Protector: Silent Phoenix MC Series: Book Four

by Myers, Shannon

  When I was a kid, I’d imagined myself patrolling the river-carved canyons on horseback, searching for bad guys to wrangle up. As an adult, I knew that there were no good guys left in these parts. We were all villains, searching for a place to hide.

  The cooler weather reminded me of the night Katydid had come into the world. I’d held Celia’s hands as she panted through each contraction. The minute the pain let up, she’d dozed off against my arm, completely unaware of the sweat that ran down her face.

  Just like the night she’d lost our baby.

  The tears I’d been holding back now fell in rapid succession; causing my entire body to jerk as I fought against the sharp pain in my chest.

  I staggered around the back of the clubhouse and toward the river, knowing it wouldn’t be long before they came looking for me. The muddy brown water of the Rio Grande flowed just feet below me.

  One wrong step in the dark could send me hurtling off the edge of the rock overhang. If the flow was high enough, I’d be swept away. If it wasn’t, I’d end up waist-deep in silt with a broken leg, just as stuck as I was now.

  Celia, what if you get knocked up?

  What would happen if I did?

  The ache in my chest became unbearable, and I fell to my knees with a cry. I wanted to rip through the tattooed skin covering my chest; to break apart my rib cage and let my heart fall into the water with my tears.

  I didn’t know how long I sat there, bawling like a scared kid, before pulling the cell phone from my back pocket. I dialed, knowing exactly what I was going to hear.

  “Jamie?” Angel yawned. “Everything okay?”

  “No.” I cupped my forehead with my hand and hiccuped through a sob, making no attempt to cover it up. “She was pregnant?”

  He sighed and shifted against the phone, probably rolling over in bed. “Yeah, kid. She was.”

  The confirmation only pushed me closer to the edge of that overhang, ready to stand up and launch myself into the rushing water below. “I,” I choked. “I ruin lives. Donald was right about that, wasn’t he?”

  “You been drinkin’?”

  I nodded and sniffed. “A little. Mikey’s a murderer, Angel. Just like me. And Celia—I bet she was so scared. It shouldn’t have been you—seein’ her like that.”

  “Jamie,” Angel said slowly. “Where are you right now?”

  I swiped the back of my hand across my eyes. “Don’t matter anymore.”

  “Are you near water? Listen to me, remember that time I took you and your mama fishin’ off White River? How many did she catch that day? Put us all to shame.”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear, letting my finger hover over the red end call button. I knew he meant well, but I didn’t need one more distraction. “Love you, Angel. I’m sorry I fucked it all up. I wanted to be like you when I was a kid, but instead, I turned out just like my old man.”

  “Jamie—”

  “Just—just take care of them for me.” I mashed the button, and the phone went silent again.

  I roughly ran a hand over my face before dialing again.

  “Lo?” he stated flatly as if the actual greeting required too much effort.

  “Mikey?” My voice was thick from all the tears I’d shed, sounding nothing like the man he’d known as a kid.

  “Who is this?”

  “I—” I mashed my fist against my lips. “I’m so sorry, buddy.”

  “Buddy? Jarrett, pumpkin, is that you? Still pissed that my Rangers whooped up on your Astros? A bet’s a bet, asshole. Pay up.”

  I smiled in spite of myself before hanging up. He sounded like a typical teenage boy. Maybe, even with all the mistakes I’d made along the way, I’d given him a fighting chance at a normal life.

  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he was going to try to call me back using reverse caller ID. Unfortunately for him, my phone was untraceable. He’d never been content with loose ends as a kid; everything had to be wrapped up nice and neat.

  He was gonna make a damn fine detective someday.

  My hands shook as an image of Celia infiltrated my mind, and I dropped onto my ass with a heavy sigh. She was laying on my bed at the clubhouse, looking up at me from under those thick lashes; hair nothing more than a wild mane of curls. My daughter was in her belly, and everything was right in the world.

  It was the memory I’d held onto with everything I had left. It would be the one I took with me when the Reaper showed up; that, and the sound of her voice as she said my name.

