by Drew Elyse
“Call nine-one-one,” I told her, not bothering to drop my voice. Damien was at the edge already. He was going to do whatever he had in his head either way.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Call the cops and tell them how you broke in,” Damien mocked.
I could feel Quinn moving behind me, staying right against my back. I hoped he couldn’t see her. Still, I spoke to keep his attention on me. “I’m not the one holding the gun.”
“Castle Doctrine,” Damien argued. “You broke in. I defended myself. No one will think twice about the criminal biker breaking in being a threat.”
“Might not sell as well since I’m your fucking brother.”
Damien jerked the gun at me and my muscles braced on instinct for the hit that didn’t come.
“You are not my brother!” he shouted. “You’re the son of a fucking whore.”
He was trying to bait me. He didn’t get how much more the woman behind me meant than any fucked sense of pride. Words meant nothing at all compared to her.
He could say all he wanted about being in love with her, but he didn’t have that first fucking clue. He’d never loved anyone, Quinn included.
Quinn’s voice trembled as she spoke low. Trying to keep from being overheard in the minimal distance, she rattled off the address.
“Get off the fucking phone!” Damien ordered.
The clock was running. He knew it as well as I did. Getting the police here was best for Quinn, but it also meant we’d just backed Damien into a corner. In doing so, we’d made him all the more dangerous.
“How long have you been following her?” I demanded.
Quinn gasped from behind me, but my focus was on him. He’d give me an opening at some point and I had to be ready.
“I’m not a damn stalker,” Damien denied.
“Pictures I found say different.”
“Pictures?” Quinn breathed out, but it was barely audible even to me.
“I needed to know if you got out of the fucking way,” Damien ranted on. “She’s too good for you. I paid an investigator to make sure I knew when you got divorced. But you didn’t. Two fucking years you were gone and nothing!”
He was screaming now, like the object of his obsession wasn’t right there hearing every word. With the gun still pointed my way, he used his free arm to turn his chair a bit toward the front windows, looking out them for police lights.
As low as I could manage while still knowing she’d hear me, I murmured to Quinn, “When I move, you get down and then out of the room.”
“She never should have married you in the first place! I could have given you so much more, Quinn,” Damien went on, his attention still out the window.
“I can’t,” Quinn whispered to me.
“You will,” my reply was firm. She had to do this.
“You don’t fucking deserve her!” he roared, his attention back on me.
Quinn didn’t argue with me further, and I took that as her agreement.
“You’re right. I don’t,” I told Damien. “But I come a hell of a lot closer than you.”
His hand went back to the wheel of his chair. The gun didn’t lower, but I was banking on the fact that his attention would at least be fractured by the action.
I dove toward him, side-stepping once I heard the thump of Quinn’s body dropping to the floor. Damien fired two shots, both aimed toward where I’d been standing. By the time he pulled for the third, my hand was around his on the gun, pushing his arm up and away, and the bullet embedded in the drywall somewhere near the ceiling.
I risked the break in focus long enough to ensure Quinn made it to safety. She was crawling around the corner, hunkered down low to the floor.
Damien took advantage of my distraction, using my arm extended to hold the gun with him to leverage himself up to his feet. He barely got up before I swung out my other hand, connecting with his gut. He tried to force his arm around to get the gun aimed on me again, but he didn’t have the power. Instead, he rocked us both to each side, unsteadying himself. I threw another blow, this one higher, catching the bottom of his jaw.
His grip on the gun loosened as his hand sought to catch his fall against the door. I wrapped my hand around the barrel and yanked it from his grasp even as he squeezed the trigger again.
I felt the bullet fly past my upper arm, ripping open the skin but not burying itself in.
With the gun in my hand, I threw my arm out, connecting the butt to his temple and sending him careening to the floor. He didn’t break his fall, his head ricocheting off the wood.
I was in the same position, gun in hand, trying to catch my breath, staring down at him to make sure he stayed unconscious, when fast pounding at the door and a shouted, “Police!” gained my attention.
They didn’t wait. Quinn had said the word “gun” in her call, and that was all the permission they needed.
I put both hands in the air before they could ask, holding the gun up and out in a clear sign I was not going to use it even as they stormed in, weapons trained on me. One officer came right to me, taking the pistol from my hand and bringing my arms down to cuff me.
Quinn rushed into the room, throwing her hands up in alarm when the other officers turned their guns on her.
“It wasn’t him,” she cried, tears running down her face. I hated to see her like that, hated that I was stuck across the room where I couldn’t comfort her after all she’d been through that night.
“Ma’am, keep your hands in the air,” one of the cops instructed as he approached her.
She did, even though it was obvious they were treating her like a threat. She looked to Damien, still unconscious on the floor while one of the officers checked for a pulse. There was blood running from his temple where I’d hit him and another line from his nose.
“He was protecting me,” Quinn insisted as the cop got to her and patted her down.
I was relieved to see he didn’t immediately move to cuff her too.
