Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel

by Thomas, Natasha

  “What’s doing, biker man,” Alysia chirped into the phone when I answered.

  “Why are you calling me, firecracker? Tilly’s not here, babe, she’s at Lexi’s.” I’d started calling Alysia firecracker after a particularly explosive reaction she’d had to one of the cage fights we’d had at the clubhouse one night.

  The woman was fucking insane with an appetite for violence, and more than a little bloodlust running through her veins. She cheered louder than any of the men as Reaper took Shifty down in the second round of a nine round fight, knocking him out cold. My brothers and I were blown away by her enthusiasm. Most women didn’t act like her, or not any of the ones we knew. Our women try hard to disguise their disgust and distaste for our method of stress relief, but fail dismally. They don’t stop us from doing it, but that doesn’t mean they have to like it. Alysia on the other hand, she couldn’t wait to jump in the cage after Shifty dragged his ass out of it.

  Thinking we’d pit her against a man that’d take it easy on a tiny woman like her, we sent Dagger in. The man’s a lover not a fighter, and there’s nothing more abhorrent to him that a man hitting a woman, hence him being the best choice. In saying that, none of us would ever lay a hand on a woman, it’s just unlike him, when we get in the ring we’re there to fight not play. We were there to relieve the stress, and if that meant we did it beating the absolute shit out of each other then so be it.

  What we didn’t realize was that Alysia isn’t only highly skilled in covert ops and weaponry, the woman can fight too. And by fight I don’t mean she’s a scrapper. No, not her. Alysia Patricks’ is a stone cold, killing machine. Trained in four different martial arts disciplines, MMA, traditional boxing, and street fighting, that one was apparently just for fun, the tiny five-foot-one firecracker is unstoppable. She took Dagger out in five moves. Steel in seven. Cage, the undefeated champion of the cage in ten. And much to everyone’s surprise Reaper in twelve. Now that shit was a sight to behold, because no one’s ever managed to take Reaper down in less than three rounds, not even Cage. And all of that without her breaking a sweat or taking a break. Like I said, she’s a fucking machine.

  Scoffing she states,

  “I know where she is, biker man. I was calling to talk to your hospitable ass not hers.”

  “Why?” I ask still confused. That’s my usual state of being around her. Why I don’t know, but I’ve learned to live with it.

  “Uh, maybe because you’re an idiot and someone needs to sort your ass out. I hear many have tried but all who did have failed, so that only leaves me and my awesome words of wisdom to see if I can succeed where lesser men haven’t.”

  Really fucking confused now, I impatiently demand,

  “Enough talking in code, firecracker. What the fuck are you going on about?”

  “Pshh,” she huffs. “Men really are as dumb as people say they are, aren’t they.” Not pausing for me to answer she goes on to say, “No, don’t answer that, it’s not why I’m calling anyway. Look, I’m going to be straight with you like I was with Tilly. I like you, Saint, you’re a good guy, but you’ve got baggage like the rest of us. Where you differ is that you’re willing to let that shit consume you. I’m going to give you some insight that you may already know, but if you don’t it might help you move on and let the grudge you’re holding go.”

  Interrupting her, I reply more harshly than I intended.

  “If this is about that fuckwit, Rob, save it. I’ve listened to Glock, I’ve thought about it plenty, and nothing’s changed. So let’s just leave it at that and call it a day, yeah?”

  I highly doubt she’s going to let it go that easily, which she proves when she keeps talking over the top of me.

  “He doesn’t love Tilly, and I don’t think he ever did.” That statement has my brain misfiring and my mouth hanging open. I’m just glad she isn’t here to see it, because I’d never live my current look down if she was.

  If she honestly believes that he didn’t love my wife then how does she explain him telling her he does, I consider angrily.

  “Look, Saint. I don’t know his whole story. I only know what I saw during the years I knew him, and what I’ve learned through the searches I’ve done since. There’s a good chance you actually know more than I do if you’ve talked to Thomas, but that’s neither here nor there. Whatever’s in his past that convinced him he was in love with your wife isn’t based on what he’s learned from watching or experiencing healthy relationships, quite the opposite.”

  Alysia clears her throat, and the emotion behind her words isn’t lost on me. There’s more to her and Rob’s friendship than a shared history, or her trying to make things easier for an old friend. It’s more than that, much more.

  “You mightn’t care what misguided feelings caused him to believe he felt more than simple friendship for your wife, but I do. I care because Thomas is one of the only people in the world that knows him. As in, really knows him. Who he is deep down inside. What makes him tick? And why he became the man he is today. If you don’t let go of the grudge you’re holding, that’s going to isolate him from the only person he truly trusts, and the fallout from that will be on you not him. No matter what he did, Rob doesn’t deserve to be isolated and alone any more than he already has been.”

  “What about you and your brothers? You’re his friends. Fuck, Brookes called him his fucking brother, so you guys must be close. I hear you, firecracker, I really do, but that doesn’t change shit for me. He moved in on another man’s woman, my woman, when she was just like you’re saying he is, lost and alone. He tried to take advantage of her vulnerability and that shit doesn’t fly with me,” I retort sharply.

