by Blue Saffire
I watch as a group of guys start to surround our table. They look dangerous, but I don’t get the same vibe from them that I do from the men I’m here with. I think they’ve made a grave mistake, pun intended.
“Logan, you know what my problem is with you. I told you if you stepped foot in California, I’d make you pay for it,” the dark haired guy keeps yapping.
“And I’m here, so that should tell ye how much weight that bullshit has with me. Now, since I’m in such a good mood, I’ll give ye a head start. Get the fuck out of my face now, and only those in the parking lot will be able to witness what I do to ye,” Logan rumbles low.
The guy reaches for his waist, but in a flash, multiple guns are drawn, pointed at the guy and his friends. My eyes nearly pop from my head. Braxton wraps an arm around my waist to pull me clear of the table. I hadn’t even realized I stood. I’ve been too busy taking the entire scene in.
The sight before me throws my mind back in time. Images of Skinny Man and Eugene fill my head so quickly I gasp. Only, when I refocus on the room before me, I’m not sure if I’m more afraid of Eugene or the men standing before me.
Not that any of them would hurt me. I just see something entirely different when looking around at these men. Something I’ve never noticed before. A shiver runs through me. The Blacks are like my brothers, but as I watch John and Noah point glocks at the men,—right along with their uncles and cousins, I feel like I’m seeing them all anew.
“You don’t want to do that,” Wyatt tsks.
“Either way you’re dead,” Brooklyn says coldly.
“Yer doin’ a number on my night. Not in front of the lasses,” Uncle Ronan purrs menacingly. “This is how this is going to work. Yer going to hand us those nice toys yer toting. They belong to us now.”
I’m in shock as the guys fan out and the other group of men start to hand over their guns. It vaguely registers with me that the bar has cleared out. Brax and Ry have me and Bean in a tight hold, backing us away from the danger.
“Slow,” Carrick snaps at one of the guys.
“Dylan, you go with Brax and Ry to take the girls home. Noah and John, no one comes in and no one leaves out,” Brooklyn commands.
We’re all in motion before my brain can catch up. I look over my shoulder and catch Logan delivering a hard blow to the dark haired guys face. The room erupts into a brawl. The looks of delight on the faces I know so well sends warning flags to my brain.
Once again,—like when I was seventeen, I learn that my side has guns too. They don’t just have guns. I can see that there’s power behind the men I’ve been with all evening.
That guy had been talking a lot of shit, but I could see fear in his eyes. His friends didn’t look too confident either after getting a good look around the table.
When we get to the parking lot, a few shots ring out through the air. I stop, spinning to face the bar. Bean tries to take off, back in the direction we came from. Ry catches her in his arms to stop her. Dylan shakes his head at us.
“That has nothing to do with you. Trust me, Loves, all of ours will make it out just fine,” Dylan murmurs.
Braxton turns me towards the car. My mind is whirling with all types of thoughts and questions. I’m having trouble allowing the pieces to click. That’s my family in there.
What business do the McGowans and O’Briens really have here? Why am I just noticing that look? They all have it, that murderous, balls to the wall look. What the hell just happened?
Chapter 15
Not Again
Heather
Two years later…
Time seems to fly around here. The office keeps us all busy, but there’s always time for a good laugh. I think that’s what I love most about working at Black and Lock,—family and laughter.
I’m glad I came back home. Having Bean and the guys in my life has made it all worth it. I love my job, working here has proved that Cali will always be home.
Yet, I still handle what I came back for. I make sure to check in on my little sister. Up until recently, I didn’t feel I had anything to worry about,—not until today. I usually only go to look in on her once a week. I’d checked in this week, on Friday.
This morning, something just nagged at me to check in a second time this week. After emailing all the guys schedules out and filing a few closed cases, I took off for the rest of the day. The office was quiet anyway. With the rest of the afternoon to myself, I decided to just follow my instincts and check in.
