Irish

by Dusty Lassetter

  “Who wants to start first?”

  Casey asks the question while looking around the table at all the women surrounding it. Rebecca looks at Mia, silently telling her to take the lead. It doesn’t surprise me they would want the leader of their group to speak first, but it does shock me that she had to be asked.

  “There are certain things we kept under wraps while you were here before. Certain events were not discussed around you because of your situation.”

  I allow Mia to continue explaining all the reasons why they kept me in the dark even though all I want to do is shake her until we get to the real reason why I am here. Sitting across a table from Tony is not exactly how I want to spend my morning.

  “Rebecca, Sammy, Scarlett, along with myself were held captive by Slasher and his partner in the human trafficking organization, Carlos. They tried to trade us to Torch one night, that is how we arrived at the compound.”

  “Haven’t been able to get rid of them since,” Tony jokes, popping a cinnamon stick into his mouth. I find the combination of that and his coffee to be disgusting, but he doesn’t’ seem bothered by it at all. Mia shoves him on the shoulder for his comment, and I try hard to compress the jealousy their playful side brings me. I have no reason to feel this way; none whatsoever.

  Deciding not to ask any questions until everyone has told their stories, I look around until Casey suggests that Rebecca say what she needs to.

  “I’m not here to tell you about the horrors we survived. You have your own nightmares to relive without me going into detail about mine. I just want you to know that you’re not alone in this. Someone once told me I should fight back, and prove to not only myself, but everyone else, that I’m not easily broken. I can see that same fight in your eyes, Ashley. You just have to want to use it.”

  When Rebecca is through talking, Mia takes ahold of her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. I can tell by that simple gesture Mia was the one to give her that advice. Am I that transparent? Can they see the cracks in my foundation threatening to send me crumbling to the ground?

  Serenity, who is sitting next to me, takes ahold of my hand. Turning her shoulders in my direction she lets me know that her only point in being here is to talk to me. “My story is a bit different than theirs. I was taken by Slasher himself, and kept locked away with Taz.”

  I can see the darkness enter her stare, and immediately know she is imagining all the things that were done to her. The revelation that she was locked away with Taz is surprising. I wonder if his being there made it easier or harder for her to wake up in the morning. I know sometimes I would lay in the corner and hope that was the day I would never wake up.

  “I know firsthand what that monster is capable of. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined his death. He has a way of making you feel shameful and filthy. Like he gave you a choice, so the blame is no longer on him. Don’t listen to that voice in your head telling you it’s your fault. I remember his games all too well. His choices were life or death. Feel brave and strong because you chose to live, Ashley. The easier decision would have been to die.”

  By the time Serenity is through talking, I am crying tears I had no idea were on the verge of falling. Everything she said is true. I do feel dirty. It’s not a filth that can be washed off either. The feeling is imbedded deep down in my bones, making it impossible to get rid of.

  I know I was going to wait before asking anything, but I can’t stop the question I desperately want answered from coming out. “How did you get rid of it?”

  “It’s not gone, at least not completely. Some days are better than others,” Serenity starts to answer my question knowing exactly what I’m talking about. This overwhelming sense of shame I have in myself.

  “Taz hasn’t always been a big help, but once he pulled his head out of his butt, I think he saved me. His words, his actions, and the way he looks at me like I am his sole reason for living reminds me that I am Serenity, not Slasher’s Princess.”

  She leans into my space to whisper her next confession into my ear. The moment the words leave her mouth, I am grateful for her discreetness.

  “It’s the same way Irish looks at you, Ashley. That man loves you more than you know. Let him save you.”

  I can’t stop my gaze from landing on his after she pulls away from me. I can tell by his body language that it is hard for him not to go with his impulse to comfort me. His eyes are following the tears that are still streaming down my face. Serenity’s words start echoing in my ears. Could it be that easy? If I allow Tony back into my heart would my nightmares become bearable?

  “Ashley, I think it’s important for you to hear Scarlett’s story. It will answer most of the questions you’ve asked me time and time again.”

  With that, my attention is reverted from Irish’s to the teenager trying not to curl in on herself from being the center of attention. I must admit, I don’t know a lot about Scarlett, but I do know she has to be brave for allowing a man like Teller to hang around her all the time. The dynamic between the two is odd, but for whatever reason, they are usually spending a lot of time together.

  “There is no easy way to say this, but if it will help you I guess it needs to be said. Slasher killed my father, raped me when I was young, then sent me off to be turned into his perfect whore.”

  Wow, talk about getting straight to the point. This girl is not into wasting anyone’s time. That is a lot of information to digest, and the fact that it was thrown out like word vomit only makes it more difficult. Her voice was so robotic as she repeated a story she’s probably told too many times already. Autopilot is what Scarlett went on, and I can’t say I blame her.

  “That’s enough,” I manage to get out after clearing my throat. “I don’t want to hear any more stories.”

  “Ashley, it’s important that you let Irish explain the rest.”

  “No,” I place my hands on the wooden surface, allowing the extra support to help me rise to my feet. I’m exhausted. My body is spent, my mind is tired, and both of them are screaming at me to find somewhere to hide and process the information I just learned.