  One more call.

  One last time.

  My heart raced as the phone rang, leaving me feeling like a kid calling his crush. It wasn’t too far from the truth. She’d always held a power over me that I couldn’t explain.

  “Hello?” A girl’s voice breathlessly whispered.

  “Katydid?” How did she sound like a grown woman? She was only eleven for Christ’s sake.

  “Who is this?” she asked sternly, and I pictured her as a toddler, face scrunched up in annoyance.

  I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “When’d you get so big, Katy girl?”

  She’d never be a baby again. I’d wasted all that time running away, thinking that things would just go back to the way they’d been before when I eventually made it home again.

  Life didn’t work like that, though.

  There’d be no tea parties for Spiderman or demands for one more story. I’d never get back the time with them that I’d lost. I rubbed at the back of my neck, realizing I’d fucked it all away for a patch.

  “Daddy?” Her voice went soft.

  I sniffed. “Is your mama there?”

  There was a brief scuffle as Kate begged, “No! Give it back! It’s my daddy! That’s my daddy!”

  “Kate?” The phone dug into my ear as I strained to hear my daughter’s voice.

  “Why are you calling here?” Richard demanded over Kate’s screams before lowering his voice. “Sweetheart, this isn’t your daddy. It’s a wrong number—”

  “Wait! Don’t hang up. I just need to talk to Celia. Need to hear her voice… please.”

  He went quiet for so long that I became convinced he’d hung up, only to pull the phone away to see that we were still connected.

  “Richard,” I croaked. “Please.”

  There was a heavy sigh before he wrecked what was left of my heart. “Celia isn’t here, Jamie. She met someone, and he’s good for her. She and the girls are happy; why can’t you just accept it and move on?”

  I wanted to beg him for a way to reach her, to talk her out of it, but Slim was right—she deserved a good life. And if I couldn’t be the one to give it to her, I could at least go out knowing she was happy again.

  “Just—just tell her I’m sorry… for all of it.”

  Everything inside of me screamed for release as I tossed my phone into the flowing river and retrieved the gun from my hip. I shoved the barrel up underneath my chin and took a deep breath.

  “You’re doin’ it wrong,” Slim calmly stated before coming to stand beside me. “You’ll blow your jaw off, but not much else. Best way to do it would be to stick it in your mouth with the barrel angled up.”

  I lowered it and turned to him. “You came here to give me tips? Ain’t gonna make any attempt to stop me?”

  He lit up a cigarette with a shrug before offering me one. “Figured you’d made your mind up already. No sense talking you out of what you think is best.”

  I clenched my jaw and shoved the gun back into the holster. “Why the fuck are you even here? Thought you were headed back to Beaumont.”

  “Call it a hunch or a sixth sense, but I made it as far as Fort Stockton before turnin’ around. Angel called me as I pulled up to the clubhouse, claimin’ you were gonna end it. When he mentioned hearing water, I knew where you were. Don’t mean I don’t think you’re a goddamn pussy though.”

  The muscles jumped under my skin as I lit up the cigarette. “I’m a pussy? You got any idea the shit I’ve been dealin�
� with? Not everybody gets a fairy tale like you, dickwad.”

  “Fairy tale?” Slim laughed. “You really believe that’s what I got? You’ve got no fuckin’ clue—”

  I smirked. “Yeah, name one of your problems. Didn’t make the church bake sale? David missed curfew?”

  He lowered himself down next to me and watched the river before admitting, “I stopped counting Lou’s miscarriages after the seventh one.”

  “Jesus,” I breathed. “I had no idea—”

  “Yeah,” he cut in. “Because I didn’t lose myself in the bottle or get strung out on whatever the club was sellin’. That’s your problem, though; you love wallowin’ in your own shit. Yeah, you were raised in a fucked-up environment, but at some point, you gotta man the fuck up, Jamie.”

