Echoes of Silence (Unquiet Mind Book 1)

by Anne Malcom

My whole body stiffened at the thought of leaving Kill’s arms and being alone in the darkness.

  Kill must have noticed this because he pulled me up his body and positioned me so I was looking at the silhouette of his face in the darkness. “I’m not doin’ that, Freckles,” he reassured me, stroking my jaw. “I respect your mom. Her rules. Won’t break them. Apart from the one that tells me I have to let go of my girl. The girl who I watched bullets fly past. Who I could’ve lost.” His hand cupped my cheek. “I can’t let you go, Lex. Not now. Not in the darkness when I’m terrified of letting you go. I’m scared you’re going to fall apart in my arms,” he admitted roughly.

  I laid my hand over his. “Your arms are the only thing holding me together,” I whispered. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his. I needed to kiss him more than I needed anything else. The kiss deepened quickly and Kill’s hands tightened around me. He moved on the sofa so he was lying flat on his back, and I was on top of him. I gripped his neck and his hands circled my hips as he deepened the kiss.

  Suddenly, his hand was at my neck and he pulled back slowly. “Breakin’ one rule already, Freckles,” he rasped. “Can’t burn them all. Can’t take advantage of you like this.”

  I frowned at him in the dark, my blood pulsing hot. I wanted him. To feel alive. I just wanted more than anything to feel alive, to make sure Kill was real. But I sighed and rested my head against his chest. He laid his hand on the back of my neck. I was silent for a long while, happy to hear Kill’s heart beating against my ear, and feel his chest moving up and down with breath. My head snapped up.

  “You jumped up on stage,” I blurted. Kill didn’t say anything, so I kept going. “In the middle of a hail of gunfire, you jumped on stage,” I continued in horror. In the midst of everything yesterday, I hadn’t thought back to the moment. The moment where Kill shielded my body with his own. Against bullets. Bullets.

  Kill’s hands went to my neck. “Of course I did.”

  I knew he couldn’t see me, but I raised my eyebrows. “Of course you did?” I repeated. “You could have got shot. You could have....” I trailed off, unable to entertain that thought, let alone give it life by uttering the words.

  “Freckles, you were standing in the middle of the stage, frozen. Bullets flying around you,” he murmured. “What did you expect me to do?”

  “Not run in front of bullets,” I answered immediately.

  His hands tightened. “It wasn’t a choice, babe. Not when faced with the alternative.”.

  “Which was?”

  “Having any of those bullets hit you.” His voice sounded tortured. “Have one of them take away the only thing that holds me together. If that had happened, it may as well have hit me too.” He paused. “Wasn’t a choice, Freckles,” he repeated.

  I sucked in a breath; it was strangled and hard to swallow. “You can’t,” I choked out. “Promise you won’t do that again,” I demanded.

  “Can’t do that,” he replied immediately. “I’d promise you anything in the world, but not that. As long as my heart’s beating, I’ll be doing anything and everything humanly possible to keep you from harm.”

  I paused, the weight of his words hitting me like a tsunami. “Keeping you from harm is keeping me from harm,” I whispered. “So remember that next time you jump in front of bullets, ‘cause the same goes for me. If anything hits you, it hits me too.”

  Kill pulled me to his face, touching my lips to his softly. “Not planning on running through any more bullets in the near future, Lexie. Sure as shit aren’t planning on having you anywhere near them.” He moved slightly, positioning me so I was tucked at his side, the sofa at my back. I pressed my head into his shoulder automatically.

  “Now sleep,” he ordered. As if such a thing was possible after everything that he’d just said. But surprisingly, right there in his arms, feeling safer than I ever had in my life, I fell. Fell right into the depths of Killian. Down a rabbit hole I hoped never to return from.

  TWO DAYS LATER

  “Can I play you something?” I asked Kill.

  He looked up from the car he was working on. “You need to even ask, Freckles?” he replied, his eyes liquid.

  I smiled at him, slinging my guitar over my shoulder.

