’ll admit when it comes to MC’s; I’m naïve. I have no idea about their rules or laws. If I had, I would never have indebted myself to one of them for a favour. It wouldn’t have mattered how desperate I was. Unfortunately, that isn’t the last I hear from Steam. It certainly isn’t the last I hear from Lucifer. I didn’t know this then, it’s only now I’ve realised my error in judgement.

  Everything was going fine, Nathaniel accepted his Kellen. I ensured his and Kellen’s bond, by forcing them to spend an uninterrupted three months together. When it came to Veronica’s part in all this, I was able to see with my own two eyes that she will make the perfect mother to my son, once I’m gone. She’s still as caring, sweet, loving, and passionate as she once was. Now though, there is a fire inside her. Veronica has grown a backbone. It is a pleasure to see, and I couldn’t be more proud of her for it. She will be strong, and fierce when it comes to protecting Kellen, even if it’s from himself. That is precisely what he needs.

  After three months I signed the joint custody paperwork. The lawyer I found drew up the documents with one hidden caveat. Thankfully, Nathaniel won’t find out until, much, much later. The caveat states that after six months of joint custody my rights as Kellen’s mother will be terminated with prejudice. They will never be allowed to be reinstated, regardless of change in circumstance or change of mind. If Nathaniel is unable, for any reason to continue Kellen’s care, custody will be automatically granted to Veronica.

  Now do you see?

  Without a shadow of a doubt, I love my son. I did that FOR him. I will never be able to take back what was done to him. What he felt. What he saw. What he endured. All I can give him is a chance.

  It was bad luck or karma, I’m not sure which, that the day Kellen was admitted to hospital where his diagnosis of KPD would soon be discovered, I got a phone call from Lucifer. This was not the first one, but it was the most final. I had twenty-four hours to meet him at the location he gave me, or Kellen would take my place. There was no choice to be made. Of course, I agreed.

  I would love to tell you that all stories have a happily ever after, even mine. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

  I remember a story our mom read to us, when I was a little girl. Every night when we were safely tucked in our twin beds, under our opposite coloured comforter sets. We were on our opposite sides of the room, with opposite our outlooks on life. OUR mom, the only thing other than our dad we had in common, would read us this story. It’s strange how this is the only memory I’ve clung to after all this time.

  It won’t make you weep. It won’t make you forgive me my sins. It sure as hell won’t make you like me. I don’t expect it to. This vivid memory is all I have left to share. It’s the only thing that might make the slightest difference in how you perceive me.

  The story is about a lady who couldn’t have children.

  She is rich in friends, in family, and in love. She has a husband that adores her He lavishes her with gifts and love. Sadly, the only thing the lady desires doesn’t come plated in gold, adorned with jewels, or bought with money. The lady wants a child.

  Her husband stands by watching her become a shell of herself, until one day, a young woman, only eighteen, appears on the lady’s doorstep begging her to take her children. Two tiny baby girls, both identical in looks, are presented to the lady. At once she agrees, offering the young woman anything her heart desires for bestowing the gift of children on her. This gift reawakens her heart from the dead.

  The young woman smiles at the lady telling her the only thing she wants is for her daughters to have the life they deserve. Not the one she can provide for them. The lady promises the young woman she will love the children as if they are her own. With that the young woman turns and leaves, never to be
seen again.

  Years passed, not once does the lady forget the young woman or the blessing she gave her. She often wondered where the young woman was. Whether she has made a good life for herself. If she found the same happiness the lady, her husband, and children have.

  What the lady will never know was the young woman knew she was dying. She held on long enough to deliver her babies to safety, dying with the knowledge they would be happy. It was all she wanted for them. It was enough for her to die in peace.

  My mom always told us, especially Veronica when she cried at the tragedy of the young woman’s death, the moral of the story is: The most precious gift is the gift of life.