I know from my digging two years ago that my mother is working again. I found that to be interesting. Now she works mostly days, with a few night shifts.
I usually head over during her shifts. I haven’t been ready to see my mom. Seeing her with the knowledge that she’s fine, but has never checked in on me is a hard pill to swallow, so I avoid it at all costs.
Amanda seemed to be fine yesterday. She’d come home from school and spent time with a book, sitting in the grass, in the front yard. My sister is a cute kid, although seemingly a bit of a nerd. I like that, she’s smart.
She’s a bit paler than me, but she can definitely pass for my sister in every other way, the hair, the eyes, and the body type. She reminds me a lot of when I was her age.
It churned my stomach when I first saw her and took notice of the similarities. In my head, I reasoned that Ernest isn’t sick enough to harm his own flesh and blood. It took me almost a year to believe that.
With each month that passed, I watched and paid attention. Amanda seemed to be okay. So, for the last three years. I’ve just watched. Only, today, that’s about to change.
Pulling up to the house, I knew something was wrong. It’s in Amanda’s posture and the lack of a book in her hands. Instead, she has a cast on her right arm. I don’t have proof, but I know Ernest has something to do with it.
As if to prove me right, after about ten minutes, he steps from the house, calling Amanda’s name. I stiffen in my car, that old panic coming back to haunt me. Yet, I reach deep down and push it aside. I have my little sister to worry about, I can’t afford to freeze.
The way Amanda jumps out of her skin, speaks volumes. I’m seconds from getting my gun from my glove compartment. Only thing stopping me is the thought of scarring Amanda the way I’d been scarred, when I was only three years younger than her.
I tighten my fingers around the steering wheel, pretending it’s Ernest’s neck. I keep watching, as Amanda gets off the swing and ambles over to him. He reaches to stroke her hair, causing her to flinch back.
I see nothing but red from there. I pop my door open, ready to end Ernest’s life with my bare hands. I’m shocked out of my singular focus, when the door is shut back on me.
The air leaves my lungs, when Eugene’s face appears in my open driver’s side window. He lean into the car, reaching across me to push in the car lighter. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath, until the lighter pops and he retrieves it.
He lights his cigarette and blows the smoke into my face. I wish I would’ve grabbed my gun, before I went to exit the car. Eugene narrows his gaze on me, his eyes sweeping over me. It’s assessing, not pervy like the looks Ernest used to give me.
“I wasn’t sure it was you the first time I noticed you. You’ve grown up and changed, Kid,” he says, after pulling another drag and letting it out of his nose.
“Back up off of my car,” I hiss out.
“Not going to do that. I can see your intentions in your eyes,” he replies.
“All the more reason for you to back up off my car,” I say tightly.
“I put in a lot of work to keep him away from you. I don’t see the point in undoing all of that,” Eugene says, lifting a brow at me.
I blink a few times as his words set in. Remembering Ernest’s threat to see me again and the fear I had of him showing up someday. My brows wrinkle slightly, I eye Eugene suspiciously.
“What’s it to you?” I murmur.
“Listen to me, that fucker irks my last fucking ne
rve, but he’s valuable to the family I work for. As I said, I knew it was you. I did some digging. I know who your father and your friends are. I’m Irish too kid, I know the stock you come from.
“Ernest is one stupid motherfucker, even I know not to fuck with the likes of your kind, but this is not the way,” his eyes lock firmly on mine to make sure I’m catching his drift.
In the back of my head, his words are setting off all kinds of warning signs. Things I should pay attention to, but the mix of my fear and anger are shorting out my brain. One thing that stands out though is the fact that he had to dig into my family.
Wasn’t that something Ernest said they’d already done?
I lose the thought as Eugene’s next words hit me. They rub me raw and rock me to my core, bring up my hackles. I straighten my back, focusing on the man before me.
“Don’t set this shit in motion. I can’t allow you to and I don’t want to hurt you. If I’m right, you’ve been hurt enough. Go home, honey,” his hard eyes soften.