  We were in one of the bays in the clubhouse garage. It was the first time I’d come here since the shooting. I had been feeling sick about coming back the entire drive over. But the alternative, being without Kill, was worse. I knew my attachment to him was bordering on unhealthy at the moment, but I couldn’t help it. After everything that happened, I needed him. I couldn’t have another person in my life taken away. Kill didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to need me just as much as I needed him. He was the one who suggested I come to the garage with him after school since he had to work.

  As if he had sensed my mood, he had sat in the car silently for a moment, holding my hand after we pulled into the parking lot. I stared at the grass area and the picnic tables. The place where a man had died. The blood was gone, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t have sunk into the ground, tattooed that spot with death. I glanced to either side of us. Bikes were parked in a line. In a line where bikes, different from these ones had roared into the lot and shot at people. Shot at me.

  “I can take you home, Freckles,” Killian said, breaking the silence, his eyes locked on me in concern.

  I knew he was waiting for me to have some form of breakdown. I was pretty sure Mom was too. You don’t exactly come out of something like that unscathed. Even Sam had been quiet. But I was okay. Apart from the past two nights I had jerked awake in the darkness, terrified. I could have let the nightmares creep into my days and corrupt the daylight. I was determined not to. That would be letting them win. I wouldn’t do that.

  I leaned to grab my bag of books. “No,” I declared. “This is your home. This is your family. I’m not letting something take that away from me.”

  Kill reached over to grab my books. His other hand touched my cheek. “Did I tell you today how magnificent you are?” he asked softly.

  I grinned. “Not today, but the sentiment’s welcomed.”

  He smiled and shook his head.

  So we had walked along the lot, hand in hand. A couple of men waved to us, some smiled. I smiled and waved back. When we reached one of the bays next to the office, a man stepped out of it.

  He was tall and wearing a leather cut. He had a graying goatee. I recognized him. Steg. Kill had told me he used to be president until he was shot a few years ago. Yes, shot. He had been shot protecting Gwen, who had almost been shot too. Yeah. The party wasn’t the first time the Sons had seen blood. Been covered in it. It was something I didn’t quite understand, but something told me it wouldn’t be the last time either.

  “Kid,” Steg nodded to Kill, approaching us.

  “Hey, Steg,” Kill greeted him with respect. “Lexie’s gonna sit with me while I work. That all good?”

  I hid my surprise. Kill never asked permission to do anything. If I had been in doubt about what this man was to him, I wasn’t now.

  Gray eyes settled on me. The man in front of me was scary, no doubt. I thought those eyes had the possibility of being cruel. But they softened as they locked with mine.

  “Course that’s okay. I don’t blame you, keeping a pretty one like this close,” he remarked, his eyes twinkling. They turned serious and he stepped forward. “This one’s special too. Heard what you did for the club, little lady. We don’t take somethin’ like that lightly, loyalty,” he informed me. “Takes a lot to impress me, but color me impressed.”

  I blushed a little. “It was nothing.”

  Steg’s hand came under my chin. “Wasn’t nothin’,” he said firmly.

  I swallowed. “You’re Kill’s family.”

  “And you’re Killian’s, which means you’re family too.”

  Kill’s hand spasmed in mine at this.

  Steg’s eyes turned light again. “You just come and get me if he gives you any trouble, l
ittle lady. I’ll make sure to kick his ass for you.” He winked.

  I smiled at him. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” I glanced at Kill. “Though I don’t think he will.”

  Steg’s face turned serious. “Yeah, I don’t think so either.”

  Then he turned on his heel and left.

  “He’s nice,” I remarked as Kill walked us into the garage.

  He stopped us and turned to me, his eyes wide. “Nice?” he repeated. Then he surprised me by throwing his head back and laughing.

  As beautiful and rare as the sight was, I frowned a little, confused. “How is that funny?”

  Kill dropped my books and placed my guitar case against the wall, grabbing my hips. “Steg is a lot of things, Freckles,” he murmured. “Nice appears nowhere on that very long list.”

  I shrugged. “He was nice to me. Therefore, he’s nice.”

  Kill gave me a long look. “Yeah. Not once have I seen him warm to anyone that quickly. He was right. You’re special. Not that I didn’t already know that,” he murmured, pushing my hair behind my ear.

