Irish

by Dusty Lassetter

  When his head turns in my direction, I’m instantly captivated by his stare. The horrors those beautiful blue spheres have witnessed amazes me every time I catch a glimpse of them. His strong jaw line is even more pronounced with the look of annoyance on his face. I can sense that he is trying to tell me to leave him alone, but I’m not smart enough to obey his silent command.

  “What happened?” I ask, taking a step in his direction. We are now separated by as little as five feet. I can see specks of crimson on his hands and face. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what caused those stains. With my question lingering around the air between us, he opens the bathroom door before walking in.

  Seconds tick by as I wait for him to shut the door, effectively telling me to mind my business, but he never does. My feet move on their own accord while my mind tries to decipher the odd reaction I am having toward the thought of Teller potentially being in danger. Can I really continue to fool myself into believing that my worry for his safety is all centered around my own survival? Out of all the men here Teller is the one I feel most connected with. Not because he claimed me for reasons still unknown. No, it’s more of a spiritual connection. My soul speaks to his because of the lives we’ve lived. There is no doubt in my mind that his past was just as dehumanizing as mine.

  “Are you hurt?” I find myself asking the question before I stop to think about what his reaction might be to my prying. Teller is a suspicious person, for good reason. I fear that he has mistaken my real concern for something fake. There’s really only one way to interrupt the look he is giving me.

  “Okaay…” I say to fill in the silence his lack of answer brings. He begins to lather up his hands with soap before turning on the water to rinse them off, all the while completely ignoring me.

  “I’ll just leave you alone,” I whisper, trying to take my leave as quickly as possible. It’s incredibly humiliating to have someone treat you with such disdain when all you’re trying to do is check on them. Regardless of who he is, or who I am, I genuinely care.

  When I feel his wet fingers encase my upper arm in their grasp, I immediately stop my retreat. Turning my attention back to his blazing blue eyes, I almost regret bothering him in the first place.

  “You’re in danger,” he states. I try not to visibly cringe from the sound of his harsh voice. I don’t know how he can stand to talk. It sounds painful just listening.

  “I already know that.”

  He shakes his head, indicating that there is a piece of information I’m missing. When he turns back toward the sink, I assume he is dismissing me once again, but I’m proven wrong when he pushes a small black hand towel that was hanging on the wall toward me. His eyes move from my own to the spot on my arm that is still wet from his touch. Taking the offering from his grasp, I wipe off any water that was left behind.

  “You’ll move to the room beside mine,” he commands while taking the towel back. He doesn’t wait for me to respond, simply hangs the cloth back where it belongs, and goes back to cleaning himself up. I could argue with him, but I decide that any dispute I have will fall on deaf ears. So, I use the only card I have to make sure I stay where I belong- with Sammy and Kaeper.

  “Mia won’t allow it,” I announce, feeling myself become empowered just speaking her name. Mia is someone I strive to be like. She’s strong, beautiful, and loves her family with a force as strong as a hurricane. She protects us. She protects me.

  I might be losing my mind, but I swear I here Teller laugh. Of course, with his damaged windpipes it sounds more like a raspy cough. The thought of him laughing off my concern bothers me, but then I remember that I made it Mia’s issue and not mine.

  “I…I won’t do it,” I declare, and I get a new sense of pride when I only take half a step back as his stare penetrates mine in the mirror.

  His blue eyes are telling me everything his mouth refuses. It doesn’t matter if Mount Mia fully erupts, or I beg him to change his mind. I am going to be moving into the room beside his. In order for me to become less of an annoyance to him, I need to do this willingly. After all, no one wants to protect someone they merely tolerate.

  “No.” Mia states the word with such finality in her tone I almost give up on arguing with her, but I know I need to do this.

  “Mia, I’m not asking.”

  Now it’s my turn to get her to be quiet. I retrieve my clothes from her hands before going back to packing what little I have. Torch and the rest of the men have been wonderful enough to provide us with what we need, and in most cases, want. I try to only ask for what I must have to survive. One day soon, I hope I can become a normal teenager. I want to get my GED while working a job at some crappy fast food joint where all the customers are rude and the employees are lazy. It’s my dream to provide for myself without having to look over my shoulder every time I hear a rabbit sneeze.

  “Scarlett, you’re not thinking. Let me talk to Torch. I’m sure we can come up with a compromise everyone will agree too.”

  “No, you’re not listening. No one questioned you when you moved in with Torch. I’m doing what’s best for me.”

  “What does he have on you?” I can tell she honestly believes that Teller is blackmailing me. I can’t exactly blame her for those thoughts. I am the one that hid my history with Slasher from her, only telling Mia when I no longer had a choice.

