54
Brick
“Jesus Motherfucking Christ,” I roar over the loud rumble of my bike. Cut the engine; place my arm across the handlebars to cradle my head.
I can’t get her image out of my mind. It’s plugged so tight in my skull I’m on the verge of destruction.
Zoe is fucking gone. I will never forget the way her dead eyes stared at me. The way her mouth gaped open, her fingers curled tightly around a plastic toy truck.
I may have some shady-ass fucking shit in my life. Killed some people a time or two because they deserved to die, but I sure as hell have never stumbled across a scene as devastating to my black heart as seeing her innocent, lifeless body on that bloody kitchen floor.
I ran like the son of a bitch I am. I had no choice when I heard the sirens in the distance and the sound of a crowd gathering outside. Someone must have heard what the hell was going on in there and called the cops. If they did, they should be shot for not pounding the door down to save her. I hope they rot on their fucking guilt for this. The good Lord knows I would’ve stampeded that fucking door down and surprised that lowlife with bullets in his skull. That fucker better pray to the devil himself the cops find him before I do.
My background doesn’t have a damn thing to do with me slipping out the back door undetected. Running through the backyards and down the street to where I parked my bike. It’s the fact that once I gathered my shit the best I could, the intensity of rage took over. That slimy motherfucking boyfriend of hers did it. He took the kid and left after he beat her to death. Literally.
I passed the cops and the ambulance on my way. My skin was prickling with anguish for what they were about to walk in on.
By the time I made it back to Zeke and Amelia’s, I was shaking like a dried-up leaf blowing in the wind. This is all kinds of fucked.
It didn’t matter how I told Amelia or when. She was going to freak. Break down and blame herself like I’m blaming myself. The only thing that mattered to me was the safety of her and the baby. Everything else had to be shoved aside.
“Did you find her? Is she alright? Is she coming over?” Hell, no, she isn’t.
“Yeah. I found her.” I ran my hands through my hair. Caught a breath and didn’t come up for air until I told her. It was the hardest thing I’ve done in my pathetic excuse of a life.
Amelia’s screams hit my ears, sounding like a dying animal. It tore through my skin and rattled my bones. She fell into the arms of my brother. Her body shaky, lips trembling, and then she bent over clenching her stomach. Water started dripping down her legs, and I froze. Guilt slinked right up and took hold of blackened-out soul and crushed it.
The guilt is smashing my brain as I climb off my bike and enter the hospital. The noise, chaos all around me driving me further insane.
I glance up at the directory, find the maternity floor, and pray to anyone who dares listen to me to let Amelia and the baby be alright. My brother better be holding on as well. If anything were to happen, I would die a slow, tortured death by my own Goddamn doing. I’d slit my own throat on the spot.
The minute I step off the elevator, my eyes go wide when I see a woman in scrubs sitting on the floor. Her hands are covering her face. She’s crying. Shoulders are shaking, body convulsing. Sobbing.
Ruckus. So much of it is running through my head that I brace my hands on the wall for support.
Is she the doctor? Did something happen to my family? Fuck. I can’t breathe. My lungs start constricting in desperation as they try to inhale air. I picture Zoe’s dead body in her own pool of blood, then Amelia's face fades; the game goes on and on until I shake the vision from my head.
“Eden,” a familiar voice calls out of a room. Zeke. Thank fucking God. His big frame kneels in front of the woman. Hands grabbing hold of hers in a tender grip.
“Zoe Ashton is she the woman who died?” the woman asks, pain etched so deep in those words that my blood freezes from hearing her name.
“Yes.” Zeke drops her hands, sits back on his haunches, and shakes his head. I can’t see his face, but I know my brother well enough to know he’s shocked as fuck at hearing Zoe’s name. So am I.
“Jesus Christ, Eden. How the hell do you know her?” His voice is so quiet I can barely hear him over the thunder rolling in my chest.
“She’s…” Her shoulders start shaking again with violent force. I need to fucking stop the shit running through my brain because it makes my reality slap me with the brutal truth of my life—my sister and the hell she went through blinds my vision.
