God. Why does my heart hurt all of a sudden? It feels like it’s cracking down the center. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to walk out of there with my head held high without an ounce of remorse. Why does my conscience hate me so much?
I inhale a deep lungful of air. It’s not enough so I pull another. Then another, until I’m on the verge of a panic attack. My hands begin to shake.
“By law only,” Ryker replies.
“I’m carrying your child,” she cries helplessly.
Another blow is delivered to my innards as guilt-ridden tears start to pour. I know her pain well. Ryker tore me apart when he left. Ripped me to shreds, so I was left a shell for a short while, and he’s doing the same to her because of me. It’s all my fault. Why did I let him touch me? Why couldn’t I say no? Why can’t I ever say no? I’m not weak. There’s a functioning brain inside this head. Yet, here I am, weeping in a hallway as I listen to my ex and his wife fight because of me. Rat or not. Hatred or not. She’s his wife. Why do I keep dismissing that fact? He never married me. I wasn’t special enough. He never said he loved me until today. Why? Because I wasn’t important enough. He never fought with me like he is with her. Why? Because he never stuck around long enough for us to fight for our love. He left to protect me, according to him. Left, because his job was finished and he needed to be there for the club. For his dad. His brother. Familial ties are strong. I get it. I’m a mother. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my girls. For family.
On and on, for what feels like ages, they bicker about their relationship, me, the club, lies, her love for him, their baby, mine. Vanessa cries through the entire ordeal, begging him to keep her, to love her, to forgive her. And just when I think my stomach can’t take another punch, Ryker’s tone softens and he’s soothing her. She sniffles, and I know they’re embracing like husband and wife. Gentle words are exchanged. The wet smack of a kiss echoes, wrecking my soul all over again.
My stomach revolts and I grit my teeth to keep my agonizing whimpers to a minimum. Damn pregnancy hormones. I don’t want anyone to hear me out here. They mustn’t know.
“What the fuck are you doin’?” Kade’s cross voice startles me, and I nearly jump outta my skin. Jerking my head up, my skull collides with the wall on accident.
Ouch!
Stomping his way down the corridor, Kade comes to stand in front of me, his face a mask of fury.
Massaging the back of my head, I shrug a single shoulder, so very very tired of my life—of everything. I need sleep, a big bag of chocolate, and a month in the Bahamas sipping virgin pina coladas.
“Punishing myself,” I reply solemnly.
Kade kneels, clad in a pair of jeans, a light blue t-shirt, and his cut. His palms cup my knees. Looking up at him with tear stained eyes, I swipe the remaining wetness from my face. His angry expression melts into one of concern. “You can’t do this to yourself.” His fingertip traces down my undamaged cheek.
Sure I can.
“We had sex,” I confess.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
I nod thoughtfully, letting his words sink in. “Did you know about Ryker forcing me to move to Texas, too?” My eyes lock on his. There’s a grimace and a twitch. The hand on my knee fidgets, officially giving himself away, and by doing so, delivering the last hit my overwrought system can withstand. I can’t take this anymore. It’s too much.
This is the last time I let anyone mess with me or my head ever again.
Fisting my hands, knuckles pressing against the cool floor, my internal walls restack brick by brick, turning to steel with every exhale.
One second, Kade nods regretfully; the next, my leg grows a mind of its own and propels my foot into his groin.
“Oaf,” Kade expels, falling onto his ass before rolling onto his side as he grabs his nuts and groans.
I wanna feel sorry for hurting him. I do. Though, I can’t. How dare he know about Texas and not tell me! I thought we were friends. Best friends. It’s one thing for Ryker to be a douche nugget. I expect that. Now Kade, too? Is there anyone in this world I can trust anymore? Anyone who isn’t going to hurt my heart, or steal my children away without my consent?
Scrambling to my feet, I sprint up the hall as fast as a waddling pregnant lady can. Rounding the corner, I toss over my shoulder, “Why does everyone think they can control my fucking life? And here I thought I could trust you of all people.”
Screw this. It’s time to fix my life. And I’ll be damned if I trust anyone but myself to do it.