  That is what I gave my son. The gift of life. What he chooses to do with it. Where it leads him. Whatever his path, Kellen has a chance at life with a beautiful family; rich in all things that count. Me on the other hand…

  Lucifer made me an offer. An offer filled with nothing but darkness. I suppose, it’s ironic in a way. I believed until now that I was the epitome of darkness; that I embodied it. I have even accepted it is who I am. It’s what makes me, me. Now… I know that’s untrue. True darkness lies in wait. It hides in the shadows. Real darkness is when you’ve lost all hope. When there is no escape to be had. No redemption to be found.

  I understand that now, and I will forever be sorry I didn’t realise it earlier. Not sorry because I could have changed anything. We all know that’s probably not true. I would have been just as selfish and self-absorbed, if I had another chance. No. I’m sorry I didn’t realise I wasn’t dark earlier because maybe, possibly, I could have revelled in the grey while I had it. There were shades of colour in between the black and white. People aren’t all bad or all good. Sometimes they do horrible things, but that doesn’t make them bad people in general. There IS a grey area. I know that now.

  See the beauty of Lucifer’s offer is that he still gave me a choice. Granted it’s a shitty choice, but still, it’s a choice.

  Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t choose death when it was offered. Then I remember if I’m dead, I can’t listen to their conversations. I can’t hear if they plan to take Kellen, too. I can’t do everything in my power to make sure that NEVER happens. Let’s be honest for a minute. The truth is; death is like saying “Fuck You” to karma, and flipping it the bird. In my case, I deserve to be here. This is my penance. Death would be a cop out.

  My name is Verity June Stevens. Actually, no, it’s not. Not anymore. My name is now… Savannah Givens, and I made a choice.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Veronica

  It’s time to go back. Funny isn’t it? Most therapists will tell you to keep moving forward. The past can’t be changed, so leave it where it belongs. Behind you. For me though, I need to go back. Back to Blackwater. To my friends. To check on my nephew. I need to go home to Nate.

  It took me six months to ultimately make the decision and follow through with it. Hey, don’t judge, I got here in the end. You’re probably wondering why I did it. Why I left?

  Simple really. Tank told me a story. Yes, big gorgeous, muscle bound, silent Tank told me a story. As a matter of fact, it was a pretty shitty story. Not the kind of thing you tell your kids at bedtime; or your grandchildren when they come to visit you, at the ripe old age of ninety-two. No. Tank’s story was full of sadness and confusion. I don’t even think it had an end. Just a beginning and a middle. The end was surplus. It wasn’t necessary to get his point across, so he didn’t share it with me.

  The night before the surgery that would give one of my healthy kidneys to Kellen, Tank stopped by my room asking if he could talk to me for a minute. Originally, I thought he was either delivering a message from one of the girls or from Nate. It shocked me when he said it was actually him who wanted to speak to me. I haven’t had many conversations with Tank, and the ones I did have were straight to the point no nonsense type conversations. For him to initiate what I thought in the beginning was a chat, was rare. I took it as the gift it was intended to be. That was, until it wasn’t a gift anymore. More like a warning disguised as advice

  Sitting in the chair next to my bed where I was reclined, but still upright, Tank looked directly at me and began his story without exchanging any pleasantries.

  “I have a friend in the SEALs, Hector. He’s a good man: strong, loyal, dependable. He married this girl he’d known for a few months while he was on shore leave. Stupid fuckin idea, he was young and scared shitless he wasn’t going to make it home after our next deployment. Anyway, nothing dramatic caused him to marry her. The chick wasn’t knocked up or anything. Fact was she never wanted to have kids, so that wasn’t an issue. She didn’t tell good old Hector that, though. She married his ass and told him afterwards. Poor bastard was crushed. It wasn’t like he wanted to have rugrats, right then, but sometime in the future would’ve been nice.” Tank takes a deep breath rolling his neck, and the joints release with pops and cracks. Ewww gross.

