by Lane Hart
I’ll never be able to forget her or how good she rode me tonight.
Chapter Ten
War
Sunday morning, I wake up way too early and way too suddenly, thanks to the sound of my cell phone ringing—the one I use for my family.
Shit.
My hand is reaching around on the nightstand beside me before my eyes even open. When I realize my phone is still in my pants that are on the floor, I have to roll a still sleeping Nova off of my other arm to get out of bed and go retrieve it in the dark.
When I pull the phone free from my jeans pocket, I panic when I see on the lit-up screen it’s not even seven a.m. and Ren is calling from his watch.
“Hey, buddy,” I answer. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” he responds with a sigh, not exactly sounding in distress but more like he’s annoyed. “Could you come get me?”
Then I hear what sounds like sirens in the background and my lungs refuse to function.
“Ren, what’s going on?” I ask, while starting to pull on my jeans with one hand.
“Mom’s sick. The ambulance is coming to get her,” he explains.
“She’s sick?” I repeat.
“I was hungry, so I tried to wake her up, but she wouldn’t open her eyes. I called nine-one-one. That’s okay, right?”
Goddamn her!
I grind my teeth together and quickly count to ten in my head, trying to reel my anger in at my ex-wife before I respond and accidentally take it out on my son.
“You did great, buddy,” I assure him while my blood pressure starts rising to volcanic levels. I thought I could finally trust her to be a halfway decent mother and she couldn’t make it for two damn days! “I’m on my way,” I tell him before ending the call.
“Something wrong?” Nova asks, sitting up in bed while I rush around the room, putting on pieces of clothing that she stripped off of me last night.
“I have to go.”
I start to ask if I can borrow her car to go get Ren since he can’t ride on the back of my motorcycle, but I don’t want her to ask to come along because I don’t know how long it will take to deal with Marcie’s latest mess. I’ll just have to drive by my house and get my truck. Thankfully it’s only a mile out of the way.
“Oh-kay?” Nova forms the word as a question and then stays silent, most likely waiting for me to offer her an explanation for why I’m leaving. Even if I had time right now, I’m not willing to give her one.
“I had fun with you this weekend,” I tell her honestly when I sit down on the foot of the bed to quickly pull on my socks and shoes.
“Me too,” she says when she comes up behind me and squeezes both of my biceps. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply, my hand covering hers for a moment before I have to get to my feet. “Oh, and your new bed should be delivered tonight,” I remember at the last minute. “It looks as close to the old one as I could get.”
“When did you—” Nova begins to ask but I silence her with a quick kiss on her lips.
“Sorry to run off on you like this. Take care, okay?” I tell her, since I’m not sure if I’ll see her again.
“You too,” she says with a smile, but I can still see the disappointment in her hazel eyes that I’m taking off and not asking to see her again.
But I can’t.
My life has enough drama without adding another woman to it. This morning is a fine example.
So, I leave Nova naked and beautiful, kneeling on the bed, to go deal with Marcie’s latest fuck-up.
…
Less than fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling up to Marcie’s apartment complex that’s crowded with police cars and even a firetruck. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as I throw my truck into park and race toward the center of the chaos, up the steps on the second floor, stopping right in front of Marcie’s apartment.
“What happened?” I ask Wyatt, one of Jade’s sheriff deputies who is standing outside the doorway.
“Opiate overdose,” he responds with a wince. “The ambulance rushed her to the hospital but that’s all I know. Sorry, Warren.”
“Jesus Christ.” I shove my fingers through my hair and give it a tug of frustration. “How’s Ren holding up?” I ask when I start to step through the open doorway, but Wyatt moves in front of me to block my entrance.
“This is a closed crime scene and Jade’s on the way,” he says while rubbing the back of his neck. “She wanted to be here when they talk to you.”
“Who needs to talk to me?” I ask while trying to look around his shoulder and into the apartment. “The lead officer? Good. After this, I’ll tell them Marcie’s a worthless piece of shit. They need to lock her up and throw away the key.”
“No, it’s not the officer,” he responds. “It’s Child Protective Services.”
“Child—what the hell?” I exclaim. Panic grips my heart like a vice, making my voice come out in a choked wheeze. “What are they doing here? Ren’s okay, right?”
“He is. But you need to remain calm,” Wyatt warns.
“How can I be calm when my ex-wife took a bunch of pills while she was supposed to be watching our son?” I raise my voice and ask. “Just let me see Ren and get him out of here,” I say, figuring he’s been traumatized enough from trying to wake his mother up when she was nearly dead.
Clearing his throat and looking over his shoulder into the apartment, Wyatt quietly says, “Ren’s not here.”
“Then where the fuck is he?” I ask, no longer caring if I’m yelling as the fear for my child overwhelms me. “They didn’t let him ride in the ambulance with her, did they?”
“No,” he replies with a shake of his head. “Child Protective Services came by and picked him up.”
“Came and picked him up?” I repeat and Wyatt nods. “Then give me their address so I can go get him!”
