by V. Theia
Between them was as blissful as ever but the outside interference started to show itself almost as soon as Jud moved his girl into that first apartment. And then after they were married and moved forty-five minutes away to a better place, his girl would tell him sometimes she thought she saw Sony for a second outside her job, or near the college where she attended night school. She’d brushed it off as someone having Sony’s same build, but he had a feeling it was no mistake.
Jud’s biggest mistake was not taking his wife out of TN.
But once or twice a month, when those sightings doubled in number, he had to drive back to her old neighborhood and warn that disturbed motherfucker to stay far away from her.
“She’s my sister!” he’d hiss, eyes a little too drug-wild.
“What you feel when you look at her is far from brotherly. I’m warning you for the last fucking time, keep away.”
“Or what?” He’d taunt every time with a mean challenge in his eyes.
If only that warning or the million others had stuck.
The creepy sightings kept on coming when they were out to dinner, at the grocery store, even on a vacation to the coast.
Enough was fucking enough, especially with his wife pregnant now. He needed to move them far away, he was even thinking of going back to New Zealand.
Throughout it all, his wife was a queen. He’d never met a more resilient woman who would look on the positive side of everything. Her glass was continually half full.
Jud couldn’t have predicted that day for all the gold in China.
Not for nothing, he was on cloud nine kind of happy as he pulled into the car port out front of their first-floor apartment. He’d been promoted to full time mechanic at work, his wife was gorgeous and happy, and he intended to take her out for all her favorite food.
That was his plan.
Home.
See his girl, love on her rounded belly, go out to eat then fuck her until they both passed out.
It was a good life and he fucking loved it.
Swear to god, he went from work-tired to murderous in seconds as he stepped through his front door and called out her name.
One whimper, that was all it took—it was hardly noticeable, but his heart stuttered, the noise not right, and he rushed through the apartment and what he saw … iced over his blood.
Sony was dragging his girl by the hair across the floor and using his other hand to punch her in the face.
It was a scene straight out of a horror flick.
It was Jud’s fucking nightmare.
He couldn’t say for sure what those next few minutes consisted of. All he knew was he felt rage like never before when he sprang into action to help his wife.
It was as if Sony was on another planet; deranged or doped up on drugs. His running tirade of how she belonged to him and needed to come home, that she was always meant to marry him, have his babies in her belly, went on and on.
Jud felt every one of the punches delivered to her delicate bones with the few seconds it took him to move across the floor and attack the man beating her body with his wide fists. Afterward he would think about how many other punches she’d taken before he’d arrived, and it would torture him.
White noise rushed through his ears, the amount of blood covering her would make him vomit later, and though she tried to cry his name, it only made blood bubble out of her mouth. The other man didn’t even react to Jud’s presence, so intent on trying to drag Jud’s wife across the now stained carpeted floor.
They say when a person you love is in danger that you’re overcome with unnatural strength. There was no telling how hard he ripped Sony away from her within moments, or how he got the man down on the floor and started raining blow after vicious blow all over his face and body, his own knuckles breaking in the process of him beating the sonofabitch to a pulp.
The anger palpable, like a living, breathing dragon, directing his bunched fists as they lay into the man who had no chance of fighting back.
The violence poured out of Jud.
There was no sense of time.
Time became irrelevant in his quest to rip the guy to shreds.
Blood oozed out of Sony’s face, his eyes swollen shut, lips cut to hell making his gibberish splatter blood all over the front of Jud’s shirt. The same blood-stained Jud’s hands, dripped to the floor, he tasted it in the air, but he couldn’t stop.
He was possessed.
A man unbalanced.
Someone had come into the safe haven he’d made for his wife, a place she was happy and well taken care of and they’d hurt her.
His eyes strayed to her prone body, contorted and broken on the rug she’d bought only last week. She was going to be so pissed to see all the blood staining it.
Every primal surge as her husband rose like bile in his throat. So still, so broken and his heart screamed in agony as he took his two hands and covered Sony’s airways, his body jolted like he’d been electrocuted.
There was no way he could move, not with Jud’s full body on top of his, using his knees to keep Sony’s chest pinned and while he pushed down on Sony’s mouth and nose, the other man tried to scream behind those hands. “That’s right, you look at me, you lousy motherfucker and know what I’m doing.”
He’d done a million reckless things in his youth. Regretted some and learned from others. All paths led him to his ladybug, he knew that without question or doubt. He felt it every single day.
He’d do anything for her.
Nothing was too big.
He’d make every sacrifice he had to for her happiness.
The body underneath him struggled as he pressed down harder, stared into those bulging eyes until the vision blanked out. Until the body became slack and even then, Jud didn’t let up. When it mattered most, it was eerily easy to snuff out a life.
He’d think about that so much over the years.
Only when it was done did he fall back on his heels, the breath finally returning to his lungs, ears ringing and his heart out of sync. Panic like a monsoon raining down over his head as he scrambled on his knees to get across the floor to his wife who was so fucking still he choked on a broken sob.