  “Ashley,” Tony tries to stop me from walking away.

  “Stop.” My voice comes out as stern as it can with what little energy I have. “I need space, Tony. I’ve had very little time to digest everything that has happened.”

  I don’t bother explaining to them that it sometimes feels like I am living someone else’s life. In the short time I’ve had to deal with everything I went through with Slasher I often feel like it’s not real. If not for this constant feeling of shame that I drag around like a ball and chain, I would deny it ever happened.

  No one else says anything as I step away from the table. I shuffle past the girls, heading straight for the door that will separate me from everyone else. I appreciate these brave women for sharing their experiences, but surely, they understand a girl needs time alone. It’s ironic really. I remember thinking I would never want to be alone again while I was locked away for hours, sometimes days, by myself. Every once in a while, Slasher’s sidekick would come down to keep me company as he doctored my wounds. He never told me his name, but I liked to call him the pathetic bastard. Slasher was the evil bastard, and he was his pathetic friend. He was never cruel to me. Always making sure to give me plenty of pain medication, even if Slasher told him not to. On occasion, if he could get to me before master wanted to play, he would slip me some strong pills to help take the edge off during the torture. Maybe I should feel bad for giving him such a mean nickname, but then again, he never tried to help me escape. Yet, hearing the stories about Slasher makes me think if he had, his boss wouldn’t have thought twice about putting a bullet between his eyes. Perhaps, I should give him the benefit of the doubt and only call him bastard.

  My thoughts have kept me company all the way to the door of my room, so much so I was too distracted to hear Tony’s boots thudding behind me the entire time. Twisting the door knob, I walk into the room without bothering t
o shut him out. He would just knock the door down, so what’s the point in spending the extra energy.

  Irish

  Fully expecting the door to be slammed in my face, I take a short pause before entering the room Ashley will call hers for the time being. I never meant for our situation to turn into a court order, but sometimes a man is pushed to the extremes while trying to keep his woman safe. She wasn’t willing to listen to reason when it came to her safety, and I wasn’t willing to be anything but thorough. I let her down once before. That is one time too many in my book.

  “You need to listen to me, Ashley. I want you to know everythin’ that effects your future.”

  “Then start talking so we can get this over with,” she declares, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Anyone with eyes can see how drained she is. Her eyes have bags the size of suitcases under them, and they’re as bloodshot as a grown man’s who still lives in his parent’s basement.

  It takes a few minutes for me to go over everything I wanted to tell her. She doesn’t show any type of emotion when she hears about how creative and sneaky Slasher and his army of misfits truly are. I think she already had a sense of that. The only time she seems truly interested in the facts is when I mention Slasher is willing to do anything to get Scarlett back. It was like watching a light bulb turn on in her head, which makes me believe he mentioned something to her.

  “Scarlett is just a child,” she whispers.

  “Yes, she is, but Slasher is obsessed with her. I’m not even goin’ to try to understand the mind of a maniac. All I know is, he will do anything to get her back. Including using you or any other woman in this club as leverage. I need you here so I can protect you.”

  “That’s what you keep saying. You even convinced Casey that was the truth, but I’m not so sure. The Tony I knew never liked to lose, and that’s exactly what happened after I got my memories back. You lost.”

  “You’re wrong. I never convinced Casey of anything. I laid out the facts to her the same day I found out you were goin’ to be admitted to that clinic. She ignored me warnings. I have no idea what changed her mind, but I’m glad for whatever it was.”

  “Tony,” Ashley says in a voice that tells me she doesn’t want to argue. Unfortunately for her, I am prepared to stay all night long until she gets over this hatred she feels toward me.

  “Irish,” I correct. “I’m not that man, Tony, anymore. Me name is Irish.”

  “Changing your name doesn’t change who you are.”

  “No, but making the biggest mistake of me life did. I don’t go by Tony anymore because the man I was two years ago was undeservin’ of you, Ashley.”

  I walk to the edge of the bed she is perched on, kneeling before her to show just how vulnerable I am when it comes to our relationship. It’s not easy for a man like me, meaning a badass biker that shows no weakness, to do this. I pride myself in having a hard shell that’s tough to penetrate, but the moment I laid eyes on this beautiful woman I knew she would be the one to shatter me in two.

  “You have to give me another chance to prove me worth. If I lose you, I lose everythin’.”

  “Tony…” By the way she says my name I can tell her resolve is breaking. That twinkle in her eyes tells me more than any words could. If Ashley still cares about the man from two years ago, she will be able to fall for the man I am now.

  “You are married to my sister,” she whispers.

  “We are getting an annulment.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  In a blink of an eye, her anger and hurt reappear as if they never went away. I start grinding my jaw, regretting that I spit my toothpick out before entering the room because this conversation keeps going around in circles.

  “Would cutting off me own dick help you forgive me?”

  I regret the words as soon as they are out of my mouth. Anyone who knows me, knows that I don’t hold grudges. There is no benefit to carrying around feelings of anger everywhere you go. Ashley, who used to agree with me, obviously changed her position when I married her sister.

