Conor Thames (Blackwater Boys Book 1)
Page 25
I looked past him as the police cars swarmed the street. I saw the lifeless body of Billy and I knew exactly what had happened.
I shook my head at him, sobbing as I held Penny to my chest.
“No,” I cried.
Cops crowded us, and he stared at me, a peaceful smile on his face as he raised his arms up in the air, slowly surrendering himself.
The ache in his eyes was replaced with resolve.
You’re okay now, he mouthed. You’ll never be afraid again.
Epilogue: Penance
It is the absence of hope, which equals the despair that is the punishment – James Fox
Charlotte
I hummed her to sleep, rocking her back and forth, staring into her soft little face. The house was quiet and heavy with his absence.
“It’s okay,” I whispered as she squirmed against me, swimming in her baggy onesie. “You’re okay, baby girl.”
When she finally fell into her deep slumber, I rested her into her bed, running a finger over her tiny little features.
Absolute perfection.
I saw him in her.
All of him.
Every damn day.
“She down?” a voice asked.
I nodded and switched on the baby monitor. Then I turned to Jem. He was standing in the doorway, a soft smile on his lips.
“You’re a good mother, Charlotte Miles.”
I said nothing. I took a few steps to him, and nearly collapsed from the ache in my chest. He caught me and brought me to his chest, letting me sob into him. I clung to him, desperate.
“I said I would never turn to you,” I cried, “But I can’t carry this pain alone, Jem.”
I felt him shake and his voice broke. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”
“I miss him.”
“I know.”
Charged with manslaughter, the book was thrown at Conor, and he pled guilty straight out the gate, with no hesitation. It was a swift open and shut case. It was like he wanted to be punished. There was no fight left in him. He accepted the bars like that was the only future in store for him.
Due to the nature of the crime – he could have stopped, they claimed – they sentenced him to eight years, and he refused visitation.
Jem delivered his last words to me:
Move on.
I cried for four hard months into a pillow, mourning him. He didn’t want me. He was hurting and he shut us out. He did it to protect himself, but how could he tell me to move on when he was all I ever wanted?
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
I would wait for him.
Jem led me out of the bedroom and into the waiting arms of Megan. She wrapped herself around me, holding me tightly.
“Sweet girl,” she soothingly whispered, “don’t you see what he did for you? He took the monster away and gave you a life without fear, without pain. He did it because he loves you. He will always love you.”
Thames
Thames always knew he was going to wind up here.
It was just a shame he had to walk away from a good woman.
At maximum prison, there were no soft-core cunts. There were no babies with their granny farms and petty crime.
Thames was a murderer, and he was among the worst of them. He left his life behind at the gate and most of his soul too.
The first day, he’d gotten into three brawls, and it wasn’t a punch and drop kind of fight either. These guys had nothing to lose, and they were glad fighting to kill. What was another life sentence on top of five more?
After he’d survived the three scuffles, he kept his guard up, never once thinking of her, or the baby, or the blood on his hands. One vulnerable moment and it would cost him his life.
But he wasn’t totally immune.
At night, he was tormented by the memories. If he closed his eyes real hard and tried, he might still feel her, or smell the lingering scent of her. Sometimes, he’d dream of blackness, and other times, it was warmth and her lips, and the way she’d cuddled him to her every night, like he was her everything.
He would wake up breathing so hard. The pain twisted deep in his chest, and the agony was so steep, so fucking endless, he would have to mute his screams in his pillow until the knife-like searing dulled.
Then it was just a matter of surviving.
Of breathing.
Day in.
Day out.
He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in.
Please, let her be happy.
Please, let her be strong.
Please, let her find a good man to raise their child.
Please, let her forget him.
He’d write the words of Christopher Poindexter on a piece of napkin, or on his arm when he had nothing to write on. The words he’d wanted to say to her the first night he’d met her and stared at her in the car and knew he would never want anything else more in his life. The rain fell all around them, streaking her face with rain-drop shadows.
She was passionate about the rain and I was passionate about the way she loved it. It was that way with everything.
It is safe to say that if I didn’t have her, there would be no fire in me at all.
END OF BOOK ONE
Author’s note
If you made it this far, thank you! All feedback/reviews are deeply appreciated.
I’ve got my mojo back and I can’t wait to release book 2 of Conor Thames and finish off this fun journey.
I couldn’t get Conor Thames out of my head for ages. When I’d written the outline of the book, I thought he’d be more of a jerk, but the story wrote itself and he surprised me.
If you have any questions, want to keep in touch, or simply follow along for my upcoming book releases, you can find me here: www.facebook.com/rj.lewis13
Thank you for reading! I am forever humble, forever grateful, forever blessed to have a reader base that have stuck by me over the years.
- RJ