Demented Sons Series Volume One: Books 1-4 (Demented Sons MC Iowa)

by Kristine Allen

  May 2014

  THOUGH I LOVED MY family, it had taken me a while before I’d finally told them I was pregnant. I hadn’t had the intestinal fortitude to tell them I didn’t know the man I’d slept with. They’d harassed me incessantly at first about the father.

  My father and brothers, seeing the situation from a man’s perspective, were angry with me at first, thinking I actually knew who the father was and was just keeping the baby from him. For weeks after the day I’d told them, my brothers wouldn’t speak to me.

  My mother, bless her soul, was always supportive and never condescending. She did try to gently persuade me to share the story with her, but I remained stubbornly mute regarding the subject.

  They’d all ended up being great through my pregnancy, despite the shock of their “good little girl” getting pregnant. Except they’d never stopped hounding me about the baby’s father.

  Truthfully, I didn’t know which would be worse, that my family thought me a heartless bitch for keeping a baby from its daddy, or if they thought less of me for sleeping with a man I didn’t know. The only information I knew was his first name, he was in the army, and he had a rocking body and a killer smile. It was easier to say nothing.

  In my defense, I did try to find him. I quickly found out there are a surprising number of soldiers at Ft. Benning, Georgia. And good luck trying to find a soldier named Colton with no last name. For all I knew, Colton could’ve been his last name.

  I had no idea what he did, where he worked, or anything about him other than he’d had a lot of deployments. I did know his friend was from somewhere in Iowa and had friends who had been at the party, but that was another needle in a haystack, considering I didn’t know his friend’s name either.

  What I did know was my little baby girl was her daddy’s spitting image.

  More times than I could count, I wondered if he’d be happy if he knew about her. I wondered if he’d want to be a part of her life.

  Sometimes I made up scenarios in my mind of finding him. In my favorite, he was thrilled to have us in his life, and we ended up as a happy little family, white picket fence and all.

  Other scenarios played out with him being angry because he thought I only found him to get child support, or him wishing I had “taken care of” the situation. That was one of the worst. Still others that he hated me for keeping her from him, like I had any other option.

  Daily, I tortured myself with all of the what-ifs and if-onlys.

  When I received the phone call in April from a fairly prestigious dining establishment in Des Moines, I jumped on the opportunity to tuck my tail and run from my family’s censure.

  It took me a couple of weeks to find an apartment and get everything lined up before I packed Remi and our belongings into my little SUV and my brother’s truck, which translated to mostly Remi’s things. My mother had waved with tears running down her cheeks and my father’s strong arms holding her tight as I drove off to start a new life for me and my precious little bugga-boo.

  The job wasn’t exactly a top chef position. It was actually prep cook, but it was my foot in the door, and it gave me the opportunity to get out of Dodge.

  Remi was such a sweet baby. At times when I spoke to her, I swore she understood every word I said. She would stare at me with those big blue eyes as if she was looking straight into my soul.

  I prayed she’d never found it wanting and that she’d understand I was doing the best I could. I knew I was blessed to have such a calm, good-natured baby, and I thanked the good Lord above for her every day.

  Since I’d found the apartment, sight unseen, before we headed down, I was both excited and dreading moving in. From what I could find out, it was in a so-so neighborhood. Neither great nor the ghetto. I just prayed it was safe enough for my little angel.

  It was only a one-bedroom, but I figured with her being so little and us sharing my old room at my parents’, it would be okay for a while. I pulled up in front of the older building that my GPS brought me to, noting the four apartments with open stairs going to the second floor. My brothers pulled into the spot next to me.

  Remi started to stir when I shut the car off, and I quickly went to unbuckle her from her bright pink car seat—a gift from my high school friends at my baby shower, along with the matching stroller I had crammed in the back.

  She opened her tiny Cupid’s bow lips in a delicate yawn, rubbing her eyes as I pulled her close to me and placed a soft kiss on her downy black curls. She reached up, entwining her chubby fingers in my hair as she looked around as if to say, “Where are we, Mommy?”

