Chapter Ten
Chaos
Fear had stabbed at my heart the entire drive over. The three blocks it took to get from Destruction to G’s house felt like an eternity. Kicking open the living room door, rage-filled my chest. My phone forgotten in my hand as the sharp bitter scent of copper filled my nostrils. I scanned the scene for my girl. Bloodied mutilated bodies lay everywhere, scattered like fragmented rag dolls. My heart thudded in my chest, fear pulsed through my veins at the sight before me. I wasn't afraid for myself. I was afraid for G. Terrified of the state I would find her in.
The room was blanketed in blood. Battered broken bodies lay everywhere. It was a massacre if ever I saw.
Her brother, Marco, sat front and center, his tortured body pressed against the wall. He was the only one out of the sea of men that could be identified. His body was the only one left in one piece. Like a lighthouse, he stood as a beacon, besieged by a sea of blood and body parts.
Picking my way across the scattered remnants of limbs I recognized one of the patches on a discarded torso, Grim Howlers. A bloodied discarded hat caught my eye. TRUCKER was written in a bold black font. There was no mistaking who the hat belonged to. Two days. That’s how long the Grim Howlers had lasted. There was no mistaking what had happened here last night. I filed away the info for later. My main focus was finding G.
My eyes roved across the destruction, zeroing in on the stairs. G sat crouched on the steps at the halfway point between landings. Her jean clad knees were drawn tight into her chest. She sat with her phone pressed absently to her ear, and her Glock pressed against her chest, finger hovering over the trigger. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, staring at the scene before her, reminding me of a frightened wounded animal.
I rushed over to her, ignoring the sloshing sound of my footsteps as my feet sank into the sticky wet carpet. Taking the stairs two at a time I reached her trembling form. Without hesitation, I dropped to my knees beside her, pulling her into my arms, cradling her against my chest. Her body shook violently, her unseeing eyes wide and glassy.
I didn't miss the way her finger shook along the trigger of the gun in her hands, the rattling of the plastic reminding me of its power. I didn’t care.
The gun she held was the very one I purchased for her years ago. I allowed a brief moment for my chest to swell with pride, knowing she had followed my direction, even in her terrified state.
Another point I didn’t miss was the fact that the barrel of the gun was pointed directly at my chest. There was no safety to engage, nothing to stop G’s finger from accidentally setting off the gun, effectively ending my life. I still didn’t care.
Your standard Glock trigger only requires five pounds of pressure to set it off. Five pounds sounds like a lot, only it isn’t. All it would take was a gentle squeeze and it would be lights out for whoever was in the way. That person right now was me.
That didn’t stop me from wrapping her in my arms. It didn’t stop me from whispering soothing words in her ears. And it damn sure didn’t stop me from tucking her head against my chest as I gently rocked her.
“I got you, G. You're safe.” My words fell on deaf ears, as I pulled her in close.
“They’re dead Chaz.” She cried into the crook of my neck.
The sound of her sobs wrecked me.
“I got you, Baby. You’re safe.” I repeated over and over as I held her close.
“Take me away.” God if I didn’t want to. If only she knew.
“I am, Baby. I am.” I promised.
Gently lifting her in my arms I carried her the rest of the way down the stairs, holding her face away from the brutal scene. As soon as we stepped out into the morning light G’s body went limp, the gun in her hand tumbling down into her lap as both of her arms snaked around my neck. She held me in a death lock afraid of letting go.
I felt her tears pelting my flesh as she sobbed into the collar of my shirt. Walking down the cobblestone walk I never looked back. I didn’t pause in my pursuit to close the door. It would do no good. By mid-afternoon, everyone would know what happened. Secrets had a way of getting out down in the Folds. I was counting on that information spreading, counting on word getting out that I was coming for whoever did this.
Easing myself into the driver’s side of the truck, I drove back to the gym with G in my lap, her slender frame wrapped tightly around me. I had only one goal in mind. Get G to safety and Destruction was the safest place I knew so that’s where we went. The drive to the gym felt like déjà vu. It was three years ago I had made the same trek with the same broken woman in my arms. I thanked God that this time it was just her heart.
I don’t think I could take it if it was anymore. Last time had nearly killed her. It had nearly killed me.
Three months. That’s how long it had taken for her body to heal. Three months before she could walk again. And another four months before she could leave the gym on her own.
My girl was a warrior. I knew that if she could survive that night she could survive this. I would be damn sure of it.
Chapter Eleven
Ginger
I woke to the cool darkness pressed against my skin. The horrors of the morning still fresh in my mind. Red-hot tears streamed down my cheeks.
My brother was gone.
Vivid images of the bloodied scene from this morning flashed behind my eyes. Marco’s face, pale and gaunt, haunted me. The twisted expression on his face. The pain etched in every facet of his features. My heart clenched in my chest.
Blinking against the darkness a new emotion threatened to overcome me. Panic began to hammer in my chest. Clawing my way out of the binding material that cocooned around me I struggled to catch my breath as the anxiety threatened to bury me alive.
Where was I?
How long have I been here?
