by Jayne Blue
My head spun. He really had lost his mind.
“Oh wait. You didn’t think you really earned that grant money, did you? Oh, they just happened to find it lying around and decided you, a run-of-the-mill cocktail waitress from nowhere, deserved it?”
I shook my head. I had no idea what the hell my brief stint in college had to do with any of this. Another clap of thunder made Paul jump and his aim went wild.
“What’s your play here, Paul? Are you going to shoot me? Are you going to let my son die? If you’re afraid of Nash and the Great Wolves, you think that’s going to help your situation any? You’re right. They know. You’re a dead man either way. There’s no place you can run. You think Mayor Dodge actually trusts you? You killed your own cousin.”
Paul leveled the gun at me again. “Shut your stupid whore mouth. I didn’t kill anyone.”
I took a step toward him. “No? But you were there, weren’t you? That’s why Ghost let his guard down. How’s my stupid whore mouth doing now? Dodge got tired of you promising you had things under control. He saw a better, more expedient way to get the ball rolling against the club. And he killed two birds with one stone because killing Ghost right in front of you was a good way to get your attention and remind you of what he’s capable of. Is that about right?”
I underestimated him. The blow came across my cheek and made my head explode in blinding pain. I staggered to my knees as my mouth filled with so much blood I choked on it. I spit it out onto the cement along with two of my teeth. The world became a gray haze and all I wanted to do was sleep. I dug my fingers into the cement and found the will to fight back. Slowly, I rose to my feet.
Paul seized the advantage. He grabbed me and pulled me against him, keeping the gun beneath my chin. I took two staggering steps forward and he dragged me to the edge of the pier. The churning waters below taunted me. The drop wouldn’t kill me. Probably. But drowsiness settled over me like a blanket. I swayed in Paul’s arms as he brought his lips to my ear.
“He’ll kill you,” I managed to sputter. “You know that, right? Nash will hunt you down and he’ll kill you slow. You took his son. You think he’s ever going to let that slide?”
Paul laughed. “Thanks. That’s the one thing I wasn’t sure of. I didn’t think you’d told him about the kid yet because I’ve never seen him with him.”
Paul kissed me on the cheek and blood filled my mouth again. I retched and Paul pulled me back to keep me on my feet. “I guess I don’t need you both after all,” Paul said. “Me holding the kid is all I’ll need to ensure his cooperation. You were what I like to call a redundant system.”
I tried to wriggle free of his grasp, but my vision clouded. Then he let me go all on his own, shoving me forward. The churning ocean rose up fast below me as he threw me off the pier and the thunder cracked.
Chapter Twenty
Nash
* * *
The pier seemed to stretch longer with each pounding footfall as I ran. It would haunt me like that in my nightmares for the rest of my life along with the sounds I heard that day. First, there was the sickening crunch of bone as Paul raised his hand and pistol whipped Harper across the jaw.
I don’t remember doing it, but King told me later that’s when I raised my gun and took the first shot and missed. King came up behind me and froze beside me. Paul had his arm around Harper’s neck. Her legs were rubber as he dragged her to the edge of the pier. She was limp in his arms. Bleeding. I was close enough to see her eyes loll to the side. My heart ripped into pieces as Paul took his meaty hands and pushed her to the edge.
That’s when I took the second shot. The one I remember. My bullet made a dark hole in Paul’s forehead. For an instant, his eyes just crossed and he looked down at Harper as his scrambled brains tried to process what just happened. Then, he crumpled to the pavement and I kept running.
She was only a couple of feet away but time turned to slow motion. I called her name but she couldn’t hear me. I feared she’d never hear me again. I reached for her body and missed. My fingers closed around a clump of her jet-black hair just before she pitched over the edge of the pier.
“Harper!” Time sped up again and I hauled her backward, dropping my gun and circling my arms around her. She was gone. Her vacant eyes stared at the darkening sky. I gathered her into my lap and cupped her face.
“Call a fucking ambulance!” I shouted. I kissed her. Her lips were damp, her skin clammy. But I felt a faint pulse in her temple.