  I rubbed my swollen eyes and took a drag. “We ain’t all you—”

  “No, and thank Christ for it. My girl needed me to be strong for both of us, and I was. You would’ve ended it and left her alone. I mean, look at you! Fuckin’ pathetic. You ain’t doin’ this for any reason other than you can’t handle their pain. Guess what, asshole? It’s your motherfuckin’ job to be their provider!”

  I felt the vein pulsing in my neck and snapped, “She was pregnant and lost our baby because of me. Because I fuckin’ failed at my job as her husband, John! Mikey killed someone because I failed at being a good father. They’re better off without me.”

  He nodded. “Maybe they are because it’s always been all about you. Your wife is beaten and raped, and you’re hung up on how much it hurts you. Your boy makes a mistake that most people go to prison over, and you’re mopin’ about what kind of dad you were? You don’t wanna end up just like your old man, then change it! Jesus Christ, just harden the fuck up!”

  I jumped up, ready to fight. “I am my old man! Whatever was in him runs through my veins, the same as it does Mikey’s!”

  He stood up and squared off with me. “Then do it, Jamie. Put a bullet in your brain so that it fixes things for you. Who gives a fuck how the rest of us are, right?”

  I couldn’t punch or kick my way out of the situation because, as much as I hated to admit it, he was right. Instead, I dropped back down to my knees with a cry. “How’d you do it? How’d you fix it?”

  Slim ran his hands over his face before kneeling beside me and placing a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t fix it. Some things can’t be undone no matter how hard we want them to be. Best we can do is pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and be a rock for them.”

  “Dick said she moved on; found someone else. What good am I gonna be to her now?”

  She would’ve been better off had she never met me.

  “I’d be wary of anything her old man told you; he’s had it out for you for years. And even if she did move on, so what? I don’t think for one second that Celia’s taken the time to fully accept what happened to her. She’s not in the right frame of mind to do anything. But there will be a day when she lets herself feel it, and your ass better be there to help her grieve.”

  He lit up another cigarette. “This is what I was tryin’ to tell you. Your feelings don’t matter because it didn’t happen to you. So, you can be a selfish prick who ends it because shit hurts too much, or you can choose to be better. That means you give up the drinkin’ and drugs though.”

  I laughed. “So, give up the only things that have kept me going?”

  His mouth flattened into a thin line before disappearing behind his beard. “They ain’t kept you goin’; they’ve slowed you down. You couldn’t protect them before. Jamie, this is your chance to redeem yourself. There ain’t a doubt in my mind that if you had a clear head and a solid plan, you’d wipe the motherfuckers off the map tomorrow. Ultimately, it’s your choice, though.”

  I’d been digging my own grave for as long as I could remember, but instead of dropping a handful of dirt onto me and walking away, Slim had reached down and pulled me out.

  Just as I was ready to give up.

  As usual, he was right. If I wanted to see my girl smile and hear her laugh again, then I had to fight for it with everything I had. Completely sober. She deserved a man who was strong enough to slay his own demons before coming for hers.

  I might’ve lost my way, but it was suddenly clear. Never had any other choice but her.

  Celia.

  I chose Celia.

  Chapter Eight

  Celia: 2004

  The phone rang again, its shrill noise assaulting my ears. When I made no attempt to pick it up, Molly raised her eyebrow and walked over to it.

  “You gonna get that?” She checked the caller ID. “I don’t think he’s taking the hint.”

  I stayed where I was and scraped a plate over the trash can before shaking my head. “Nope.”

  Rock bottom had been moving in with my parents at the age of twenty-nine. It was an arrangement that had lasted all of two months. As if discovering that my mother had been withholding food from Dakota and shaming Kate for developing breasts wasn’t bad enough, the house hadn’t had one showing.

  According to the realtor, any potential buyers were scared off by rumors of a murder having taken place inside the house. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t an ounce of truth to it, the damage had been done.

  I almost found it amusing that the same neighbors who hid behind curtains and brick walls whenever I walked out onto my porch had gone out of their way to ensure I couldn’t leave.