“Baby. Baby. I’m here. I’m so fucking sorry.” Cradling her in his arms, every wrecked part of her skin made him wince. She should never have a blemish on her perfect face, he tried to wipe the blood away with the edge of his shirt but only made it worse as cuts seeped open again. “I’m here, I have you. I’ll make this right.” His vision blurred out and he only knew he was crying when wetness dropped onto her cheek. “Baby, come on, open your eyes. Open your fucking eyes for your Judson, baby.”
His voice broke.
He couldn’t look down, couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t look down at her shorts to see the dark stain of blood between her legs.
Their baby … he couldn’t do it.
She was his life. His whole reason for waking up every day to be the kind of man who deserved a true angel like her.
She’d been happy and carefree for four years and just like that, those motherfuckers stole it from her.
They’d ripped it from him.
Nothing was ever the same again. How could it be?
He’d lost his wife in seconds, his unborn baby, his whole fucking happy life and he was left with blood on his hands and vengeance and pain in his heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Casper got himself an old lady.” – the boys
Now
He wished he’d stayed awake was his first thought as Reaper wrenched himself from sleep like the hounds of hell were nipping at his toes. He all but fell off the couch he’d passed out on in a back room at the club and when he rolled himself to his knees he was breathing heavily, the remnants of his nightmares still chewing through the soft part of his brain.
Should have stayed awake.
He knew more than ever how stress worked with his brain, tormenting him when he was weakest.
He needed
two things; a shower and Paige and not necessarily in that order. But it was the shower he went for first, boiling his aching skull of all memories of that event which changed everything for Reaper.
He never did stay another night in their apartment without his wife and several weeks after he was in Colorado asking Rider for a job and the rest as they say was history.
Back in his clothes, he nearly broke his damn neck narrowly missing tripping over the empty bottle of whiskey that had kept him company last night. He yanked it up and tossed it into the trash can before he searched the room for his cell.
Wincing when he saw a wall of messages from Paige.
They started excitedly at first, asking if he’d seen her on TV, she described the event in great length. Slowly but surely her messages began to become worried, asking why he wasn’t answering, was he mad at her? Was he safe? And the last one was to give her a call if he felt like it.
If he felt like it …
Reaper’s teeth ached as he slammed out of the room and strode through the corridor that lead to the belly of the clubhouse. As always there was a handful of people around, some of the older members and the hangarounds, plus prospects.
He ignored them all and headed outside for fresh air and pressed the call button to Paige’s number before the door swung closed behind him.
Across the forecourt the sounds of machinery echoed through the drifting winds.
“Paige.” He breathed hearing her sweet greeting and instantly felt a shit ton better, the sluggish hangover disappearing from his skull. Just knowing she was a few miles away poured calm down over his shaggy head hanging too loosely on his neck. He rested his back against the brick wall, brace his boot there too. “You wanna come hang out at the club?” He didn’t know what he was gonna say to her until the words came out of him.
“I… erm, sure, I can be there in a little while.”
“Are you busy?”
“No, not really. I just figured you didn’t want to see me. I tried calling you a bunch yesterday, left messages. Thought maybe you’d… actually,” she laughed a nervous sound. “I didn’t know what I thought.”
“Paige?”
“Yeah?”
“I always wanna see you, baby. Come to me?”
He heard her smiling and he felt like shit for being mad at her in the first place and falling into a bottle and ignoring her for a full day.
“I won’t be long.”
“I’ll be here waiting for you.”
He was good at waiting. Too fucking good, even when it killed him.
For Paige? He’d wait a lifetime, even with his nightmares holding his hand.
While he waited, he decided to answer one of his brother’s many calls that week. He loved the guy, best friend for life, but fuck, if Bryan didn’t go right into lecture mode just like the older brother he was. “The folks want you to come home, Jud. They’re not getting any younger.” Guilt chewed through Reaper. He missed them too. “Even for a few weeks, you need it. You need a fucking break from—”
“I’m fine, Bry, you don’t need to cluck, mate.”
“Fuck you. It’s been years. It’s insanity, you know it.”
“Then let me be happy in my insanity.”
“Are you?”
He watched Paige’s beat-up car she loved so much turn in to the compound and the corner of his lip twitched with a relieved smile. He pushed himself off the wall and started walking forward even before she’d turned into a parking spot. “For the first time in a long time, yeah.” he told his brother he’d call him later and they hung up.
His girl had all of his attention.
* * *
She couldn’t decide if the gray marl sweatpants and hoodie were a good choice to wear as she pulled up outside of the Renegade Souls MC, but it was too late now seeing as how Reaper was waiting and only steps away from her car even before the engine stopped.
She felt a little like Alice in Wonderland coming here, almost as if she was about to be offered a “drink me” bottle before attending a Mad Hatter’s tea party. Nothing about the last twenty-four hours made sense. Not least of all Reaper’s ghosting her.