“Baby?” I cried. I laid her on the ground, afraid to try and shake her awake. She’d taken such a hard blow to the head I couldn’t be sure her neck hadn’t snapped.
I heard King behind me. His voice sounded muffled as though he were underwater as he talked to the 911 operator. I rubbed Harper’s arms and legs, trying to get the blood flowing again. She was breathing. Thank God, she was breathing.
“Baby? I’ve got you. It’s over. You’re okay.”
She turned her head to the side and gagged. I got my hands under her shoulders and rolled her just before she threw up on the pavement. But she was coming around. Her eyes went in and out of focus, but her pupils looked normal. Thank God.
“Why?” Her voice was thin and raspy like sandpaper.
“Don’t try to talk. Help’s coming. That bastard can’t ever hurt you again. It’s over. I swear to God, it’s over.”
“Why?” Her tone became more urgent and she tried to tear herself out of my arms. I held her as still as I could. She raised a hand and pointed toward Paul’s Lincoln parked at an angle at the other side of the pier.
“Wyatt!” she screamed and my heart exploded inside of me. “Wyatt!”
King dropped his phone and our eyes met. He ran to the car and peered inside. Trying the doors, he found them locked. I set Harper on the ground as carefully and quickly as I could and went for Paul’s lifeless body. I pawed through his pockets then turned him. Blood poured out of his head wound. I found a single key jammed deep into his back pocket and pressed the lock button.
King opened the front and I opened the back. The car was clean. Terror ripped through me as I staggered toward the trunk. Jesus, God. It was over ninety degrees. She had to be hallucinating.
King gripped my shoulders hard. “Let me,” he said. “Man. Let me. You take care of Harper.”
I shoved King so hard he staggered backward. I lurched for the back of that car. My fingers shook so hard and I could barely focus as I worked the latch and popped open the trunk.
He was there, curled into a fetal position. His blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. I reached for him just as the rain pelted down on us in sheets. The first fat drops landed on his forehead and Wyatt twitched, blinking hard. Then he opened one bright green eye and focused on me.
“Am I dreaming?” he said, his voice sounding so small.
I reached in and slid my arms around my son. The solid weight of his body as he wrapped his arms around me jump started my heart again. Then I took him to his mother’s side. Harper found the strength to sit up. I placed Wyatt in her lap and watched her kiss his head.
* * *
“He’s a little dehydrated, but other than that, there’s not a scratch on him.”
King slapped me on the back and I started to breathe again. I made the young doctor repeat it three more times. She smiled wide and pushed her glasses high on her nose.
“What about his mother?” I asked.
“Her CT scan is good. She’s got a mild concussion and I recommend we keep her overnight, but it’s up to her. For the moment, I don’t think there’s any power on this earth that’s gonna get that little boy out of her arms. I’m fine with sending her home as long as I’m sure someone will be able to keep an eye on her tonight. I’ve got a list of things to watch for.”
“She’s coming home with me,” I said. “I swear to God I’ll never let her out of my sight again.”
Doctor Cummings smiled. She patted my chest and gave a wink to King standing beside me.
“I had a feeling you’d say that. She’s asking for you anyway.”
I swallowed past a lump in my throat and thanked the doctor for about the thousandth time. I turned to King. Everything was coming to a head at once. He saw the look in my eyes and squeezed my upper arm.
“Prez, we got this. You go be with your family.”
My family. The hollow places inside of me filled with warmth at the sound of that. “What about Dodge?” I said. I could barely get his name out without the murderous rage rising in me again.
“That kid hit the jackpot on Paul’s computer. That fucking guy didn’t delete anything. My guy at EPPD is in on it now and they’re writing warrants as we speak. McGill was one sick, paranoid fuck. He’s got records of everything. He hacked the mayor, all his top-level staff. Every one of them is on the hook. Paul has records of meetings with the mayor. Meetings between the mayor and middlemen. It looks like they’ve got solid evidence that’ll connect him with the Russian Mob. Andre Ballas and his friends are cooperating too. That asshole was planning to move product all up and down the Emerald Coast. Emerald Point was just the beginning. The FBI is taking over and they expect to have Dodge in custody within the next twenty-four hours. It’s over, man.”
