Protector: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Four

by Myers, Shannon

  I kicked my feet over the side of the bed, swaying slightly as the room spun around me. Lucy placed a steadying hand on my arm, and I reached up to squeeze it before finding my footing. “I’m good. I’ll just wash up and then try a little soup.”

  “Okay.” She led me toward the bathroom. “Let me just see if one of the guys can reheat it while I help you bathe.”

  “No,” I snapped. “I just—I just need a minute alone, okay? You take care of the soup, and I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I had no intention of eating a bite but was willing to say anything just to buy a moment’s peace. I pushed the bathroom door closed and briefly let the back of my head rest against the wood before turning the lock.

  The drawstring on my sweatpants had become knotted, and it took several tries before I managed to get it undone. I kept my focus on the ceiling, ignoring the tremors in my hands and the pain in my ribs as I pulled Jamie’s old sweatshirt over my head.

  Once my breathing returned to normal, I padded over to the shower and turned the handle all the way to the left. The old pipes hummed to life, and I leaned against the bathroom counter with a sigh. At some point, the mirror had been replaced. It didn’t matter that all traces of blood and glass were gone, I still saw the destruction in my reflection.

  The cuts had scabbed over, and the bruises had faded from a vivid dark purple to a subtle yellow, but not every wound would heal. After eyeing the door again, I slowly turned back to the mirror and gently peeled back the bandage on my hip.

  At first, I’d been confused by the strange markings. It wasn’t until I looked at it in the mirror and was greeted by the sight of the diamond thirteen that I realized what had happened.

  I’d been branded.

  Just like the Ancient Romans had signified ownership over their slaves, I was left with a permanent reminder of what I was.

  A victim.

  The steam billowed out of the shower, fogging the mirror to the point that I almost believed I looked normal again. I stepped under the showerhead, hissing as it rained lava down over my skin.

  “Cry,” I commanded, moving the soapy loofah over my delicate skin. Each rough scrape sent pain reverberating down into my toes, but my eyes remained dry.

  With a wince, I spread my legs and forced myself to watch as I dragged the sponge through my folds. “Cry,” I growled, even blinking for good measure. “Just cry.”

  My heart raced as the sensation brought violent memories to the surface, and the edges of my vision swam in black. The bleeding may have stopped two days ago, but I still saw the stream running down the inside of my thighs. I could still feel the twisting knife of pain from a body that had failed to protect even the most innocent.

  The sponge slipped from my hands as I dropped to my knees on the floor of the shower. “Cry, goddammit!”

  What was wrong with me?

  “Celia?” Lucy tapped at the door. “Are you okay?”

  I reached up and shut the water off with a soft groan. “I’m fine. Getting out now.”

  I adored Lucy, but her constant hovering was suffocating me. It didn’t matter how much I protested, or how many times I insisted that I was okay on my own, she refused to leave.

  I just wanted to get lost in my thoughts for a while; to sort out my feelings until I figured out why I hadn’t shed one tear since the night they took everything from me.

  What I didn’t need was to be told when to eat or drink as if I was a child. I craved the ability to use the bathroom or shower without her pacing outside the door.

  I towel dried my hair and pulled it up into a bun before slipping back into Jamie’s shirt and my sweatpants. Lucy jumped up from the bed when I opened the door.

  “I picked out a dress for you. Thought you might like to put it on and go sit out back for a little while. The sun feels really nice right now… it’s hard to believe it’s December.” She rambled, wringing her hands together.

  The dress was one Jamie had bought for me not long after Kate was born. He’d been in Black Hawk for a rally and saw it in a store window.

  I stared down at it, waiting for the rust-colored material to dredge up what I’d been unable to in the shower.

  Nothing.

  I was completely and utterly broken.

  “I’m feeling a little dizzy,” I lied. “I need to just sit for a second.”