“It doesn’t work that way, Warren. Ren has to stay in their custody until the hearing.”
Ren is in their custody? Until there’s a goddamn hearing? Why do they need a hearing?
A sharp, piercing ringing sound starts in my ears, drowning out all other noises.
“That hearing better be in five fucking minutes or there’s gonna be hell to pay!” I shout at Wyatt, grabbing the front of his uniform and slamming him against the wall inside the house. He may be taller, but I have the weight advantage here, along with the rage advantage. “Where. Is. My. Son?” I ask him slowly through tightly gritted teeth.
“I-I dunno,” he stammers.
“Find the fuck out. Now!” I demand, slamming him against the wall with each hard word.
“Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you,” he responds. “And I know you’re upset, but if you don’t take your hands off of me, I’ll arrest you for assault on an officer and interfering with a crime scene.”
“I’d love to see you try,” I remark.
I wish I could say Wyatt backed down.
But he didn’t.
And honestly, thanks to the ringing in my ears and the red fury blinding my vision, I can’t really say what happened next except somehow, I end up in a scuffle with several men who also refused to tell me where Ren was.
Eventually, they’re able to gang up on me, tackle me to the ground, put a pair of handcuffs on me, and throw me into the back of a goddamn police car.
…
Nova
“Are you leaving?” the voice I recognize as Maddox’s says as I reach for the door handle on my now good-as-new car.
“Yeah.” I look over my shoulder to see him strolling out of the bar and toward me in his plain leather cut and jeans.
“Where’s War?” he asks, glancing around the lot.
“Not sure,” I respond. “He got a call this morning and had to leave pretty abruptly.”
“Oh,” Maddox says while scratching his head.
“Well, it was nice to meet you,” I tell him before I turn away.
“We’ll probably see you aroun
d here again, right?” Maddox calls out.
“Not sure,” I reply honestly. “I didn’t get an invite back and War didn’t ask for my number.”
“Really?” he says as he comes closer. “He must have just been in a hurry. I’ve never seen War with a woman before you.”
“Is that right? And you’ve known him for how long?” I ask, turning to face him and rest my back against the car.
“Guess it’s been about four years, two since he became my sponsor,” Maddox replies, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his baggy jeans.
“Wow. So, I guess he was telling the truth about not dating in a while,” I reply.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m pretty sure he’ll bring you back here again.”
“Maybe,” I tell him with a smile since I wouldn’t mind seeing War again.
After all, he’s the one who said he wasn’t looking for anything more than a good time this weekend. Hopefully, it was good enough that he’ll come back for more. At least he knows where I live, even if I don’t know anything about him other than where the clubhouse for the MC is located.
Chapter Eleven
War
“What the hell were you thinking?” Torin grumbles when he comes strolling up to the jail cell with his stepsister, and our sheriff, Jade in her uniform and on his heels.
Getting up from my seat on the hard cot, I go over and wrap my fingers around the cold metal slats separating us and squeeze them so hard I’m surprised they don’t actually bend. “I was thinking that someone took my kid and wouldn’t tell me where he was!” I respond.
“Yeah, I get that. And I’m sorry, man,” Torin says. “Marcie fucked up?”
“She’s in stable condition,” Jade says when she steps up beside her stepbrother.
“Like I give a shit about how she’s doing. All I care about is Ren,” I grumble. “I’m never letting that woman see my son again.”
“No shit,” Torin agrees.
“Sorry they threw you in here,” Jade says as she pulls out a key from her utility belt and shoves it in the lock to open the jail door. “But you walked through a crime scene and lost it on not one but three of my deputies! What did you expect was going to happen, Warren?”
“I know. I lost it, and I’m sorry for taking my anger out on them. But what’s the deal with Child Protective Services coming in and taking Ren?” I ask Jade. “It’s not my fault that his mother screwed up,” I say, even though I know it sort of is. I shouldn’t have let him stay with her. It’s my responsibility to keep him safe and I made a bad call that will likely end up scarring him for life. Now he’s with some strangers, no telling where, probably scared to death.
“It sucks, but they’re a state organization out of my jurisdiction,” Jade explains. “I wish I had some sort of pull with them, but I don’t. I’ve put in a call and left a message for the agency, saying that you’re a good father and that Ren is safe with you. Hopefully, the judge thinks the same thing at the hearing.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I tell her, even though my shoulders slump, wishing there was more that could be done. “So that’s it, huh? I just have to wait for this fucking hearing? There’s nothing else I can do?”
“That’s what it looks like,” Jade agrees. “Just be patient. I’m sure this will all get sorted out on Wednesday.”
“Yeah,” I agree. Wednesday seems like a decade from now, instead of just three days away.
“Here’s your wallet and your phones back,” she says, holding them out to me.
“Thanks,” I reply.
“Might be time to get an attorney to give you full custody on paper,” Torin suggests. “Make sure that everything is on record about Marcie’s addiction and shit, so that she’s out of his life for good.”
“Yeah, I guess I need to do that,” I reply while trying to pull up Ren’s watch’s app on my phone. Fuck. The battery must have died right after he called me.