I let out a sigh. I wanted to be happy. I was. It was over. We’d lost Ghost and I’d had to kill again, but this wouldn’t drag my club down. I kept my people safe. But behind a pink privacy curtain, something else was beginning.
I gave a nod to King, confident that he could handle the wrap-up and fall-out without me for at least a couple of hours. I ran a hand over my face and took a breath. Then I peeled back the curtain and went to meet my son.
Harper sat up in the bed. Wyatt curled himself into the space between her arm and the edge of the bed, laying his head on her shoulder. He had a toy truck in his hands that one of the nurses had given him. He raised a dubious brow toward me as I walked toward the bed.
“How’s everyone doing back here? I hear you’re giving the nurses a run for their money.”
Harper smiled. “I just want to get out of here. We both want to get out of here. Isn’t that right, buddy?”
Wyatt nodded. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me. I sank slowly and sat on the end of the bed. I didn’t know how to do this and looked to Harper for guidance. Then Wyatt sat up. He wriggled a little away from his mother and handed me the truck.
“Are you my dad?” he asked and my heart stopped. “Mom says you are.”
Harper leaned forward and gripped my hand. “Yeah. Buddy, yeah. I am. But you don’t have to call me that if you don’t want to. Maybe we could just start out as friends if that’s okay with you. My name is Nash.”
I put out my hand to him, not expecting him to take it. But Wyatt’s face split into a smirk and he shook my hand with a small but solid grip. “Nash is kind of a weird name. You have kind of a weird voice too.”
I laughed. “Yeah. People tell me that.”
“Are you a cowboy?”
Smiling, I shook my head. “Do I sound like one?”
“Yeah. You kinda look like a cowboy too. Do you have a horse I could ride on?”
“Nope. Never really cared for horses much, I’m afraid. I’ve got a motorcycle though.”
Harper gasped and covered her mouth. I realized a beat too late I probably should have run that one by her first. I was new at this. It would take some time. Wyatt perked up. He jumped up and down on the bed.
“Can I ride it? Will you let me ride it?”
Harper narrowed her eyes at me but her mouth curled into a smirk.
“Well, how about we start off with I let you sit on it. And the next time I need to change the oil I’ll show you how.”
“Yeah! Is that cool, Mom?”
She rolled her eyes and tousled Wyatt’s blond hair. “Yeah. I think that’s way cool.”
“You doing okay, buddy?” I asked. “You had quite the adventure. Were you scared?”
Wyatt looked down. When he looked back at me, he cocked his head to the side and gave me an expression familiar enough it stole my heart. “Yeah. But then you came and got me.”
I nodded. “I’d like to do that more often if you’ll let me. And if it’s okay with your mom. Not the part with the bad guy. But the part where I come and get you when you need me. You were pretty brave today. Your mom is proud of you. I’m proud of you too.”
Wyatt rolled the truck up and down the edge of the bed. “Is your motorcycle here?”
I looked over Wyatt’s head at Harper and smiled. She mouthed, “God help me.”
Wyatt jumped off the bed and walked up to me. He looked me up and down, taking in my boots, my cut, and the tattoos. His eyes widened and he reached out with a single, chubby finger and traced the swirling lines on my arm.
“I like these,” he said, his eyes sparkling. Harper dropped her head against the pillow and rolled her eyes again. “Will you show me your Harley right now? Mom, can I see it right now?”
I gave her a shrug. Harper gave me a death stare. “Sun’s out again,” I said. “It stopped raining. And, uh … Doctor Cummings said you’ve gotta fill out a bunch of papers before I can take you home.”
“I’m outnumbered,” she said, her tone fierce but her eyes sparkled with fresh tears.
I mouthed “I love you” to her as I rose. Then my son reached up and slid his small hand into mine. He was brave and confident as he tugged on me and leaned toward the door. I gave Harper’s foot a quick squeeze and I turned toward the door and walked out with my son, hand in hand.