  “He claimed me, Mia. That’s reason enough.”

  “No…No it is not. He claimed you with the speculation he couldn’t touch you until you were twenty-one, Scarlett. I told you to deny him. I warned you what would happen if you didn’t tell Torch and Buck that you didn’t want to be his old lady.”

  Her pacing is starting to grow annoying, but I say nothing to stop it. Mia is working on her anger issues, and the only way she has learned to keep from igniting is to move. The constant action helps keep her calm, and more than half the club is thankful for this. Instead of ranting and raving, she organizes and cooks.

  “I don’t regret anything.” Hoping she will end the discussion, I look up from what I am doing. If she can see the truth in my words maybe she will see that I am going to move rooms, no matter how opposed to the idea she is.

  “You’re just a child,” she whispers. “Of course, you don’t regret it. Teenagers never think they’re wrong.”

  “I turn eighteen in two weeks. That makes me an adult, and,” I start to say while holding up my hand knowing she is about to start another debate, “before you start, I want you to remember that I am no ordinary teenager, Mia. I would never do something I wasn’t confident about. This is what’s best for me.”

  “I don’t like it,” she states.

  “You don’t have to like it. You just have to support it.”

  I can see what a struggle it is for her to give into my will. Her shoulders slump and a frown threatens to permanently take over her beautiful face. Reaching out to take her hand in mine, I give it a gentle squeeze for reassurance. Mia worries, much like a big sister would, about me, Sammy, and Rebecca. We are her family now, Kaeper included, and all she wants is for us to be happy. She often tells us not to let our time as human pets define who we become. Sammy has done so by becoming a mother. A very good one at that. Rebecca is doing her part by taking art lessons from Hammer. She wants to be a tattoo artist, and he promised her a job at the club’s up and coming shop. Today, I am taking a step in the direction that makes me happiest. I have long term goals, but first I need to accomplish my short-term ones. As soon as Slasher is dead, I will move on. I just need to see the life drain from his eyes first.

  Teller

  I left Scarlett at the compound tonight so she could move her belongings to the empty room that’s right beside mine. Dak said Slasher sent Dominic to our compound. I never got the real reason for the surprise visit, but I guarantee it has everything to do with Scarlett. With her staying in the room next to mine, I will be able to hear everything going on. Drilling those holes through the walls is turning out to be one of the best ideas
I’ve had.

  Saint’s tattoos look even more faded tonight, and his hair seems to have lost some of its color. Looking at him, you wouldn’t think he was Roberto’s son. The only Spanish trait he has is tanned skin, and even that’s fading. It’s like the life is slowly draining out of my brother while I sit here plotting a revenge that might get me killed. I guess if it’s time for me to go, at least I’ll die knowing I was responsible for killing all those who dared cross me and my brother.

  Thirteen years old…

  Roberto’s body is bleeding out on the floor of Saint’s tiny bedroom. The pool of blood is tripling in size right before my eyes. A strange sense of relief starts to wash over me while I watch the liquid fill in the cracks between the wood. The bastard died with a look of surprise on his face because his cherished son was the one to put a blade through his black heart.

  “Marcus, we need to get out of here before mom comes home,” Junior is trying to get me to stop staring at his handiwork, but I feel like the moment I look away, Roberto’s going to make one last lunge at us like every bad guy does in a scary movie.

  “We’re going to jail,” I finally whisper, those three words make my throat feel like I just swallowed glass. My earlier relief is starting to fade into fear. I can’t be separated from Junior, not now, not ever.

  “You’re not going jail, Marcus. I killed that pig, not you. Now let’s go.”

  The urgency in his voice has me numbly moving my feet. I take the backpack he’s already packed full of my stuff, slinging it over my shoulder.

  “I have some friends that we can stay with. They’ll give us the alibi we need.”

  The sound of the front door being swung open then slammed shut causes Junior to cuss under his breath before he starts rubbing his hands through his hair. I’ve never seen him look so stressed out, and that alone is causing my anxiety to rise. Then, like a rubber band something inside me snaps into place. Junior just saved my life, knowing there could be serious consequences. He said it best when he told Roberto, my brother comes before all. There is one person standing between us and safety, I’m not going to let Jocelyn ruin our lives anymore.

  “Marcus,” I don’t allow my brother’s pleas to distract me from what I have to do. Our mother would call the cops immediately and throw us under the bus for a man that treated her like shit. She’s a selfish bitch. I’m not going to give her a chance to send my brother away for protecting me.