  “Just get out,” she replies while placing her tiny hands on my shoulders. Ashley tries to shove me away from her, but fails miserably. However, I decide not to let the situation start slowly spiraling out of control, and decide to move away from her on my own accord.

  “That’s the second time you’ve put your hands on me in an aggressive way,” I declare.

  “You’re keeping count.” Her voice comes out in an accusing manner, like it’s a crime for me to keep track of how many inventive ways I get to come up with to even the score between us.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “You bother me.”

  I make my way to the entrance of her room, opting to end the conversations for now, but just before I pull the wooden door from its frame, I turn back to look at her beautiful face one last time. I know without a doubt I will make her mine once again because deep down we Irish men have proven to be suckers for love. She is my one, and there will never be another.

  “This is going to be fun,” I announce.

  “What is?”

  “Proving you wrong,” I state in a cocky tone before strutting out of her room like a man that just slayed his first dragon.

  “You ready to go, or are you going to stay here to grovel some more?”

  Hammer walks up to me after dinner, one that Ashley never showed up for, because we are going to go visit Saint tonight. Every member tries to make it at least once a week while working around the times we know Teller will be there. Giving him alone time with his brother is the right thing to do, and there isn’t a member here that would argue against that.

  “Fuck off,” I joke. I know he is just giving me a hard time, or at least I think he is. It wouldn’t bother me if he did see me down on my knees trying to convince my woman to admit she’s mine, wait, yes it would. No man on this earth wants another man to see him vulnerable. I’m no exception.

  “From the looks of it, that’s exactly what you will be doing just as long as you keep chasing someone that can’t stand your crazy ass.”

  “You’re right. Me hand is already growing tired,” I say while laughing because I playfully slap him in the face with my right hand.

  Hammer is not a squeamish person. I already knew he wouldn’t get angry with my joke before I did it. A man with holes in his ears the size of my pinkie finger isn’t exactly a stick in the mud. That is why he and I get along so well. The other men are more traditional, while us two are considerably more laid back.

  “Just get on your bike, asshole.”

  I can’t keep from smiling while climbing on the machine that promises me freedom every time I crank her up. The sounds she makes when I pull the throttle back is like hearing Irish angels singing in my ears.

  Keeping up with Hammer on the road isn’t hard. He drives like an old lady using one of the motorized carts at the grocery store. One of these days, I am going to have to show him how a true man drives. Until then, I will continue to let him lead the way so I don’t lose sight of his slow ass.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t get pulled over,” I state, as we are both climbing off the bikes we just silenced.

  “I wasn’t speeding,” he responds, looking at me like I am crazy for even accusing him of such a crime.

  “No shit. You were holding up traffic.”

  A simple eyeroll is all I get for my one of a kind joke. Together we walk into the sliding glass doors of the rehabilitation center knowing exactly where to go. We quickly sign in like we are required to do before making our way down the hall that will lead us to the man that shouldn’t be here.

  As expected Saint is still lying in the hospital bed, his eyes sealed shut while he’s fighting off the dream world that won’t let him come back to ours. I know this stubborn asshole hasn’t given up. I still hold out hope, just like his brother Teller does. If there is one thing you can count on its Saint’s ability to surprise the shit out of you. One day, someon
e is going to walk into this room and he’s going to be awake. I just know it.

  “He needs a haircut,” Hammer harshly states. If there is one thing I’ve come to notice it’s how much Hammer nitpicks when it comes to Saint’s care. I’m surprised he hasn’t been keeping a journal of all the things he finds to bitch about. I guess everyone has their way of dealing with tragedies. Hammer’s is too become a constant complainer.

  “Do you remember the time we had to travel to East Texas? It was just the four of us, Hammer, Teller, Saint, and myself, and Buck promised to never send us on another job alone.”

  This is how I usually get Hammer to settle down and stop being so bitchy. I understand that it hurts him to see Saint like this, so I try to remind him of the times when Saint was still here. Hopefully, our fallen brother can hear us as we talk, and it will trigger something in his stubborn brain to wake him up.

  This small town is perfect for meeting with the men that want us to transport guns across the Oklahoma state line. It sits just on the outside of Paris, Texas. It’s small enough to be discreet, but big enough to have a diner. The summer heat is taking its toll on my body. A large glass of iced-tea would make this day better, and that’s exactly what I order as the waitress walks over.

  Hammer orders for himself next, and the woman turns to Teller not realizing he isn’t going to say anything. Saint snaps his fingers, and just like a trained pet the waitress focuses her attention on him. “Two glasses of water. Make mine with lemon,” Saint says, winking at the sexy brunette before she walks away to get our drinks.

  “Keep it in your pants. We came here for a job,” Hammer murmurs.

  “So, I’ll just have her blow me in the restroom. Would that qualify as still being a job?”

  “That girl isn’t going to give you the time of day,” Hammer argues.

  “I’ve got a twenty that says she would,” Saint argues, digging into his wallet to slap the Andrew Jackson down on the table.