Loud sobs run up and down the hall, bringing me back to the woman on the floor.
Jesus Motherfucking Christ. I run my hands down my face nearing a point of snapping my head off.
“What? My God. I didn’t know. Come on. We need to get you cleaned up,” Zeke growls. Demandingly. Shocking and scaring the piss out of me along with it. She’s what? What the fuck did I miss her saying? Goddamn it.
“No. I need a minute. Someone from the administration has been paging me for a half hour. The police are downstairs. I have to identify her body. It’s in the morgue at St. Peters. They have my sister locked up in a cold metal box. This is all my fault. I should have stopped it. I was going to; I swear I was,” she rattles on while her words are rattling in my head. I’m not sure if I heard her right, because I swear to God she said ‘sister.’
By some fine intervention, my legs shuffle forward. “Zeke,” I call out. I have no clue what I’m thinking; all I know is, if I were in this woman’s shoes and found out my brother was dead, I wouldn’t want to be alone. And knowing my brother like I do, he wouldn’t want her to be either.
So many other questions drift, fade out, drift back in. The first one being Zoe has a sister. The second one is, who in the fuck was the real Zoe? She led so many different lives, and it seems she was the joker, but again, if it were Zeke in that metal box, I’d be there. No questions asked.
“Saxon.” He stands.
When I see the look of desperation on his face instead of a look a new father should have, I nearly break apart. My heart sinks to the tips of my steel-toed boots.
“The baby. Amelia. Are they alright?” I murmur.
My chest is so tight, filled with emotions I never knew I had.
“Yeah. My daughter is beautiful. Amelia is sleeping. I was…”—he pauses. Stands and sticks his hand out to the woman. She takes it, her hands shaking—“going to go to the nursery to see her. We’re naming her Clara. If I call the nursery to tell them you're coming, would you go sit with her?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I have a niece. They named her after our sister. Fuck me. A niece named Clara. A miracle is now gracing this earth.
“Hell, no.” I open my eyes. I know exactly what he’s thinking. He’s doing what he does best. Putting someone else before himself. It’s in his nature. Zeke has always been the caregiver even before our sister died. It’s placed so deep in his DNA to be the boss and take charge that the fucker doesn’t even know when to put himself first.
“I’ll go with her; you go be with your daughter. I got this, Zeke. The only hero you need to be right now is your daughter's.”
I have no idea how those words flowed from my lips. I felt each syllable lounging in my throat, but that man deserves nowhere else to be but beside the gift God gave him. I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I want to hold my niece close to my chest and kiss the hell out of her even though these palms have had their fair share of bloodshed etched into them. I’ll get my turn. Right now, she deserves to be held by her father.
“Thanks, brother,” he whispers in a solemn tone.
In slow motion, with each action branded on my memory forever, Zeke drops the woman's hand. I watch as each of their fingers unlace, and then my brother does something I never expected. He places her hand in mine. Her fears and trembles become my rocking core. I see Zoe, yet I don’t. She looks so much like her, making me want to hold her forever, then within the blink of an eye, she look
s nothing like her at all. It’s insanely wrong and right in the same flash of a second.
Can’t explain it, but there’s something about this woman threatening to shine light on my darkened soul.
55
Eden
A man who, by all means, resembles an ex-convict holds me up as we make our way out of the hospital. I have no idea what I’m doing or how I was able to deliver that beautiful baby girl without falling apart. The second I stepped out of the room, I crumbled to the floor, barely hanging on until Zeke walked out. That’s when reality sunk in and my world went upside down. Seeing the pain that struck him hard in the gut hearing I was her sister hurt. Hell, I didn’t even think I could ache any more. I knew it was all wrong playing along with Zoe’s secrets, but I always did what she asked, hoping it would give her just enough courage to leave that bastard. It turns out I was wrong.
“Get on,” he says. Voice gruff. Demanding.
