Mack showed up, but instead of scolding me for fighting, he pulled me aside and told me that fighting shouldn’t be the answer to every problem—that there was a time and place for it—he told me there are extenuating circumstances, that every man had to man up and never back down. This just happened to be one of those times. Honor and respect. He told me that he was proud I stood up for what I believed in and who I cared about. It was never wrong to stand up for family. He taught me that. No matter what the reason, if it involves your family, whether they are blood or not, you fight.
After that day, no one bothered me or even spoke to me, which was good. I just needed to get through that month. I knew I was going to leave that town soon; I just didn’t know where I was going to go. Did I take Mack up on his offer and follow him to California? Shit, that’s where I wanted to go when my dad was still alive, anyway. But sometimes when I thought about it, it felt wrong to go there with him. That was our plan, and without him, it just didn’t seem right to go if he wasn’t going to be there too. I figured I would wait until the time came to make that decision. I just wanted to take one day at a time.
Then, finally, graduation came. Mack and a few of his biker brothers showed up to show support, but I was too clouded with rage and, I can admit now, sadness over my father’s death. Mack wanted to take me out to eat to celebrate, but I didn’t want anything to do with that. I just wanted him to take me to where he was holding the man that stole my dad from me. Clyde was his name.
Mack never once told me where they were holding Clyde, fearing that I would sneak out and kill him before I graduated. I probably would have done that too if I’d known where he was. Though maybe a part of me would have held me back. My dad always taught me to honor and keep my word. It would have been like spitting on his non-existent grave to go back on what I told Mack.
So when Mack started driving toward my house, I instantly became angry, thinking he wasn’t going to hold up his end of the deal.
I started yelling at him and told him to pull over. I’m not proud of this, but when he did, I wanted to kill him. Here I did everything he asked me to do, upheld every part of my end, was honorable, but he was keeping me from doing what was promised to me. What was my right to see through to the very end.
When we both got out and he met me in the front of the truck, I swung. I started screaming at him and hitting him over and over. But let me tell you this, Mack is one tough sonofabitch. He never once wavered, never once lashed out, and never once yelled back. He just let me pound on him, let me blame him for everything and everyone that wronged me.
When I was exhausted and completely drained, he just stood there and waited. And when I finally calmed down, he took me in a hug and told me that he was there for me and that everything would be all right. Then he released me and got back in the truck and waited for me to follow.
Back on the road again, he drove us two blocks away from my house to what looked to be an abandoned house. I followed him inside and down into the basement. There, sitting chained to the wall, was the man that killed my father.
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I open my eyes and see that it’s 3:03 in the morning. Knowing I won’t get any more sleep, I get up and head downstairs to the kitchen to start some coffee. Today is going to be a long-ass day.
***
Two hours later, I’ve had a full workout in the club gym and have had more coffee than I can stand. Not able to be here with my thoughts any longer, I decide to head into the shop and get some sketching done. I only have a few appointments today, but I do have a client that wants to add to his back piece, so I can start working on that for him.
When I step outside, I see Mack standing by my bike. Not sure why he’s out there waiting for me, I head over.
“I thought old men like you needed their beauty sleep,” I say as a way of greeting.
There’s something on his mind, though I can’t tell if it’s club business or not, but I know it’s not going to be something I like.
“Just spit it out already,” I say without looking at him. I just want to get this over with so I can get to the shop. I’m itching to get away and hole up in my room at Sinners Ink. Tattooing has turned into a form of therapy for me. I feel calmer when I’m sketching or when I have that tattoo gun on someone’s skin.
Letting out a long sigh, he turns toward me.
I don’t know how he does it, but with that one sigh I feel like I’ve disappointed him or let him down. I have a feeling I know why he’s out here waiting for me. Things have been really tense the last few years, more so than usual. With the whole Dani and me thing, then Blaze coming around and finding out that him and Dani had a thing, then her getting kidnapped, then everything that went down with Harlow and me, Toby falling in love with Sara and the whirlwind of her past coming back to bite us all in the ass, Dani’s pregnancy scare and then the twins. Add that all on top of the fact that I can’t stop thinking about Harlow or wondering if she’ll ever come back—I’ve been an ass lately—snapping at my brothers, quick to using my fists to solve everything, and letting things slip past me.
In the last two months, I’ve felt the monster inside start to take over. Maybe even more than when my father was murdered. Everything is falling apart, including me. I’m actually surprised he’s waited this long to call me out. I need to get my shit together, if not for me and my club, then for the man that took me in and treated me like his own flesh and blood.
“Sometimes I feel like I failed you, Holden.” Hearing my given name, I’m instantly on alert and know I’ve fucked up. Mack hasn’t called me by my real name since before I patched into the club. After I walked into that basement, my fate was sealed and my name was always Louie to anyone that mattered, though only Mack knows why or how I got that name.
