Explaining further, I educate her on how dangerous what Francesca did was.
“Generally, aspirin is safe for pretty much anyone to take, but for people like me that had just undergone major heart surgery, it should be avoided at all costs. Cash and I didn’t know she was switching my meds out, but fuck me did I feel the effects of it. The burning pain in my chest, my heart racing 24/7, the cold sweats, constant vomiting was so extreme that I’d pass out frequently. My brother sat by the side of my bed, cleaned me up, held my hand, and force fed me when I didn’t have the energy to sit up, much less eat. When the continuous pain all got to be too much, I begged him to help me. I asked him to find me something to take the edge off or put me out of my misery.
It was a fucked up thing to do, putting that kind of pressure on him. But I honestly couldn’t handle the endless agony anymore.”
“After my first surgery, my doctor gave me some wicked painkillers. Oxycodone, I think. They didn’t just take the edge off the pain, they numbed the shit storm in my head too. As far as I was concerned, those little white pills were worth a million times their weight in gold. Finally, I could sleep without nightmares waking me several times a night. The constant anxiety and guilt I’d lived with for years was gone too. But just like anything else, if it sounds too good to be true it probably is. A few weeks’ post-op and the Oxy didn’t even take the edge off anymore, or that’s what I thought until I realized the bitch was switching them out. All I knew was that I felt like I was dying, and was desperate for a way to escape my head for a few hours, hence asking Cash to help me.”
Needless to say, Cash wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of having to comb the streets looking to score, but he couldn’t bear to see me in pain either.
“You don’t need the details, and I couldn’t give them to you anyway since I wasn’t there, but suffice to say, Cash found what I needed. And that was the beginning of the end for me.”
Shauna’s eyes widen when she gets where I’m going with this, but she doesn’t interrupt. Instead, she puts down her pen and focuses her attention on me entirely.
“No one starts using thinking they’re going to become addicts, let alone admitting when it’s gotten out of control, myself included. Shit, half the junkies I know still claim they can stop cold turkey, and they’ve been using years longer than I had. At first, it was just Vicodin, Morphine, and maybe some Dilaudid if my guy could get a hold of it. When those didn’t work anymore, I stopped taking prescription meds and started on the harder shit. PCP, Cocaine, Meth, E’s, you name it, I did it. I even dropped acid, but coming down off that shit is gnarly, so it was a onetime deal for me. Before I could get a handle on it, I’d spiraled out of control. Every day bled into the next and I was missing huge chunks of time from where I’d pass out after the high wore off. Don’t get the wrong idea, I never used needles and I never will. That was a line in the sand I drew for myself and refused to cross, no matter how desperate I got, but that didn’t make me any less a junkie than the next stoned motherfucker shooting up in the gutter.”
Saying this out loud again reminds me of when I had to sit down around the table at church and tell my brothers I was an addict. For years I’d hidden my drug use from them, hoping and praying it would never come out so that I didn’t have to face their disdain. The truth is, I never planned to tell them. I would have happily taken my addiction to the grave. Because let’s be honest, that’s where I was headed anyway. Quickly at that.
At the time, I firmly believed the club was my home, the only place I belonged. What I didn’t realize was that my belief was only based on the fact that I had been living and working with my brothers for so long. Having gone straight from graduating high school, following in Cash’s footsteps, prospecting for the MC, Vengeance was all I knew. And as much as I love my brother and respect the hell out of him it was never my choice to join the MC. Instead, it was expected I would.
Granted, I could have said no, chosen not to put on that prospect cut and gone my own way, but again, the overwhelming guilt I felt had me pushing my feelings aside, digging myself into an even deeper hole yet.
Worse still, just after I had been voted in as the club’s new Sergeant at Arms, Cash pulled the rug out from under me and gave me an ultimatum. Either I come clean with our brothers and face the consequences, or we were done, and he would cut me out of his life. Permanently.
Shauna wipes her eyes with back of her hand, sobbing, “Patrick, God. I’m so sorry.” “Don’t,” I snap. “I don’t want your pity. Cash made the choice to save me, and I had to accept his decision. We both knew what it would do to the other – how badly it would fuck us both up – but it was that or a slow painful death for me so what choice did we really have? I might never be able to repay Cash for sacrificing himself for me, but I’ve sure as hell tried along the way.”
Gasping, a few pieces must click into place for Shauna as the look on her face turns from pity to sympathy.
“That’s why you joined the MC, wasn’t it? You joined because you thought you owed it to your brother?
The last part of what she said wasn’t so much a question but a statement. She’s right; I did prospect because I knew Cash wanted me standing beside him. That said, part of me was curious about what it would be like to be a member of the brotherhood that had taken us in and watched over us. And for what it’s worth, I can’t bring myself to regret my decision to join Vengeance, even if it isn’t what I want for my future.
Clearing my throat, I nod.
“Yeah, that’s why. It’s also why by the time your story goes to print, I won’t be wearing my cut anymore.” “I don’t understand. Why would you give up something that has been an integral part of your life for nearly a decade and a half? And why now?” She asks skeptically.
