Walking The Line (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 3)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  He doesn’t acknowledge me at first, he just stares at the baron driveway.

  “I got half way to the house,” he starts, his voice hoarse as he draws in a breath. “Then I got this feeling in my gut…” his words trail as he shakes his head. “So, I turned around.” He slowly turns his head, his light eyes finding mine. “And judging by the tears in your eyes, I made the right call.”

  I stare at him for a beat before I blink, and the tears run down my cheeks.

  If there was ever someone I didn’t want to disappoint, it’s the man standing in front of me. In the short while I have known him, he has shown me more love and support than either of my parents. Every time he showed me the slightest bit of affection, I vowed to find a way to repay him. To express my love and gratitude for him and his family. Naming my daughter after his beloved grandmother isn’t enough, but instead of finding ways to honor him and thank him, I’m the reason his family is falling apart. I’m the reason one son spent the night behind bars and the reason the other has turned to drugs.

  “I’m so sorry,” I rasp, choking on a sob as I try to continue. “I never meant for any of this happen.”

  He takes a step forward, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders.

  “Where are they?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit, lifting my hands to wipe my tears. Wolf removes one hand from my shoulder and touches the rosary beads wound around my wrist. Lifting the cross between his fingers, he stares back at me.

  “Which one are you praying for?” he asks hoarsely.

  “Both.”

  He drops his fingers from the cross and removes his other hand from my shoulder. A sob rips from my throat as he scrubs his hands over his anguished face.

  To hurt one man is wrong.

  To hurt two is a sin.

  To hurt three is a goddamn tragedy.

  “Tell me what happened,” he demands all too calmly. It’s a side I’ve never seen of him and I quickly decided I’d rather deal with the explosive temperament I’m familiar with—this one is too damn heartbreaking.

  “Nico and Frankie had words,” I begin, noting he doesn’t look all that surprised. “Frankie left. He was upset…really upset.” I stop speaking and bite the inside of my cheek as more tears fall from my eyes.

  Remorse will kill you.

  But the guilt will bury you.

  Unable to find the will to say much more, I reach into my back pocket and pull out the empty baggie of drugs.

  “I found this in the bathroom,” I whisper brokenly.

  He takes the bag, stares at it for what seems like a millisecond before crushing it in his fist. His phone rings inside his vest and I watch as he reaches for it.

  “Wolf—”

  Pinning me with his eyes, he lifts the phone to his ear.

  “Black,” he answers.

  One word.

  That’s all he says before the phone slips from his fingers and falls to the floor. Keeping my eyes on him, I crouch down and lift his phone to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Who’s this?” A gruff voice asks.

  “It’s…Carrie…” I stammer.

  The man on the phone introduces himself as Blackie, then he asks me where we are and tells me to put Anna in her infant seat, that someone is on their way to pick up the three of us and take us to the hospital.

  The hospital.

  He says there was an accident.

  An accident.

  Then he hangs up.

  He hangs up.

  I lift my eyes to Wolf but he’s no longer standing in front of me, he’s climbing the stairs. I follow him, gripping the banister with all my might. When I reach the top of the stairs, I wonder how the hell my legs carried me. Then I look at Wolf and I watch as he enters Anna’s nursery. As humans, we’re not wired to stop. Our bodies are meant to weather tragedy. It’s our hearts that are weak.

  He lifts my daughter from her crib, pressing a kiss to her cheek. With the gentle touch only meant for a grandfather, he deposits her into her infant seat and secures the harness, giving it a tug to make sure it’s locked tight. Holding it with one hand, he turns back to me and orders me to grab her diaper bag and a few bottles.

  We make our way back downstairs and I do as I’m told. By the time I have all of Anna’s belongings packed, the door opens and the man I’ve heard so much about, Jack Parrish, stands in the doorway with a blank expression on his weathered face. Without saying a word, he takes Anna from Wolf and gently sets the infant seat on the floor before reaching around him to cup the back of Wolf’s neck.

