by Jaci J.
All this shit blows my mind. Scratching my head, I'm not sure what to say. “I know you're loyal. I knew you'd take care of her. Better you than some fuckin' rich asshole Doctor. Or God forbid, a Cop. Got tired of meetin' her lame ass boyfriends. I don't particularly love the idea of my baby with any man, but rather it be my own VP than someone else. Need someone to keep her safe when I'm dead. Swear to God, you don't fix whatever the fuck you did, I'll let her at you. If she doesn’t kill you, I will. I'll enjoy every agonizing second of it.” The weight of my fuck up is pushing down on me. Shit. I've fucked shit up big time. “So whatever issue you two have, fix it. I'm not losing her. You're a good brother and I'd rather not have to kill you. So figure it the fuck out.” God damn it I have to find Lil.
32
Lil
The drive back to my dad's is filled with silence. The air in the car is stifling, suffocating me slowly. My face hurts from the perpetual frown etched into it. My eyes feel puffy and swollen from unshed tears and Peaches stopped asking me if I was okay after I snapped at her. Fuck no, I'm not okay. I just want to get home, pack my shit and leave. No talking. No discussing. I want to leave and get as far away from Tank as I can. That fucker just broke my heart all over a phone call. All this over one fucking phone call. I hate him for making me want to leave when all I really want is to be with my family, with him.
I had never planned to stay when I first came back. My life is back in Seattle where I left it. I've never been so torn, but I would have made it work. I would have figured it out. I want Tank, but I want my life. There would have been a solution. If I had time, I could have worked something out. The want to stay and the need to go is waging a vicious war on my emotions. I worked too damn hard to give up the life I created for myself. That's all I ever wanted was to branch off. Be myself. Create my own life. But the want to stay runs deep. The sense of safety, love, and acceptance the club offers me is hard to throw away. They are my family. My sense of family is ingrained in me so deep it's hard to ignore. It's hard to give them up, give Tank up.
I hadn't planned on Tank hearing that conversation. I wasn't going to lie about it either. I had to tell Professor Wagner something, had to come up with a plan first. He was going to fill my position. I had to stall until I figured out what my plan was. The thought of never seeing Tank again hurts because he's become such a huge part of my life. A huge part of me. Seeing him tonight, I wonder if I ever knew him to begin with. Those words cut deep. The way he looked at me like I was nothing hurt the worse. Shutting off my emotions, I stare numbly out the window praying I can get out of here soon.
Walking into the dark house, something feels off the moment I open the front door. The air feels different, heavy and still. There are no sounds. No movement. My senses are frayed and my body antsy. Peaches follows behind me shutting the door. The click of the door meeting the frame echoes in the deadly silence.
The lock sliding shut rattles with deafening sound and it all happens in excruciating slow motion, my blood pumping with adrenaline and fear. My brain screams to move, to do something, my feet are rooted to the old wood floor. The flick of the light switch is loud and angry.
They're covered from head to toe in black. Their faces hidden behind black ski masks and their voices are muffled behind the thick material. All are armed with guns, the detail on each gun prominent and elaborate. Shiny silver, angry black metal. Somewhere in the back of my mind I register Peaches scream, followed by that deafening silence again. All of it is inconsequential to the person standing in the doorway across the room. The air in my lungs seizes and my heart rate slows down ... A cold sweat trickles down my back and my eyes fight to blink away the man standing in front of me. Staring at me like I'm staring at him. Everything stops.
“Josh?”
Brown hair kept short and neat, hangs haphazardly and messy to his shoulders now. Those funny, kind green eyes are now hard and dull. That boyish charming face is now tired and mean, marred with a deep scar on his cheek, running from ear to mouth. His once tall, slightly skinny body is now big and filled out. No longer clean cut and put together. His clothes are dingy and dirty. This man in front of me isn't my Josh.
“Josh?” My voice broken to my own ears. Those once happy, always smiling lips curl into a sad semblance of the once sweet smile he had.
“Lilly, my sweet, sweet Lilly.” His deep voice growls from the doorway. I can feel the anger in his voice, the hurt in the way he says my name. My mind stumbles to find words and fights to find an explanation. I watched him die. I held his dead lifeless body. Washed his blood off of me. I buried him.
