Return : Stratham Knights Book 1

by NV Roez

  Just being here, hearing him laugh, talking about something as insignificant as a childhood game, and all my barriers fall away. I won’t tell him that, but the truth is there, nonetheless.

  His smile turns somber. "How is she?"

  I look up at him, remembering all the things that have happened since the days we played chess together and fast forwarding to the days at Stratham this year. It makes me sad to know that we'll never get those days back, no matter how much we both want them.

  "Not my story to tell. She's okay, I guess."

  "Fair enough." He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and places them both on the table. "So tell me about you. The new you."

  I look away. "There isn't much to say, Micah. I’m breathing. that’s about it. But I do have a question."

  "Fire away, Angel. I'm an open book."

  I roll my eyes before facing him. "When did you become a criminal?"

  His blue eyes bulge a bit, and he chokes on a sip of coffee. "What? I'm not a criminal. What the hell are you talking about?"

  I scan his features, looking for any telltale signs of a lie, and keep going. "I was told that the Knights are in business with the Bianchi crime family and the fraternity brothers are used as ground men for particular operations. Any of that ringing a bell?"

  He places his coffee down on the table and sits up a little straighter, visibly withdrawing and sending a chill in the air. Serious Micah is a complete contradiction to the boy who was just in front of me.

  "That's a fucking lie. Who the hell told you that? I would never be involved with the Bianchi family. Ever. We get weed every now and then to share with our brothers, but that's as far as it goes."

  I can see in his eyes that he believes his words. Micah has always been the easiest one to read.

  There are only two paths from here, though.

  Either Alik was lying about his business dealings, or Micah doesn't know what he's gotten into.

  The trouble is, I know Alik. Alik doesn't lie.

  I open my mouth to tell him more of what I learned over spring break when I hear the front door bells jingle as it opens. I look up for the briefest moment out of habit and freeze.

  A familiar young woman walks in, dressed in black skinny jeans, black hoodie, and black boots that match my own. Behind her is a tall young man dressed in similar clothing with a tattoo that crawls up his neck.

  To anyone else, they’re just a high school couple, but recognition hits me and I stop breathing. It's the fucking Reaper and the Ferryman.

  Without moving, I check my peripherals to get a gauge on my surroundings and notice that there are only a few tables with patrons and only one person at the register. None of them familiar, none of them fit in.

  "Micah." I continue to scan the room inconspicuously. "What time is it?"

  I know I must look crazy to him right now, but I don't care. Something feels wrong. No way they just show up here. They're in the wrong fucking state.

  He glances down at his watch. "It's six twenty. Why?"

  I stretch my neck, moving my head from side to side as I continue to monitor who is in the cafe. I go to grab my knife but realize that I left my knife back in my room.

  Fuck.

  I pick up my coffee like I'm about to take a sip and whisper. "It's time to go. Pick up your coffee and let's get back to campus."

  He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. "You wanna go? We just got here. I thought we were going to try to start over, you and I."

  My eyes snap to his. "Do you trust me?" I ask him, sliding out of the booth.

  "I think so."

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes and smile instead. "Good enough. I'm asking you to trust me and take me back to campus. We can talk all day if you want. But right now, it's time to go."

  I remove the lid of my coffee cup as I see a reflective shadow on the window.

  Amateur.

  I throw my coffee over my shoulder and sweep my leg behind me as I whirl around.

  "What the fuck!" Micah shouts as another body wraps a broad, tattooed arm around his neck, effectively dragging him out of his seat.

  I grab a butter knife from the table next to ours, it's the only weapon near me, and race towards the guy holding Micah, but it's a futile attempt. An arm wraps around my upper waist, squeezing hard. I kick at the person at my back as I try to move forward, but it's expending too much air and I can't fully catch my breath.

  "I'm disappointed, princess. I had such high hopes for you. Turns out, you really are a gutter rat, aren't you," the guy whispers in my ear.

  "Ryan?" I say his name as a question, but I already know the answer. "Get off me, asshole."