Chapter Twenty-One
Harper
* * *
One year and one month later …
* * *
“Are you sure about this?” Nash asked for the ten-thousandth time.
“Trust me,” I said. “This isn’t the easiest thing in the world for me either. But it’s a damn sight better than you riding up behind him on this thing.” I slapped the seat of Nash’s Harley as I stood beside it.
“That’s a quarter for the jar, Mom,” Wyatt said. He sat perched on the seat of said Harley. Nash’s helmet slid to the side and covered Wyatt’s eyes. He struggled to get it off and Nash reached down to help him.
“Sorry,” I said, sticking out my tongue at Nash over Wyatt’s head.
“We drove him last year. I don’t see why we can’t do the same thing this year,” Nash said.
“It’s here, it’s here!” Wyatt slid off the Harley and jumped up and down. He tugged at Nash’s pant leg and reached up for his backpack. “Dad, dad!”
Nash leaned down and kissed the top of Wyatt’s head. The boy needed a haircut. Wyatt had been begging to get the same side-shaved style as his father wore with a ponytail in back. I didn’t think Emerald Point Elementary School was quite ready for that yet.
Wyatt turned his back to Nash as Nash helped him slide the backpack over his shoulders. The thing was heavy enough; I worried he’d topple over like a turtle. But Wyatt spread his feet and wriggled into the thing. He turned and smiled, flashing that killer dimple as he gave us a thumbs up.
“That’s why,” I said to Nash. “You want to deprive your son of the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to him?”
The school bus rounded the corner, its brakes squealing as it slowed to a stop right in front of the driveway. The bus driver opened the door and her eyes widened as she got a load of Nash leaning against his gleaming Harley while wearing his cut. I covered my mouth to suppress a laugh. I reached out and grabbed Nash’s hand. Tears formed at the corner of my eyes as our big boy ran into my arms and gave me a hug goodbye.
“Have a good day,” I said. “You got your lunch?”
Wyatt twisted at the hips to show me his backpack. “I’m not a kindergarten baby anymore, Mama. This is first grade.”
“Right.” I gave him a salute and a high five.
Wyatt went to Nash. He held out his hand. The two of them shook hands and bumped fists. “Kick first grade’s ass, buddy.”
> Wyatt smiled and laughed. “That’s a quarter, Dad. Don’t forget to tell Paps he owes me four whole dollars from yesterday.”
I covered my mouth to keep the laughter from erupting while the bus driver gave me a dubious stare.
“Man,” Nash said. “By the end of this year that kid’s gonna have enough for his first year of college.”
Wyatt climbed up the steps into the bus then turned back and waved. He spotted one of his kindergarten buddies from last year right away and took a seat by the window beside him. Nash circled my waist with his arm and squeezed me tight as the bus driver closed the door and headed down the street.
“Come on, baby,” Nash said. He nipped my earlobe. “We’ve got a solid hour before crunch time.”
Heat shot through me as he swept me into his arms and pulled me into a low dip. I climbed on the back of the bike behind him and we rode back up the driveway toward the house.
It was almost finished. Nash built it so our master bedroom had a balcony view of the ocean. Wyatt’s bedroom was down the hall and he finally settled on a theme for it. It was Harley Davidson all the way. Nash swore it was Wyatt’s idea but I had my suspicions.
We headed up to the balcony. It was quiet up there and today was the first day we got to execute the grand plan before crunch time. As soon as Wyatt headed off to school, we had our morning coffee while watching the tide roll in.
“I’m never going to get tired of this view,” I said as I sank into the wicker chair Nash had made especially for me. I put my feet in his lap and he rubbed the soles. I groaned with pleasure.
“Damn, baby,” he said. “Screw the coffee.”
Before I could protest, Nash was on his feet. He reached down and threw me over his shoulder. I squealed with laughter as he pulled open the sliding glass door and threw me on our bed.
I wore a sundress today. Nash made quick work of sliding my panties down. I wrapped my legs around his waist and cupped his jaw with my hand. I kissed him deep and hard as he thrust himself into me where he fit the best.