  I blushed. I could never get used to that. Those things he said. The way he looked right into me.

  Luckily, he set me up at a small table across from a car on stilts, or whatever they were called. It was perfect for me to do homework on, as long as I didn’t mind a little grease which I didn’t.

  I didn’t get to focus much on my homework at the start because Kill had yanked off his shirt, revealing the tight wifebeater underneath that showcased his muscled body. He then stepped into coveralls, tying them at the waist.

  His dark eyes met mine once he had done this. “Eyes on the books, Freckles,” he instructed in a husky voice.

  I swallowed and quickly complied before I ran over and pounced on him. It had taken me a long time to actually see the words on the paper. I quickly finished my homework, Kill and I working in compatible silence. Every now and then a man would walk past, saying hello to me, chatting to Kill for a while and then leaving.

  But at the moment, it seemed we were the only ones in the whole garage. So I started strumming and softly singing “Monsters” by Katie Sky.

  I sang it because of all the things that had been haunting me over the past few weeks; the way Kill’s mom had treated him was the worst. He never spoke of her again, and I had tried to bring the subject up once. He had gently but firmly steered us off the subject.

  “I’m not wasting breath talking about her. I’m certainly not lettin’ you waste yours,” he had growled. Then he had effectively silenced me by kissing me.

  I hadn’t missed the hurt in his eyes. I didn’t know how to fix it, and it hurt me. So I decided to do the only thing I could, use the one thing I knew cured my soul. Music.

  I lost myself in the words, but never took my eyes off him. As soon as he had heard the first few verses, he had pushed up from the hood of the car and stood still, staring at me.

  I sang the last words of the song, hoping they would somehow repair the hurt that was buried so deep in the boy I loved.

  There was silence as the music left the air, the echo of its meaning the only thing lingering in the air.

  Killian’s face was blank. He held himself so still, but his eyes burned into mine.

  “Freckles,” he choked out, stepping forward.

  Clapping echoed in the garage. “Woo! That was fuckin’ great. Can you do ‘Enter Sandman’?” A cheerful voice asked.

  Both my and Killian’s gaze cut to the origin of the voice. Lucky stood at the edge of the garage, grinning. Gage was beside him, not grinning. His eyes were locked on me. Not really me, but the words I had sung more likely. I had a feeling they reached more than one damaged soul.

  “She’s not a goddamn jukebox,” Killian bit out, wiping his hands on a rag.

  Lucky’s smile didn’t dim. “Whatever, bro,” he said. “I’m down for anything. She’s got a great voice and I’m done with work for the day.” He pushed himself up onto the trunk of the car, swinging his boots the way a small child would, though he could never be mistaken for a child. Not with his tattoos, his cut, and his millions of muscles. Okay, maybe not millions.

  I smiled at him and at Gage, who was leaning against the side of the garage door, his arms crossed. He didn’t look anywhere near as eager as Lucky for more, but he didn’t look like he was going anywhere either.

  “Lexie, you don’t have to play for this clown,” Kill exclaimed from beside me.

  “Watch it, kid. I’m much bigger, not to mention more attractive than you, and you need a unanimous vote to get patched in,” he warned, but his tone was light, the way an older brother might threaten a younger one.

  Kill crossed his arms. My eyes got distracted for a moment with the way his veins pulsed as he did so. “What do either of those things have to do with you voting me in?” he asked.

  Lucky grinned. “Nothing, I just needed to make sure everyone in this room knew that.”

  I giggled slightly and began strumming my guitar. I let the notes of Lucky’s requested song fill the air and the sounds of their fighting silenced. I played a couple more songs and, to my surprise, drew a small audience. I guessed I should have felt self-conscious at that many rough bikers paying such rapt attention to me. I didn’t. It felt easy. Normal. I didn’t know if that was due largely to Killian by my side or that I considered these men family.

  ****

  “You’re amazing,” Kill muttered as we pulled up outside my house.

  I turned to him. “Yes, I know. What specifically has made you acknowledge this at this moment?” I asked with a grin.

