“Tilly’s got shit she needs to tell you. It’s been a long time coming, and I’m telling you now you’re going to lose your fucking mind when you hear it. But I need you to lock that shit down and listen to us before you go off half-cocked and do anything stupid.”
We’ll see.
“I’m not promising anything until I hear what you’ve got to say. You should know me well enough by now to know that, Son.” I reply cocking an eyebrow at him.
My little girl looks nervous as hell. She’s fidgeting wiping her palms on her jeans, and the whole scene is making me feel more uneasy by the second. Breaking my train of thought, Tilly clears her throat. The look on her face is heartbreaking, and I know in that instant whatever she tells me is going to take all of my self-restraint to abide by Saint’s wishes.
“Did you know Demon had Intermittent Explosive Disorder?” She asks bluntly.
Shaking my head no, I reply,
“What the fuck is that?”
“It pretty much boils down to a person that has repeated violent and aggressive outbursts that could end up hurting themselves or others. They are out of the realm of what’s considered normal for someone suffering from just a simple case of situational anger or rage, and they aren’t easy to manage using traditional drug therapy regimes.” Her voice is still deadly calm. And that’s what’s scaring me the most. Tilly is always animated, happy, sad, or pissed, but never calm.
Did I know for sure there was something wrong with my brother? No. Did I suspect there was though? Fuck yes. You couldn’t be around him without working out he wasn’t completely wired up right. But he’d never hurt anyone and he loved my girls, so who was I to keep an Uncle away from his family, right?
Sighing deeply Tilly explains further.
“I didn’t see the signs when Priss and I were really young. Looking back on it, they didn’t start to surface properly until I was about seven. The research may say the disorder starts to show itself when the person is in their late teens to early twenties, but apparently it can make an appearance any time, especially if the person is suffering from severe emotional or mental duress.” That makes sense, but I’m still failing to see why she’s bringing it up now.
Demon has always been a hothead. He got into more trouble in his last two years at high school than any kid before him, or I’d heard about since. He’d done three stints in juvie by the age of fifteen, and our parents had even considered shipping him off to military school to straighten his ass out as a last resort. I might love my brother, but I’m not blind to his faults. They’re glaring obvious to ignore. You don’t even have to scratch the surface to see them, they’re right there for anyone and everyone to see.
“What are you trying to tell me, Tilly? Demon’s had his problems, sure, but we all have. He’s sorted most of those out over the years though, so what’s this really about?” I enquire gently.
“But he hasn’t, Dad, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Demon hasn’t fixed a damn thing. Leaving Blackwater didn’t do anything to help the disorder I think he’s suffering from. Not to mention, how many times have you heard from him over the years? Seen him? Has he come to visit?” Narrowing my eyes, Tilly stops me before I get the chance to answer her. “You might talk to him on the phone occasionally, but unless you haven’t told me you’ve been to see him it’s been over fifteen years since the last time you two were in the same room, and that’s a long time, Dad. A lot can happen in fifteen years.”
She’s not far off the mark there. I’ve seen my brother once since he took off for parts unknown. We caught up when I was riding through Montana about eighteen months after he’d left, Blackwater. It was a short, uneventful visit with not a lot of conversation from either one of us. We ate, spent a few minutes catching up, and I left. That was the last time I saw him, and I still can’t get my head around why he chosen to be absent for all this time.
It’s not like we were close, not in the way Tank and his brothers are, but we weren’t what I’d call estranged either. We’d been closer when we were younger, until I saw the pain he was causing our Mom and Dad that is, then we started to drift apart. He did his thing, I did mine. We still spent time together don’t get me wrong, it was just more strained when we did, and neither of us enjoyed it.
Crossing my arms across my chest I prod further.
“You’re still not answering my question, sweetheart. What’s going on that we need to talk about your for Uncle all of a sudden? You haven’t mentioned him in years, and now you wanna delve into the deep, dark recesses of that mans’ mind?”
Leaning forward, Saint mirrors my position replying for her.
“You didn’t hear, did you? No one told you the asshole’s coming back to town in a couple of days, did they? He wants his patch back. The brothers will be voting it tomorrow. Not a lot of details floating around about why, but apparently he’s had a come to Jesus moment and wants to come home.”
That’s definitely news to me, not unhappy news but news nonetheless. Like I said, I haven’t seen him in years and we don’t speak often. The tone of the odd conversation we do have is based on generalities, he doesn’t share anything that’s going on with him, and I give him the same courtesy. The truth is, I know less about what’s going on in my brothers’ life than I do some of the prospects for the club.
“It’ll be good to have him home. He shouldn’t have left in the first place, but whatever he had to work through he’s obviously finally done, now it’s time for him to come back home to his family where he belongs.”