  Lucy sprang into action, leading me over to my side of the bed and fussing with the pillows surrounding me. “I had Angel reheat your soup. Let me just grab it—”

  I pulled the comforter up over my head. “I’m good, Luce. Just gonna sleep it off.”

  “But you have company... I just thought you might—”

  I could feel her frustration, but I didn’t want to dress up so that one more Ol’ Lady could tell me how sorry she was to hear about what happened before giving me a casserole.

  I should’ve been wallowing in grief and self-pity over what had been stolen from us that night. Instead, white-hot rage coursed through my veins, knowing the three of them were still out there.

  The soft strains of music began again, and I closed my eyes, feeling the lyrics deep within my soul. The tempo was slow, giving every indication that it was just another sad song.

  It seemed those were the only ones worth playing.

  Stevie’s voice moved to a dramatic howl that left goosebumps on my skin, and for the first time in my life, I understood her perfectly. The fiery passion in her words wasn’t mourning or even her feeling sorry for herself.

  It was a declaration of war.

  There wouldn’t be a fairy tale ending or some neat resolution where the club was concerned.

  Hawk.

  Cobra.

  Manny.

  They’d come looking for Grey, and just as soon as I was healed, I was going to go looking for them.

  * * *

  “Mama, can you check again?” Dakota whispered. “I know I saw Loki hiding under my bed.”

  Kate rolled onto her side with a dramatic huff. “I tried telling her, but as usual, she wouldn’t listen.”

  “What? Pops checked every night for me. You can never be too careful.”

  I gripped the bedpost and knelt down, grinning at the assortment of comics stacked messily underneath. “Oh, Dakota’s right. There is a Loki under the bed.”

  I stood up, holding the comic over my head in victory. “Here we are. One Loki, just as you demanded. I think he was trying to infiltrate Asgaard again.”

  Dakota snatched the comic from my hand with a giggle before placing it face down on the nightstand. “Hey, Mama? Do you think it would be okay if I wrote a letter to Santa tomorrow?”

  Kate made another sound of exasperation. “Santa’s not real, just like your dumb superheroes aren’t real. Only babies believe in that stuff.”

  Not even home for twenty-four hours, and it was apparent that their relationship had not improved during their time away.

  “Kate, be nice to your sister,” I warned, before turning back to Dakota. “Santa is real, and if you want to write him a letter and ask for something special—”

  “It’s not that. It’s just that Nan took me to the mall to visit, and already I left a letter, but I told him to bring my gifts to their house because I didn’t know how long you’d be gone.” Her voice grew small. “I just don’t want him to go to the wrong house.”

  “You should just have them delivered there... at least Nan has a tree up.” Kate gestured toward the hall. “Our house isn’t even decorated. Plus, she’ll probably just leave again.”

  Dakota’s head whipped around to face me. “That’s not true, is it? We’re not going to have to go back to Nan and Pop’s house, are we? You won’t leave us again, will you?”

  I sucked in a startled breath and shook my head, earning an eye roll from Kate that I decided I was better off ignoring. As if losing her daddy hadn’t been enough, she’d been yanked from her bed and moved to my parent’s house with no explanation.

  My daughter had become
a full-blown cynic at the age of ten.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Nothing about our lives had gone the way I planned.

  I waited for the telltale prick of emotion when Dakota’s body plowed into my sore ribs and she buried her face against my neck, holding me in a death grip.

  As usual, there was nothing but anger.

  These men hadn’t just stolen something from me. Their actions had left my girls scared and distrustful.

  “Why don’t you both get some sleep and we’ll work on decorating the house tomorrow?” I helped Dakota back under the covers and kissed the top of her head.

  “Love you, Kota-Bear. I’m glad you’re home with me.”

  Her mouth stretched wide in a yawn. “Love you too, Mama.”

  “I love you, Katydid.”

  She yanked the blankets up over her head and rolled away. I knew I deserved every bit of her anger, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

  My father was sitting in the recliner, watching a football game when I came out of the girl’s room.

