A loud bang wakes me from my deep slumber. I hear Fuego and Snake argue about who has to come in here. The faint smell of sage alerts me to the presence of my grandmother. With great effort, I roll over from my side to see her saging my house, casting away the negative energies. My mom mutters something about Kilo.
Cringing, I weakly call, “I’m going to the bathroom. It’s safe to enter the crazy ladies’ room. Or not. Whatever.” Clicking the door shut, I clench my eyes, not wanting to find the used bloody pads of the aftermath. My body trembles as I feel my way to the toilet.
Dropping my sweats, I go about my business quickly. I stub my toe when I stand, and I break. The tears break me in half as they rip through my soul and leak out. I fall to the floor and sob into my hands like a broken mess. It feels as if my ribs are breaking with each inhale. My throat is raw and my eyes burn.
“Why,” I rasp.
“Mijita.” My uncle Fuego stands at the door. He sweeps me up from the floor and carries me to the living room. He holds me like a father would a child, shushing me to calm down. “Jazzy, mijita preciosa, it will all be okay.”
I cry, “I can’t… see what is in the bathroom. The blood…” I choke, “I miss her, tío. I miss my dad.” He holds me tighter and doesn’t let me go.
“I’m here, baby girl. Always. I’m not your dad, but I will protect you always. I miss him too. Mi hermano will watch your bebé. I swear it, mija.” I can hear his teeth clench as his jaw grinds. “What did you name her, mija?”
It’s hard to catch my breath or say the words. It feels like an anaconda is tight around my throat. “Angel,” I croak. “Ella es mi ángel, she is my angel.” The burn is an inferno.
“Sí. Ella es mi ángel también. Ella es un ángel para siempre.”
My mom sobs and kneels at our feet. “She is all of our Angel, forever.”
The exhaustion swept me under again. When I awaken, Abuela is in the kitchen cooking. The fresh smell of food is inviting. I found a painting next to the candles on the fireplace. Next to it, Abuela placed the photos from my room of my abuelo and my dad.
The painting draws me near. It is a gray heart that morphs into color with a single black bird. My mom, she painted my heart, hurt and bruised to healed and living with her as my black bird. My hand sweeps over the brush strokes, and I close my eyes to pray.
“Take care of my Angel, Dad and Abuelo. Love her until I can see her again.” Warm hands touch my shoulders. Abuela’s healing touch encourages me to continue. “I miss her with everything that I am and could have been. I’m so fucking angry at you for leaving us here alone. I’m so mad life has been so hard.”
I yell and scream all my regrets and pull the ripcord to jump into the deepest parts of myself, the frightened parts I’ve hidden from myself and protected. The little girl who’s scared. She claws her way out. This has to be the bottom because there is nowhere else to go from here. I’m not sure if love heals, more like it crucifies your soul.
For days, my mom and Abuela took care of me. For days, I felt as if life had pulled the trigger on me, blowing away my life and faith with it. They let me zone out and mourn the loss I feel that has ripped my heart out and burned any hope I had to the ground. “Mija, I packed your bag. Take some time in la casa de tu mamá. Go see the sun. Maybe it will help, but you need to leave for a little bit.” Abuela and my mom helped me to the car.
It’s all a blur, but I fold and do as they say, a silent passenger at their will. Memories flash by like the mile markers, and all of them sting. At my mom’s, I find the couch and curl up, grateful they had me leave because here, nothing taints it. My fingers tap on my side. Emotions pull at me from all angles. I refuse to talk about what happened and find what I can say. Ripping through the pain, I bleed out the words a young girl couldn’t have expressed. “I lost him.”
Mom’s head whips up from her book, shocked by my words. My heart bleeds and with it the truth wants to be free. “He died, Mom, before I ever had a chance to really know him. Dad. I would come home from school and think that I couldn’t wait for him to come home, only to remember that he was never coming home to me.”
Her chin wobbles, and she sets her book down. “What else, love?”