“I’m not your honey. Fuck you and get the fuck off my car,” I retort.
Eugene sighs taking another drag of his cigarette. He turns to look towards the house. I curse under my breath, as I catch Ernest’s black eyes locked on me.
A chill runs through me. I shouldn’t fear this man anymore. I can take him. However, no matter how many times I tell myself that in my head, ten-year-old Heather keeps screaming that that’s a lie.
I jump when Eugene raps on the roof of my car. I don’t pull my eyes away from the monster across the street. I can’t, I know he sees me, but from the squint of his eyes, I’m not quite sure he recognizes me yet.
“For the sake of those you love, don’t start a war. Get out of here, Kid. You’ve lost the element of surprise anyway,” Eugene says, from outside the car.
His words ring in my ears. I’m Irish too kid, I know the stock you come from…Don’t start a war. I shiver at the implication of his words. I’ve seen the Black family in action. I’ll never forget that night at the bar. Working at Black and Lock over the last three years, has taught me a lot about my Dad and the Blacks.
In addition to that knowledge, I know the McGowans and O’Briens are more than meets the eye. I may not know what all that entails, but I know it’s not something to take lightly. If I knew what I know now, back when Ernest threatened my family, I probably would’ve risked telling someone. Yet, hearing the word war and thinking of bringing some shit to my family’s doorstep gives me pause.
I bite back my anger and call on my level head. I have to be smart about this. I have plans and nothing will stop me from seeing them through. I just won’t allow the blowback to reach those I care about most.
For now, I want to know what happened to my sister. If I need to speed things up, I will. I won’t drag Brax into this. He has his whole life before him, but I’m ready.
“What happened to her arm?”
Eugene sighs, flicking his cigarette across my sightline. “Bastard has a nasty temper,” he mutters. “First time I’ve seen him lose it on the kid. Listen, he’s been fucking up. The day is coming when he won’t be so valuable anymore. You get me?”
I snort. “Yeah, I got you,” I reply and start my car, but before I pull off I need to make one thing clear. “Not that I give a fuck.”
Chapter 16
Pay Attention
Heather
I can’t just not do anything. I’ve been stewing over what happened for days now. I’m so mad at myself for being noticed.
I guess that’s why in the three years I’ve worked at Black and Lock, I’ve been on reception. I’ve played the other day over and over in my head. It’s done nothing but cause me to have more and more questions.
I can’t just let my sister be abused, no matter what type of abuse. Why isn’t my mother paying attention? This time is different. There’s physical proof, I never had visible bruises. Nothing like a broken arm that alone should raise all kinds of flags.
Things just aren’t adding up for me. The longer I sit and do nothing, the longer it’s been grinding at me. That’s why I’m here.
My stomach rolls, I think I’m going to be sick. I wasn’t prepared to face this part of my life yet. Confronting my mother has been on the bottom of my to do list, but now,—with Amanda’s safety at stake, I need to do this.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my t-shirt. All of a sudden, my mouth feels so dry. It’s one thing to know my mother doesn’t want anything to do with me from a distance, it’s another for her to tell me to my face.
I look across the hospital cafeteria. It seems like such a giant distance between me and the woman that gave birth to me. Yet, she’s closer than she’s been to me in years.
She’s sitting at a table alone and for the first time in my life, my mother looks so vulnerable to me. She looks smaller, much thinner than I remember. I find it interesting that her hair is now cut into a pixie cut.
More feminine than mine, making her face look softer. My low hair cut comes off more like a masculine Caesar these days. I reach to touch my hair as I stare at my mother. I look so much like her and my dad, the perfect mix of them both. The one thing of my mother’s that I got the exact replica of is her light brown cinnamon skin.
Her head lifts as if she’s heard her name called. Her eyes lock on mine instantly. My heart squeezes, when I see the light in her orbs.
Her shaky hand flies to her lips, I see her eyes tear up. I don’t know how to feel about her reaction. It seems like so little, so late. The actions don’t fit the facts.