  “I’m surprised you’re still here. I thought you’d be gone by now.” I bent to retrieve Dakota’s tennis shoes from under the couch and moved them over by the front door, knowing she’d be looking for them in the morning if I didn’t.

  He pressed a button on the remote, and the television screen faded into blackness. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Am I in trouble?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. My father had never been the disciplinarian; that had always fallen to my mother.

  “Sit,” he directed, pointing to the couch. “Look, I’ll just say it. I’m not sure the girls are safe with you anymore, Celia.”

  I sank down onto one of the cushions. “What do you mean? Did you not see the entire army of bikers camped outside? If they’re not safe—”

  “You led those men here!” His voice rose as he jabbed a finger toward me. “I told you that they were dangerous—in fact, your mother and I even tried warning you about Jamie, but you refused to listen and look at what happened!”

  There it was.

  Eleven years of mistakes and blame placed solely at my feet.

  My ribs protested the sudden shift from sitting to standing, and I clutched them in regret before stalking toward my father. “You think this is all my fault?”

  “Sweetheart, you’re an adult. It’s time to act like one and admit that your gambling has put the girls at risk. I just worry—”

  “My gambling was to keep the lights on because, as Mother so eloquently put it, I chose to live like garbage and shouldn’t come to either of you looking for a handout. What would you have had me do, Daddy? Let the girls go hungry?”

  He ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t know things were that bad…”

  My chest heaved up and down with each ragged breath I took. The blood drained from my face and arms, and pooled in my belly, leaving me nauseated. “They were, and I did what I had to… for them.”

  “Your mother and I just think the girls would be better off living with us—”

  Ignoring the stiffness in my fingers, I yanked him forward in the chair by the collar of his shirt. “You what?”

  He stood up and backed away, breaking the contact between us. “Now, don’t get upset, but we could keep them safe—”

  “Like you kept me safe?” I bit out. “It’s easy for you to point the finger at me and accuse me of being an unfit mother, but let’s not forget how this all started, Daddy. Had you not been in over your head with drugs, I never would’ve been taken by the club in the first place.”

  The rage that had been clogging my veins spilled over into my words. “I would’ve gone my entire life blissfully ignorant of Silent Phoenix MC. I could’ve been ten times the woman I became, but you snorted away any chance at a future for me!”

  I watched as his shoulders slumped forward and the anger fled his face. “Celia, I—”

  “Get. Out,” I growled as I threw the front door open. Comedian jumped up from the porch swing as my father reached for me, quickly moving in between us.

  The hurt he’d inflicted penetrated deep into my bones, but my body still refused to give in to the tears. “Leave,” I demanded. “And don’t you even think about taking my girls, are we clear?”

  “Celia…” He took a step forward, only to be stopped by the wall that was Comedian.

  “Let’s go, old man.”

  I watched as he was led back to his car before closing and locking the door behind me. My body trembled and shook from the adrenaline that had been dumped into my system.

  I’d thought that surviving that night was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done. I was wrong. It was going to be getting up, day after day, and fighting.

  Fighting to keep my girls.

  Fighting to regain their trust and keep them safe.

  Fighting to hold on to what little humanity remained.

  “Cry,” I whispered to myself, but just like my prayers, my demand went unanswered.

  I found the pack of cigarettes hidden behind a bag of frozen peas in the freezer and snagged the flashlight from the junk drawer before going out onto the back porch.

  “Looks like you finally kicked ol’ Dick to the curb,” a voice slurred from behind me. “I wondered how long that’d take.”

  I yelped, as images of Cobra flooded my mind before swinging the flashlight wildly, managing to connect several times with solid flesh.

  “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Celia! It’s me!” Jamie roared. His hand shot up and pried the weapon from my grasp before tossing it out into the dead grass.

  My body twisted away as he came into focus, still convinced there was a threat. Maybe there was and I’d just been too blind to see it.

