Flick (The Black Sentinels MC Book 4)

by Victoria Johns

  Not me.

  Never me.

  I will never be worthy of goodness again.

  The guilt lanced through me, a mixture of regret, anxiety and the worst sort of heartburn all rolled into one, like a lump I couldn’t breathe past. Had I really taken something, maybe someone so dear from the lives of the kids who stood hugging him?

  I had.

  It wasn’t the first time either. The darkness inside of me had taken many, many lives and right now I felt each and every one of them weighing me down, making it hard to breathe.

  The unarmed men in countries far and wide who were collateral damage.

  The sleeping children whose throats I’d cut, for no reason that seemed plausible now.

  The women who I’d tortured to gather intel on their husbands, sons, and fathers who were fighting against me.

  Their faces, their pleas, their dying prayers to all the gods that I’d forsaken tied my body in invisible shackles and ropes that I could feel.

  I felt my knees weaken, it was more than I could bare, but I knew I had to make it out of here, if I didn’t then all that suffering I’d caused over the years would have really been for nothing. Each footstep I made was heavier and heavier.

  “God forgive me for all I have done and see this act as a step towards retribution.”

  I’d never asked God for forgiveness before, and it didn’t feel like he was fucking listening now. If he was, wouldn’t the pain have lessened? Wouldn’t I be able to breathe properly?

  I made it outside his house, knowing that when they came looking for the dead man on his toilet, his alarm would be set and he’d be mourned by his family, revered by my fellow assassins and feared by his colleagues.

  Poppy would read about his death and know I’d avenged us both.

  But what would become of me?

  I couldn’t go home. I didn’t deserve to be in a place of love. Heaven was firmly closed for people like me; I’d just sealed my fast pass to hell, and it was nothing less than I deserved.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Flick

  Lila was obsessed with my bump, like, really obsessed. One minute she’d look at me all strange, and I’d panic thinking this would be the time when she’d ask me how the baby got in there and the next, she’d be like right now.

  “Can you rest a plate on it yet?”

  “Probably,” I smiled and then did an awkward sideways bend movement to put the bowl I’d just taken from the dishwasher back in the cupboard by the side of the sink.

  “What about something round? A bouncy ball? An apple?”

  I looked back in her direction, “We did an apple last weekend.”

  “We should try a watermelon now, Aunty Flick.” Ben muttered into his bowl of ice cream and jello, wanting to be involved, but also not wanting to appear too childish.

  The kids had treats such as these for supper on a regular basis at the moment. I wanted them to feel loved and special, and treats was the new way of the Hope household.

  I wanted them to have all the treats before the baby came, but it was more than that. I was especially worried about Ben, he’d taken his role of protector and man of the house very seriously in Becketts’ absence, but I was worried that he might implode once the baby came if Beckett wasn’t home. For such a small guy he had such a big heart and amazing sense of duty, but becoming a pseudo parent to a newborn would be a definite stretch for him, but I knew he’s bust his hump to give it a go.

  I stretched back and forth working the soreness out of my frame as a set of knuckles rapped on the door, before Wolf appeared in the kitchen with us.

  “Hey, Uncle Wolf,” Lila chimed, jumping down from the table and running the fifteen-feet distance between them at full pelt.

  “Lila! Watch—”

  “Ooof,” Wolf faked dropping her and she squealed, only to plant her ice cream covered face into his t-shirt. When she came back up for air, her face was clean, his t-shirt not so much. In the time Beckett had been away, Ben had stayed close to me in his role of man of the house and Lila had become a daughter to most of Beckett’s brothers.

  “Sorry, let me get you a cloth.”

  “Later.” His one word wasn’t abrupt, but it was said with the presidential tone I rarely heard. It was clear it was an intended order.

  I was just about to quiz him when Angel appeared. “Kids, sleepover at mine. Little Angel and Liam demand you bring all the fun. Let’s go grab some stuff.”

  As they disappeared and Lila prattled on about her unicorn, Wolf held my eyes.

  “Has…” My throat expanded and contracted quickly as it fought for oxygen and my heart missed a beat. “Something happened, have you heard something?”

  “Yeah, babe, need to take you to the club…”

  “Tell me now.” The dish towel I had grabbed to wipe his t-shirt fell from my fingers as they reached out for the countertop. With one hand holding me up, I placed the other close to my heart.

  It was still beating.

  While my heart still beat, I knew he had to be alive.

  We were connected on every level and I was sure I’d feel it if he was no longer alive.

  Wolf stepped up to me quickly and took a hold of me. “He’s alive.”

  The thumping in my head calmed down. “I know, I can feel him. Is he okay?”

  “He’s in bad shape, Flick, we can’t reach him.”