That’s a damn good question with a complicated fucking answer, which I don’t plan on letting Shauna in on. So instead of giving her the whole truth, I ad-lib a little. Okay, a lot, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
“Straight up, when Boss told me you were going to be interviewing me today, my first reaction was to tell him to fuck off. What I do for Pipes, my designs, that’s just a job to me. Sure, people like them, the wait on a custom bike attests to that, but that doesn’t change the fact that it isn’t what I want to be doing for the rest of my life.”
“So if you don’t want to be designing bikes for one of the most notorious, yet wildly popular motorcycle garages in the country, what do you want to do?”
“Open my own shop,”
I say without a seconds’ hesitation. “I want to be hands on, be in on the build from the ground up.”
“And you can’t do that at Pipes?” “Sure, but it wouldn’t be mine, would it? I’d still be answering to someone. I’d still be having to run every addition and order for extra parts past Boss and Fury. Don’t get me wrong, I love working with my brothers every day, I just don’t see me loving it long-term. I like my space, the freedom to pick and choose what I want to work on, and working for someone else doesn’t allow for that,” I admit.
With a wry smile, Shauna concedes the point, but can’t help pointing out,
“Nice deflection. I take it you’ve had plenty of practice. Now answer the question. Why give up your position in the motorcycle club?”
“Because you can’t have your cake and eat it too,” is all I manage to say before Cash throws the door open. My brother looks ravaged as he spares the woman sitting across from me a withering glare.
“He’s going to have finish this with you some other time. Brother,” Cash mutters solemnly, “we’ve got to get to the hospital, there’s been an accident.”
You know the times you can just feel your life is about to change; when whatever lies just around that blind corner is about to turn your world upside down? Well, so do I. And right now, taking into account Cash’s haggard appearance, the serious yet pleading tone to his voice, and the way his body is strung tight with anxiety and tension, I’m positive this is one o
f those times.
Sadly, fifteen minutes later, I find out how categorically right I am.
CHAPTERFIVE ~ MiaReynolds ~
“Amessagetoall men:Sayingyoucan multitaskbecauseyou can shampooand conditionher hairwhileshegivesyoua blowjob,is nota valid wayto win an argument.”
–Mia’swordofadviceformankind “I said, I’m fine. Now will you please pass me my clothes so I can get dressed and get the hell out of here and go check on him,” I snap, my patience all but run out.
I have been sitting in the ER on the exam table in a tiny cubical only walled off by thin curtains for the last three hours. I’m hungry, tired, sore, and I want to see for myself that Sarge is okay. Zara has been great about giving me updates on his condition since we were first brought in by ambulance and then separated, but that’s simply not good enough. I need to see him, not just hear about him secondhand.
“God, you’re a pain in the ass,” Zara huffs, throwing a
pair of scrubs at me. “If you’re hell bent on making a run for it while those useless nurses are busy trying to steal my man, these will have to do.”
“Where did my clothes go?” I ask, not really caring either way as I pull the scrub bottoms over my hips. “Ah, hate to break it to you lamb chop, but they’re long gone. If you’re looking for them, they’re probably in the biohazard bin between slutty Halloween nurse one’s station, and bimbo Barbie reject nurse two’s crash cart,” she smirks.
Shrugging, my next question isn’t smart, but I have to know.
“Is he here?”
Zara doesn’t have to ask for clarification about who I’m referring too; she knows. After all, she’s been the one who was there to comfort me every time I collapsed in tears when he broke my heart and proceeded to stomp all over it.
Patrick ‘Jump’ Collins doesn’t deserve my tears, though. Scorn, anger, and hatred, yes. But not my tears. While I was busy building a life for us in my head, he was busy plotting his exit strategy. When I thought we were on the verge of us both finding our forever with each other, Jump was thinking about the next woman’s panties he could get inside.
Everything I thought was a lie. Every moment we spent together, the tender, meaningful touched, the promises, his protectiveness of me was all bullshit. Because when push came to shove, Jump couldn’t have bailed on me faster if his ass was on fire.
Sighing heavily, Zara’s shoulders slump giving me all the answer I need.
“Does he know I’m here?” I enquire, trying to keep the fear at seeing him again out of my voice.
“Of course he does, babe. Even at the promise that Kennedy would give him a blowjob every day for a month, Cash wouldn’t budge. He’s as stubborn as Knight like that.”
Knight, Zara’s husband, ex-male escort, and owner of Knights gym is not only one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen but the most pig-headed too. When he puts his foot down, that’s it, there’s no changing his mind. Especially when it comes to his wife. Take last week when Zara told him she wanted to hold off trying to have a baby for example.
Depending on how you look at it, it was either a very good thing that conversation happened in the middle of Home Depot or a very bad thing for the people who needed to use the restroom in the half an hour that followed.
Zara and I were shopping for paint for the cute little craftsman cottage I bought last month. Because I’m an idiot or financial genius, I, of course, just had to buy the most run down house on the prettiest street. The resale value of living on one of the most sought after streets in Lower Falls is a major bonus, but having to rip out the kitchen, bathroom, and corral the family of raccoons living in my crawl space out the door just to make it habitable is a major downer. Not to mention, the dent it’s made in my savings account.