  “Pipe’s got Sophie,” he says. “Riggs has got Enzo and Bianci’s got your woman.” He pauses, squeezing the back of Wolf’s neck. “And I got you, yeah?”

  There is no mention of Patti, therefore I assume it’s Frankie that’s been hurt.

  My sweet, sweet Frankie.

  I bite my tongue to silence the sob and cover my mouth with my hands.

  Wolf jerks his chin in response and Parrish releases his hold on him. His dark eyes flit over Wolf’s shoulder and our eyes lock.

  “Let’s go, sweetheart,” he orders, turning to grab my daughter’s infant seat.

  ~*~

  The ride to the hospital is a blur and before I know it, Parrish pulls up to the emergency room. Wolf is out of the car in a flash, charging through the sliding doors without looking back. When Parrish rounds the truck, I’m still trying to get Anna’s seat free. He covers my hands with his and tells me he’s got her.

  I look at him and I know I should be wary. I mean, I’ve never met him, and I’ve heard the stories…but then I recall the words he said to Wolf back at the house.

  I give him a nod and take off after Wolf. My feet come to a screeching halt against the linoleum and I take in the sea of leather. Some I’ve seen before, some I haven’t. All have the Satan’s Knight’s insignia sewn to their backs and rally around Wolf as he heads for the nurse’s station and demands for someone to tell him where they took Frankie.

  “Al,” Sophie calls, her voice a broken whisper and I turn to see her sitting in a plastic chair with arms wrapped tightly around Nico. Tears stream down her pale face as she locks eyes with her ex-husband, but mine remain on Nico as he peels his hands away from his face and slowly lifts his head. He looks at his father, raising his hands and turning them so he can display his palms to the room.

  Blood.

  So much blood.

  “I tried to get him out,” Nico cries, his hands trembling, his eyes red. “I tried to pull him out of the car. I swear to God, I tried.”

  Staring at the blood of one son on the hands of another son, Wolf drops to his knees in front of Nico. The men in leather rush towards him but a whistle sounds from behind me and they freeze. Parrish steps to my side with my daughter in his arms and they all turn to face him, but his eyes are pinned to the man on his knees, holding his son’s hands, weeping at the sight of his youngest son’s blood.

  A guttural cry rips from the back of Wolf’s throat and Parrish turns to me, handing me Anna’s infant carrier. I take it, but I don’t trust myself to hold it. Luckily, Riggs comes to my aide and takes her from me, and I watch as Parrish walks up to Wolf. He drops a hand to the man’s shoulder, a sign of solidarity.

  Of brotherhood.

  Of something I’ll never understand but will always respect.

  Then I watch as Wolf pulls Nico towards him and wraps his arms around him, holding onto him for dear life. The doors behind me open once more and this time the person who rushes through them nearly knocks me over.

  He doesn’t wear leather.

  Nor does he wear his signature smile.

  “No,” Enzo cries, spinning around to sweep his eyes over the men in leather. “No…where’s my brother? Where’s Frankie?”

  No one answers and Enzo turns back to Wolf and Nico.

  Lifting his head from Nico’s shoulder, Wolf looks to his middle son and extends a hand. But Enzo shakes his head, bringing his hands to his face
. He keeps them there for a second before pulling them away, an anguished expression on his face as he looks around the room again.

  “Where is my brother?” he grinds out.

  This time he doesn’t wait for someone to answer him and he takes off towards the triage unit. The double doors open before he can charge through them and a team of doctors enter the waiting room. The doctor leading the pack wears his patient’s blood on his scrubs and solemnly looks at Enzo.

  “Are you the family of Frank Scotto?”

  “I’m his mother,” Sophie calls, rising from the plastic chair. Wolf untangles himself from Nico and with Parrish’s help, he rises to his feet, taking Sophie into the crook of his arm as they brace themselves in front of the doctor.

  “I’m sorry, there’s no easy way to say this, but your son, Frank, suffered a catastrophic brain injury and it’s inoperable. We have him on a ventilator but there’s minimal brain activity. We tried.”