  What did that even mean? “Is he hurt?” My voice was small, quiet, afraid even, and not just because the kids might hear me.

  “Physically, no. But I don’t, I…” Wolf paused, looked away, glanced at the ceiling searching for the right words and came back to face me before he blew out a lungful of air. “If I could save you from seeing him like this I would, but we can’t help him. He’s… numb.”

  “Take me to him.”

  Wolf nodded, and repeated himself, “If could save you from having to do this I would.”

  I didn’t give two shits about any of it. He was home, he needed me, I needed him, and I was going to bring him back to us.

  For his brothers, for the kids, for me and for our unborn child.

  I hugged the kids goodbye, keeping my shit together, especially around Ben; he was intuitive and the slightest sense of anything wrong and he’d be glued to my side, and I’d be going nowhere.

  “How long has he been home?” I asked as we drove in Wolf’s truck to the club.

  “Found him in the club last night.”

  My temper exploded. “Last night! And you didn’t come and get me!”

  “Babe, he isn’t himself, and he still hasn’t said anything.”

  I didn’t care about any of that. My man had been back in our lives for twenty-four hours and I didn’t know about it. I went about my life blindly thinking about him, praying for his safety, and he was already home. Wolf might be the start, middle, and end of a bossy MC club; he might be the scariest-ass biker with a sketchy past, but when this was done and dusted, I was going to kick his ass and make sure he understood just how I felt about being kept in the dark for so long. Now wasn’t the time, I needed to focus, but he would feel my wrath.

  At the clubhouse, all the brother’s bikes were there and from the state of the inside of the place, they been there for a while, keeping vigil.

  Wave and Gears looked worried, tired beyond exhaustion, and with the way they shook their heads at Wolf when I walked through the door, it was clear that they didn’t agree with bringing me here.

  “Where is he?”

  “Prez, this is really fuckin’ bad idea. She don’t need this stress,” Gears appealed one last time.

  “I’ll find him myself then, anyone tries to stop me, I won’t be responsible for what happens.” My voice was firm, pointed, and clear. They’d kept me in the dark and from him for long enough, and they needed to know that they’d fucked up. I was the only one that gave him peace and they should have brought me here sooner.

  I walked to the hallway where the brother’s rooms were, and
Wolf fell in line behind me. “Mac is with him, but he isn’t getting anywhere.”

  As I approached the room, I heard the Scottish drawl of the one brother I didn’t know all that well. When he was here, he was about the brothers, when he was gone, he was just that, gone. The brothers were used to it, so no one talked about him. The conversation in the room was very much one sided and I’d be forgiven for thinking that he was in alone in there. Pushing the door open, the room was in pitch black darkness, Mac was sat on the floor against the far wall, legs out straight, feet crossed at the ankles looking at the space opposite him. His eyes only shifted to look my way, when the light from the hallway spilled into the room. Mac’s conversation didn’t wane at all as his eyes dropped to something across from him.

  One step into the room and I spotted the figure hunched in the corner. This was the guy that I saw when I slept here and woke up nearly a month ago.

  Thin, drawn out.

  Scruffy beard, crazy hair, wildly unkempt.

  But worse than that, he was vacant, lost, and bewildered.

  Broken.

  Even with all of that, I knew what the problem was, it was just too dark. “Open the drapes,” I demanded and stepped fully into the room, walking between the two of them disrupting their staring contest. “It’s too dark in here.”

  “Babe,” Mac drawled. “It’s nighttime.”

  “Let him see the moon.” When I turned back to face them, Beckett’s wide eyes were on me, looking at my face, looking at my swollen belly, taking every inch of me in. The sight of him was bittersweet, he was home, but he was still stuck wherever he’d been. “Hey, honey,” I whispered, walking slowly back to him. It wasn’t easy to stay paced and measured when I wanted to throw myself at him. Trying to get on a level with him, I wrestled myself onto the floor beside him.

  “Fuck, girl,” Mac hissed, sensing my struggle. “Get off the floor.” He moved to help me, but Beckett reacted first by edging closer to me.

  Good.

  And it wasn’t just a reaction, it was the very best reaction.

  He was still in there somewhere. Somewhere inside that shell of a man, was my man. The one who would step in front of a train to stop another man putting his hands on me, to protect me, and protect what was his.

  Too quickly though, I reached out a hand and he shrunk back. This man might have been Beckett Hope, but wherever he’d been had claimed a part of him, that was still in control, dominating my Beckett Hope right at that moment.

  “Can we have some privacy?” I asked, looking over at Mac. He waited a few seconds assessing Beckett, assessing me, assessing both of us now we were together and decided it was safe.