“You’re the one who called this in?” he asked.
“Yes,” she choked out.
“What happened?”
Quinn gave a rushed version, explaining how Damien had pulled a gun on us, glossing over the part of the story where I broke into his house. Her words were a mess of sobs that felt like blows to the chest.
When she was done, the officer looked to the guy who’d cuffed me and nodded. Without a word, I was jerked by the arm and escorted out.
“No!” Quinn cried behind me. “No, he didn’t do anything wrong!”
“I’m sorry. I understand that, but he had the gun when we got here, and the person you just admitted as the homeowner is on the ground in bad shape. We have to take him in until it’s all sorted.”
I didn’t catch the rest of the chatter exchanged. All I heard was the broken sound of her sobs as they led me away.
I’d been sitting in a holding cell all night. I didn’t know the exact time, but the sun had started coming in through the windows hours ago.
At one point during the night, they’d brought in some guy drunk off his ass who’d shared the cell with me. Listening to the lightweight throw up on and off for an hour was not the fucking highlight of my week. Not that any part of sitting on a metal bench in a damn police station was.
Jager showed not long after I was brought in. They didn’t let him over to talk to me, but I had gotten my phone call. Club procedure was to call Stone. He told me they’d already reached out to the club’s lawyer. He also told me Jager would be there for Quinn until they could get me released.
“You’re gonna have to sit tight until we can get that shark we got on retainer down there,” he’d told me. “Couple of the brothers are on the road. Ember’s with them. Quinn will be in good hands. Yeah?”
I knew they hadn't kept Quinn there long. One of the officers was cool enough to at least come by and tell me my wife had gone home. I didn’t want her sitting around in a police station waiting however long it took for me to be released, so I was
relieved to hear it.
As time dragged on in that cell, I was tempted to do my interrogation without a lawyer. If I hadn’t broken in to Damien’s place before the rest of that shit went down, I would have just to expedite the process.
“Wieser,” an officer said, coming up to the cell, keys out. “Lawyer’s here.”
Finally.
I let him lead me to an interrogation room and didn’t react when I saw who was sitting in there waiting for me—at least, not until the cop left. It wasn’t the club’s lawyer.
It was my father.
Not bothering with formalities, I started right in. “I assume you’ve already been to the hospital.”
“They expect Damien will wake up before long. The scans do not look as though there will be lasting damage,” he answered.
Too bad.
“You want to tell me why you’re here?” I asked as I sat across from him. “Not sure I should be talking to you when your firm’ll no doubt be representing Damien.”
“I took part in a disturbing phone call this morning,” he stated out of left field.
I didn’t respond, but he went on anyway.
“It was while I was contacting one of Damien’s clients he was meant to have a meeting with today. A meeting he will clearly not be able to make. When I explained Damien was in the hospital, this client got very nervous. He, in turn, divulged how Damien had coached him through a false statement he then gave to the police in an effort to receive a lighter sentence.”
Oh, fuck.
“Now, you have made your feelings about myself, Damien, and our business very plain over the years. I understand you have those opinions and I feel no need to persuade you to change them. However, regardless of what you might believe, the integrity of my practice is paramount to me. Those allegations coming to light and understanding those actions were a deliberate attempt to ruin you—I will not stand for that. That he would then choose to do something as foolish as turn a gun on you and your wife only proves he, in fact, deserves to suffer the consequences of his choices.”
Holy shit.
“You’re fucking serious?”
I was half tempted to believe the man in front of me wasn’t actually my father until I saw the distaste in his expression at my swearing.
“I am indeed,” he replied anyway. “I have always wanted for Damien to follow in my footsteps. I would have liked for you to as well, but it was clear early on this would not happen. However, I will not let everything I have built be destroyed, not even by my own son.”
For the first time since he arrived, I really recognized my father sitting there. Yes, Richard Blackhorne would have let anyone swing for the sake of the small empire he’d built. He would not have hesitated when that person had tied their own noose—even when that person was his son.
“I assume you have an attorney on the way, since they were not surprised when I arrived and declared I was your representation,” he went on.
“Yeah. The club’s got a firm on retainer. They were sending someone.”
“I would like to handle this myself. As I am already here, this will move faster if we can begin the questioning.”
The situation was one I never expected to find myself in for a lot of reasons, and that my father would be offering to defend me against his golden son was the most shocking of them all. I took a minute to consider everything he’d said before I agreed to this.
“Attorney-client privilege?” I asked.
“Of course,” he nodded, a gesture to move on with what I had to say.
“I broke into Damien’s house. You seem confident we can clear up the self-defense part, but I’m curious how you plan to keep me from going down for B and E.”
“How did you get inside the house?”
“Guessed the code for his garage door,” I told him, feeling the heat build in me again at what that code was.
“Information it would not be outside expectation for one’s brother to have,” he stated, already spinning his half-truths.
“Pretty sure Damien will argue differently.”