  “What does that mean?” Sophie shrieks. “You tried, and that’s it? Try again!”

  “Soph,” Wolf calls gently.

  “No!” she pulls out of his arms.

  “Ma’am,” the doctor starts. “Dead brain tissue is not regenerative. Even if the swelling goes down, which we don’t expect it to, there’s too much damage. He will live the rest of his life with a feeding tube. He won’t recognize his family members or ever be able to speak.”

  Sophie shakes her head.

  “No! That’s my son in there and I’m not burying my boy!” She reaches for the doctor, fisting his scrubs as she sobs. “You go back in there and you use the gifts God gave you and you make a miracle.”

  “Sophie, he’s gone,” Wolf croaks as he wraps his arms around her waist and tugs her back to him. She peels his hands away from her and spins around, shoving him back. Her mascara runs down her cheeks as she stares up at him.

  “You’re a man who believes in his faith, Al. Where are your precious rosaries, huh? Why aren’t they in your hand!? Your son needs your prayers. He needs your God to save him. Give him what he needs!”

  Blinking through my own tears, I lower my head and open my palm, staring at the wooden beads in my hand. I ignore my trembling legs and make my way towards Sophie and Wolf. When I reach them, Wolf is first to look at me. I reach for his hand and gently place the rosary beads in his palm.

  “Pray,” I whisper.

  His hand closes around the beads and his other reaches for me. Swallowing, he pulls me against his chest.

  “Pray with me,” he pleads hoarsely.

  My knees buckle and my body shudders with a sob as I bury my face in his chest.

  “Teach me how to,” I cry.

  -Twenty-nine-

  Wolf

  Twenty-nine days.

  Twenty-nine days of praying in this chapel with Carrie at my side. Twenty-nine days of standing by as she and Sophie surround Frankie’s body and beg him to open his eyes. Twenty-nine days of listening as they tell him about Anna and all the things he’ll miss if he doesn’t come back to us.

  Like her first word and the day she takes her first steps.

  Her dance recitals and her High School Graduation.

  Who will walk her down the aisle when it’s time for her to get married?

  Open your eyes, Frankie, your daughter needs a father.

  Twenty-nine days of sleepless nights, watching from afar as my son Enzo sneaks into his brother’s room and cries over his body. Twenty-nine days of worrying about my eldest son as he succumbs to his guilt. Twenty-nine days of wondering when Nico is going to come and say his final goodbyes to his brother.

  Twenty-nine days of heartbreak.

  Twenty-nine days of regrets.

  Twenty-nine days of mourning a boy who is here in body but not in spirit.

  Twenty-nine days trying to find the courage to turn off the life support.

  Twenty-nine days preparing how I’m going to hold my family together when I’m falling apart myself.

  Twenty-nine days wishing it was me and not him.

  I failed my sons as a father. That’s guilt I live with every day. It’s my first thought when I open my eyes and it’s the last when I close them and I’m sure when it’s time for me to check out on this thing we call life, it’ll be my final regret. A man should never be too busy making a living that he forgets to make a life. There are so many lessons I never got to teach my boys and so many memories I didn’t get to make with them because I was too busy climbing the ranks of my club.

  If I had one chance, one more day with the three of them, I’d go back in time to when they were kids. I’d play the video game. I’d drag my ass to the school play. I’d even do the carpool thing. Then, I’d sit them down, and I’d tell them life isn’t always fair.

  It isn’t always kind.

  I’d tell them forgiveness is key and life is too short to hold a grudge.

  I’d tell them revenge isn’t everything.

  Sometimes we just need to surrender to things we can’t control.

  It doesn’t make us weak.

  It makes up human.

  I’d tell them to love one another.

  Through the toughest times and in death.

  “Wolf.”

  I tear my eyes from the row of lit candles—every single flame for my son. A beautiful boy who could’ve had such a full life if only he trusted in the process. If only someone taught him life’s most valuable lessons.

  A son whose father failed him.

  Meeting Schwartz’s gaze, I tip my chin.