I don’t know how to respond to his comment so I just wait him out. Maybe I should tell him I’m sorry and that I’ll do better, that I won’t let him down again. But I don’t. I stay quiet because I have no idea where he’s going with this conversation or how he thinks he failed me, but I don’t need to wait long.
“Maybe I was wrong. I never should have made that deal with you. I should have just told you that I would take care of it and been there for you. I don’t regret asking you to come back with me or you joining the club, but maybe I should have done more to shelter you. You were so young. You never should have been faced with what you had to face or choose to take someone’s life or not. Now, every day, I watch you drown in your pain and anger. I know you have trouble sleeping—I don’t know if it’s nightmares or what, but I know you struggle. And I guess I just feel that there was something I could have done different to make your life better.”
Hearing the pain and regret in his voice guts me. After Mack took me in that basement and watched me torture and kill Clyde, we never once talked about that night—not like I probably would have, anyway.
Then, the next morning, I woke up and knew I had to go with him. It felt right packing up what little I had and following Mack to California. And I haven’t regretted that decision once. I don’t even regret taking that man’s life, he deserved what he got. But maybe we should have talked before now. I hate that Mack feels this way. He was like a second father to me, he was always there when I needed him.
Taking a deep breath before letting it out, I turn to face him. “I know we’ve never really talked about it and I never said anything, but I appreciate everything you have done for me—including giving me the choice and chance to do what I needed to do. Do I have trouble sleeping? Yes. I’m not gonna lie, but it has nothing to do with what I did or the deal you made with me. I don’t have nightmares and I don’t regret anything—especially not following you back here or joining the club. I don’t know why I don’t sleep right, but I want you to know, it’s not because of anything you did or didn’t do.”
I take a break to catch my breath and gather the rest of my thoughts. It’s not easy talking about this, but I know Mack needs to hear it, maybe as m
uch as I need to say it.
Mack opens his mouth to say something, but I can’t let him—not yet. Holding up my hand, I motion for him to stop. “Just let me finish. I need to get this out.”
I wait until he nods.
“I never had a lot in my life. I had my dad and the things we used to do together—or more of what we talked about doing together, but they were good memories all the same. Granted, not all of them were good, but I thank God every day that I had him in my life for eighteen years. I wish I had even one more day with him, but that’s not the hand that was dealt to me, and I understand that and am as okay with it as I can be. But the things you did for me—I gotta tell you, man, those are things I am truly thankful for. You didn’t have to stop me from killing that fucker in the alley. You didn’t have to listen to a pissed off, vengeful teen. And you sure as fuck didn’t have to stick around and make sure I didn’t fuck my life up. But you did. You gave me something to look forward to, something to work toward. Sure, it’s not what most people would do, but it was exactly what I needed. It’s not about right or wrong in others’ eyes, it’s about what you did right for me. I’ll admit, I still think about that night and the things I did to that guy, but I will never regret it or think poorly of what you offered. Never. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is this—I’m good. I may have problems, but who the fuck doesn’t these days? I’m alive, I’m living the life I want, and I’m surrounded by those that would lay their life down for me and vice versa. I don’t say it enough, but I love you, man. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. For being there when you didn’t have to be.”
He’s not looking at me, but I can tell my words have struck a chord with him—they hit him deep. We aren’t ones to voice our feelings a lot, but when we do, that shit’s deep.
Finally, Mack composes himself enough to look at me and speak.
“I hear ya. I’m not saying that I still think it’s okay or that I didn’t fuck up, but as long as you’re all right, that’s all I can ask for. You let me know if you ever need to talk though, don’t hold that shit inside, ya hear? I don’t ever want to see that look in your eye like I did that night. It’s come close a few times and I see it getting close now, so if you need something or need to talk, find me. I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing.”
I just nod and slap him on the back. “I hear ya. Now go back to bed, ya old bastard.” I end on a laugh, and duck when he moves to slap me upside the head.
As he walks back inside, I can hear him mumble something that sounds like “fucker.”
Getting on my bike, I take a deep breath and let it all out. I actually feel pretty good after that talk with Mack. Granted, if anyone finds out about our heart to heart, we’ll both never hear the end of the pussy jokes, but I’m glad we finally cleared the air. We should have done that a long time ago.
On the drive to the shop, I think about that night one more time to try and make peace with what happened and what I did—put it all behind me once and for all. I think about seeing the man that killed my dad chained and gagged in that basement. I think of the rage and demonic out of body experience I had. I think about all the things I did to him to force him to feel physically half the pain I felt emotionally from the loss of my father. I think about how he begged for his life and wondered if my father pleaded for his life too. And I think about what I felt when I finally ended his sorry excuse for a life.
I still feel like it wasn’t actually me that did all of those things—even though I know it was and I’m fucking happy that I did, don’t get me wrong. But from the moment I found out about my dad’s death, it was like I was no longer me, I was no longer Holden. And I suppose that’s the truth in a sense. Holden died the same night my father did, and in his is place Louie was born. I may not be what others think of as righteous or even good man, but I know deep down in my black soul that my father is looking down on me and is proud of the man I’ve become. And I’m happy with the man I’m become…mostly.
