“Can’t fight City Hall, Parrish. He’s not a boy anymore and it’s time I accept that.”
“There are worse things to have to accept,” he says. I don’t need for him to elaborate to know he’s referring to all the things he’s been forced to accept.
The death of his son.
An uncontrollable illness.
The end of his run.
“You went over my head,” he says. “Took matters with the Devil’s Cross into your own hands.”
“Parrish—”
“I ain’t giving you shit for it,” he interrupts. “Part of me is grateful.”
“And the other part?”
“The other part knows a father’s love has no bounds.”
It’s hard to believe the man is losing his mind when something so profound comes out of his mouth and it leaves me questioning my stand on the matter.
“I’m sorry about Maria,” he says, breaking the beat of silence. “I would’ve expressed that sooner but—”
“There is nothing to be sorry for,” I interject, snapping my attention back to him. “She’s going to beat it.”
“Of course she is,” he says, turning his eyes to me. “But no one wants cancer, Wolf and no man wants to watch his woman have to battle it either. Like you know me, I know you. I ain’t that far gone that I can’t recognize when a brother is bleeding internally. I just want to make it clear, we got you. Anything you need, anything she needs, say the word.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I set the coffee mug on the step and hang my head.
“There is something.”
“Lay it on me, brother.”
“I need you to give me back my patch and to call off the deal with the cartel,” I say hoarsely, lifting my head. As I swallow the lump in my throat, I turn to him and watch his eyes narrow into tiny slits. “It’s a suicide mission, Parrish.”
“You want your patch back,” he reiterates.
“Yeah, the sooner the better.”
He stares at me for a beat, silently morphing into the deranged bulldog before my very eyes as he reaches into his cut and produces my patch. Tossing it like it’s a fucking cigarette butt, he rises to his feet.
“You can have your fucking patch but the deal with the cartel is none of your business,” he barks.
Lifting myself off the stoop, I run my fingers roughly through my hair. I should’ve known I wouldn’t get through to him, that he’d be on the defensive. I thought if it was just the two of us, brother to brother, he’d be more inclined to hear me out and wouldn’t think I was attacking him. I was fucking wrong and now I needed to rip the Band-Aid off the deep wound.
“If this meeting happens you’re putting every man with a patch in an early grave, Jack. It’s bad enough we’re all scrambling to clean up the mess you made with the paramedic.”
“The fuck you talking about, Wolf,” he growls. “I handled the paramedic.”
“Yeah? Have you checked into the safe house? The fucking girl hung herself, Parrish.”
His face falls as he processes the revelation and he roughly scratches at his jaw.
“We gotta get her out of there,” he says.
“Bianci already took care of it but, there is still a chance this can all bite us in the ass. The cops ain’t going to let up until they find a body and they’re not sold on your Yankovich story either. You got heat coming at you in every direction and you want to go fucking sell guns to a bunch of Mexican gunslingers.”
“I won’t go back on my word, Wolf. I swore to Bas I’d make his girl and her boy safe. If meeting with the cartel is how it gets done, then so be it.”
“Yeah, well, I gave my word too. A long time ago, I vowed to tell you when to step down and like you’re a man of your word, so am I.”
“Step down,” he repeats. “You son of a bitch. Who do you think you’re talking to?’
“My brother,” I growl. “My sick brother.”
“Don’t do that Wolf,” he warns, pointing a finger in my face. “Don’t use the crazy against me.”
“Parrish, we can’t go on like this. You’re gonna send us all up the river and I know that’s not your intention. I know with every fucking fiber in my body, you want to hold onto this thing we got but, you need to listen to me. You’re slipping man and before you leave your daughter without a father and without a husband, you gotta take a step back.”
“You leave my daughter out of it, Wolf, or so help me God, I’ll fucking shoot you.”
“Call off the meeting, Parrish,” I demand. “We’ll find another way to keep Bas’ woman safe.”
“Don’t you think if there was another fucking way, I would’ve done it. I’m the motherfucker selling my soul and going against everything I believe in. I’m throwing away everything I built for the sake of brotherhood. Me, Wolf, I’m the one who built this fucking club. I made it something when it was nothing and I made you all fucking family. Don’t you ever forget that. As long as you fucking live, don’t you forget who made you all property of Parrish.”
“Property of Parrish,” I say. “What does it mean?
“It means you got a place in this cold world. You got family that will die for you. People who will lay their beliefs on the line and sacrifice their own happiness to protect yours. Property of Parrish is more than a claim. It’s more than brotherhood. It’s a way of life for us and when my body is cold and, in the dirt, it’s going to live on. It’s going to live on in Lacey and Danny. It’s going to live on in Reina and it’s going to fucking live on in you.”
His voice cracks as he looks away and takes a step back.
“Consider your message received,” he mutters.
“Jack—”
“I’m not ready to turn in the towel, Wolf. I’m going to see this thing with the cartel through and then we will revisit this conversation. You got a problem with that, save it for church,” he growls, starting down the steps. He makes it down two before he turns back to me. “And when I’m done, make no mistake about it, Blackie’s the one that gets the gavel.”