  “Thanks for coming,” I say hoarsely, watching as he unbuttons his suit jacket and shoves a hand into the pocket of his slacks. His eyes flit to the crucifix suspended from the ceiling and he reaches with his free hand to tug his tie nervously.

  “Not a problem,” he replies, diverting his eyes back to mine.

  The door behind him opens and Jack stands there.

  Twenty-nine days of him standing tall at my left, not as my vice president, but as my brother. I suppose there is a comfort to be found there. For every year I sacrificed for my club, every man with a reaper has shown their appreciation by rallying around me in my darkest hour and I think that has a lot to do with this man teaching us all what it means to be property of Parrish.

  His dark eyes find mine as he holds the door and then Blackie appears with my son, Nico. Following in his father-in-law’s footsteps, Blackie hasn’t left my eldest’s side. Someone might say he’s repaying a debt for all the times Nico stood with his wife, others know the truth. When one of us bleeds, we all bleed. It’s not about debt or duty.

  It’s about family.

  The Scotto’s are bleeding.

  We’re grieving.

  And the Satan’s Knights are right there with us, lifting us up and I have no doubt that’s where they’ll remain until it comes time for them to stand next to my boy’s coffin.

  Then they’ll stand with Frankie.

  My beautiful boy.

  Nico enters the chapel and his bloodshot eyes meet mine.

  Oh, son, if only I had taken the time to teach you.

  To guide you.

  “Why am I here?” he asks.

  Oh son, forgive yourself.

  Your brother already has.

  “C’mere,” I order gently.

  To my surprise, he doesn’t hesitate. Reaching me, he swallows, and I point to the wooden pew, silently commanding him to take a seat.

  “I can’t be here,” he mutters as he stares up at the crucifix. “Do you know what the last words my brother said to me are?”

  “No,” I reply, laying a hand on his shoulder. He tears his eyes away from the crucifix and pins them to mine.

  “I hate you,” he says. “That’s what he said.”

  “He forgives you.”

  He shakes his head.

  “You don’t know that. Why should he forgive me? If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t forgive him.”

  “Yes, you would,” Blackie says from the back of the ch
apel and I watch as Nico looks over his shoulder.

  “We all got demons Nico,” I say, bringing his attention back to me. “Regrets we must live with. Things we must learn to forgive. Frankie had demons too, we just didn’t know about them.”

  He narrows his eyes at me.

  “Don’t talk about him like he’s dead.”

  “He is,” I rasp. “It’s us who need to let go now.”

  Tears spill from his eyes as he shakes his head.

  “It’s not fair,” he spats. “How is any of this fair? How is it fair to Frankie or to Anna…God, that beautiful little girl only had her father for twenty-four hours.”

  “Twenty-nine,” I correct.

  Isn’t that something?”

  He got twenty-nine hours of being a father and I got twenty-nine days of mourning.

  “Anna will know her father,” I tell him. “And she’ll love him just as fiercely as if he were here to hold her hand and carry her through life because she’s got us.”

  Shaking his head, he pushes his fingers through his hair and pulls.

  Oh, son, inflicting more pain isn’t the answer.

  “Schwartz,” I call, clearing my throat. The lawyer looks at me for a beat before nodding and taking a seat next to Nico. My son doesn’t acknowledge the man next to him though. He’s too wrapped up in his grief.

  Too busy holding onto something he’s got to let go.

  Something he needs to lay to rest.

  “Your dad asked me to look into some things,” Schwartz begins, and Nico slowly drags his gaze back to me.

  “Frankie made mistakes upstate Nico,” Schwartz reveals. “He fell in with the wrong crowd and made the wrong choices. That job at the gas station he told you guys he had…he wasn’t working there to save for a crib. He was selling dope out of that gas station.”

  Nico’s eyes snap to Schwartz.

  “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he roars. “Frankie would never do that.”

  Oh, son.

  If I had one more chance.

  One more day.

  I’d teach you that things aren’t always as black and white as they appear.