A distressed sound escapes my daughter, and has me snapping my head toward her ignoring the scowl on my Son in-laws face. Tears are streaming down her beautiful face and I can’t help wondering, again, what the fuck is going on here. Saint doesn’t waste any time scooping her up and planting her in his lap. Nor does he focus on anything but her until she’s calmed down enough to look at me. One thing I know about my girl when she’s like this is, you do not push her. You push her and she’ll shut down faster than you can blink. Your best bet is to wait patiently for her to get shit straight in her head, and then she’ll talk. Not before she’s ready though.
“I don’t want him here, Dad.” It’s near on a whisper, but I hear her loud and clear.
“Why the hell not?” I growl confused, and honestly a little hurt she’d want to push away a man she’d adored.
“Watch how you talk to my wife old man, or you and I are going to have problems, yeah?”
Kissing his cheek Tilly turns to me again and starts talking. Finally. Maybe now I’ll get an explanation to the odd behavior she’s displaying.
“You remember how much time I used to spend with Demon, right?” At my nod she says, “Mom couldn’t get me from dance class one afternoon, Priss was held up at practice, so she asked Demon to pick me up.” Nodding again, because I remember the exact time she’s talking about, my girl gifts me with a tiny smile before getting back to the point. “He hurt me for the first time that day, Dad. Badly. It may have been the first time, but it wasn’t the last.”
Standing abruptly, pushing back against my desk I snarl,
“Bullshit. He’d never hurt you, Tilly. That man worshiped the ground you girls walked on. You especially.”
Tilly jumps off Saint’s lap and braces her palms on my desk. Her body is vibrating with anger, making me think I’d spoken too hastily.
“This, this right here is why I didn’t tell him, Tobias.” She snaps at her husband.
“Just calm down, babe, and tell him what happened. He still doesn’t believe you after that, we’ll just have to show him, yeah?”
What the fuck are they talking about now? Show me what? I swear, the swings and roundabouts they’re taking me on are making my head spin.
Taking a deep breath Tilly pulls herself together.
“I’m not going to go into detail with you, because it’s pretty evident you’re not going to believe a thing I have to say, so let’s skip to the show and tell portion of the even
ing, shall we?”
Before I’ve got the opportunity to do anything, Tilly unbuttons her jeans, ripping them down her legs. Staring at her, my mouth gaping I take in the expanse of her upper thighs. Marred with dozens and dozens of thin, partially faded scars, my daughters’ thighs look like a fucking war zone. No two marks are the same, they differ in depth and length, and I know from personal experience being stabbed more than once, they would’ve been horrifically painful when they were inflicted.
“Your fucking brother spent years systematically carving up my woman, old man. Years he spent traumatizing her right under your nose, and you never knew. You didn’t look hard enough at the change in your daughter to see she was struggling with something significant. Something fucking horrific. You didn’t think it was strange she was changing clothes more often, and your medical supplies were going missing at an alarming rate? You fucking left her to that motherfucker, and she had to cope with that shit alone. Not one person, your wife or you, noticed she was suffering, or the nightmares she was having were getting worse. None of you did a goddamn thing to help her, and now all you’ve got to say is, he worshiped her. Well, fuck you, asshole. Because as far as I’m concerned, you’re just as responsible for what happened to her as he is for having done it in the first place. Your one job on this Earth was to protect your daughters until they found men that’d take over the job for you, and you couldn’t even do that. You make me fucking sick, and I’m ashamed to have to call you my, brother, let alone my father in-law.”
Jesus fucking Christ, he’s right. Not one single thing he said can be denied. It was my job to protect them, and I failed. I absolutely did see my baby was struggling with something, and all signs pointed to it being something big, but with all the conflict with the club at the time I didn’t do a fucking thing about it. I left her to that horror. Me. No one else. Me.
Slumping into my chair, my legs not able to hold up my weight anymore, I bury my head in my hands and tug at my hair. Tear stream silently down my face, but I refuse to sob like a baby regardless of how much I want to. Tilly re-dresses herself, pushing Saint back down into the chair he vacated in order to take his wife’s back. Sitting on his lap to keep him from tearing me apart with his bare hands, I assume, she settles herself with ease. At this point I wouldn’t blame him if he did tear me apart, I’d deserve that and more. I’d welcome it.
Speechless, there are just no words for what I’ve just seen, nothing can describe what was done to her effectively without seeing it, and no apologies I can offer will do a damn thing to take away the pain she must have felt at her Dad not keeping her safe. I can’t do anything other than to sit here and think of all the ways I’m going to make that motherfucker pay for what he did to my baby girl. Painful, horrifying ways I’m going to tear him to shreds.
The one thing I do know with any kind of certainty is, I’m going to make it hurt. Make it long, draw it out, and if he’s lucky he’ll die fast. Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to become very well acquainted with the end of my blade repeatedly until he does, and it will be far from pretty. Shaking my head to clear the violent thoughts that have taken up residence inside, I ask hollowly,
“How long?”
“Four years,” she replies shortly offering no more information than that.
Four years. I left her to that for four years? Fucking hell.