She made pies and didn’t do anything exciting whereas her boyfriend was a notorious biker who everyone knew about. Talk about a dysfunctional mindfuck, but of all the men in the world, there was no other she would choose, and she was smiling up at him when Reaper pulled the door open.
Paige squealed when he reached in, clicked her seatbelt free and lifted her out as easy as that before plastering her to the side of her car, giving her no choice but to wrap her arms around his waist.
“Well… hello to you too.” She smiled, and found her mouth crushed under soft lips that pried and cajoled hers, demanding entry by licking first the top one and then sucking on the bottom, his tongue charged through with her slightest gasp.
It was no soft kiss. It was a I fucking missed you kiss; I need you kiss.
Oh, god, this man could kiss her into a new undiscovered world, and she’d greet the demons there with a drunken smile.
Several millions eyes …okay, it was slightly less… turned to the sight of Reaper carrying her into the building once her lips were set free. She turned a hot shade of pink feeling their gazes. “Coffee?”
She watched his perfect hard ass when he strode off down a long corridor. Only then did she turn her head back to the crowd.
She smiled nervously and held up a hand. “Hi, guys.”
“Yo, diner girl.” Preacher called out with a smile; she’d always liked the bigger guy.
“Finally roped our boy in.” This from the biker they called Grinder. “Thank fuck for that.”
Some of their intimidation dimmed as others joined in with congratulations for ‘locking the ghost down’ making her giggle.
Banked fires smoldered in Reaper’s eyes on his return, his gait long and powerful, the jeans clung to his legs without being tight and the big silver buckle glinted as the light hit it. He looked so incredibly good that she had to take a reflexive swallow.
His fingers curved around her nape as he leaned over her and placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. She’d assumed he’d rush her to that back room again and ravish her … she was only slightly disappointed she still wore clothes but being near Reaper was good enough.
All day she’d worried she’d done something wrong or worse, that he’d gone back into his quiet shell, closing her out.
The hand on her neck was the last time he touched her for the next couple of hours.
They’d joined the men down the other end, two were playing on an old school PlayStation, laying bets down like they were at a Monte Carlo craps table.
Some were day drinking, others just in conversation and while Reaper sat close by, he didn’t put another hand on her, and her skin became increasingly sensitive to his nearness. Begging silently for those rough hands to curl around her nape, to cup her knee.
Paige noted that while the other men whistled or yelled out for one of the younger boys to bring them drinks or food … prospects as she was told their title was… general dogsbody, Reaper explained. Any time she wanted something, Reaper got up and fetched it himself and she even started to test how much he’d tolerate by asking for silly things… and off he went to the kitchen to bring it back for her.
No wonder Paige looked at him with stars in her eyes.
She’d gone from being a woman not used to being touched, to craving his calloused hands on her constantly.
Halfway through the two hour no touching saga he stepped away to take a call and appeared to be displeased with that call.
Then Paige started to notice the glances he sent her way as she talked to Tag about pies, of all things… the biker was a 12-step program away from needing a sweets intervention.
And with each glance she noticed Reaper’s brow furrowing in deep concentration. Was it because she’d leaned in and laughed at Tag’s re-enactment of the summer he stole his granny’s cobbler and made him
self sick? She tested out her curious theory by leaning over the table and giggling. Sure enough, she saw Reaper’s face tighten.
Now, Paige wasn’t used to having anyone jealous over her, maybe the power went to her head because she assumed it would bring Reaper over to her, maybe his hands would touch her, finally, but her brilliant plan backfired epically.
Like something out of Roman times when wars started over relationships.
Because his scowl could have coagulated her blood vessels and when his strides ate up the space between them, she became really excited in her seat, anticipating being plucked into thin air and the life kissed out of her.
Wrong.
His jaw looked tight, like he was chewing wasps as he took a hard right at the last second and headed for the main entryway.
Slick like dread tossed Paige’s belly around as she swiveled on her chair and watched his strong retreating ass leave the clubhouse.
Well then…
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Behind door #1 is….” - Paige
A few beats passed, unsure what to do when she heard a throat clearing. “Think my boy wants you to follow him, sweetheart.” Tag piped in.
She turned back to the blond Adonis. Handsome as all get out, if that was what did it for you. “You think so? He looked pretty peeved.”
Tag snorted amusement. Twin dimples on show. “He’s been hound-dog after you for years, sweetheart. Yeah, I think he wants you out there with him and not in here with all of us.”
She was out of her chair a second later. A memory flash had her pausing steps.
Own a man’s cock and you have him for life … wow, she hadn’t thought of that silly statement her teen best friend, Kim, would boast when neither of them had ever even touched a penis at the time.
But was it true, if he’d been so… hound dog over her, did she own him, cock and all?
Her heart spiked into an uneven pattern and her feet carried her to Reaper.
Drawn as always like a moth to his flame.
She found him pacing just outside the doorway. His gorgeous features pulled into a taut scowl, yet his beauty was unmistakable, and she had the suspended sense of another reality where she was falling hard in love with this man.