If only he knew his mental instability and his precious gavel was the cause of Blackie succumbing to his addictions.
If only he knew being property of Parrish also meant bearing the burdens of those who can’t help themselves.
If only he knew that he too was someone’s property.
If only he knew he was mine.
My burden.
My cross.
My brother.
Chapter Thirty-two
Al didn’t have to say a word for me to know things didn’t go as expected with Jack, it was written all over his face. I knew there was nothing I could say or do that would mend the rift between the two men and instead of nagging him to share his frustrations, I decided to take his mind off things.
After all, I’m the queen of distractions.
Lauren and Riggs left the boys with us and Al and I took them to the Staten Island Zoo. There is no better therapy than the kind found in the curious minds of two wild little boys. By the time night rolled around, we took the boys home and Al seemed more at ease. It became clear spending time with family and making memories was the cure to heal all and so, the days that followed were spent doing just that. There was no talk of him taking the gavel or any mention of the club for that matter. Doom still lurked but with the mastectomy on the horizon, we made a pact to keep Satan’s demons at bay.
Now, it was the evening before my surgery and I couldn’t sleep. Since the diagnosis, I’ve been so occupied with my kids and Al that I haven’t allowed myself a chance to grieve. I know what you’re thinking—she’s not dead, how can she be grieving. You’re right, I’m not dead but I am in mourning.
A loss is still a loss and I’m losing a piece of my anatomy.
After tomorrow, I’ll be a changed woman. A woman who will stuff her bra until she gets implants. A woman who will never feel the sensation in her breasts again. A woman who will have to undress in front of her man and turn her back because she ca
n’t bear to have him see her in such a state.
The world calls us survivors.
They say we’re strong, wear pink and come up with clever slogans like, fight like a girl.
The world isn’t there the night before your surgery.
They’re not there when you’re alone in the bathroom, peeling off your dressing and staring at your body.
You can have all the support in the world, the love of a good man and children who adore you and you will still feel alone.
You will still feel sorry for yourself.
You will still wonder why.
You will still question your faith and your decisions.
“Lady,” Al murmurs next to me. “You’re crying.”
You will cry.
You will grieve.
Brushing my tears away with the backs of my hands, I turn to him. His handsome face is etched with concern and my heart swells at the sight. All you young girls reading this story, I want you to pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you. One day you’re going to come across a man who will worship the ground you walk on. It might not happen when you’re in your twenties or even in your thirties. Maybe he’ll come to you in your forties like mine came to me. The point is, don’t spend your life worrying about whether you’ll find him. You will. He’ll come storming into your life when you need him most and he will cherish you.
Be patient.
Enjoy life and stop wasting your dreams on half-assed men who aren’t worth your time.
Remember every woman deserves a man who will kiss her like he means it and hold her like it’ll kill him if he lets go.
Not every man is a cheat and they all don’t lie.
There’s a man waiting to wipe the tears caused by the men who came before him. He’ll be your strength when yours falters and he’ll stand tall when life throws you a curve ball. A man who will proudly tell the whole world you are his.
His survivor.
His love.
His everything.
He’ll love you like you’ve never been loved before and will show you every single day. It’ll be in his touch and the way he looks at you.
“Maria—”
Lifting my finger to his lips, I silence him.
It’s my turn.
My moment.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I should’ve said it when you did but—”
“You mean it?”
“Of course, I mean it. You’re the best surprise of my life.”
“Then it doesn’t matter when you said it,” he rasps, pulling me into his arms. “C’mere, Lady,” he murmurs, enveloping me in his strong embrace. “I love you too.”
“I know,”
Oh, and ladies, one more thing—
Hold on tight.
Hold on with all you got because like you’re worthy, so is he.
Chapter Thirty-three
With neither of us able to get much sleep, we were up and out of the house before the sun came up. Maria was due at the hospital at eight o’clock and we were told the surgery wouldn’t start until ten. Since we had a little time to kill before her kids got there, we took a walk. Hand in hand, we were an odd pair. Maria was dressed to the nines, and I sported a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pairing it with my leather vest.
After Jack gave me back my patch, I put my cut back on. I didn’t ride much because the club seemed to be at a standstill. Not that I was complaining, the longer the devil stayed sleeping, the more time I got to spend with Maria. The plan was to get through the surgery and deal with the consequences of Jack’s insanity when Maria was on the mend.
I should’ve known better than to plan.
I should’ve known the Satan’s Knights don’t stand still for no one.
On our way back to the hospital, my phone rang. A second later Maria’s rang too. Lightning crackled in the distance as the storm began to roll in.
Apparently, Riggs was calling me to inform me the deal with the cartel had gone down yesterday. He didn’t give me a chance to ask him why I wasn’t informed and went on to tell me frantically that he was not going to make it to the hospital in time for the surgery. On the other line, Lauren cried to her mother, telling her Riggs hadn’t come home last night.