My breathing stutters. “He’ll never see any of my kids and they won't have their grandfather. I’ll never feel his arms around me. I want so badly to talk to him again. I fucking miss my dad.”
She wasn’t ready for those words, and neither was I. Wrapping me in her arms, she held her breath. “I… I thought… I was past what happened before, or as best as a young girl that lost her father could be.” What I didn’t realize was that the past can always come back through open wounds and strike when you aren’t ready. Losing my Angel has only brought the loss of my father bleeding out from where I’ve had it buried. That is what happened to me.
“I miss my husband. He was a great man and I’m sad he’ll never see the woman you are. Sometimes, we have to fix what happened before to move forward.” She exhales, choking on the regret that fate dealt us. “How do you know it was a girl?”
“I just… it feels strange, but I just know. Her body was a part of me. I could tell because her little soul spoke to me in ways I will never understand.” Of all the things in the universe that goes unanswered, this one is not. What hurts most is the why. Why couldn’t she be with me here?
Eventually, Mom and I got up off that couch. Emotionally drained, we didn’t leave the house for two days. We painted together. Hers were light and beautiful paintings, mine were dark and mystically haunting.
“Let them go, Jazzy. Don’t see them in the darkness of your heart. See them together in the brightness of your dreams. Name your baby and give her to your father to care for.” She smiles and her lips tremble through the heartache. “Your dad always wanted another girl. A grandbaby even better. He will protect her, and we’ll see them again. All of us together.”
“I’m not ready.” My voice is flat. The doctor warned me my hormones could make this process harder on me, the miscarriage wreaking havoc on my body. What they didn’t tell me was the crippling pain and darkness would shadow over me.
She holds me close and gently whispers, “You need to tell him the truth.” Her request is clear. Face Spider and tell him he lost a daughter. No way in hell will I do that.
Chapter 13
Spider
Silence.
I thought that I wanted to be left alone with less complications. We’ve been at a standstill as we prepare for the war with the Cartel. I needed the quiet so I could concentrate. What I didn’t see coming was the silence. It was more distracting than I anticipated. It turned me into a stalker. I’ve been keeping tabs on my work, but I never let Jazz go. What surprised me the most was that it seems she and Kilo are over. I can’t dig too much without creating questions from the brothers, but was I wrong?
I expected a huge scene or a call I could ignore where she would tell me how much I pissed her off. What she did was what I should have done—ignored that she ever existed and not sent her that call. She would have never known that she got to me. Somewhere between the drinking, drugs, and stress, I lost my way and my ever-loving mind. I haven’t drank and lost control like that in months. That was my wake-up call. The aftermath was a sign of how derailed I was.
I buckled in and got my shit together. No more drugs and drinking like I was before. The stress, I haven't been able to take. My head constantly hurts, and my nerves are on edge. It’s been months since I’ve been in the same room with Jazz. My thoughts are a scrambled mess of her and my responsibilities. The juggling act between the two is tearing me apart, but I hold it all in. No one can know, especially her.
Rubbing my face, I try to relax and push the doubt away. The gut feeling that I’m wrong about Jazz gnaws at me. I can’t doubt myself, so I push on. Sipping the black coffee, I watched an old feed that I found of Kat with her husband Matias, the king of the Cartel and our problems. His face is dark and foreboding. Looking on
this side of the feed, you would believe that they make a perfect couple, seeing the small caress at her back. In his own way, he does adore her. What you don't see easily is the slight straightening of her spine and the forced smile she gives to him before looking away from his business associates.
Hours pass and I scan the faces of the men on tape, searching for one that could lead to any clues of who they are working with in the States. After meeting Kat in the club here, I even searched the females that are on the tapes. Nothing comes up. If she is setting us up, we would be sitting ducks waiting to catch lead in our backs.
My stomach growls and my stiff body demands that I stretch and find some food. In the kitchen I hear the chatter from the women absently talking about a person, until a name mentioned forces my hands to stop the movement of making a sandwich.
