Specter's Wake

by Quinn Ryder

  “Do you really mean it?” I asked as sweetly as I could without being condescending or fake.

  “Yes, I love you, baby. When you’re not here, my heart breaks. I don’t want to keep fucking side pieces when my main meal is just around the corner. What do you say? Do you love me enough to become an official Saints’ Old Lady?”

  I’d been part of the Armada for as long as I can remember, I would never turn my back on my family, but if I’m ever going to get the information I need about Midas, I have to pretend to care and act like his queen a little while longer. I conjured up every fake tear I had in my body, willing one to slide down my cheek.

  “I would love that.”

  Diego’s smile spread even further across his face. In his deliciously thick Mexican accent, he said, “Then it will be. I will make a deal with your brother and you will be this Saints’ Old Lady forever.” He gave me a big sloppy kiss, his fingers digging into my arms, gripping me like if he let go, I’d disappear or someone else would take me away. When he finally pulled away, I felt sick. I didn’t like lying or agreeing to be anything to Diego, but unless he felt safe with me, he would never tell me about Midas.

  “Want me to have someone tail you to your car?”

  After the encounter with Marco and Angelique, I didn’t feel safe with any of the Saints, not even Diego.

  “I’m good, it’s not far. I’ll be fine.”

  Diego’s smile turned into a frown. It was kind of endearing that he cared so much about me, but I had to constantly remind myself that he was a killer, and the man responsible for taking my Midas away from me.

  “Well, stay aware. I can’t have my queen getting hurt right after she accepted her title.”

  I forced a smile, but my stomach was in knots. I needed to leave. Not only was I late opening the bar, but I also was making things worse the longer I stood here.

  I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and pushed him toward the club door, “Go inside, my King, you’re too vulnerable out here.”

  He grinned, giving me one more sloppy smooch before allowing me to leave.

  I walked swiftly to my car, fighting the tears that wanted to pour out of my eyes. I always walked away from Diego’s club crying—scolding myself for sleeping with the enemy and getting myself involved with a rival MC, but today felt different. The tears I was battling today were saturated in fear—fear of those who I knew wanted to hurt me. How could I be this stupid? Why did I think this would ever work? Now he wanted me to be his Old Lady forever and wanted to negotiate with my brother for me. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if Scythe found out.

  I rummaged through my purse, fighting receipts, make-up, and other feminine trinkets to find my keys. When I finally felt the cold metal on my fingertips, I grabbed them with shaking hands and barely held on as I fought to put my key in the lock on my car.

  This used to be my mom’s car, but after she passed away a few years back, I inherited it because I haven’t been on the back of a bike since Midas died. My brother and father gave it to me because they wanted me to stay safe.

  I calmed my hand down enough to finally stick the key in the lock, but before I could pull open the door somebody grabbed me from behind and slipped a cold hand over my mouth.

  A muffled scream escaped through my attacker’s fingers, but no amount of fighting could break me free of the constricting hold they had around me.

  “God dammit, Faith, would you stop screaming and trying to kick my dick?”

  Fuck.

  My whole body went incredibly still.

  I knew that voice. I knew it all too well.

  I whipped around to find my brother’s cold, angry eyes boring into me.

  “Jimmy? What are you doing here?” I squeaked.

  My brother smirked, noticing the fear in my eyes. “I think the better question is, what the fuck are you doing here, Faith?”

  Chapter Eight

  Holden

  I stood outside of The Devil’s Watering Hole, staring at the closed sign. The hours on the building clearly stated they were open between ten in the morning and midnight, but it was after twelve and nobody was here. I could see the clubhouse in the distance; it was close enough to the bar that the club could keep an eye on it, but far enough away that it wasn’t off-putting to the public. Not that they let the public in. As Faith stated when I first saw her again, strangers weren’t allowed inside the bar unless they were friends with the club.

  I started to wonder if anyone was going to show up, when I saw Scythe’s bike speeding up the road with an old, black, beat-up Buick trailing behind it.