Kat
Reaching both of my arms into my dresser drawer, I heft a mountain of folded clothes out and toss them onto my mattress with a strained grunt. In the middle of my bed, face up, lies my new cell phone, provided by Big Dick. It’s on speaker mode so I can bitch to my dad as I prepare to pack my bags and the girls’ for our unfortunate move to Texas. At least they won’t have snow on the ground there. It’s colder than a witch’s tit here today. Thankfully, the fleece maternity leggings and oversized sweater I changed into when we got here is enough to keep me toasty.
“You don’t have to pack all of your belongings, peanut,” Dad reminds for the umpteenth time.
“I know, Dad. But I don’t have a job anymore, so it’s not like I can pay for anything new once the baby’s born.” With dramatic flair, I toss the clothes I don’t want to pack on the floor, and shove the rest into the corner of my mattress. When I’m finished, I’m gonna stuff the stack of clothing into my luggage. I’m too pissed to fold anything. As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter if I have wrinkly stuff or not. It’s not like anyone’s gonna see me wearing them anyhow, aside from my girls or Dad. The rest of the men are dead to me. They can shove their opinions up their asses.
“I’ve got money, Kat,” Ryker interjects from the doorway where he leans against the jamb, arms crossed, sad eyes cast on the floor like a lost puppy. In the corner, Kade stands similar to his brother except his bowie knife is out, and there’s a fresh hole in my wall from the blade. Lovely. Another thing I’m not looking forward to fixing when I return home.
Afraid of letting my guard down again for even a second, I ignore Ryker. It’s not all that difficult. Especially since I was informed on the drive over that not only were we leaving tonight, but Vanessa will be riding with us. Ryker prattled on about not trusting her to fly home by herself, so we gotta babysit her. Blah. Blah. Blah. Frankly, I think he’s lying and wants her to ride along because she’s his wife, but he doesn’t have the gonads to tell me that. Honesty has never been his forte.
“Don’t talk to her, you dumbfuck!” Dad seethes, and I can’t help but grin triumphantly at the asshole.
Dad’s not done. “My money’s what’ll be takin’ care of my girls. Mine. It’s bad enough she’s gonna be livin’ in your cabin. She doesn't need your money, too. All you Knox men think us Remingtons can’t live without you. Well, let me tell ya somethin’. We’re tough as nails, and I’m not lettin’ any of you motherfuckers take care of my kid and grandbabies.”
Pride swells in my chest. That’s right. We Remingtons are gonna stick together. Fuck the Knoxs. Not literally. Granted, Dad and I kinda already have considering Bear’s his man, and Ryker’s sired three of my children. Perhaps I should consider a better choice of words next time.
Turning on my heel, I heft another drawer of clothing onto the bed to sift through. “You still mad at Bear?” I ask Dad.
“Fuck yes, I am. He locked me in the basement.”
“It was for your own good,” Kade mumbles low enough that my dad doesn’t hear.
I shoot him a glare. He presses his lips together, hiding his mopey eyes, scuffs his booted toe on the floor, and runs the edge of his knife down his forearm, careful not to cut himself. Per usual, Kade’s knives come out to play when his equilibrium’s rocked. He tried to apologize numerous times today for not telling me last night about Texas, but I refuse to forgive him quite yet. No
rmally, I’m the level headed one. The person who forgives, and thinks logically without raising her voice, or acting like a mental patient. One of these days that Kat will return. Until then, whatever I’ve become is controlling this body, and I’m too stressed to care otherwise. If I was my usual self, I’d hug Kade right now, playfully call him Dickcheese, and tell him I love his stupid face. However, that person is hidden beneath this film of anger, and the anger is begging me to bring them both to their knees.
“Are you gonna freeze him out?” Scrunching my nose up at an ugly yellow shirt I didn’t realize I still owned, I toss it into the overflowing trash bin next to my bed. Blonde hair and yellow shirts never mesh. Wanna bet my mom bought that hideous thing for me from the dollar rack at Walmart?
“Sorta,” Dad replies.
“Has he apologized?”
“Yes. He did. Right after I beat the shit outta the two brothers left to babysit me. He didn’t want any more broken bones.”