  He chuckles, pressing himself against me. "Don't worry, doll. I'm not going to hurt you. We're just here for Micah. You know the deal."

  Micah stares at me while the guy behind him holds onto his wrists.

  "The deal?" he says, marred with confusion. "You set me up? Is that why you had me wait, so you could call up these goons?"

  "No!" I shout, struggling against Ryan, but Ryan shouts louder.

  "Of course she did! Did you really think she would spend time with you on purpose?" Ryan says with a hearty laugh. "God, that's good. I couldn't have written this any better. The high and mighty Micah Coleson really believes he can take whatever he wants. Sorry to break it to you, but she called me as soon as you showed up."

  "That's a damn lie. I didn't call anyone," I growl back.

  Now that we're restrained, the room falls silent. I can feel the rumble of Ryan's chest against my back while he continues to laugh.

  "Do you deny that we met with Bianchi on spring break, Evelyn? Do you deny the agreement you made with him?"

  I search Micah's eyes and say nothing. I can't deny Ryan's words and the ocean blue eyes staring back at me can see it.

  Ryan forcefully lets me go and I immediately turn around and punch his porcelain face with a satisfying snap of his nose. But before I can get in another swing, I hear the clicking of a gun's chamber being set behind me.

  "That's enough of that," the voice behind me says, and I instantly recognize it.

  I turn to see the young guy who walked in earlier. It's the fucking Ferryman—a guy I knew briefly when I was in New York.

  "Are you seriously pointing a gun at me, Axel?" I ask, quickly trying to decide how to deescalate the room.

  "Styx?" The girl behind him says and pushes his broad body out of her way.

  "What the fuck are you doing here?" she asks.

  "Having a fucking cup of coffee, Soriah. You?" My words drip with sarcasm, and I smile as I attempt to lighten the mood now that I know at least two of the biggest threats in the room might be on my side.

  "You know them, too?" I hear the utter shock in Ryan's voice, but ignore him. It's more important to figure out whether or not Soriah sees me as a friend or a job. I couldn’t give two shits what he thinks.

  Axel lowers his Glock while I watch Soriah assess the situation we're in. I know her enough to know that she's calculating and weighing her options. She's as smart as her uncle and just as ruthless, if not worse.

  At one time, we might have called each other friend. But we never got the chance. I skipped out in the middle of the night with Mack and Delaney's help and never looked back.

  It's been about a year since then, so I'm not a hundred percent sure knowing her is to my advantage or not, but I pray to whatever deity will listen that it is. For Micah's sake.

  "Well," she says, tilting her head to the side, her long dark ponytail swinging from the movement. "I'm glad you're alive, but you've put me in a bad position here."

  I try for the easiest route. "We could all just walk away," I suggest with a shrug, knowing damn well that would be the only option that's not on the table.

  She shakes her head. "It's a job, Styx. It's in Salvati's black book. It doesn't get altered. It doesn't get erased."

  "But it's also my name in that book, and it's within my right to call it complete, e
ven if it isn't."

  "This is bullshit!" Ryan shouts, moving closer to Soriah. "It's not her job, it's mine. And I say, let's get this shit over with before we run out of time. You ladies can braid each other's hair some other time." He looks towards Axel. "Are you going to get the job done that you're being paid for?”

  Stupid move.

  Soriah strikes out her hand like a venomous snake, hitting Ryan directly in the throat. Axel moves at the same time, silently pressing his Glock into Ryan's temple.

  People are always underestimating her, but I know better. The deliverer of death isn't some cloaked demon. She's small, deceptively beautiful, and no one ever sees her coming. Which makes me wonder… Why did she let me see her?

  Soriah moves closer to Ryan. "Why don't you go sit at the kiddie table and let the grownups talk, hmm."

  She pats his face, dismissing him like you would a child. She paces a few steps and turns to me.

  "Alik won't be pleased, but if it's your name in the book and you claim it complete, who am I to make the call? It doesn't remove the debt, though. You understand that, right?"