  Scythe parked his bike and threw his helmet to the ground before turning and kicking his back tire. He was swearing incoherent things to himself as the car pulled up alongside him.

  “Stop it, Jimmy; you’re acting insane!” Faith screeched as she exited the car.

  Scythe turned toward her and started screaming. “I’m insane? I’m fucking insane! I’m not the one fucking the leader of the Saints, Faith. That’s all you. What the fuck are you thinking? Do you know how much danger you’ve put yourself in? Now that you’ve been labeled, Diego’s Old Lady, he’s not going to let you go—not alive anyway.”

  Faith stopped walking toward him, her eyes immediately migrating to the ground. I could see the tears falling down her face, and it took everything I had not to run over there to comfort her. My girl was hurting, and I couldn’t do a thing about it because I was dead—allegedly.

  “I’m sorry, Jimmy. I don’t know what else to say but I’m sorry.”

  “Why, Faith? Why would you do something this stupid? Do you have a death wish? Are you doing this to get back at me?”

  Faith briefly lifted her eyes. “Get back at you for what, Jimmy?” she asked. Her tear-filled eyes, now replaced with hatred, sliced through Scythe like she was trying to fillet his skin. It was unreal how much animosity those big brown eyes could hold when she was angry.

  “Nothing.”

  “Say it.”

  “No.”

  “God dammit, fucking say it out loud!” she screamed. She raced towards him, hitting him in the chest after every sentence. “Say, you did nothing to save Midas.” Punch. “Admit that you’re the reason he got killed.” A few angry pounds on his chest, before she completely lost it. “It’s your fault he’s not with me anymore, Scythe. Everything turned to shit when you got involved with the club business, and Midas was an innocent casualty in this insane war you’ve started with the other MCs. I wish it was you that had died that day. Midas didn’t deserve to die because your club has a hard-on for illegal shit.”

  Scythe looked at her like she had gone completely crazy. And maybe she had, but I had to admit, hearing her be so passionate and emotionally wrecked over my death hit me hard. I couldn’t stop the emotions flooding my insides, and I had to swipe away a tear before it fell down my face. This was one moment I was glad I blended into the shadows so well.

  “I’m not saying shit, Faith. I’m not feeding this little delusion you got floating around in your head about me.”

  “Because you’re a chickenshit. You’re a fucking coward and you don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “When was the last time you went and saw dad, huh? When was the last time you went to mom’s grave or had dinner with the family? You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself, Jimmy. That’s why you’re alone and nobody will ever love you. You’re a goddamn coward and you don’t deserve that patch on your shoulder. You’ll never be half the president Dad was.”

  Scythe took two steps forward and backhanded Faith across the face. He hit her so hard that it sent her flying to the ground. She held her cheek, tears rushing from her eyes even faster.

  I immediately reacted before I even realized what I was doing. I left the solitude of the shadows I was hiding in, ran up behind Scythe, tapped him on the shoulder, and the second he turned around, I fucking decked his
ass, sending him sprawling to the ground just like he did to his sister.

  Nobody should ever hit a woman. I don’t care if she’s his sister or not, no man has the right to hit a woman, period.

  “What the ever-loving fuck?” Scythe growled as he quickly scrambled up off the ground. He covered his eye with his left hand, sheltering it from me hitting him again.

  “I don’t give two shits if you’re her brother or not. No man has the right to hit a woman. If you hit her again, you won’t be getting up next time.”

  Both Faith and Scythe stared at me with astonished eyes. I was breathing hard, anger seeping out of every pore on my body. Faith already had a bruise forming under her eye where he had hit her, but Scythe, hell, his whole left eye was now purple and swollen shut. I hit that motherfucker hard. I don’t care if he was my best friend back in the day. The Scythe I knew before would’ve never touched his sister like that, no matter how mad she made him.

  “Hey, it’s okay, Stranger,” Faith’s voice trembled as she carefully stood up behind me. “I deserved it.”