But that’s neither here nor there. My kitchen is now a breathtaking work of art complete with polished concrete counters, slate floor tiles, mosaic splash back, and stainless steel appliances. The bathroom took the most work seeing as the plumbing is as old as my grandpa and just as temperamental, but it was worth it to be able to fill my Victorian era claw foot bathtub without worrying the pipes will explode at any second. Oh, and on the off chance you were wondering…the possums are safe and sound after Knight relocated them to the park across the street.
Anyway, back to the point. Just as Zara and I were about to ask the guy at the paint counter to mix a sample of one of the three colors we had narrowed our selection down to (don’t judge, at first, my short list was twelve) Knight appeared out of thin air. How a man built like a tank with feet twice the length of my forearm walks without making a sound is beyond me. But there you have it.
“What the fuck is this?” He scowls, waving a sheet of paper in Zara’s face. Anyone who didn’t know Knight and how desperately he loves his wife would be worried at the menacing expression on his face and the way his body is vibrating with anger. However, if you look closely at his eyes, how soft and filled with adoration they are, you can tell instantly that he would never hurt the woman standing in front of him. Or any woman for that matter.
“Hi, honey,” Zara chirps immune to Knight’s obvious anger.
“Are you shitting me right now?” “Nope. I figured since you weren’t willing to listen to me when I tried to talk to you for the hundredth time about it, that I’d write it down for you instead. Maybe then you’d take me seriously,” she quips, turning her back on him, busying herself with paint swatches.
Grabbing hold of her arm, Knight spins Zara around and tugs her into his chest. He wraps both arms around her waist, anchoring her to him, and growls.
“I hear every fucking thing you say, baby, but in this case, I just don’t happen to agree with you.” “Oh, please,” Zara scoffs. “Babies aren’t like puppies, Knight. You can’t just drop them off at the pound when you’ve had enough of them. We’ve been married less than a year, and this is a big decision – one I don’t want to rush into.”
Knight doesn’t address his wife’s concerns. Instead, he turns to me and asks,
“Did you ride with her?”
Shaking my head, I reply, “No, we met here.” “Good, because your partner in paint it going to be tied up for a while. You okay to get yourself home?” He smirks, tightening his grip on his wife.
“Sure,” I shrug, not knowing what else to say. “I’ll just finish up here and then head out.” “No,” Zara screeches, interrupting our back and forth. “Where is the loyalty? What the hell, Mia? You’re breaking the ho’s before bro’s code.”
“Sorry, sweetie, but I think you and your man have a few things to work out. And, I, for one don’t want to be a party to you two getting your freak on in a public place,” I say, giggling at the look of desperation on my best friend’s face.
“Not going to happen,” Zara vehemently denies. “If Colossus here thinks he’s getting himself some, he’s sorely mistaken. Public or not, he’s on lockout until he lets go of the idea of procreating this side of Christmas.”
Since it’s only May, the chances of that happening are slim to none. In fact, I’d be willing to bet, Knight has her knocked up within the next month. However, if the dark, hungry expression on his face is anything to go by, then I should probably change my bet to sometime today.
“Christmas!” Knight yells. “Have you lost your goddamn mind? If you think I’m waiting seven fucking months to plant my baby inside you, then think again.” In one smooth movement, Knight has Zara up and over his shoulder, and is striding toward the public bathrooms at the back of the store. Disregarding his wife’s demands to put her down and the fist pummeling his back, Knight doesn’t stop until he slams the door behind them.
“Oh my, God,” the middle-aged woman beside me sighs. “That was so freaking hot.”
Mumbling under my breath, I say,
“Let’s just hope the manager doesn’t call the police like he did the last time this happened.” Yes, you heard me. Sadly, this isn’t the first time Knight has manhandled Zara and had his way with her in one of
Home Depot’s restrooms. Actually, if I remember correctly, it’s the third time this month.
The first time, they were in the middle of an argument when Zara abruptly walked out of the house, got in her car and drove off. Unfortunately, I got involved because she showed up at my house, claiming she needed to go to Home Depot STAT to see a man about a chainsaw. Needless to say, you know how that turned out.
The second display of their lack of self-control was only just last week. But unlike the first time, it was Knight who screwed up. According to Zara, she found her husband laughing with a bleach blonde tramp (her words, not mine) while the other woman ran her hand up and down his arm.
Now, if you know anything about Zara, you already know that’s she is as fiercely possessive of Knight as he is of her, so obviously, this did not go over well. But I have to give it to my friend, she didn’t lose her mind and attack the woman. Quite the opposite actually.
Zara walked away, not bothering to tell Knight where she was going. Knight was frantic when after a solid two hours of looking for her he still couldn’t find her. He called all of her family and friends, knocked on the neighbor’s door, and scoured every one of the places Zara usually goes when she needs some time to herself. In the end, Knight caught up with her at Home Depot, discussing the benefits of using a hatchet over an ax.
In hindsight, I can’t say that I blame the manager for calling the police. Especially when Zara was wielding an ax and Knight looked fit to be tied. When the two uniformed officers eventually arrived and asked what the problem was, Knight and Zara were already well on their way to having some of the loudest make up sex in the history of all make up sex.
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