  I nod my head in agreement. "Thank you, Soriah. I claim it complete."

  We go to shake hands when I hear commotion behind me. I turn just in time to see Ryan take out a gun from his waistband and start shooting.

  "Fuck this! I earned my place! You can't just come in and take it away from me!" Ryan shouts, firing his gun in Micah's direction. And the depths of hell open before me.

  The guy holding Micah lets him go to duck for cover from Ryan’s erratic shooting. I watch as he crawls out of the cafe, leaving Micah wide open to Ryan's wrath.

  Ryan turns in my direction, but Soriah sweeps my feet from under me, making me fall forward. I shoot my hands out to brace my fall towards the linoleum and the world spins out of control. Everyone is running out of the cafe in all directions, Ryan included.

  I look towards the back door and see Axel dragging Soriah. She nods her head at me, fully aware that she just saved my life, before the door closes her out of view.

  I can hear the faint call of sirens in the distance and know someone's called the cops. Of course they did. Who wouldn't?

  I crawl over towards Micah. He's lying on the floor, blood pooling at his back.

  Fuck.

  "Micah!" I kneel beside him, wiping his curls away from his face. "Tell me you're okay."

  His blue eyes open up to me.

  "You did this?" he questions, and my heart stops.

  "It's not what you think, Micah. I'll tell ya all about it, but we gotta get outta here. Cops are coming."

  He reaches out, his fingertips caress my face. "I'm sorry, Angel. I’m sorry that I ever caused you pain. I’m sorry that I didn’t love you enough.” He pauses to cough out blood. It stains his fancy white shirt. “I don’t think I'm walking outta here."

  "Micah, please try. I can't stay here."

  He closes his eyes, and I can feel how labored it is for him to breathe.

  "I trust you," he whispers and passes out.

  30

  Against my better judgment, I stay.

  I’m holding his head in my lap as the cops rush through the cafe. I couldn't bring myself to leave. Despite everything I’ve been through, all the betrayals, I can't deny my feelings for my beautiful lost boy. So I just keep brushing his beachy curls on my lap, praying that he would just open his eyes to me again.

  "Miss. Miss. You have to get out of the way so we can get him some help," the EMT says to me, but it sounds like he's talking under water. "Miss, please."

  His hands reach out to move me and that breaks me out of whatever shock I was in.

  "Don't touch me," I growl.

  "It's okay, Miss. I won't touch you, but you have to let us work."

  I lift Micah's head from my lap and lay it gently on the floor.

  "I'm sorry," I whisper and slide away from him to give the EMTs room.

  Time blurs as they lift him on the gurney and into the ambulance where I ride with him, holding his hand the whole way. But he never squeezes it back.

  I follow behind the gurney into the ER when an older female nurse grabs my arm. I immediately pull out of her grasp.

  "Don't touch me."

  "I'm sorry, Miss, but you can't go in there. They'll take good care of your boyfriend. I need you to come with me so I can get you checked out."

  I turn to her, tears threatening to fall.

  "He's not my boyfriend," I whisper, not understanding the sudden loss I feel.

  I'm supposed to hate that man, but how can I when I’ve never stopped loving the boy?

  "Ah, well, let's just make sure you’re okay."

  I let her lead me into a curtained room, sit on the bed, and let her check my vitals.

  I hate hospitals.

  "Where is she?" Someone is shouting in the hall. "Where's Evelyn Hawton?"

  Me?

  The curtain is forcefully pulled open, startling the nurse as she removes the rubber cuff of the blood pressure monitor.

  Taylor?

  "Sir, you can't be in here," she says, but he ignores her.

  Honey brown eyes stare back at me...

  "What did you do, Evelyn?" There's a tremor in his voice, true fear in his eyes, causing me to shudder involuntarily.

  "How did you even know we were here?"

  "Ryan called me, frantic. He said you were in trouble, that you fucked up, and that I needed to get you out of town."