Taking the phone out of Maria’s hand, I calmed Lauren down and assured her Riggs was fine. I went as far as to tell her; I had sent him on a personal errand last night and he ran into some tire trouble. When she stopped crying, I told her to drop the kids off as planned and come to the hospital. Then, I got back on the phone with Riggs and ripped him a new asshole.
He knew Maria’s surgery was today.
He fucking knew his woman would need him and still, he followed Jack into the flames of hell.
And fucking Jack—man, he won’t stop until he’s torn us all apart and pinned us all against one another.
After Riggs revealed Blackie took a bullet for Jack, I tossed the phone into the street, into oncoming traffic and cursed the Bulldog for darkening an already dark day.
“Al,” Maria calls from behind me. Regretting the outburst, I clench my fists and inhale a sharp breath before turning to her. “I have to check-in,” she says, pointing to the face of her watch.
“If you have to go—”
“Go?” I hiss, closing the distance between us. “I ain’t going anywhere, Lady.”
“It’s fine,” she insists. “Anthony, Adrianna, and Lauren will be here. If Riggs needs—”
“Riggs needs to learn his family comes before his patch,” I growl. “Now, let’s get you checked-in. Riggs will be here when you wake up from surgery. Until then, I got your girl.”
Taking her mouth, I kiss her tenderly.
You and me.
When we break, I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze before ushering her inside the hospital. There we were met by Anthony and Adrianna. I give the three of them a moment and make my way to the nurse’s station, letting them know who her doctor is and that she is scheduled for surgery. The nurse hands me a clipboard full of papers, none of which I know how to answer correctly.
Fucking hospitals.
I’m about to make my way to Maria and ask for her insurance card when I catch sight of Anthony embracing her. If life had a highlight reel that moment would make the cut and the one that followed too. Pulling back, Maria thumbs away her son's tears and gives him a kiss on the cheek.
“Here, Wolf, let me help you with that,” Adrianna says, diverting my attention away from mother and son.
“She’s going to be fine, you know?” I say hoarsely.
Lifting her eyes to mine, she gives me a sad smile.
“Yeah, she is,” she replies, taking the clipboard from my hands.
As I comb my fingers roughly through my hair, the nurse calls her name. From there everything seems to move in slow motion. Maria hands Adrianna her purse and takes off her jewelry. Anthony continues to fill out the paperwork and I stand there idly, unsure what to do. As she’s getting ready to follow the nurse, Lauren rushes into the hospital and right into her mother’s arms. They hang onto one another and through their tears, they profess their love for each other. Anthony hands off the infamous clipboard and I wonder if between all of us if we managed to complete the first page. Taking his sister in his arms, he pulls her away from Maria and again, that lump in my throat takes my breath away.
“Promise me you’ll be okay,” Lauren pleads.
“I’m going to be just fine,” Maria assures her. “Quit crying. You’re too beautiful to cry.”
“Lau, they’re just taking her to put the gown on.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to you,” she whispers to her mother.
“Nothing is going to happen. Well, I’m not going to be going bra shopping anytime soon but other than that…”
“Stop making jokes,” Lauren insists.
“Oh, honey, sometimes we gotta laugh,” Maria says softly. “Now, stop worrying. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.”
; “She’s already got a few,” Anthony quips.
“Yeah and you’ve got like twelve gray hairs.”
Shaking her head, Maria smiles at the two of them.
“Take care of each other and while you’re at it,” she trails off, glancing at me. “Take care of him too. The three of you look like you’re going to need each other today.”
“Only thing we need is you,” I rasp. “Ain’t that right?” I ask her children as I step towards her. Face to face, chest to chest, I take her hand and pull her into my arms. “You and me, Lady,” I murmur against her hair.
Clutching my vest in her hands, she buries her face in my neck and I feel her body quiver against mine as she holds back a sob. It takes everything in me to hold my shit together in front of Lauren and Anthony.
This woman.
She’s everything.
She’s what you live and pray for.
Breaking away, she bows her head and quickly brushes the tears from her cheeks. Lifting her chin, I cup her face and force her eyes to mine. With a wink and a quirk of my lips, I find my voice.
“Go kick some ass, baby.”
She gives me a small smile.
“I got you,” I add, glancing over her shoulder. My eyes meet Anthony’s as he drapes his arms around his sister and consoles her. “And I got them, too,” I say, diverting my gaze back to hers. “You just go in there and show cancer hell hath no fury like a woman who is loved.”
“Mrs. Bianci, we’re ready for you.”
Fuck.
Dipping my head, I find her lips and kiss her softly.
“I gotta tell you, Lady,” I say against her mouth. “I’m over the whole Mrs. Bianci thing.”
“What?”
“You can hyphenate that shit if you want but when the time comes, you take my name.”
“Are you asking me to marry you?”
“What if I am?”
“That would be crazy.”
“Then, yeah, I’m asking you to marry me.”
At least this time, it’ll be forever.
Every once in a while, in the middle of an ordinary life, something extraordinary comes along and knocks you on your ass.
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