“I don’t know what is going on. Since Jazz opened her shop, she’s pushed everyone away, Snake included,” Vegas tells the group of Kat, Jenn, and Dana. She pushes her Chinese takeout around before finishing, “Snake said Gringo made a pass for her, and she told him to get lost, that she hasn’t been dating for months, and doesn’t have time for a man.”
“What about Kilo?” Dana inquires. “They’ve been off and on for years.”
“He’s moved on finally. Jazzy told him right after her last visit that they were done. Abuela said she is well, but she worries if Kilo is really done.”
“What do you mean? Abuela is worried about what?” Kat is cautious in her questioning.
Taking my sandwich, I sit away from the girls and pretend to stare at my plate, not interested in any conversation about their gossip, but my ears are on high alert. Every word is not enough. Slowly, I chew each bite and remind myself to keep my mouth shut and not demand answers.
Vegas clears her throat. “Kilo can be an angry bastard. He’s always loved Jazz in his own way. She could settle him down, and with the distance she allowed him in their relationship, it worked. Until recently, when Jazz cut him off. He’s angry at the club and has been arrested for assault charges for fighting in a bar.”
“But,” Dana adds in, “he’s never hurt her. It’s complicated, those two. He probably doesn’t know how to deal with it.”
“Hmm,” Kat hums, clearly disagreeing with Dana. She would know firsthand what that kind of temper from a man could be like. My insides boil with red hot rage. I don’t know if I’m angrier at myself for going off on her or at that motherfucker Kilo. Something is off, none of what has happened adds up.
My head is pulled in two directions as I try to make sense of the timelines and the phone calls. When we were together and what was between us, I thought she was like the other women who go after brothers. I thought she was playing games with me to get back at her man. If they weren’t together, then why did I get that call from her?
“She’ll be here later tonight though,” Jenn states. “Let’s check in with her before we jump into anything. She’s been busy with her new shop and is worn out. I’ll ask if she needs help with anything in Sac.”
The conversation takes a turn and I rise from my seat. Kat discretely turns and watches my movement out of the corner of her eye. She watched me the entire time. Doesn’t mean I’m pouring my feelings out or any information. I shut it down and ignore the draw I have to Jazzy. She’ll get us all killed if I can’t do my job.
In my office, I push it all away. My job and the security of my brothers and their families are my priority. I document every move I can find of the Cartel and share the information with my Prez. Blade sits in my office and contemplates the information I just dropped in his lap. His eyes mirror my own with the same deep, dark circles of missed sleep, except he has twins at home to help take care of and this club. The man is relentless for us to end this. He powers through and I respect that.
“Spider,” he barks, “you need to step away from everything once in a while. You can’t do this twenty-four-seven. We have your back too. Kat is helping, and we work as a team.”
“I’m okay, don’t worry about it.” I bite his head off. Maybe he is right, but I can’t bring myself to admit it.
“Are you okay?” He leans forward, not at all fazed or surprised. “You can’t fool me. Maybe the others, but not me. Go to the Black Rose and the shop to check the security guys are following protocol. Get the fuck out of this office and take a ride.” He’s up and out before I can mutter a word back. Blade ordered me out of the office with no arguments.
Begrudgingly, I straddle my bike and place my shades on before I crank my ride. The fresh air fills my lungs, and the sun feels hot against my skin. I take a side road that increases the time it takes for me to get to the bar and shop. Blade was right—without the screen in front of me, I was able to concentrate more and think without the added interruptions.
At the Black Rose, the security team does their checks for ID’s at the door. Overall, they do everything as they are supposed to, and the shop next door is running perfectly. I keep to myself mostly, sipping on a draft beer. A woman slides into the seat next to me, Kat.
“You’re wrong about her, you know.” Slowly, she turns and watches closely for my reaction to her statement. “She is loyal. The work we do, we are always looking for an angle or betrayal. We find the lies and kill them before they can hurt us or the people we care for.”