  “Fuck you, Saint. Fuck you very much,” she yells. I’ve never heard her raise her voice let alone yell, and if I was a lesser man I’d have hung up and run away screaming. But I’m not, so I don’t. “Listen up, and listen good, asshole. I don’t owe you an explanation and neither does he. We’ve all got skeletons in our closets. Everyone’s got shitty parents, trauma, suffering, or pain in our pasts, but some of us have more than others, or all of them combined. Rob is one of the very unlucky bastards who has to deal with having so many skeletons his damn closet is overflowing with the fucking things. You on the other hand, you have shitty recovering alcoholics for parents and a beautiful sister you lost well before her time, but to balance that out you’ve got a club full of brothers that respect and love you. You’ve got a wonderful wife who worships the ground you walk on and loves you with her whole heart and then some. And the icing on the cake, you’ve got three perfect little girls, and another peanut on the way to complete your life in a way that makes you one of the luckiest pricks on the planet. Now ask yourself, what does he have? When you can give me answer that doesn’t involve some version of the word nothing then we’ll talk about how his misplaced feelings hurt you.”

  Pausing to take a breath, Alysia goes on to give me the sixth best gift I’ve ever gotten, and one I, like Tilly, will never be able to thank her enough for.

  “Think on it, Saint. And when I say think, what I really mean is open your heart, close off your anger, and really think about it. But before I hang up and kick the wall a few times pretending it’s your thick skull, I’ve got something for you. You don’t deserve it because you’re being a dick, but I’ll give it to you anyway, because I’m awesome like that.”

  “Tilly mentioned a while back you were looking for someone. I used some of my super spy powers and got you a last known address and phone number for one, Jarod Simons. I haven’t made contact but I have put a trace on his cell to make sure he’s still in the area listed, and lucky for you he is. I’m thinking the guy isn’t going to be open to taking a trip up north, so that means you and your lovely family may want to look into taking a trip to, Dallas, one day soon.”

  “He’s in Dallas,” I manage to rasp out.

  “Nope, but he’s close. Fort Worth, close. And wouldn’t you know it, my brothers and I have a vacation house in, Benbrook
, about a ten minute drive from downtown Fort Worth. I’ve spoken to the Meathead committee and they’re down with you, Tilly, and the girls using it whenever the mood strikes you. All I ask is you don’t approach him alone. He’s skittish, and from what I’ve gathered during my unauthorized digging sessions, nomadic too. The guy has barely spends a year in one place before getting itchy feet and moving on again.”

  “So how long’s he been in, Texas,” I enquire.

  “Texas, two years, but Fort Worth itself, a little over nine months. He landed in Dallas, moved around, took month-to-month leases, did odd jobs for cash from what I can see from the lack of transactions in and out of his accounts, and eventually settled in Fort Worth. But I repeat, the man is flighty. I haven’t figured out why yet, but no doubt there’s a good reason for it. A guy in his early thirties that comes from a good family with a college education, and is gainfully employed doesn’t move around like the hounds of hell are chasing him if they aren’t.”

  “You willing to come with?” I ask already knowing what her answer will be.

  Snorting, which I’ve noticed is a common thing for her, Alysia replies,

  “I thought you’d never ask, but I’d make plans to visit soon if I were you, Saint. If the pattern I’m seeing is right, he’s due another move inside of the next three to four months. I know Tilly’s pregnant and the girls have school, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to track him down as quickly the next time. Especially if he takes another cash job off the grid. I got lucky this time, so don’t leave it too long to make a decision, okay? And think about what I said before. Forgiveness is divine and all that jazz.”

  Agreeing to think about the Rob situation I hang up, and start immediately making plans to visit Texas. If all goes well, not only will I be able to carry out what I know would’ve been one of Finley’s dying requests, but I might just be able to bring a broken man some peace too.

  This isn’t the end, but it isn’t the beginning either. We’ve come full-circle and while life may be sweet now, none of us knows what lays ahead, which leaves us to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us in this moment.

  I’d like to say my choices have made me the man I am today, but that would be bullshit. The man I am today is due to the family I chose, the one I created. I was faced with a life of darkness and solitude with the way I isolated myself from the world when I lost my sister. A truly meaningless existence, but that all changed when I landed softly in the arms of the woman I love.

  I may have been forged from pain and loss, but I emerged a better man in the end. A man healed by love and family. A man that will do anything I have to, and everything necessary to ensure the people that mean the most to me are given the same consideration and support that was afforded to me when I needed it most.

  My story isn’t over…It’s somewhere in the sweet in between. And I for one cannot fucking wait to see what happens next.

  EPILOGUE

  Priest

  “Sometimes, you find yourself in the middle of nowhere;

  and sometimes, in the middle of nowhere you find yourself.”

  - Biker Wisdom

  For over forty years I’ve watched my family grow and change. The road was rocky, the asphalt uneven, but no matter how hard the ride or how treacherous it was everyone made it out the other side whole, happy, and stronger than ever before.