I can only imagine what that means. But I’ve got too much on my plate to ask. What’s done is done.
“Are you sure that’s the only reason he’s sorry?”
As much as I wanna be on Dad’s side when it comes to Bear, I can’t be. At least not fully. Bear did what he thought was right. Just as Dad did when he faked his death and joined the Sacred Sinners. That hurt me, yet he still did it. Just as Bear locked Dad in the basement, knowing it’d hurt him and he’d have consequences to face later. Thankfully, this’ll blow over at some point. They’re too much in love for it not to.
“No. I know he’s sorry. He thought he was makin’ the right call. And he did help save you. But that doesn’t make me wanna bust his balls any less, though. I’m his VP. And you don’t lock your VP in the basement, ever.”
“That’s true. Well, you don’t steal someone’s kids and take them to Texas without your permission either. It looks like both of us drew the short straw.”
“A-fuckin’-men, peanut. Listen, I’m real sorry about the girls. I didn’t know they were gonna pull that. Ya don’t get all the deets when you’re arguin’ with your prez. I was too busy cussin’ him out, and tellin’ him all the mean shit I’m gonna do with him when he gets home.”
Even though Dad can’t see me, I hold my hands up in a pleading gesture. “Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know,” I squeak. My mind, from reading way too many BDSM novels, has a pretty vivid imagination when it comes to punishment. The last thing I want is kinky confirmation.
Dad chuckles throatily. “I’m not. No worries. So how much more packin’ ya gotta do?”
Surveying the room, the two suitcases open on the floor, and the drawers that are still full of clothes, my shoulders sag in defeat. “A lot.”
“Stop worryin’ about it. When you get here, we’ll do some online shoppin’ and get all you need. I’ll buy the new grandbaby a bed. Get some fancy girl shit for Rox and Scarlett. You don’t have to pack the irrelevant stuff. Just grab your pictures, mementos, and whatnot, and forget the rest. It’s not goin’ anywhere.”
Running my fingers through my freshly washed hair, my gut clenches. There’s no way I can leave all this behind. It’s bad enough I have to rely on someone to feed the girls and me. Clothes and other essentials are too much to ask. Nobody takes care of us but me. “I can’t, Dad.”
“Don’t be silly, Katrina. You can. I know it’s hard. You’ve been independent since you were a baby. But we’re family. And I’ve got a lot of years to make up for.”
True.
Sighing, I rub the baby who’s decided its gymnastics time in mommy’s belly. A bump here, another there. Smiling to myself, I let my little one bleed the tension from my muscles. She’s good at that. An internal miracle worker, if you will. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Ryker sneakily observing me massage this big ole tummy over my comfy, teal maternity shirt that Rox says matches my eyes. If I wasn’t so disgusted with him half the time, I might find his attention flattering like I used to.
Instead, I pivot my body toward him, lift my shirt a little, while pretending he’s invisible, and prod the underside of my bump, where baby girl number three is trouncing my bladder. If she’s not careful, I’m liable to pee a little. Guess I should go to the restroom before that happens.
“I’ll think about it, Dad. But for now, I gotta potty and finish up what I do need to bring. I’ll text you when we hit the road. And please take care of my girls when they get there.”
“Those girls are gonna be spoiled before ya get here. Hell. I’m gonna bribe them with so many goodies they’ll never wanna leave.”
Shaking my head, smiling broadly as I chuckle, I finish up with Dad by exchanging love yous. Once finished, he cuts the call and I abandon the phone on the bed for more pressing matters. Namely, my close to exploding bladder.
Pushing Ryker’s hard shoulder, he silently moves out of my way, and I slip into the bathroom to go about my business. Through the wall I overhear Ryker and Kade talking.
“You do know Kat’s mad at me because of you,” Kade declares.
“You didn’t have to tell her that you knew,” Ryker retorts.
“Right. Lie. Just like you. Sorry, but that’s not my thing, bro. That’s yours. Ya know what, she deserves so much better than you. You fucked her in the kitchen in front of your wife. Who does that? Then let her leave so she could sit in the hallway and listen to you babying your old lady. You are the most selfish person on the planet. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re my fucking brother. You disgust me.” There’s a loud hacking noise.