“I … you … I … you died. I watched you die,” I sputter helplessly. My voice broken and laced with confusion. Shaking his head, he slowly steps towards me. Watching him walk, breathe, alive, shakes me to my soul.
“Looks can be deceiving, Lilly.” A tear escapes my eye. My heart is trying desperately to beat out of my chest.
“No. I watched it. I … I don't understand. … How?” Time begins to spin fast. Everything morphing into a messy blur.
The back door slams open and Tanks beautifully furious face fills my line of sight.
Tank.
Those men are on him before my next breathe leaves my lips. A loud crack rolls around the room. Tanks big body hits the floor hard. My eyes find Peaches and Tank on the ground. My heart plummets. No!
Sitting on my bed, my eyes are trained on Tank and Peaches bodies. I wait for something from them. Anything to quell this nervous knot in my gut. Both are sat in my kitchen chairs facing me, hands tied behind them and thick pieces of rope fastened to their wrists. Their arms are handcuffed to the old radiator bolted to my bedroom wall and their feet are bound to the chairs.
Six men in all black are holding guns to them, promising death at any provocation. My hate and anger for Tank is now inconsequential. I'm only able to focus on the worry and uncertainty of the situation, my mind still trying to digest Josh.
He's alive. He's alive and he’s here.
“I would never leave you Lilly,” Josh says, pacing back and forth in front of me, looking ready to pounce. Gun in his hand, tapping the barrel restlessly in his palm. His thinning patience is not lost on me. My eyes catch movement from Tank and my heart skips a beat.
“Lil?” His voice thick and confused. Blinking a few times it all seems to hit him at once. Jerking around in his restraints, his eyes fly to mine. He starts eying his surroundings, then looks to me for some sort of an answer or explanation. I have none. His eyes are all over the room and I can see the need for understanding in those beautiful blue eyes. Yanking on the ropes, the metal cuffs clank into the metal of the radiator. Trying hopelessly to break the ropes and metal, his movements become desperate, those beautiful features distorted with anger and rage. I silently beg him not to fight. Not to fight for me.
“What the fuck? Lil, baby. You okay?” I have two large men behind me with guns pointed at my head. I'm not okay, but I'm faring better than him. Before I can speak, Josh answers for me.
“Don't fuckin' talk to her. You got a question, you ask me.” Josh's voice is threaded with forced patience. Both men face off.
“Fuck you. … Lil?” Tank barks at Josh, eyes on me.
One guy smacks Tank with the butt of his gun. A hard blow, Tank grunts in pain.
“No Tank,” I clip trying to stop him from pushing Josh. If he can't, they'll kill him.
“You heard my girl. Shut the fuck up,” Josh says with a hint of tease to his words, trying to push Tank. He's looking for a reason to kill him
“Your girl? … I'll kill you motherfucker,” Tank snaps pulling on his restraints violently. Another blow to his head has blood trickling down his brow to his cheek. Seeing his blood makes me queasy.
“Please, Tank,” my voice only a hoarse whisper. Turning eyes to Josh I feel the anger work its way up. Why is he doing this?
“I don't understand what's goin' on. What are you doin' here.” He looks from me to Tank, a sick smi
le on his face. He looks to be thinking about his answer.
“Josh?” Those green eyes are back on me. Groaning he almost looks to be in pain.
“You know how fuckin' long I've waited to hear you say my name again?” He demands harshly. Hands on my face, one hand gripping my chin roughly. Shaking my head I swallow the lump down.
“Don't fuckin' touch her!” Tank shouts, his words cut short by another blow. Josh laughs bitterly “Keep goin' like this and I won't have to kill ya.” This is bad. Worse than I ever could have imagined.
“Eight Goddamn miserable fuckin' years, Lilly,” he yells at me shaking my face between his hands. Eight years? He still didn't answer my question.
“Why?” Turning eyes on me, ever so slightly they soften.
“For you Lilly. I did this all for you. So I can finally have you.”
I feel sick. My stomach fights to expel its contents. Have me? He did have me. Gave it up for another club. He used me to get into the club so I am so confused as to what he’s talking about. Shaking my head, I try to put it together.