  “Here, Steph, let me hold her while you go get the keys,” Sam said as he plucked Remi from my arms. Quiet little nonsensical sounds came from Remi, and she grabbed at her uncle, who was making crazy faces at her.

  Shoot, if I’d stayed at home, they would’ve spoiled her rotten.

  The manager lived in the next building over, obviously newer and much bigger. I approached her door to collect the keys for our new home.

  Mrs. Burns answered the door with a ready smile. She looked to be around her early sixties with light grayish-blue eyes, graying brunette hair, and a stature so small, she barely reached my shoulder. She walked over with us to let us in the apartment, cooing at Remi, still snuggled in my brother’s arms.

  “She’s around my grandson’s age. How I wish they lived closer.” She smiled and unlocked the door. “If you all need help unloading your things, my husband is the maintenance slash handyman here, and he’s not up to anything but watching some old western on that dang TV. I’d be more than happy to send him over if you want. That way you don’t have to leave Little Miss here sitting while you unload.” She looked at me with such kindness. I felt instantly grateful to be blessed with her for an apartment manager.

  “I think we can handle it, but thank you so much for the offer.” It wasn’t like I had much, and my brothers would have it unloaded in no time.

  “If you change your mind, I’ll kick his butt this direction!” She chuckled and walked back to her apartment, tossing a “See you later, then!” over her shoulder.

  July 2014

  I’D BEEN OUT OF the army for going on three miserable fucking months. I’d hung around San Antonio, mostly because I really had nowhere else to go and no fucking motivation to look. My disability check and the money I picked up from odd jobs here and there when I needed it was enough to keep me in the lap of luxury here on the south side of SA.

  Yeah, yeah, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. What-the-fuck-ever.

  My apartment was a tiny furnished efficiency.

  Absolute. Shit. Hole.

  I could see daylight from the uneven space under the door. The same door that had been patched up with the knob and lock moved. I could only assume it had been kicked in at some point.

  Sometimes I wondered if it was the cops who’d kicked it in or some other nefarious excuse for a human. Most times I didn’t give a shit.

  When I was able to sleep, I slept with the lights on, partly due to my fear that the cockroaches would take over and partly in fear that the darkness itself would take over. The AC ran nonstop it seemed, and yet it was still hot as fuck in there.

  The shades on the dirty-ass windows were broken and didn’t close, so most of the time I kept the dingy curtains drawn to keep the nasty, nosy motherfuckers around here out of my business, not because I was worried they would try to break in to steal anything.

  Mechanically, I lifted the bottle of whiskey to my lips, draining the last of it. I tossed it in a drunken arch toward the trash, amazing my own drunk ass when it hit the trash and landed with a clatter of glass on glass.

  Lord knew if it was hitting beer bottles or liquor bottles. Shrugging, I stood up, wavering on my feet for a minute before I took the three steps from my bed to the fridge. Yeah, I said the shithole was tiny.

  Pulling the fridge open, I peered in with bleary eyes to see if there was a damn thing to eat.

  Hmm, questionable Chine
se takeout, milk that was four days expired based on the date on the jug, and about a quarter loaf of bread—yeah, I kept that shit in the fridge out of fear the roaches would get to that too.

  Yep, looks like a beer it is.

  I pulled the next to last beer from the six-pack on the top shelf, telling myself I needed to make a run to the grocery store soon. I twisted the top off using the bottom of my T-shirt, adding another hole to the rest of them. Fuck it.

  As I sat back down on the edge of the bed and took a swig of the beer, I reached under my stained pillow, pulling out the only possession I actually valued. Setting my beer on the floor by my feet, I followed my routine of checking the clip, ensuring a round was chambered, and checking the safety.

  Mindlessly, I rolled the pistol around in my hand. Instinct had me raising it with insane precision and speed, thumb flicking off the safety, aiming at the door when I heard a thump against it.

  Sobered, I slowly lowered it and flicked the safety back on when I heard laughing and voices indicating it was just a drunk neighbor and his buddy stumbling by. My heart was racing and adrenaline coursed through my veins at light speed.