The questions flashed through my mind at breakneck speed.
Inhaling deeply I choked down air, struggled to break free of the iron band tightening around my chest. The rich dark heady scent of musk and cinnamon reached my senses followed by the hint of spice, hitting me like a soothing balm.
Chaos.
The bands began to loosen as I gulped down air greedily. My heart rate began to slow, dropping down to a more manageable rate.
Blinking my eyes rapidly they slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. Peeking around, I recognized the space as a bedroom.
Chaos’s bedroom.
Chaos’s scent was embedded in the blanket and pillow beneath me. It was in everything.
I inhaled deeply, sucking down the comfort of the familiarity. Sitting up I hugged the down square to my chest, burrowing my face into the scent of my savior. I sat in the silence. Allowing myself the brief moment to absorb him in. Allowing the comfort and security of the man to wrap around me.
Wigging free of the heavy down comforter I hugged the pillow to my torso like a shield as I sat at the edge of the bed.
Memories assaulted my mind, rushing before my eyes.
Blood.
So much blood.
Marco’s battered body.
Lifeless limbs scattered around my childhood home.
The scenes flipped through my mind like an old film reel, the images jagged and grainy but no less staggering.
Chaos had come for me. Carrying me from the bloodied scene of the house he drove me to the gym, to safety.
I remembered him kneeling before me, removing my shoes, before tucking me into bed.
I remembered falling asleep to the comfort of his body pressed to mine. The deep staccato of his heart pounding in his chest, below my cheek, lulled me off to sleep.
I remembered the soothing words he whispered in my ear, his promise to keep me safe.
I need him.
I needed his arms around me.
I needed the safety and comfort only he could provide.
I didn’t care how weak it made me look.
I didn’t care that I shouldn’t want him.
I didn’t care
what anyone thought.
All I cared about was him.
I needed him now more than ever.
Climbing from the bed I went in search of my rescuer, needing the comfort of his arms around me once more before I shattered into a million pieces.
I tiptoed barefoot across the thick plush carpet. A silver thread of light under the crack of the bedroom door guided me, lighting the path.
With a gentle tug, I opened the door. Light flooded into the room, blinding me. I was momentarily blinded, unable to see, I stood, blinking harshly against the bright morning sunshine. I had not been asleep long. The sun was still high in the sky, meaning it had only been a handful of hours.
With careful steps, I gently padded down the hallway, knowing the way by heart.
So many memories assaulted me, memories that had long before been buried. Memories of last time I was here. Years ago when my world had been first been shattered. Only this time there would be no one waiting for me when I finally made it home. Marco was gone.
“I don’t give a shit about what happened. I want answers. I want to know who was behind the hit.” Chaos’s voice startled me, causing me to jump. His voice boomed from down the hall as it shook the windows in their sill.
Cautiously, I crept forward, pillow clutched tightly against me for strength.
“You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I saw. There were boot prints on her door. The wood was splintered. Someone tried to kick it in.”
I stopped, my breath hitching in my chest. He was talking about me. The thumping at my door last night.
I held the pillow to my face, allowing it to absorb my wounded, gut-wrenching sobs. Tears began to fall down my face, pelting the down square in my arms.
“I already know it wasn’t the Grim Howlers, it was the bodies of their men that littered the floor. Their Prez was with them. I know it had nothing to do with them. Their guys were just collateral damage. Hell, they lost nearly their entire crew if not all of them. There weren’t many to start with. Marco pissed off someone. I just don’t know who. I don’t think they’re local but I could be wrong. It just doesn’t have the same MO as our boys around here.”
I slid down the wall beside his office door and listened as Chaos shouted into the phone. I didn’t know who he was talking to. It didn’t matter. There wasn’t an MC he didn’t call out in his pursuit to find my brother’s killer.
I knew he wasn’t doing it for Marco. He hated Marco. Chaos made it perfectly clear. He was doing it for me. He was going to hunt down whoever was behind the hit and kill them all.
The boot prints on my door were all it took for Chaos to become unwound. The control he held around his emotions had been unleashed.
It had been years since I saw him this angry. Years since I heard the murderous range in his voice. I remember that day clearly.
My father had come home in one of his foul moods. Grabbing the nearest punching bag he could find, he attacked.
I had been sitting at the dining room table eating a bowl of cereal, unaware of the disaster that was about to become my life, my family.
My father had started on my mother first. She had just finished vacuuming the living room floor when he came barreling in the front door.
He didn’t even blink as he lunged at her, wrapping his hand around her thin frail neck. He choked the life from her.
She didn’t have the chance to scream, a chance to react before he began bashing her head into the plaster wall. Drywall rained down around them as he continued on, blissfully unaware that I was watching.
Blood splattered everywhere as her head met with the stud. He never stopped. He continued his assault, slamming her head over and over into the same stud until the wood began to creak in protest. It wasn’t until her body lay slumped, the side of her head concave, that he released her.
I sat there stunned into silence as I watched my father murder my mother in cold blood. A gasp escaped my lips at the horror.