  Looking around the clubhouse at our family now, you’d never know the people laughing, drinking, and sharing stories had lived some of the hardest lives imaginable. I for one wouldn’t have expected half of them to make it out of their situations sane, let alone being the men I know today. I respect every last one of them for that. Their strength through adversity. The way they’ve stepped up to be the men their families need. I know the heartache they’ve faced, the loss they’ve felt down to the marrow of their bones, but not once did any of them give up.

  Sure, the assholes looked like they would at times, but in the end they rallied and did what was right. Not only for them, because God knows this rag-tag bunch of bikers need a good lesson in what’s right and wrong sometimes, but they stepped up for the women that own the other half of their souls too.

  Brenna has always been that woman for me. From the day I met her on the bleachers in high school, I knew she was my missing piece. I might’ve been fifteen but I knew what I wanted, and I wanted her, mind, body, heart, and soul. We had a dream run, and arrogantly enough I assumed that would never change. But it did…And it did in a way I didn’t think we’d ever recover from.

  Admitting I’d been lying to the woman I love for twenty-five years was the hardest, yet most freeing thing I’ve ever done. I fucking hated. No, I despised my long overdue honesty made her doubt everything we were and ever had been, but it was necessary nonetheless. It damn near fucking killed me to sit idly by and watch the woman I still dreamed of every night pack her bags and leave our home not knowing if she’d ever return. But what almost obliterated me was when, Brenna, the love of my life, the only woman I wake up for, and the woman I’d happily lay down my life for in an instant was diagnosed with breast cancer a month ago.

  It’s been forty-six years today since I first laid eyes on this magnificent creature curled up in my arms, and not knowing whether I have another forty-six weeks with her is destroying my soul piece by fucking piece. There’s only one thing that’s certain about the time to come, and that is, wherever she goes and whenever she leaves me, I will not survive without her. You can’t live with only half a heart, and if my wife doesn’t make it through her surgery and treatment afterwards, I won’t be far behind her.

  The party at the clubhouse today was at Brenna’s request. No one knows why it’s being thrown, and by the looks of it no one cares. Everyone’s just happy to be together with nothing ominous looming over our heads, or nothing they know of anyway. Brenna didn’t want to tell anyone about her condition, not even Kendall. Her worst fear is that our baby girl will only live half a life while she waits in limbo to see whether her mom comes out the other side of this okay. I’ve done all I can to convince her Kendall’s strong enough to cope with the news. That our daughter is a fighter like her mother and she deserves to know, but everything I’ve tried falls on deaf ears.

  Part of me thinks Brenna’s not coping herself, hence her reluctance to tell anyone. But the other part of me knows she’s merely saving the people she loves from the pain of not being able to do anything to help her. Because that’s what our family does, we help each other no matter the cost to ourselves, or the danger it puts us in. We never leave a man, woman, or child behind.

  Her breathing has evened out over the course of the last twenty minutes that she’s been curled up in my lap. I’ve been watching, feeling, letting her peace and tranquility soak into my skin, and allowing it to soothe my heart that’s quietly breaking. I want to memorize and catalogue these times with her just in case they are some of her last.

  Beside me sits my oldest and dearest friends. These two men have been through hell and beyond with me, and without them I’ve got not the first fucking idea where I’d be today. Breaking the sweet silence, Pipe asks,

  “When were you gonna tell us, brother.” His voice is softer than it’s ever been, and the look of sympathy and barely concealed grief in his eyes hits me hard.

  Reaper’s wife, Ade, is positioned similarly to Brenna, fast asleep and safe on his lap. Lowering his voice and adjusting her so that he can lean closer, he too shakes his head sadly.

  “Known you as a man and as my brother for years, but I’ve loved you longer, Priest. Both of us have. You need us and we’re there, that’s how this works. You, her,” he says gesturing between my wife and I, “you’ve got something none of the rest of us do. You’ve got years of love, devotion, and happiness between you. We all fucked that up, or the women meant for us weren’t put on Earth for us yet. You’re one of the lucky ones, brother. You got her for most of your life, and with that comes a lifetime of memories that you’re going to have to draw on t
o give her strength, yeah?”

  He’s right. Abso-fucking-lutely right. We do have that. And in turn it only makes it harder to accept that might be all I have left. Memories.

  “What do I do? Tell me, brothers. What the fuck do I do if I lose her, because right now I’ve got fuck no hope, and even less assurances my wife will live to see her sixty-first birthday, let alone a day more? I can’t do this shit without her.”

  A wise man once said, “It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,” but that was a lie. Loss is never easy, in fact it’s anything but. What’s worse that loss is losing someone you’ve loved with every breath in your body every fiber of your being, and with every beat of your heart. That pain is insurmountable.

  Less than six months later I buried the woman I loved with everything in me and three months later I in turn left my daughter to bury her father.

  The only solace I had in the months between Brenna finally resting easy, and me following her, was that I was never alone. Not once. Not ever. I was surrounded by the people I have been honored enough to have grace my life. People that come from all different walks of life that came together to make a family unlike any other. It was a blessing and a curse to have so many loved ones though. The curse being the devastation my wife and my passing left behind.