  Fuck. Just fuck.

  The gun felt natural in my hand, the cool steel warming to my touch like a living, breathing entity. The brushed stainless barrel of my Ruger .45 glinted dully in the light of the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.

  Flipping the safety off again, I stared at the pistol for what seemed like hours. My hands turned the gun over and over until the muzzle was eventually pointed at my face. Breathing deeply, I placed it in my mouth, aimed toward the roof and tilted toward my brain because I would never want to be a fucking vegetable.

  Slowly, I began to pull the trigger because habits die hard; you don’t jerk the trigger, you squeeze it. Hot tears welled in my eyes as my hands shook. Chest caving, I jerked the gun back out of my mouth, flipped on the safety, and tossed it across the bed like I had countless times over the last few months.

  Fucking coward! I was such a piece-of-shit coward! I had pussied out and left my battle buddies hanging when I got out. Accepting the MEB because I couldn’t handle the killing anymore ate at me. Worse yet was that a deep, evil, ugly part of my soul secretly craved it.

  Except I doubted I could pull the trigger on anyone in my drunken, fucked-up state, and evidently that meant on myself too.

  Knowing I was sitting there broken and worthless while my brothers were still at it back in Afghanistan fucking tore me up. I hated myself. I was a fucking mess.

  Breaths continued to rasp in and out of my body. Sometimes it literally hurt knowing I was able to breathe.

  Hopeless, I fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as hot tears trailed down the sides of my face, pooling in my ears before running to the bed below.

  Something’s gotta give, because I can’t live like this.

  August 2014

  “LOOK HOW BIG SHE’S getting! She needs to come visit Auntie Becca!”

  My phone was propped up so Becca could FaceTime to see Remi trying to walk.

  Remi was trying to toddle away from the edge of our little couch, but she couldn’t quite get her balance when she let go. The look of surprise on her precious little face was priceless as she plopped on her diaper-padded behind, arms outstretched and flapping at her sides.

  “Aw, baby, it’s okay!”

  “Good girl, Remi!” Becca cooed from the phone.

  I couldn’t hold back a laugh as I dropped my arms that had been reaching for her while I sat on the floor cross-legged. At the sound of my laugh, she shot me her big, few-toothed smile, flashing those amazing little dimples as she flipped down to her hands and knees and crawled over to me so she could pounce on my lap.

  Looking up at me, still giggling and smiling, she clapped her hands and squealed, letting a trail of drool run over her bottom lip. Reaching up to hold my cheeks, she kissed me in her open-mouthed, still-lipped impression of a kiss.

  “Tell Auntie Becca bye-bye!” I encouraged. She grabbed for the phone with her wet fingers and I held it higher. She made an attempt at waving and we ended the call with promises to keep in touch better.

  Remi was still trying to get at the phone, so I tucked it in my back pocket.

  Those eyes of hers were such a bright blue and always full of laughter. She had to be the happiest baby I’d ever encountered.

  The last few months had gone by in a blur.

  I’d been enjoying my job at the Des Moines Embassy. The people I worked with were great, and we had a blast every day we worked. It didn’t matter if we were preparing for patrons at the restaurant or special catered dinners at The World Food Prize Hall of Laureates.

  The chef and the director had told me when they hired me that they worked hard to allow for advancement when it was available and deserved, so I busted my butt every day. Of course, when you loved your job, it didn’t always seem like work. I was so blessed at that moment in time. My heart was full to bursting.

  For the hundredth time, a little drop of sadness crept into my blissful thoughts for all the moments her daddy was missing. Guilt and anger at both of us for our foolishness that night plagued me. Not because I regretted the little ray of sunshine sitting in my lap but because our choices affected her.

  “What am I going to tell you about your daddy when you’re old enough to start asking?” I rested my chin on her pretty little head as she sat babbling in my lap and playing with her own chubby little feet.