It was then that his eyes turned toward me. I sat, frozen in place, the forgotten bowl of cereal in front of me. I was paralyzed by fear, unable to escape.
He strode in my direction, the heavy fall of his footsteps echoing off the walls. I would never forget the menacing gleam in his eyes. He was going to kill me. I knew it as well as I knew my own name.
Ripping me from the table by my ponytail he tossed me across the room. My body smashed into the wall of family photos, stealing the breath from my lungs. I was unable to scream, unable to suck in a ragged breath.
My body dropped, landing in a pile of tangled limbs, shattered glass rained down around me. I looked up through tear stained eyes to see my father approaching, Marco’ baseball bat in his hands.
“Get up, Ginger. Come at me.” He took a practice swing through the air with the bat. The wooden bat making a whooshing sound as it slipped through the air. His smile was predatory as he stalked in my direction. He smirked glaring down at my mangled body, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“You fight like a girl, Ginger.” He tsked, shaking his head in dismay as he raised the bat above me, ready to swing.
He never made it any further. I watched as his eyes flew wide with shock, his mouth dropped open but no words came out. His body began to crumble upon itself, folding like a cheap suit.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch her again.” Roared a voice so full of rage.
It wasn’t until my father’s limp body hit the floor that the blood began to run. It ran like a river, pouring from his neck, pooling around him on the floor.
Looking past the bloodied form of my father I saw the owner of the voice, the man who had saved me. A machete hung loosely from his side. Chaos stood, his eyes narrowed down on my father. Hate and rage poured from him in waves.
I should have been afraid. I should have been terrified. Only, I wasn’t. I was grateful, relieved, but most of all, I was happy.
What kind of sick twisted person did that make me? What kind of person can be happy when their father lay bleeding before them?
Chaos has continued to beat himself up over the fact that he killed my father right before my eyes. I wanted so badly to tell him how happy it had made me. I wanted him to understand how his actions had freed me, saving me from deaths grip.
But I didn’t.
I was too ashamed. Too afraid he would see me for what I was, a monster. Instead, I ignored his protest, reminding him of what would have happened had he not intervened.
Marco and Chaos had come in from shooting hoops. Upon seeing my mother’s broken body on the floor, Marco ran to our secret hideaway, never looking back. He left me for dead without a moment’s thought.
Chaos had stayed. He stood tall, grabbing the machete off the wall and lunged forward, burying the machete in the side of my father’s neck.
It was then that Marco and Chaos became estranged. Chaos could never forgive my brother’s betrayal for running out on me. He could never forgive Marco’s cowardice. Not even after three years passed could he bring himself to forgive my brother.
Chapter Twelve
Chaos
I found her, curled in on herself, at my office door, a pillow gripped firmly in her arms. The sight would have been endearing, seeing her there, clutching my pillow to her chest, as she waited for me. However, I couldn't find any pleasure in it. Before me sat a broken creature.
My heart was ripped from my chest watching her there, tears streaming down her face. Rage pulse through my veins, nostrils flaring.
Her wide azure blue eyes looked up at me rimmed with red, offering me a glimpse into her battered wounded soul. Her eyes held so much trust, hope, and dare I say, love, in them. It was a frightening sight to behold. I didn't deserve any of those gifts she bestowed upon me.
I didn't deserve her trust. I didn't deserve her hope. And I damn sure didn't deserve her love.
But I sure as hell wanted it.
Dropping to the floor beside her, I pulled her into my lap. Setting aside my own burning fury to comfort her
the only way I knew how.
Releasing her hold on the pillow, G wrapped her arms around my neck, clinging to me as though her life depended on it. The moment was perfection in all its tattered glory. It was like us, gritty, dirty, and tarnished.
I took her offering, burrowing my face into her neck, inhaling her sweet nectar. She was everything dreams were made of, and so much more. I knew I couldn't have her for keeps, but that didn't stop me from stealing this moment, claiming it as my own.
The smart thing to do would have been to leave, to put her in the care of someone much more deserving. But I had never been accused of being a smart man.
I was a selfish greedy bastard.
I refuse to give her up. I refuse to allow anyone else to touch her, stealing away her innocence. She was mine and she always would be. There was nothing that could ever change that. I dared anyone to try.
G turned, bringing her thin pink lips up to meet mine. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t pull away. I ignored the booming voice in the back of my mind telling me this was nine kinds of wrong. She was broken. Confused.
But I didn’t care.
I forged on.
Allowing her to take what she needed from me, knowing it would only end in disaster.
Her soft lips brushed against mine, tentatively. Hesitant. I nearly came in my pants at contact. Her wet eyes met mine, searching, pleading, desperately begging for me to take what she was so eager to give.
I couldn’t refuse her.
She was hardwired into my brain.
Branded into my soul.
I could never deny her a thing. To do so would be akin to cutting out my own heart. I was forevermore her servant, in this life and the next. There was no mistake about it. I was done for with this woman.
Tightening my grip on the back of her neck I pulled her against me with a desperation I didn’t know existed. My mouth slanted over hers in a crushing kiss, stealing my breath.
Fight Like A Girl Page 8