He looked almost bored as he stated, “I find it unlikely his testimony will be considered the letter of truth when it is discovered he gave a man the means to perjure himself. Should the DA decide to move forward based on Damien’s word, I am confident I can win the case.”
I wasn’t my father’s biggest fan, but I had to admit, I was confident in that too.
“Now,” he went on as he stood, “if you will give me the name of the firm your…club works with, I will tell them you are not in need of their services at this time, and let them know what they will need for the case they will be building against Damien. I will also let the investigating officer on your case know we are ready for their questions.”
He waited just long enough for me to give him the name of the firm, then moved with that pompous fucking air of his out the door.
It took another five hours for me to be released. Damien woke while I was in questioning. Whatever he said to the detectives sent to the hospital to get his side of things hadn’t been enough for them to opt to level charges against me.
Asshole father—one.
Asshole, lucky-I-didn’t-bash-his-fucking-head-in brother—zero.
When I was sprung, my father offered me a ride and I had him take me directly to Quinn’s. I’d sort out getting my bike later.
I called Jager on the way to tell him I was inbound. I had no clue what state Quinn was in. Maybe she was resting after the fucked up night we’d had. On the chance that was the case, I didn’t want to call her.
Whatever she had been doing, she was informed I was on my way. I knew this when we pulled up to her building and saw her pacing on the sidewalk outside. Jager, Sketch, Roadrunner, and Ember stood nearby, watching her.
Richard pulled up close to her, and stated, “I will be in contact soon.”
Even with that, he was the same cold, removed dick I’d always known. Still, seeing Quinn anxious to have me back drove home just how much he’d done for me that day.
“Thank you.”
His response was to nod, but I thought I might have seen a touch of real feeling in the gesture.
I got out of the car, shutting the door behind me soundly. The others had already noticed me, but it was that noise that got Quinn’s attention. Her head swung my way, her dark hair fanning out around her. Those cool blue and honey eyes settled on me and tears escaped the second before she took off running at me full speed.
I braced, catching her and pulling her in even harder than she held me.
“You’re here,” she cried into my neck, her legs leaving the ground to wrap around me.
I took all her weight, fucking thrilled to feel it. “I’m here.”
“You’re okay?”
I breathed in her green apple scent, and told her, “No charges, baby. I’m a free man.”
“Thank God,” she sobbed.
I carried her toward her door, giving the brothers and Ember all the greeting I could with Quinn in my arms. There were things I had to tell them, shit they had to know, thanks that needed to be given for taking care of my girl, but I’d find time for that later. Right then, Quinn was my focus.
The group moved with me as I carried my shattered wife inside, Jager getting the doors for us with Quinn’s keychain-laden keys. I left them to their own devices, shutting Quinn and I in her room.
Settling her on the bed and following her down, I just lay there and held her until the worst of the tears subsided. Her body trembled against mine, her tears soaked my shirt.
“I’m here, little bird. Not a fucking thing on this earth could keep me from you,” I murmured to her. “Everything is okay now. I promise.”
Her tears eased bit by bit, the tremors slowing until she was relaxed in my arms.
“Nothing else touches us,” I promised. “From here, we get to have the life we envisioned. Remember?”
She nodded without moving back to look at me. “I work as a librari
an,” she croaked, her voice garbled by the tears she’d shed. Still, she gave me what I wanted. She repeated what she’d planned with me two years ago in a hotel room in California. We hadn’t written our own vows for the ceremony, but we’d shared afterward. Once I’d exhausted us both from all the consummating, we made all the promises we needed as we envisioned what our lives would have been.
“I found a good shop to work at, so we’ve got that one covered.”
“I cook because you’re terrible at it and would end up giving us food poisoning,” she carried on, some lightness coming into her words.
“I fix shit. Anything that breaks, I fix it for you so you don’t ever have to pick up a tool again.”
“We take some time just to ourselves before we try for a family,” she said with a content little sigh. I was too tired to act on it, and could tell Quinn was too, but that didn’t stop my cock from stirring at the sound.
“You come home in those hot as fuck clothes you wear to work and let me play out any fantasy I have about dirtying up the sweet librarian.” I didn’t miss the way she squirmed a little at my words.
“You watch my shows without complaint as long as I’m close.”
“Is it too late to change my mind on that one?”
“Yes,” she laughed.
I groaned. “Fine. But you can’t give me shit if I fall asleep.”
“Fine,” she agreed, though she made it sound harassed.
Brushing her hair back from her face, I looked into Quinn’s eyes as I asked, “You remember the most important promise from that day?”
She nodded. “No matter what happens, you love me every day.”
“I never stopped, and I never will, little bird,” I vowed.
She burrowed in closer to me, and I held her as her finally relaxed body grew more lax and she slipped off to sleep. With her there, my beautiful wife tucked into my side, I let go of it all and did the same.
Tomorrow, we’d start living out all those promises we’d made, and it was going to be sweet.
“Are you actually just going to show up at his door with that?” Max asked.