Pulling up outside of Sinners Ink, I feel better than I have in a long time. I feel free. There are still things missing and things that piss me off, but I feel good.
I park my bike and take my key out to unlock the door, but as I get ready to insert it, I see someone inside, sitting at the front desk. What the fuck?
Pulling my pistol out from behind my back, I quietly open the door. Once I’m inside, I point my gun at the intruder, then close and lock the door behind me. The noise alerts the guy to my presence, but there’s nowhere for him to go. He’s a fucking dead man.
“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?” I ask in a voice that leaves no room for questions.
He doesn’t try to move or answer me. Losing all patience, I walk closer. The motherfucker better start talking soon before I just decide to shoot him instead of giving him a chance to explain himself.
I make it halfway across the room before the guy finally snaps out of it and tries to get up and flee. I take two quick steps to cut him off, but he just as quickly turns to move the other way. I reach out and wrap my arm around his throat and hold the gun to his head. Being this close to him, I notice how small he is. He’s just a fucking kid!
“I’m only gonna ask you one more time. Kid or not, I’ll put a fucking bullet in you. Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” I growl.
I don’t expect the answer I get. “It’s me, Louie.” I’m so shocked that I instantly drop my arms and step back.
It can’t be.
I must be fucking hallucinating, but then she turns around and I can see her face. Either both my eyes and ears are deceiving me, or it’s really her.
“Harlow?”
Chapter 4
Harlow
Being back in this shop and staring at Louie again after two years away has me thinking two different things at the same time—why the fuck did I come back and why the fuck didn’t I come back sooner? They are both playing front and center in my mind and I have no idea which one will win in the end. Was it a mistake to be gone this long or was it a mistake to come back?
For the past two years, I have been drifting. I’ve been nowhere and everywhere at the same time and I’m so fucking tired. Tired of running, tired of the pain, tired of the anger, but mostly, I think I’m tired of being lonely. But at the same time, I’m not ready to let anyone else in, either. Letting people in only opens the door to more pain.
I honestly don’t even know why I came back. Though I guess when I really think about where I’ve been, it’s like my subconscious always knew where I’d end up. It’s like it has been driving me here from the very start—starting in North Carolina, heading down to Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nevada, and now California. I’ve actually only been about two hours away from here for the past few months. I knew it, but I guess I just wasn’t ready to face what I left behind. I’m still not, so what the fuck am I doing?
“Harlow? Is that you?” Louie asks in disbelief, like he can’t even fathom that I’d come back, like he doesn’t think I belong here.
“No, it’s the fucking tooth fairy,” I say, deadpan.
Fuck, why did I think coming back here would be a good idea? Oh wait, I didn’t. No, that was my fucked up brain telling me to come here, and for what? To be questioned and judged? I don’t think so.
Turning around on my heel, I head for the door, but only make it a few steps before Louie grabs me by the arm. It’s tight enough that I can feel just a small bite of pain, but it’s not bruising.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?” Louie growls angrily.
I turn around sharply while ripping my arm free at the same time. “I’m leaving. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You’re not going any-fucking-where!” he roars.
Before I can respond, I hear the bell over the shop door ring. Louie and I both turn around to and see Dani standing there, staring at us both in shock.
After a few silent moments, she whispers in disbel
ief, “Harlow?”
Not again. Ugh, is it really that big of a shocker that I’m here? I mean, really! So what if I’ve been gone for two years without calling or even so much as writing? That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t ever planning on coming back. Well, that might be a half-lie.
When she realizes I’m not going to answer her, or maybe she didn’t want me to answer anyway, Dani rushes toward me and takes me in her arms in a tight hug.
“Oh my God. Harlow! I’ve missed you so much. Where have you been? When did you get back? Are you okay?” she fires question after question. If it were any other situation, I would laugh at the comical look on her face and the way her eyes are almost popping out of her head.
Letting out a deep breath, I reply, “I just got into town about a half hour ago. I still had my key from when I worked here, so I thought I’d stop by to say hi before I left town again. But if I would have known dumbass over there was going to manhandle me, I wouldn’t have even bothered.” I sneer toward Louie.
“The fuck you say?” Louie bristles.
“Are you deaf or just stupid? I said I stopped by—” but I don’t get anything else out before Louie interrupts me.
“I heard what you said the first time. But you are sadly fucking mistaken if you think you’re leaving,” he says in a voice that should warn me against arguing further, but what can I say? I have no filter and my give-a-damn button is broken.
“So stupid it is then. Well, Mr. You’re Not Going Anywhere, I’ve got news for you. Last time I checked, you ain’t my daddy and you ain’t my old man, so I don’t know where you come off thinking you can tell me what to do, but you’re dead wrong.”
Defying Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC #3) Page 4