  I whipped around, grabbing her gently by her shoulders. “No, you didn’t.” When I saw the guilt leave her eyes, I turned back toward her brother and held my ground.

  “Why the fuck are you here again? I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from this place?” Scythe growled, his fingers lightly touching his bruising eye. He was pissed. He had every right to be. I cold clocked him, and he never saw it coming. I was a stranger in his world, and he didn’t know me from Adam, but that didn’t change my stance on how I felt about him hitting Faith or any other woman for that matter.

  “What can I say? You guys have good beer and I was thirsty.”

  Scythe analyzed me with narrowed eyes before the corners of his mouth slightly ticked upward. He was amused by me, I could tell, but he was also the president of the Devil’s Armada and there were certain standards he needed to abide by. Mainly to fuck anyone up who didn’t wear his club’s cut and possibly posed a threat to the family. I was in for a ration of shit at any second, but I wasn’t afraid. “Well, remember that thirst because it’s the last thing you’ll ever feel again, asshole.”

  Faith gasped as her brother pulled out his pistol and pointed it at my forehead.

  “Jimmy, no!” she screamed.

  I looked him square in the eye. “Are you really going to shoot a man for defending your sister?”

  Scythe blinked. I could see the hesitation in his eyes. I had a point and he knew it, but he wasn’t the kind of man that was going to back down that easily.

  “No. I’m going to shoot a man who doesn’t know how to stay away from places he doesn’t belong.”

  I stared at the gun with no fear. I kept Scythe’s gaze and didn’t blink once. I wasn’t afraid of him; I knew this was a test—one I’ve been in before.

  “At least offer me a drink before you shoot me. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was thirsty. Consider me a camel and you got the fucking goods I need to survive.” I couldn’t help myself, I smiled. And just like that, all the tension between us lessened.

  Scythe laughed. “Shit,” he remarked, dropping the gun back down by his side. “No fear and you’re funny, too. No wonder I liked you so much the other day. Come on, asshole. I’ll pour you a drink. Then I’ll shoot you.” His lips slightly curved before he clapped me on the shoulder and started walking toward the bar. Scythe’s eyes darted over to Faith, his frown returning. “This isn’t over, Faith. You and I have a lot of talking to do.”

  Scythe unlocked the bar and walked inside. I stayed behind with Faith to make sure she was alright.

  My heart broke when I saw the tears cascading down her beautiful tan cheeks. She stood a few feet away from me, but the vulnerability in her eyes told me it was okay to challenge the distance between us. She needed a hug, and despite being a stranger to her, I wasn’t going to let her stand in the parking lot of the bar and cry by herself.

  I gently gripped her elbow and pulled her into me, holding her until I felt her quiet sobs shake through her body. I stood like that for far too long, relishing in the familiarity of holding the woman I love in my arms again. It felt good, and I missed it way more than I’d like to admit.

  I should’ve never left you.

  It was a silent thought between us, but only I was privy to how important it really was. She had no idea about my true identity, and I clung to her like I never left her in the first place. I cradled her head as her tears soaked through my shirt, her fingers digging into my biceps as she fought to hold on, refusing to let me go. When I realized I was holding her too intimately for someone who’s supposed to be a stranger, I stepped back, quickly wiping away a few stray tears still falling down her cheeks.

  “Are you okay?” I questioned, grimacing at the mascara tracks bleeding down her face.

  “No,” she sniffed. “I haven’t been okay for a very long time.”

  There was a sad emptiness in those familiar chocolate-colored eyes, and I was desperate to fill the void of loneliness that consumed them. “When I was younger, someone once told me that it’s okay not to be okay. Everyone has moments of weakness, and it’s in those moments of weakness where we will gain our greatest strengths.”

  She looked up at me, tears shimmering in the sun like specks of glitter along her cheekbones. A sideways smile toyed with her lips. I was wearing her down, too. “As much as I appreciate the hug and the sentiment, Dr. Phil, who the fuck are you, anyway?”