  “Goddammit,” he growled, rubbing at his jaw. “You tryin’ to knock my teeth out?”

  The plastic around the pack of cigarettes crinkled loudly as my fingers tightened against it. “You—you just popped up out of nowhere.”

  “Pretty sure I’ve popped up like this before, and gotten a much better reaction,” he grumbled.

  “That was before—” I stopped, the implication of my words hanging heavy in the air, like an early morning fog. “Why are you here?”

  “Why am I here? Fuck, Celia, why do you think I’m here?”

  I willed my fingers to stop trembling as I pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit up, remembering with the first drag why I’d taken up smoking, to begin with. I was also reminded of why I’d quit.

  Him.

  It was all because of him.

  “I have no idea, but you can show yourself out like Richard did,” I stated, before slowly lowering myself onto a lawn chair. Judging by the penetrating ache in my chest, my brief stint as Rambo had just set back my recovery.

  Jamie grabbed the other chair and dragged it over next to mine. “Ain’t leavin’, princess.”

  I exhaled a stream of smoke with a bitter laugh. “No? How ever will the club survive without you?”

  “I’m out. Turned it over to Bear and walked away.”

  For the first time since that night, I was grateful for the dark as I was sure shock was written all over my face. It was bittersweet; being given the one thing I’d craved for eleven years at a point when it no longer meant anything.

  Jamie fidgeted with something on his jeans before plucking the cigarette from my hand and taking a long drag. “Say somethin’.”

  “Why now?”

  He absently stroked his beard before admitting, “I ain’t done a lot right when it comes to you and the girls. I wanna be here to protect you—”

  I abruptly stood up, wrenching the cigarette from his hand before pacing along the edge of the patio. “I think it’s been proven that you can’t protect me. You can’t protect anyone. Showing up a month later doesn’t change that.”

  The chair toppled over onto its side as he cut the distance between us. It was only then that I realized he was swaying unsteadily on his feet.

  “Are you drunk?”
I asked, just as he snapped, “I’ve been here the entire time!”

  We both fell silent, taking in the other’s admission.

  “Maybe I am drunk.” He moved closer, and I stepped back until I came into contact with the brick siding.

  “Why?” I whispered.

  He lowered his forehead to mine, and I inhaled, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and cigarette smoke, along with the overwhelming stench of hard liquor on his breath.

  “Why am I drunk, or why have I been here?” His arm hooked around my waist, drawing me up against his body. “Either way, it’s the same answer. You.”

  His hand was like a vise against my injuries, the agonizing pressure stealing the breath from my lungs. Mistaking my gasp for something I was no longer capable of feeling; he tilted my face up and sucked my bottom lip in between his teeth.

  So fuckin’ good.

  I jerked away, my head connecting painfully with the bricks at my back as I fought my way out of the cage he’d put me in. I thrust my knee into his groin, and he stumbled back with a groan.

  “Don’t touch me,” I croaked, before doubling over with a ragged breath. With the waves of nausea came the flashbacks and an overwhelming sense of helplessness. My throat tightened, and I clawed at it, fighting to get air into my lungs.

  “It’s okay, darlin’.” Jamie ground out through clenched teeth, before crawling over to where I knelt against the cold concrete.

  Each gasp and wheeze was another sharp reminder that I wasn’t okay. I was never going to be okay.

  He kept his distance but gripped my wrists in one hand. “I got you, princess. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

  Jamie had been my safe place for as long as I could remember, but that had been before.

  Before Hawk’s fists.

  Before Manny’s taunts.

  Before Cobra’s mouth.

  Even with the sweatshirt between us, my skin sizzled from the heat of him. Hands that had held mine as I brought our daughter into the world were now searing and unwelcome against my body.

  “Let me go,” I whispered, keeping my gaze averted. “Please.”

  He dropped my hands immediately and rocked back onto his heels. “Jesus Christ, darlin’. What’d they do to you?”