The words register, but I’m not following what he’s asking until my fingers glide along something harsh and cold. When I peer down, it’s the back of a motorcycle. I look up to the felon in confusion. Laced in peer utter shock. My mouth opens, but no words come out. I have so many hateful words to scream at anyone who will listen. My mind cannot drudge up a single word to say. Not to him anyway.
“Darlin’, I’ve got a bike, and you need to throw one leg over and hold on, yeah?”
I may be losing my mind. My heart may be dead with my sister, but I have never heard anyone speak the word ‘yeah’ instead of ‘yes’ in my life. What kind of slang is that? Prison talk?
“Now. Please,” he gruffs out.
I do not want to get on this thing. Instead of speaking, I nod, even though getting on the back of his bike is the last thing I want to do. Zeke’s brother, who is nothing like him, must be adopted or something. Hell, I don’t know. He doesn’t speak another word; he just peers down at me. Eyes all dark and mysterious. What he does do is shock me when he runs his large palm down one of my thighs then effortlessly tosses my leg over the bike. He grips my waist, scoots me back until he has me adjusted in the right position of his liking. I’m not sure how he does it, but a helmet is strapped on the top of my head and then buckled under my chin.
The brisk evening air whips across the apples of my cheeks, through my hair. Then again, I’m unable to process on a single shred of certainty. Best friend, Zoe dead. I delivered a baby. Collapsed in the hall then was escorted off by this man to confirm, that, in fact, it is my sister who had been murdered. It’s her. I know it.
I feel as dead as she is. Yet I’m alive. My hands are wrapped around a muscular torso. My skull is lodged in my heart. Both of them shattered and broken.
I try focusing on the breeze tickling over my oversensitive features because it’s the only thing I can feel. I concentrate on each whip of air brushing across my face and sinking through my scrubs until the roar of the engine stops, as does the air in my lungs.
The man must be some sort of beast because he doesn’t tell me to get off. He once again grabs my thigh, hoists me up, and levels my wobbly legs on solid ground. The helmet is off just as quickly as it went on. I’m entranced by what this stranger is doing.
I blink, his sharp features coming into view. I notice the shaved sides of his head. A stark white T-shirt. He has his hair up in a windblown man bun, and his tattoos play peek-a-boo with each flex of his throat. Why am I studying his throat?
His massive palms cup my face, drawing my attention to focus on the words he speaks. It takes everything inside of me to do so.
“I’ve been here and done this before. You go in and nod your head if it’s her. Shake it side to side if it’s not.” The giant’s features wince in pain. “I was young when someone’s life was taken before her time. I stood there next to Zeke and my parents. You have to do this.” I see his lips moving, but I have no idea what this man is saying. Maybe I do. I simply don’t want to hear it.
“Wait? What?” I step back from his touch. “Why am I here?” I begin to panic. It’s scouring through me. Rapidly.
“No. Not Zoe,” I scream, my body shaking when I look up and see the hospital’s white emergency entrance sign. I itch everywhere. I start scratching at my tender skin, nearly drawing blood. I try to force the scrubs from my body. I was on duty, while my sister was dead in her own damn house. It’s all too much. God help me. I have to get to her. “Zoe.”
“Hey. Hey,” his gruff voice cuts through the moment. It’s not enough. Nothing will be enough. I need to get to my sister. Save her. “You’re hurting, darlin’. It’s going to hurt like hell. You gotta go through the motions, lady. I got you.” No, you don’t have me. No one does. Nobody does except Zoe. Oh, God. What did I do?
He pulls me into his chest. Holding me with a strong death grip until I can barely breathe. I can’t pull away. It’s not an option. He feels safe, warm, and secure. He has me.
His words are playing on repeat in my mind.
“She was my sister. We were close. I loved her so much. I’ve lost her, haven’t I?” I don’t even recognize my own voice. “I tried. I really did, but…”
“Enough.” The monster shakes my shoulders until my teeth rattle. “You listen to me, yeah? Your sister made choices, and you had no control over that. You are hurting because you fucking loved her. And that’s what you hold on to.”