“What are you goin' to do with me?” My voice shakes. Smiling he reaches a hand out to me. I flinch away and he chuckles. I can see that my fear is causing him some enjoyment. Running a finger down my cheek, he sighs contently. Something sick passes his face and I can hear Tanks growl from across the room. I silently pray he doesn't say anything. I can't watch them hit him again.
“I’m gonna take you home so we can finally be together like you always wanted baby.” Long buried conversations float to the surface of my mind. Sixteen, lying in the bed of Josh's truck looking at the stars. Telling him I always wanted us to be together. Tears rush to my eyes. I let that dream die with him. He died and took that with him. I've moved on.
“Josh, I was sixteen,” I practically plead. He has to know that was a lifetime ago. My life has moved on.
His eyes flare with anger, hands shaking in rage. “You tellin' me you don't love me bitch?” His voice is harsh and accusatory. Too scared to argue, I shake my head again. Biting my cheek I will the tears away. The anger ebbs at seeing my face, bringing the soft back to his features. “Baby, I bought you a house. Got you a car. Filled the house with all the things you love. You'll love it. You were mine, still are. You were always meant to be mine.” The hope in his eyes is bright.
Looking up at Tank, I feel sick. Everything about Tank is a mask of hard and cold. He looks indifferent, but it’s in his eyes. In those eyes I can see the loss, the hurt, the worry. This is all a terrible dream.
“What about my family?” My eyes still on Tank. He can't hurt them. I won't let him. Following my eyes, I can see the hate and loathing he has for Tank. For a man he hardly knows. Hate for the man I love.
“You have two options, Lilly. Pack a bag and come with me, and I let this piece of shit live. If you don't want to come with me, I take you anyways and the piece of shit dies. All very simple.” Still trying to wrap my head around it, I ask the one question eating away at me all of a sudden.
“Why?” Those eyes soften again. Hand on me cheek, face close to mine.
“Because Lilly, it kills me to see you cry. I kill him, you'll cry. I don't want that. I hate when you cry. Always have. I won't kill him, because he won't come looking for you. He knows if he looks for you, I'll kill you. You come with me, you're mine. You're mine in life and death Lilly.”
I knew my choice the moment the words left his mouth. I'd die before I watch Tank die. I'd give my life for his, no questions asked.
“Okay,” I whisper.
A satisfied smile settles on his greedy face. Giving Tank a disgusting snarled smile, Josh laughs. He won.
“No! Fuck no, Lil.” Tank shouts, struggling in the chair trying to get to me. It hurts to damn much to watch him fight for me.
Squaring my shoulders, I prepare to fight for Tanks life. I shut my emotions down.
Looking Tank in the eyes, I say the worst things I can think of. “I don't love you, it's always been him. He’s here and he’s alive, so of course I want to go with Josh.”
Grabbing around my waist, Josh hauls me to him, a happy smile on his face. Kissing my lips, smelling of alcohol and smoke my body revolts, fights to push him away, but I shove it down.
“Get the fuck away from her … Lil, baby … You don't mean that shit,” Tank's voice hurt and desperate. I won’t look at him again, I can't.
“I want Josh.” My eyes on the floor. I can't look at the heartbreak I know that's on Tanks face. Clapping his hands Josh beams.
“Pack a small bag baby.” A life for a life. Tank has his life. Josh now has mine.
33
Tank
I should have never said any of that shit to her. I should have never hurt her like that. My need to make her hurt caused the worst kind of damage. It’s a damage I may never be able to come back from. None of this would have happened if I hadn't been so careless with her. I broke a heart made of gold and crushed her. I hurt the only person I've ever loved.
My wrists are sore, stiff, and burn like a son of a bitch. I can feel the trickle of blood from my wrists running down my palms. I’ve fought so damn hard against these cuffs to get to her, I'm pretty sure both wrists are broken. My head fucking throbs right along with my erratic heartbeat and my jaw hurts from keeping my mouth shut. Fuck, my whole Goddamn body hurts, but my heart hurts worse.
I really broke her heart at the club and now I let that motherfucker get her. The idea I'll never get to apologize is enough to make me sick. The hurt my body feels doesn't compare.