“For now, go home and try to get some rest,” Jade suggests with a hand on my shoulder. “I know it won’t be easy, but you need to make sure that you don’t do anything else that could hurt your chances of getting Ren back.”
“Right,” I agree. “Could you at least find out if I can talk to him on the phone, just to tell him everything is gonna be okay?” I ask. “He’s probably terrified, especially after finding Marcie like that…”
“Yeah, I’ll make some calls, but it may take until tomorrow since the offices are closed today,” she responds. “And I talked my deputies into dropping the charges.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say, even though I’m devastated and feeling defeated, like everything in my life is going straight to hell on a runaway train and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I’m not used to having shit out of my control.
“Come on,” Torin says. “I’ll give you a ride to your truck.”
I nod my agreement and then follow him and Jade outside.
After I get in my truck, the ride home passes in a blur as I stare out the window, wishing I could go back to Friday night and keep Ren home. That’s what I should’ve done, even though if I had, I wouldn’t have met Nova.
Not that I’ll see her again.
It doesn’t even feel like it was me who was with her since what we did was so out of character for me. I’m not the type of man to sleep with a woman I don’t know. And I never have fun doing something just for myself.
Losing Ren, even if it’s just for a few days, is a reminder of what’s important and where I need to spend my time and energy.
So then why is it, when I walk into my house that’s too silent and empty, Nova’s the one person I wish I could call and talk to about what’s going on.
I can’t call my sister and tell her. She’ll drop everything and come home, worried sick. No, I’m not going to do that to her this late tonight. I won’t lie to her, but what Audrey doesn’t know when she’s hours away from here living her life won’t hurt her.
Chapter Twelve
Nova
Monday morning, it’s back to the office for me.
One of the few things I own of value are my work suits, and that’s because my mom and I went shopping after graduation and she bought them for me to wear to interviews and to work once I eventually got hired.
Unlike me, my parents are loaded. And they would send me money in a heartbeat, but then I would feel like a failure, so I won’t ask them for help.
I set my purse down at my desk and then head for the kitchen to fix a big mug of coffee before I have to start going through the dozens of voicemails and emails waiting for me from the weekend.
“You’ve got a new case,” Donna, one of my coworkers, says when she comes up to me fixing a pot of coffee.
“Oh yeah?” I ask with as much enthusiasm as I can gather. A new case for me means it’s a big, steamy pile of shit case that no one else wanted. Since I was hired last, everyone else had previously been assigned a portion of the alphabet for determining who handles which cases that come in. Me, on the other hand, well, they’re supposed to give me cases whenever they’re too busy. Instead, they give me the ones they don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.
“So, what’s wrong with this case?” I come right out and ask her.
“Oh, you’re gonna have your hands full,” she responds smugly. “No one even wants to see this kid on their doorstep. He’s been turned away from three foster homes already, so he had to spend the night at the hospital.”
“What?” I exclaim. “Why wouldn’t anyone take him in? Is his behavior that atrocious?” I ask in confusion.
“Oh, no. It’s not the kid,” she tells me. “The problem is his father.”
“Who’s his father?” I ask.
“A member of the Savage Kings MC.”
One of those guys I met at the club has a son? Jesus.
“What’s his name?” I ask, wondering if I might remember him.
“Warren O’Neil,” Donna says.
“Oh shit,” I mu
tter when I become certain that War has to be short for Warren. He has a son? Is that the emergency he had to run off to yesterday morning? “What happened?”
“It’s all in the file,” she says with a huff.
“Just give me the abbreviated version!” I shout at her.
“Fine. The kid’s mother overdosed early Sunday morning and he had to call an ambulance to resuscitate her.”
“Wow,” I say in disbelief. “How old is he?”
“Four, almost five,” she answers.
“Jesus.”
War has a four-year-old son? Why didn’t he mention him this weekend? And what’s his relationship with the boy’s mother? He told me he was divorced, so she’s probably his ex-wife.
“So, wait,” I say when the thought hits me. “The mother and father aren’t together, so why wasn’t he turned over to him?”
“The father’s name is on the apartment lease, so he was possibly aware of the drugs and neglect, but didn’t do anything about it,” she says with a shrug. “Besides, he’s not only a member of the Savage Kings, but he’s their president’s Sergeant-at-Arms.”
“So?” I ask, remembering seeing the phrase on one of War’s patches.
“That means he’s basically the hitman and bodyguard to the MC’s president. He gets bloody so the president doesn’t have to.”
“No way,” I tell her before I can help myself. “I don’t see War getting bloody…”
“You weren’t here last year when the shit hit the fan,” Donna says. “The president’s pregnant wife was gunned down right outside of their bar and it set off a war between the MC and the drug cartel. Half a dozen people were shot to death over the span of a few weeks. Not to mention, the arson to the Ace’s bar, which everyone thought was the MC, but the cops couldn’t prove it. Or they wouldn’t. You know that the sheriff is the president’s stepsister, right?”