  On my way to the kitchen where I hear Jocelyn rummaging around, probably for something to sell to get her next fix, I see Roberto’s dagger sitting on the dining room table. Seeing as he no longer needs it, I take possession of the weapon. The grips are still a bit too big for my smaller hand, but it’s only going to be used for one job.

  She doesn’t even hear me walk up behind her because she’s too consumed with her search. She still has around four inches of height on me, so when I place the blade to her neck, my arm is stretched above my head. One quick sliding motion later, and she now lays bleeding out on a dirty floor like the asshole she always chose over us.

  “Marcus, what have you done?”

  Is that concern in Juniors voice for our mother? Maybe he didn’t want her dead as much as I did. To me Roberto was an evil man, but Jocelyn was just as foul as he was. The day I nearly lost my life she told the cops whatever Roberto told her to. She chose to stand on that side of the line, so now she can die on that side too.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, not caring that the sound of my voice is hideous and hurts worse with every syllable I pronounce.

  “Hey, don’t apologize. That bitch had it coming, but I need you to do me a favor. Promise me right now that if anyone ask, I killed them both. Do you hear me? I can’t keep both of us alive if we get locked up. Your chances are better out here. I killed them both.”

  My earlier suspicion was wrong. My brother wasn’t concerned about Jocelyn. He was worried about me and the consequences my actions could bring down on myself. I stare into his hazel eyes while nodding my head. I will tell him what he wants to hear because I would do anything to see some of the stress leave his eyes, but I have no intention of letting him take the fall for my choice. We are brothers, closer than any two have ever been, and where he goes I go.

  A noise outside catches my attention just before the evening nurse enters for her last round of check-ins. I came early tonight because I was curious to confront the woman that has allowed Slasher to make her his accomplice. However, I wasn’t expecting the woman to be the size of a fifteen year-old boy, but the age of my grandmother, if I had one. She is struggling with getting the blood pressure machine to turn the right way, all the while smiling in my direction.

  “He’s so lucky to have a brother like you,” she states. I’ve seen her around, once or twice, but never has she acknowledged me before. I wonder what could be going on in her life for this little old lady to work for someone like Slasher as a side job.

  Instead of slamming down the photos that have been waiting in my jacket pocket, I allow her to do her job without any interruptions. I’m going to need more information before I potentially scare this lady to death. I have no problem with protecting my brother from our enemies, new or old, but something’s not adding up. I refuse to harm an innocent, especially one as fragile as her.

  Once again, I leave my brother after visiting hours has ended. Every time I have to walk out of this building without him, it just adds more fuel to the fire that burns bright in my chest. With each day that passes, I get more of the information I will need to take down Slasher. Just this morning I received a message from someone that claims to have valuable intel, so that is where I am headed now. Meeting him in private may not be the smartest decision I’ve made as of late, but I will do just about anything to end this game of chess-sooner rather than later.

  The abandoned gas station he chose to meet at has been left to the devices of mother nature. The once white brick walls are covered with vines, and the pumps themselves are almost rusted beyond recognition due to the lack of coverage from the weather. The awning was long ago removed when a bunch of teenagers were caught using it as a drinking post.

  “You actually came,” the Blacktop Sinners member says to me as I walk toward his figure that is outlined by the full moon’s rays. I immediately recognize the bastard as one of Slasher’s trusted men which is saying something because their president doesn’t have many.

  “I don’t expect you to say anything, just listen.”

  It’s laughable that he felt it necessary to state this. I have no intention of talking, he’s the one that messaged me. Standing within five feet of him, the moonlight reflecting off his bald head, I place my hands inside my jacket, prepared to use the daggers I have hidden.

  “It’s getting a little hot to be wearing leather jackets,” he says with a knowing smirk on his face. I don’t care that he is suspicious of me. I actually prefer it. “Your clubs in over its head,” he declares, once he’s done questioning me on my clothing.

  The brave idiot wants to start the conversation with digs at my club. The reality is, I am wasting precious time sitting here with him and that alone is pissing me off. I didn’t come here to be insulted. Choosing this moment to reveal my favorite dagger because it’s the one that cuts the deepest, I silently tell him to get on with the intel I came for.

  “Slasher doesn’t only want Scarlett back, he wants every member in your club dead. He’s smart, too smart, and doesn’t share much with the people around him. I’m not the only member that wants to rid our club of his diseased mind. We need help. We need you.”

  A nod of my head shows him I’m interested enough to hear the rest of what he has to say.

  “Slasher’s only weakness is Scarlett. If you control her then you control him. I hate to ask you to use that poor girl in such a way, but that’s our only option.”

  Another nod of my head shows him that I am willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want.

  />
  Dusty Lassetter, Irish