  Kill didn’t smile. “I’m serious, Freckles,” he declared, his eyes on me. “That song....” He trailed off, seeming to get lost inside his head a moment. “You singing it took my breath away, Lexie,” he murmured. “You playin’ for my brothers like it was nothing, like it was somethin’ you do every day, that was amazing. I’m always proud to call you my girl. That moment, thought I’d burst with it. Pride.”

  I stared at him and felt tears swimming in my eyes. He wasn’t finished.

  “I know why you sang that song, Lexie. What it meant. It meant a lot, babe.”

  I knew that was all I was going to get. Kill didn’t shy away from telling me how he felt about me, though I had yet to hear those three little words. But he didn’t tell me how he felt about anything else. We had stood side by side at the funeral of the man who was shot, and he had been emotionless and silent almost the entire time. When I tried to talk to him after, he had dismissed me, not cruelly.

  “It’s done, Freckles. He’s gone. In the ground,” was all he said.

  So what he was saying now, what he wasn’t saying, meant a lot.

  I leaned over and placed my hands on his chest and kissed him lightly on the lips. Well, it started out lightly. Like most of our kisses lately, it went wild quickly. Kill’s hands clutched my hair, pulling it slightly. He made a sound at the back of his throat as his forehead rested against mine.

  “Go inside, Freckles,” he ordered in a husky voice.

  I leaned back a little so I could look at his whole face. “You’re not coming in for dinner? The only cooking Mom’s doing is reheating a lasagna I made in advance. Even she can’t ruin that,” I said, teasing.

  “Not tonight.” He sounded apologetic. “Got club stuff,” he continued cryptically.

  I raised a brow. “Club stuff?” I repeated. “Would you like to elaborate on that?”

  Kill sighed. “I’d like to, but I can’t. Sorry, Lexie. It’s club business.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “But you’re not even technically a member yet. You can’t patch in until you’re eighteen.”

  “I was born a member,” Kill replied. “Patch is a formality. I’m a Son by blood. I’m not stayin’ out of what happened over the weekend. What put you in danger. Steg knows that.”

  Blood. My stomach dropped. “This business, it isn’t going to put you in any danger, is it?” I asked.

  Kill’
s hand tightened at my neck. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m gonna be fine,” he promised. Then he pressed a firm kiss to my mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I guess that was Kill’s way of telling me to get out. I was irritated at this. “Yeah,” I bit out, and before he could yank me back in, I grabbed my bag and guitar and climbed out, restraining myself from stomping up the driveway. It took greater restraint not to look back at the car that was idling at the sidewalk. I did it, slamming the front door behind me.

  I dropped my stuff at my feet and let out a little sound of frustration.

  “Uh oh, frustrated teenager sounds,” Mom declared, emerging from the living room to lean on the doorjamb. “Has hell frozen over and are you finally transitioning into a teen monster?”

  I frowned at her. “No, it’s just Kill being... Kill.”

  Mom grinned, but the spark in her eyes was lost. “I’ve got to talk to you, doll,” she said, her voice strange.

  I immediately stiffened. “What?” I was bracing like I always did these days. I had a feeling it had to do with the fact I hadn’t seen Zane since the shooting, and Mom making excuses as to why. I knew he’d be out with the men, finding who did this, so I hadn’t been worried. I’d been worried about him getting hurt, that was it.

  Mom directed me into the living room, and I understood why I braced, why my intuition had sparked. That was because she was intent on shattering my already fractured world. She told me we weren’t going to have anything to do with the Sons of Templar anymore, not just the men I’d played to and laughed with not an hour ago, but the women who I’d started to think of as family.

  “This club, these people, they live in a different world,” she explained. “A dangerous world. One with bullets and guns. They’re not bad people. They’re some of the best people in fact,” she said, her eyes far away for a moment. Then they focused on me. “But a world of bullets and guns is not one my baby girl is going to be a part of. I can’t have my most precious gem in this world put at risk because of who I chose to date. So I’m not seeing him anymore. We’re not seeing them anymore. Any of them,” she said firmly.