  There was no way I could never replace Colton as her daddy, nor fill in that little corner of my heart I kept just for him, but maybe I needed to start dating. Reggie, one of my fellow prep cooks, had been getting increasingly overt in showing his interest in me and had blatantly told me he wanted to spend more time with me outside of work. He was handsome and lean with soft green eyes and a brilliant smile, but I didn’t ever feel the fire or excitement around him that I had with Colton.

  Reggie was more like one of my brothers, and I had a cozy, familial type of affection for him, but that was all. I also felt greedy and selfish, because dating anyone would take time away from Remi, and I relished every single second with her.

  No, I really didn’t want to get involved with a coworker. It just seemed like bad juju, I guess. However, if some handsome stranger asked, I would say yes.

  Ha! Fat chance of that, but a girl could dream. I did need to spend time around adults too, I admitted. If I ever found anyone, I just wouldn’t bring him around Remi for a while, because I never wanted to be that mom who paraded men through her home and family like there was a revolving door. Remi would have enough confusion in her life with her father in the slightly “unknown” category.

  I sighed and kissed my little bugga-boo again.

  August 2014

  THROWING AN ARM OVER my eyes, I woke with an incessant pounding in my head. Shit, I needed to stop drinking so much.

  My mouth felt like a wad of cotton balls was shoved in it and tasted like the bottom of a dumpster. Not that I really knew what that tasted like, but I could fucking imagine.

  Damn.

  The fucking pounding wouldn’t stop. It was so bad, I swore my head might explode until I realized someone was pounding at my door, causing it to rattle on the hinges.

  Cautiously, I reached under my pillow for my pistol, flipping off the safety as I heard shouting.

  “Oh shut up, lady. Like you can hear anything over that mariachi crap you have blaring anyway!” came from the other side of the door. Jesus, that thing must be fucking hollow.

  Quietly, I crept to the window, moving the curtain to the side an infinitesimal amount, allowing me just enough space to see who was banging on my door at this ungodly hour of the morning but not enough for them to know they were being observed. The bastard out there was good though, because no sooner had I moved the curtain than his head whipped toward the window.

  “Colton! Colton, you motherfucker, open this fucking door! I know you’re in there, you bastard. Don’t
fucking pretend you’re not.”

  What the fuck? Who the hell knows me and knows I’m here? Who’s this rude-ass sonofabitch banging on my door, wearing some ratty jeans and a leather vest?

  My mind whirred, trying to think of who could be out there looking for me. I was about three seconds from planting a bullet in his stupid ass. My brain felt like mush, and I couldn’t think straight. I slanted my view and noticed a bike parked next to mine in front of my place.

  “Colton! You fucking fuck. Come on, man! It’s Mason. Get your sorry ass up and open the fucking door. I don’t have all day, and this crazy Mexican lady next door is about to beat the shit out of me with her broom!”

  Mason? What the fuck? He’s supposed to be home with his family in Iowa.

  I unlocked the shitty-ass lock, which I was honestly surprised hadn’t just fucking popped open as hard as he was rattling it with his pounding. After opening the door, I tucked my gun into the back of my waistband as he pushed his way inside, surrounding me with a back-breaking bear hug.

  “Goddamn, man, it’s good to see you! Don’t you ever answer your piece-of-shit phone, bro? I’ve been trying to call you for months. I was beginning to think maybe you fell off the face of the earth!” If only he knew how close to the truth he was, I thought with shame. “Dude, what the fuck? You look like shit, and what the fuck kind of rathole are you living in? Jesus H. Christ!” He stepped over to my kitchen area and leaned against the counter as I shut and locked the door after looking around outside and giving the nosy bitch next door a “fuck off” glare.

  I went over to the fridge, opening it to notice the fucking bulb blew. Piece of shit. Glad I went to the store last night, or I wouldn’t have had anything to offer my old friend. “You want a beer, man?”

  “The fuck? It’s like 0900, bro. I like a cold beer as well as the next guy, but shit, I like some breakfast food in me first.” He pushed past me to look in the fridge with me, reaching for an apple.