Even still, when she lifts from her seat and races across the cafeteria, my hardened heart loosens a little. I allow her to wrap her small arms around me. It feels so strange.
My mother isn’t nearly as tall as I am. I get my height from my father. Yet, the last time I hugged my mom, she was taller than me. Having to bend into her hug cements the lapse in time between us.
My mother pulls away, cupping my face. Tears slide down her cheeks. Suddenly, her eyes widen. In the blink of an eye, she grabs my hand, pulling me from the lunch room.
We don’t go the way I entered. Instead, she pulls me through a set of doors that takes us into a staircase. My mother takes the direction that will carry us further up into the hospital.
When we exit the staircase, she hangs a right, leading me to a small conference like room. Waving me inside, she looks around before she follows. I look at her like she’s lost her mind.
“What’s all that about?” I murmur, tugging at the hem of my t-shirt. My brows knit, as my chest pings. I continue in a whisper of a voice. “You ashamed to be seen with me?”
Her face crumbles. “I would never be ashamed of you. You’ve made me so proud. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” she replies.
I feel the wind leave my lungs, my knees grow weak. I grab for the seat I’m standing next to, dropping down into it. My head falls, bringing my chin to my chest, my eyes fixing on my hands in my lap.
“How would you know?” I murmur.
“Oh, baby, I know everything there is to know about you. I know you graduated high school with honors. I know you passed your driver’s test on the first try. I know you went away to New York for college.
“I know instead of going to your senior prom, you went with Braxton and Ryan Black to a fair,” my head lifts when she says that.
It had been a last minute thing. The guys had sort of forced me to. Neither of them had a ride to the fair and I’d been their last hope. I’d wanted to go to prom, but there was the issue of a date. I just couldn’t bring myself to go alone and face all of the whispers.
That night turned out to be one of the best nights of my life. Ry and Brax kept me laughing the entire time. We never told anyone about that night, as far as my dad knew, I’d gone to a friend’s home to get ready for the prom.
Dad had looked crushed. He wanted to do the whole picture thing, but I had rather see him crushed about me not wanting to take pictures, than have him kno
w I hadn’t gone at all. I think Faith figured it out, she just never said anything.
“How do you know about that?” I whisper.
“I followed you, hoping to get a glimpse of you in your prom dress,” she blinks back a few tears. “Ernest was out of town on business.”
I’m hit with a bitter bomb, as she mentions that creep’s name. My anger and reason for being here return. My jaw ticks as I look my mother in her eyes.
“What happened to Amanda’s arm?” I say more harshly then I intend to.
My mother looks surprised. “How do you know about Amanda’s arm? You know about Amanda?”
Her question stings. Why shouldn’t I know about my sister? Why didn’t I know about her sooner? I swallow pass the bitter pill rolling in my throat, promising to come back up.
“Yes, I know about Amanda. What happened to her arm?” I say more firmly.
My mother looks away, her hands begin to fidget in her lap. I don’t like this reaction. It’s only pissing me off more and more as the seconds float by.
“She fell,” my mother says in a robotic tone.
I scoff. “Seriously?!”
“What do you want, Heather? You’re being here is just going to cause trouble for everyone. Amanda is fine. Please, just keep your distance from her,” my mother says, as if she’s miffed with me.
“Unbelievable,” I say on a choked gasp. “Will you always turn a blind eye on what’s going on around you? You’re always so quick to throw me away for that piece of shit.”
I stand, needing to get out of here as fast as I can, before I do or say something I’ll regret. I can’t even stand to look at her any longer. I feel like the walls are closing in on me.
“Heather,” she sobs behind me. “You don’t know what I’m up against.”
I spin on my heels, my chest heaving. “Oh, I know way more than you think. You never asked for my side of the story, Mom.
“You left me in the lion’s den and never checked on me. Trust me, I know what you’re up against. Do you know what I was up against?”