Lil's gone. That sick sadistic motherfucker took my girl. Watching those sad eyes harden with steel reserve, I saw the fight in my baby. Her words cut deep. I'm not sure I'll ever forget that. I keep telling myself that was all bullshit for the walking dead guy, but part of me thinks her words were true. Fuck! The way I treated her, I wouldn't blame her. I'm fucked. I'm fucking stuck. Stuck watching him touch my girl. Kiss my girl. Stuck watching her pack a bag and leave willingly.
Never once did she look at me after she said those words. I can feel my mind and sanity slowly starting to slip. Every second that ticks by is a second further away from me she gets. I can feel that shit in my bones, feel her absence.
“Ahh,” Peaches grumbles from beside me. I've been watching her, waiting for her to wake her ass up. I was wondering when she'd come back around. I’d all but gave up on yelling at her ‘cause she was out cold. I spent fifteen minutes staring at her restraints, studying that shit. By some fucking miracle, they didn't cuff her to the radiator.
“Peaches, wake your ass up.” Her head bobs around a little and her eyelids start fluttering, mind coming in and out of it.
“What the fuck … Lil?” Peaches seems to remember shit. Her shrill voice attacks at my ear.
“Calm the fuck down Peaches. It's me, Tank. We gotta get untied.” Red puffy eyes swing to me. Sheer panic and worry on her pinched features.
“Lil? Oh God! He … she … Josh was here. Oh my fuckin' God!” Her body shaking, eyes frantically searching the room, tears flowing down her cheeks. If I wasn't tied the fuck up I'd smack the shit out of her, calm her the fuck down. The longer she stalls the less time I have. And I don't have time to waist.
“Shut the fuck up women. Yes that was the dead guy Josh. No, I don't know how he's alive. Yes I know Lil saw him die. No I don't know where or why he took Lil.” I try to run off all the answer to her unasked questions. “Listen, you're not cuffed to the radiator. I need you to try to get free and untie me.”
It takes twenty long, painful minutes to get uncuffed. The phone call to Low took one minute. The next even less, he shut her phone off.
Peaches is a useless mess on the couch. A sobbing and whimpering mess.
The faint rumble of bikes lets me know they're close. It's taken everything in me not to hop on my bike and go after her. That one threat lingering has me waiting. He'll kill her if I come looking. Not sure if it's a bullshit threat, but it's not a threat I'm willing
to chance. I won’t play games with her life. I've just been pacing back and forth trying my hardest to think of some shit that might help this situation. I'm antsy. My blood is pumping with adrenaline and nothing to do with it. Nothing's coming to me. I don't know him, never did so I don’t have the slightest idea where to begin and that's the worst part of this whole Goddamn thing. In this situation, I'm fucking useless. I'm never useless. I've no fucking clue how to handle that.
Lows through the door, face full of fury and worry. Gin's on his heels, Stitch right behind him. Everyone else follows suit.
“Gin! Oh my God. He … he … took her. Josh!” Peaches is up off that couch in the blink on an eye. Gins confused eyes swing to me. When I called Low, all I explained was Lil was gone. He hung up before I could get the whole story out.
“Josh? As in Josh, Josh? Dead Josh?” Gin asks Peaches, eyes on me for confirmation.
Yes! Josh Keller. That Josh. Lil's old boyfriend Josh. Dead guy Josh!” Peaches is frantically screeching with panic weaved into her shrill voice. Brothers start shouting and making calls.
“You sure 'bout that Peaches? Remember, she watched him get his head blown off.” Low rumbles skeptically. His foot tapping impatiently.
“Girl, the more time you waist of mine, the further my daughter gets.” Peaches pleading eyes swing to me again. Low follows her eyes.
“What the fucks goin' on Tank?” Fuck.
I give him the play by play from the time I walked through the door until the moment Lil walked out of it.
“You know it was Josh for sure?” Low asks me. I can hear his patience dwindling. He sure as fuck still doesn't sound like he believes me.
“No I'm not sure, because like I fuckin' said, I didn't know the motherfucker. Don't know him from any other asshole. But I believe my girl. Her eyes were shocked and that face of hers don't lie. She called him Josh, anyways.”