  So, I stayed; trapped in a house that held nothing but pain and memories of Jamie.

  “How many times a day is he calling?” She prodded, earning herself a dramatic sigh. “What? You can’t avoid him forever, Celia.”

  I’d talk to my father again, just as soon as hell froze over. I knew he meant well, but he’d enabled my mother’s behavior for far too long.

  Initially, I’d seen their home as a safe place to hide out and heal. I slept in my old bedroom with Kate and Dakota on either side of me, protected from the world outside.

  Then the cracks began to show. My mother made several comments regarding Dakota’s weight but backed off when I intervened. I stupidly thought that was the end of it, only to find out later from Kate that on the nights I worked, Dakota was being deprived of food.

  Any chances of us talking through our issues ended when I overheard her telling Kate that tight shirts were for girls looking to get groped.

  I knew if we stayed, the girls would grow up just like I had, thinking that their bodies were little more than something to be admired or used by a man.

  We moved home that same day, but the effects had lingered for months after.

  “Hello, earth to Celia.” Molly waved a hand in front of my face. “You in there?”

  “I have nothing to say to him. Has Bear mentioned anything about the club or what they’re up to?” I asked, in dire need of a subject change.

  She handed me a serving spoon to add to the sink before hopping up onto the countertop. “Are you asking about the club, or Grey?”

  Even though a part of me had been dying to know how he was, I’d managed to avoid saying his name for the better part of three years.

  Whenever I pushed for information on the whereabouts of the men who hurt me, I was given little more than vague responses. If anyone knew where Hawk had gone, I was certain that they were under strict orders from Jamie not to tell me.

  As if I didn’t have a right to know.

  I should’ve moved on; it was evident that what little affection remained between us had died that night on the back porch. Something held me back, though. I’d made a vow to love him until death; a promise that I was incapable of breaking.

  Until I could look at our daughters and not feel as though my lungs were collapsing when I saw his smile on Kate’s face or his vivid blue eyes in Dakota’s, I wasn’t ready.

  “The club, obviously.” I waved the dishrag flippantly before wiping down the stovetop. “I couldn’t care less about Grey.”

  Molly’s eyes narrowed, and she brou
ght a hand up to rest against her hip. “You sure about that? Because you can’t even say his name without blushing. It’s pretty disgusting.”

  As if on cue, my cheeks heated. “Really? What if I told you I’d met someone?”

  “Bullshit,” she coughed into her hand. “And to answer your question, Ol’ Ladies are still cut off from knowing jack shit about what the club’s doing or not doing.”

  I nodded and tossed the rag back into the soapy water. “I figured as—”

  “Doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways of getting information though,” Molly continued with a sly grin. “There was some type of altercation outside of a bar in Colorado Springs; pretty sure there were some Serpents on the wrong end of a barrel. I don’t know if any of them were yours though.”

  Bile moved up into my throat, and I shook my head. “Don’t call them mine ever again. Does Bear know that you’ve infiltrated their inner circle?”

  Her grin widened, and she blew on her lacquered nails before buffing them against the front of her shirt. “Who said Bear didn’t know?”

  “See, now that’s disgusting.”

  “What? This pussy is so tight it just squeezes the information right out of him,” she said, waggling her eyebrows up and down suggestively.

  That’s a good girl. So fuckin’ tight.

  I released a shuddered breath and stared around the kitchen in confusion while my brain worked to identify the threat.

  “Are you okay?”

  I ran a soapy hand over my forehead with a shaky nod. “Just got a little too warm. Feels like it’s mid-July, not November… whatever.”

  “November nineteenth.”

  My blood ran cold, and I paused, hovering over a sink full of dishes with a coffee mug in my hand. “N-November nineteenth?”

  Saying the words aloud did nothing to calm my fears. If anything, it only made them more real.

  Molly nodded slowly before gasping in recognition. “Oh my god, sweetie, I didn’t even put two and two together. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It just surprised me. That’s all.” My hands moved the dishrag over the mug as if on autopilot.