  Ryan. I close my eyes, breathing in deeply, trying to reign in my anger.

  He shot Micah.

  My Micah.

  His beautiful, soulful eyes dance behind my eyelids. His last words playing in my ears. I trust you.

  Why was I fighting him so hard? How many times does the universe have to remind me that nothing is ever guaranteed?

  When I open my eyes, Taylor is moving the nurse out of the way, draping blankets over my head like I'm Mother Teresa, and gets me off the bed, despite her protests.

  The idea makes me giggle. I'm far from a saint.

  "It's time to go, babe. I can't protect you if they see you."

  "Who?" My voice comes out small, in a state of numbness and wondering what the hell is happening to my life right now.

  Taylor opens the curtain of the triage room to usher me out, using his body to shield mine.

  He looks down at me with worry and whispers, "You shot Micah, babe. The Knights are going to come after you."

  My feet melt into the floor, cementing me in place and jolting me out of Taylor's arms. I start violently shaking my head.

  This isn't happening.

  "I didn't—" My voice cuts off as I catch movement at the elevator doors to my right. There's a man standing with his back towards me, but I don't need to see his face. My soul knows it's Elijah.

  "We gotta keep moving."

  But I don’t want to keep moving, I don’t want to run.

  I’m tired of running.

  Taylor wraps his arms around my shoulders, ushering me forward. Then I see another man stand by Elijah's side.

  He's older, leaner, familiar. They’re both wearing suits, so they must have both been at the same gala Micah was at last night. The older man turns toward Elijah, and I catch a side glimpse of the face of a man who lives in my nightmares.

  It can’t be…

  My bones start to freeze and my shaking body amplifies its movements.

  "Evie, you okay." Taylor asks, but it sounds muffled—like I'm underwater.

  I can't catch my breath. My lungs are being squeezed from the inside. My skin burns where I've been branded, remembering every place he touched.

  The reality I thought I was living in falls away.

  I slowly turn to look up at Taylor, using the last of the air in my lungs. "Who's that with Elijah?"

  He glances back discreetly and then shuffles us both through the exit doors before either of them see.

  "That's Elijah's dad."

  "His father?" I whispe
r, repeating Taylor's words.

  And for the first time in four years, I completely shatter.

  That can't be.

  "That can't be," I repeat to myself aloud. My limbs are an uncontrollable mess of vibrations. I have no more air to use. No more words to produce. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block everything out as Taylor gets me into his BMW and pulls out of the hospital parking lot.

  When we're a safe distance away, Taylor turns to face me, the red light bathing him in shadows. "Evie, are you okay?"

  With blankets still covering most of me, I stare at Taylor with water blurring my vision.

  "He knew."

  As soon as the words float out of my mouth, I go numb, unable to move, unable to breathe.

  This whole time I've been fighting for normal, fighting to outrun my past... this whole time, hell has been waiting to welcome me home.

  Epilogue

  - - - TO BE CONTINUED - - -

  Translation Page

  As a Spanish speaker, I understand that the literal translation of Spanish phrases aren’t exactly word for word or are arranged in a different order. I have provided the closest grammatically correct English translation below for your convenience.

  Dear Readers and Friends

  Wow, what a ride!! Thank you so much for giving this book a shot and taking time out to read it. Return is the first book in the Stratham Knights series with more adventures to come and secrets to uncover. (There’s a sneak peak of what’s next at the end.)

  But first…

  A grand effing THANK YOU to my ride or die sinners…

  Ashleigh – I wouldn’t have done it without you holding my hand. Across the pond you may be, but you were there every step of the way. MF Adele – I literally crossed the finish line because of you. Lickin’ picket and all.

  And I can’t close this out without thanking and acknowledging my sister, you are my biggest fan and greatest supporter. Mom and Dad, thank you for encouraging me to take a leap of faith. And to my son, thank you for your unconditional love, support and understanding. You are my team and I’m blessed to be a part of it.