  “See, Hector comes from a big fuckin family; five brothers, a mom, dad, and a grandpop that lives with them. His mom is one of seven, and his dad is one of nine, if you can believe it. Obviously, family’s important to him. His new wife knew that from the get go. She didn’t give a shit, she was tying Hector to her and in doing it, he’d lose part of his dream. So my buddy, Hector, finds out eventually. I think he’d been married a couple of years by then, that his wife doesn’t want kids. They end up in an epic fuckin argument. Neither of them are willing to back down, so they find the next best solution. They get separated, and go their own ways.”

  I shift uncomfortably on the bed wondering where in the hell he’s going with this, and why it has anything to do with me. Sensing where my thoughts have gone Tank chuckles softly. “Hold on, I’m getting to the point, soon enough.” He flicks my nose lightly making me giggle, and goes on. “Thing is Hector gets discharged from the Navy and goes home to tell his wife he wants a divorce. They’d been separated for three and a half years. In the two they were still together, Hector told me they were only in the same place for about thirteen weeks all told. The wife says no to the divorce. No reason, just no. Hector thought, ‘what the fuck ever.’ Seeing as he doesn’t have to live with her or anything, he can just go on about his life and forget all about her. It’s not like he wants to get married again, anyway.”

  I can’t help but snort. Such a MAN thing to say. It’s easier to ignore it than deal wi…… Oh. Shit! Tank sees the recognition in my eyes. He smirks, but doesn’t stop his story. Not yet. “Hector moved away. I mean the guy loves his crazy fuckin family, but they drive him up the motherfuckin wall ninety percent of the time. He moved somewhere quiet, got a good job, place to live, and everything’s going great until, BAM. He meets a woman.” A laugh bursts past my lips. I can’t help it. The way he says, “BAM,” using his hands to gesture like an explosion has taken place is too fucking funny.

  Flicking my nose again, he tells me to ‘shut up’ before going on, but he does it with a smile on his face. “Hector told me this woman is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen: sexy as hell, confident. She won’t put up with his shit, either. She’s got baggage, but who doesn’t. The woman is fuckin perfect in his eyes. He wouldn’t change a thing about her. He spends time with her, lots of it, ends up knowing pretty much everything there is to know about her. Stuff he didn’t even bother to find out about his wife. She thinks she knows him, too. They’re just friends at this point, nothing more. My buddy, Hector, doesn’t just keep the secret that he’s married, though. The stupid bastard has a fuck ton of shit buried in his closet. Shit that if she knew about, it’d make her run a mile. He fell in love with her. Fuckin deeply in love. It gets to the point where he’d do anything to go from friends to something more. He knows can’t, though. Too many skeletons, yeah?”

  Sniffling back tears that are clogging my throat and stinging my eyes, I nod. I understand everything he’s telling me without him needing to specifically say the words. He doesn’t have to; I get it. Hector is
me. “Not trying to make you cry. I don’t want to hurt you, darlin. You’ve just got the same problem as Hector, V. You haven’t got the same physical baggage. You’re not married or anything. At least, I fuckin hope not.” I shake my head in confirmation. “Good. You do have the emotional baggage though, darlin. You need to sort that shit before you can move forward. You’ve got time though, babe. Arrow isn’t going anywhere. Neither is that boy of his. They’ll be here when you get done, yeah?” Another small nod and Tank grabs my hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. “You need me for anything while you’re gone, you call me. It doesn’t matter what time day or night. If it’s in a day, or months from now, you call, and I’ll answer, darlin.”

  Just as he is about to walk out the door, I call after him, “Tank?”

  He looks over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “What happened to Hector? Did he figure it all out?”

  Tank gives me an odd look. One I can’t decipher. “Last I heard, he’s still working on it, darlin.”

  Smiling back I add, “When you talk to him next, tell him I’m pulling for him.” Tank flicks his fingers out in a wave, and gives me that alpha male head tilt before closing the door quietly behind him.