I grunt at her words, because she’s right, we always are looking for the bad and expecting the worst. Kat reaches for a bottle of beer behind the counter and slides back into her stool. Quietly, she sips her beer and watches the crowd. Over her shoulder, a black sports car parks in a space in front of the tattoo shop. My heart wildly pounds in my chest.
Jazzy swings one tan leg from her car, then the other. The wind’s strong gusts pick up her hair, flapping it around in the wind like a flag. The deep purple tones distract me from the world that feels like it’s spinning out of control around me. She makes the world seem still but at the same time wild and chaotic. Why can’t she let me go?
“Just a thought, maybe ask her why.”
“Why what?”
Kat’s eyes gleam. “Whatever the answer you are searching for resides in her head, not on a computer.”
“You’re full of shit, Kat. Have you talked with Tank? Told him about all your secrets?”
She leans in closer and growls, “You don’t deserve those answers, and when I can, I will share. With Tank. The difference between you and I is night and day. I want to tell him, I just can’t. Not yet. You can talk to her, yet you choose not to. You choose to weave a web of destruction for all the wrong reasons. The same things I would bet you accuse her of.”
Her accusations are venom that fills my veins with poison. Am I as bad as she says I am? Too stubborn to admit defeat, I wait for her to leave before I get up from my spot. My head is filled with possibilities I don’t want to confirm. Was I wrong?
I aim to get to my bike and get out of here as fast as possible, and hopefully without being seen. The door to the shop swishes open and shut. Her voice travels and filters into my head. Laughter and happiness. Through the large windows, I can see Cowboy crowding her while she sets up. His easy demeanor is typically devoured by women, but Jazzy only gives him polite smiles and attention.
Turning my feet, I take one step, but what I didn't expect was that I couldn’t give her easy. I can’t ignore the pain in my chest that morphs into jealousy and anger. I can’t ignore the pull she has on me. With a change of course, I’m through the front doors. I stand with arms crossed over my chest and my feet spread wide. “Get out,” I seethe at Cowboy. I hear the supplies in her hands clank against the metal table.
He leans in closer to her. “Got things to take care of, babe.” Cowboy nods his hat at me and is out the door I just came through.
Jazzy raises a brow. “You can leave, too.” She ignores the storm brewing in the room. In fact, her dismissal further pisses me the fuck off.
I want it all. I want to know why she doesn’t give a fuck about the call I sent
her and why she is pushing me away now. All of my frustration, whether it is her fault or not, spurs me on. Charging forward, I force her up against the wall at her back. My hand lands above her head, slamming against the wall.
Snarling, I ask, “Already finding the next man to play games with?” My nose runs over the shell of her ear. The scent of her fills some desperate hole I was trying to hide.
“I don’t need anyone, Spider, not even you.” Her response is short and clipped.
A small chuckle escapes my chest. “That’s not what I remember you saying to me.” I back up just enough to see the fire in her eyes. What shocks me is the pain I can also see.
“What you remember is the physical need between two people. I can stand on my own, that I never gave to you.”
“You want a bad guy like all those other girls,” I snarl, leaning in close. “One you can tame to be a good boy and train to sit on command. But what you really want is the illusion of it. You really want me to take care of you, pull your hair, slap your ass, fill your pussy and your heart with me.” My fingers itch to take her, feel her, and taste her again. I want to entice her back into my bed and start over, as if what happened before never existed.
She exhales a long breath, her head turning just a touch to face me. Jazzy scowls at me in a challenge that excites and tests me, pumping life into the corpse I’ve been. She grabs my cut and stands up on her toes to whisper, “I won't lose myself to have you. I don’t need your cock to fill my pussy, or your half-assed attempt to mend things between us. We are done.” Her hands snap away, letting me go.
As I carefully back away from Jazz, I can see Tami and Solo in my peripheral. The anger I feel is blinding. I don’t remember if Tami or Solo said anything to me as I left or when they even got there. All I do know is Jazzy and I are over.
Chapter 14
About one year later…
Claiming His Forever (Battle Born MC Book 8) Page 8