“Did you just spit at me?!” Ryker roars.
Oh my god. This is hilarious. Dickcheese just earned himself fifteen brownie points for that speech. And another two for spitting at Ryker. If I didn’t find spitting nauseating, I’d give him a hundred points for creativity.
I cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud as a thunderous bang echoes followed by a string of expletives. The wall vibrates as someone slams into it, knocking my flower painting off center. Great. It was funny while it lasted, but the last thing I need is a destroyed house. They’re grown men for crying out loud.
Quick to finish, I flush and wash my hands before pausing to take a gander in the mirror at my unrecognizable face, full of deep purplish bruises and this ugly line of stitches. Gently, I touch the raised injury and suppress a wince. The bruising’s gotten worse since this morning when I showered after the Kade racking incident. Blinking twice, I stow away my vortex of confused emotions, about-face, and march out of the restroom to break up the brawl.
Inside my bedroom, Ryker has Kade on the ground in a headlock. “Quit fighting me, you dumbass. That’s not gonna solve anything.”
Kade slams his fist into Ryker’s stomach, doubling him over, gaining Kade the upper hand. The headlock’s reversed, and Kade’s not holding back. Ryker’s face turns bright red, the muscles in his neck bulging as his brother squeezes the hell out of him. Yet, Ryker doesn’t attempt to disengage the hold. If anything, he lets his brother seize control for whatever reason.
Strange.
Not worried that either of these Neanderthals are gonna kill each other, I relax my shoulder against the door frame and hook my hand on my hip. “Are you two done? I’ve gotta finish packing.”
Kade grins up at me like a sadistic monster, his front teeth smeared with blood, nose trickling crimson. “You sure you don’t want me to kill him, Watermelon tits?” He winks playfully.
Unable to help it, I crack my own flattered grin and shake my head at the adorable, violent brute. “I’m all for you defending my honor, Kade. Truly. But killing my daughters’ father isn’t gonna solve anything.”
“Okay. Whatever ya say, boss.” He shrugs indifferently and releases Ryker, who drops to all fours and repeatedly hack coughs until his airway clears. Shoving off his knee, Kade swipes the blood from his nose with the back of his hand and wipes it on his jeans. Gross.
Scurrying back into the bathroom, I snatch the tissues off the top of the toilet and
hand the box to Kade when I return. “Don’t wipe any more of that on your clothes. You’ll look like an ax murderer,” I chide in my motherly tone.
Kade nods.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, he doctors up his nose as I kneel beside Ryker on the floor. I press my palm to his middle back with concern. “You good?”
“Yup,” he rasps. “G-go ahead and finish pa-cking.” Another fit of coughing ensues.
“You want some water?” I offer.
Ryker jerks his head from side to side. “D-don’t worry about me.”
That’s easier said than done. He didn’t even fight his brother in return. He merely tried to reel in the situation before it got too out of control. That definitely sounds like something I’d do. More so than him.
“You sure? It’s really no problem,” I double check because my gut’s telling me to. She’s an overbearing bitch.
Ryker shrugs off my hand and drops back onto his haunches. Lifting his shirt, he swipes the sweat from his face, and gives me a rippling ab show in the process. Complete with a glittering nipple ring that makes a rather enticing appearance, and a surface knife wound from fighting. Man. That silver is sexy as fuck. I never found nipple piercings all that attractive on men before. Probably because I don’t think of men in general. Unless they’re fictional hotties inside books with huge dicks. Wonder what he’d do if I sucked on it a little. Not much. Just a tiny nibble, and maybe a three-second suck. Think he’d like it? Mmm…
Ashamed of myself, I squeeze my eyes shut to quit staring.
Sweet baby corn Jesus, I’m an idiot. One second I’m feelin’ horrible about having sex with my ex. The next I’m ogling the goods. I’ve gotta stop this crap. It’d help if he was fugly and a couch potato in bed. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. Damn those pecs, abdominals, big biceps, tattoos, pretty blue eyes, and cum gutters that bring all the girls to the yard.
Hopeful Whispers: (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter #2) Page 11