“What do you need me to do? I’ll talk to Priest…”
“No, you fucking won’t. I’ll be reporting back to him in the morning and we’ll hammer out a plan to get our hands on him quietly. Under the radar and off the grid, that’s the only way this is going to work. Priest knows what he’s capable of, seeing as he came to me after Grimm called to tell him Demon fucked some chick up bad enough to land her in the hospital more than a week ago. She still hasn’t been released, so that should tell you all you need to know about how bad it was. The woman’s a mess. Not just her body, but mentally she’s going to have a hell of a long road to recovery, and that’s if she makes it that far down the road at all. There’s a good chance she won’t from what Grimm’s said. All you need to do if it comes to a vote, which I highly fucking doubt it will, is vote ‘nay’. The rest you’ll leave to us. Priest and I that is.” He states plainly.
At this point I can’t do anything but agree with him. I lost my right to have input on how he’s taken care of the second I let him touch my daughter, but that doesn’t mean that I have to hand him over if I get my hand on him first. Because I can assure you, if it comes to that, there’s no one that’ll be able to stop me meeting out justice as is his due.
Later that night lying in bed next to my sleeping wife, I stare blankly at the ceiling for hours. My mind is filled with nothing but thoughts of retribution. I know there will be no sleep, no rest, and no peace for me until I find the man who dared to harm my little girl. And all he can hope for is that when I find him, I show him more mercy than he showed Tilly.
CHAPTER TEN
Tobias
“They say revenge is a dish best served cold.
Pity… I kinda like fire.”
- Rotten eCard
It is said knowledge is power, I’d prefer a rocket launcher myself when it came to having power at my back, but I’ll take what I can get at this point. Now that I know exactly what happened to my wife, there’s wasn’t a chance in hell I’m leaving her alone and unprotected for another minute. She argued, reasoned, tried to compromise with me, but seeing as my ass is sitting on our couch right now, I’m happy to report she lost every argument she attempted to start.
Sitting, sulking I might add, in the corner of our sectional, Tilly glares at me every few minutes and it takes everything in me not to laugh at what she considers to be a death glare. I’ve had worse from Dakota, for fucks sake.
“You gonna talk to me, or are you gonna try and set me on fire with your eyes all night?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. You know it all now, so what’s left to be said,” she spits out angrily. Fuck, I love this woman. Even in the midst of what for most women would’ve been grounds for an emotional meltdown, she can still sass me and look adorable doing it. It’s good to see this shit hasn’t taken her fire, because if it had it’d just be another reason to kill the bastard who hurt her.
“Fine. You don’t want to talk then I will. It’d be nice if you’d listen too, babe, because you’re going to want to hear what I’ve got to say.” I’m still deciding whether it’s a good idea to tell her about the Stacey situation or not. I’m hoping she takes it as the good news it is, and something she’s desperately in need of right now, but you never can tell with my wife.
With her eyes still spitting fire, Tilly turns positioning herself facing me instead of the TV. Even in sweats, a tank top, sans bra, her hair in a messy knot on the top of her head, and bare feet, Tilly still without a doubt is the most magnificent woman I’ve ever seen. She would look fantastic wearing anything, but this is my favorite look of hers. The one where she’s relaxed and comfortable just being herself. It’s not often I see her like this, which is why I’m still deciding whether to take the risk in upsetting her. It’s not like it’s urgent that she know, it’s been years already, and as far as she’s concerned nothing’s changed in all that time, hence the question of whether it’s the right time to upset the apple cart.
Making the decision that it’s more than likely she’ll appreciate knowing sooner rather than later, and from me than someone else, I take a deep breath and pray I’m doing the right thing.
“Priest and I talked about more than just Demon today, babe. Before he took me aside just me and him, I had a meet with him, Pipe, and Dagger.” Looking at me with a confused expression on her face, Tilly purses her lips but says nothing.
I can’t blame her for not understanding why I’m telling her this, I don’t share shit about the club often, so this is unusual to say the least. Most of what she knows is basic information about when and for how long I’m going on runs, or shit I think she needs
to know. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She knows enough about how the club works to know not to pry, and even if she wanted to I don’t think she would. Having grown up being told very little by her Dad, she knows how it works, and it’s something I’m thankful for. I don’t think I could’ve handled a woman that nagged me constantly, wanting to know shit that’s none of her business, and didn’t affect her.
“Seems Stacey played us all, Tilly. You, me, Dagger, the club, even fucking Tucker. Tucker’s not mine, babe. He’s Dagger’s,” I say curtly.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, babe. Tucker isn’t mine, he’s Dagger’s. I didn’t even sleep with the bitch, let alone impregnate her.”
Sitting up straighter all of a sudden interested, Tilly leans forward a little exposing the globes of her perfect tits out the top of her shirt. What I wouldn’t give to bury my face there and spend some time with two of my other favorite girls. It won’t be happening now, but she can bet her sexy, little ass it will be soon.
“What are you saying, Tobias?”
Elbows to my knees, I rake my hands through my hair without taking my eyes off her.
Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel Page 10