  I laughed, extended my hand, and waited for her to take it. “The name’s Holden, it’s nice to formally meet you . . .” I paused, waiting for her to fill in her name for me, even though I had that name engraved in black ink over my heart.

  “Faith,” she replied, giving my hand a brief squeeze. She stared deeply into my eyes, almost as if she was putting it all together in her head. “Do I know you? You seem so familiar?” Her eyes scrutinized my hidden features. Without the beard she might’ve had a fighting chance of figuring out my identity, but without being able to see my famous scar, there was no possible way for her to figure out who I am that fast. I was literally half the man I used to be.

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said the first thing that popped in my head. “Yes. We met the other day. I bought a drink and you held a gun to my head. Pointing guns at people’s heads seems to be a trait that runs in your family.” I gave her a flirtatious wink, trying to throw off any detective work her brain was working hard to get through.

  She laughed, obviously shaking off the nagging suspicions running through her head. “We better go inside. My brother hasn’t killed you . . . yet. Let’s not piss him off and keep him waiting.”

  “After you, my lady.”

  She pushed past me, and I couldn’t help watching her disappear inside. Her ass has only gotten better over the years, and in that skimpy outfit she had on, I could see every muscle on her perfectly sculpted behind.

  Damn, I really missed this view.

  Chapter Nine

  Faith

  What the fuck just happened?

  One minute, I’m kissing Diego out in front of his club, the next my brother is slapping me across the face. Then out of nowhere, that stranger from the other day swoops in and punches Jimmy right in the eye. It was like a scene in one of those western movies where the hero jumps in to defend a woman from the bad guy. I must admit, seeing him punch Jimmy like that was a huge fucking turn-on. I thought he was sexy as hell the other day when I saw him in the bar, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what I just felt a few seconds ago.

  Hugging him brought back some familiar feelings of comfort—feelings I haven’t felt in seven long years. They washed over me like a warm summer rain.

  I swear, holding the stranger, well, I guess I should call him Holden now, felt like I was holding Midas again. In those glorious hazel eyes, I could’ve sworn I saw the famous twinkle Midas always had as he would gaze into my eyes before he gave me a long passionate kiss. But that was crazy—I’m crazy. Mi
das is dead, and Holden looked nothing like the man I used to love. Besides being slathered in sexy ink and having a full-bushy beard that was neatly clipped and combed against his chiseled face, his personality was also the exact opposite of my Midas and he looked like he weighed nothing at all—lean and muscular from his calves to his forearms.

  Midas was my big protective teddy bear. I didn’t care that he was three-hundred and fifty pounds, or that most of the club made fun of his size. I loved his fluffy exterior and everything that came with it. It was Midas’ kind, gentle soul that drew me to him at first, but it was the way he always treated me like his queen that had me seeing nothing but hearts when I looked into his eyes. We were on the fast track to marriage and babies, I even thought he was about to propose a few days before he disappeared, but either he never got up the guts, or he just ran out of time.

  Holden, on the other hand, was brooding and mysterious. He had a little bit of that bad boy edge that usually was a major turnoff for me. Then he hugged me, and that bad boy mojo he was rocking melted away like smooth chocolate. I don’t hug strangers, but I let him hug me, and damn it, I enjoyed every second of being in those tatted arms.

  The only thing I didn’t enjoy was the fact that he reminded me of Midas, and it brought back ugly memories I tried to suppress. Now all I can think about is the day I found out that Midas was dead . . .

  Midas had been missing for almost five days before we found out what happened to him. Switchblade and Guerrilla marched into the club that morning announcing they had found Midas’ bike chopped up on the other side of town. The parts they did find were covered in blood—Midas’ blood. Along with parts of his bike, Guerrilla also found Midas’ cut. It was draped over his arm. There was a clear bullet hole blown through the back, and blood soaked through the leather fabric, leaving the skull with horns even more angry and red.