After long beats, I finally peer up at the man. I step back once again, so his giant paws are no longer on me. His looks don’t mirror his actions in the least bit. The sadness and remorse in his dark gaze threaten to make me sick on the spot. He’s hurting, too. But why?
I nod slowly, making each movement more pronounced than it needs to be. The only thing that sinks in is, I love her, and that’s why it’s tearing me apart. The part about choices and how Zoe made them rips me to fucking shreds. I’ll never forgive myself for not having a stronger hold on her.
Brick
The devastation in her eyes cuts me wide open. She keeps stepping away from me as if I’m going to bite. This woman is Zoe’s sister. It should be no shock, since the woman who had me entranced from the first glance was a box of secrets. Shit, we were all surprised when she showed up with a child, and now we're finding this out. Jesus H. Christ. Unreal.
I go on truths; as cold and cruel as it sounds, Zoe is dead. Her sister is here and needs me. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. Never cared for doing this kind of shit, but my brother deserves to be where he belongs, and that’s with his wife and daughter.
I grip her hand; something warms in my chest when she tightens her fingers in mine. This woman is crushed. Devastated and hurting. I don’t do this kind of compassionate shit. I glance over at her profile, and all I see is Zoe. Her bright eyes and laughter are missing. I shake the confusion from my head and hold the door open for her to step in. I’m losing my fucking mind. I need to get this done, get her back to where she’s safe and sound and drown in a bottle or two of whiskey.
Once in the sterile environment where you can smell the scent of death, this woman turns on her heels, pushing her palms into my chest. There’s no way in hell her tiny frame could stop me, but I indulge her effort.
“I loved her. I love her, and I tried so damn hard to get her away from that piece of shit.” Her last words are catching on a sob. “He has Wilder. I know he does.” Yeah, I have no doubt he does. I was hoping the bastard didn’t, though.
The sound of my teeth grinding together is the only sound vibrating through my ears. That motherfucker just signed his death certificate. Once I have this woman tucked into safety, my first call will be to Katch Sterling and the president of Hell’s Lovers MC, Curtis. I might not have a title behind my name with our club, but a brother is a brother, and we don’t go for killing a woman, knocking them around, or hurting a kid. That fucking shit is just plain wrong no matter how you look at it, and that kid will not be living with the man who killed his mother. The little guy has got to be scared to death.
Eden’s desper
ate eyes plead with me. The problem is, I have no response. The blood in my veins thirsts to kill and deliver her a sliver of redemption. I have so many sins that I battle with daily. I’m not the man to save her day. Doesn’t mean shit to me, though. Nothing is going to stop me.
“Did you hear me?” Her brow wrinkles, and I see Zoe.
“Yeah, darlin’, I did.”
We check in at the front desk and wait until Eden’s name is called. She rattles on about how she and Zoe were raised. I learn about their hippy parents and how school was easy for Eden, then about the guilt that resides so deep in her chest. I feel you, sweetheart.
The only thing that’s keeping me grounded while waiting is her tiny little hand squeezing mine in a desperate fashion. I may have been attracted to Zoe, but something else is happening with Eden. It’s wrong. So fucking sick. It’s twisted. Fits the pattern of my life.
As we turn each corner, the sterile yet putrid scent of death hits us hard. I find myself dragging Eden along, not wanting to lose track of the office assistant leading the way. The internal battle ensues. I know it’s Zoe. Found her dead body in a pool of blood in her kitchen, studied her beautiful features, and felt every single one of my past sins sear my skin. It’s branded behind my eyes. Lasered and fucking tagged.
Now, like a coward, I’m holding her sister’s hand in a twisted turn of events. If this is some kind of punishment for my sins, then let it be on me. Life doesn't work that way, though, does it? Hell is all around. Even on a day like today when my brother and Amelia should be rejoicing in the sunshine, they're stuck in hell. Fucking hate it.
I can’t tell the world how deeply I cared for Zoe and would’ve taken her and Wilder in a heartbeat. The irony does not skip over me. Zoe’s heart is no longer beating. Fuck!
When Opposites Collide Boxset Page 45