  “Stay.” Beckett finally spoke. His one word forced through lips that were buried beneath a grizzly beard, coming from a voice so hoarse he sounded like a stranger.

  Mac lowered his ass back down. Whatever he was looking for moments ago, Beckett understood it, and wasn’t as convinced as his friend that he had control over himself.

  I hated that. Hated that he didn’t trust himself with me.

  The room fell silent and I hated that even more. Hated that the man I loved, the man I’d waited for patiently was trapped, lost somewhere inside the body next to me.

  Unable to bear it any longer, I filled the silence. “The kids will be pleased you’re home. Lila’s flair for drama has only increased, be warned, we might have to enroll her in acting classes soon. She’s getting merits at school for toning it down. Containing it is a problem, but I know you’ll be fine with it, she’s growing up, Beckett, and self-expression is really helping her deal with everything.

  Nothing.

  His eyes stayed locked on Mac, and the three foot between us felt like a canyon, but it was a canyon Mac was ready to jump in the middle of, if Beckett even flinched in the wrong way. The eye contact between them was crystal clear.

  Don’t trust me. Protect her.

  “You should see Ben. He’s his uncle’s boy alright, he’s helped me so much and made sure the women in his life wanted for nothing. God, that kid, he’s got the soul of his mom and the heart of his uncle, all wrapped up in kindness and thoughtfulness.”

  Nothing. No movement. No acknowledgement.

  Had the brothers been dealing with this version of Beckett since he got back? It killed me that he didn’t say anything, but I was resolute in my mission. I’d sit here until the end of time to bring him back to us.

  I might not have the name Hope, but I had a Hope heart beating inside me, steering me, guiding me through this.

  “I was so pleased when you came to see me that night, Beckett. I thought I’d dreamed it. It was like a dream come though.” I saw his fingers flex ever so slightly, and it spurred me on. “As you can see, I have some big news.” I rubbed my belly. “I just knew you’d make it home in time.”

  His fingers clenched into a fist and Mac moved instantly, getting ready to swing into action, but not me, I’d welcome whatever reaction he gave me, if he lashed out at me, I’d take it. Anything would be better than this vacuous void I was faced with now. If I had to push him, I would. If I had to break him and build him back up, then I would. Nothing would stop me from getting Beckett Hope back. It wasn’t a need, it was an absolute necessity, we had a life growing that deserved to know the best of their father.

  I placed my hands on my stomach and his eyes flitted to the side as his fist clenched and unclenched.

  “Baby girl,” I began, “Daddy’s home. I told you he’d be here to meet you and guess what, he is.” I leaned close to my bump, deciding to whisper, but also realizing this change of position gave me the chance to see more of him too.

  “Your daddy is the bravest man I know. He’s selfless, and authentic and real beyond my wildest dreams. He’s going to make the best daddy in the whole wide world.” As I smoothed my hands over my belly, I felt her kick. “That’s right, baby, you let him know just how much he means to us.”

  Our baby started to roll and wriggle inside me, making me chuckle, and while Beckett’s eyes watched the magic inside me, I watched him.

  His blue eyes sparkled, the orbs that were dead and defeated moments ago were coming back to me.

  “Baby girl, you can come anytime you want now, we don’t have to wait for daddy, because he’s here.”

  Beckett’s beautiful eyes filled, the water of tears collected and gathered as I waited for the dam to break and release them. Sitting this close to him and still not having touched him was hell on earth and the hardest thing I’d ever done. Since we’d become us, each time we were in the same room we were always connected in some way, touching.

  I stayed still, watching him, cocooning our child as he tentatively reached a hand out to me, before changing his mind and retracting it sharply.

  “It’s okay,” I gently extended my hand to him, “you need to feel the magic we created. Feel all the love you left with me to keep me safe.”

  Beckett glanced at my hand as I prayed he wouldn’t leave me hanging for long. I held my breath and only released it when his fingers touched mine and with calm assured movements, I placed his hand on my stomach, covering it with my own, making it so he couldn’t retreat easily.

  “Baby girl, say hi to daddy.” With a pronounced jab of a foot, she made herself known to her father, and finally the dam on his emotions gave way.

  I scooted closer to him and laid his head on my stomach as he wept, unable to hold back my own tears and longer. As I held his head, both his hands spanned my bump with a desperate need to connect. As his heart broke, mine became the strongest it had ever been, desperate to take his pain from him, so I could help rebuild him, make him part of me, together as one.

  “I… don’t think I can do this,” he cried, and my stomach plummeted, holding him firm. I would not let him give up us on, he’d always been so strong to survive and now was the time when he needed to be the strongest.

  “Yes, you can. It’s just one step at a time, closer together. It’s just taking my hand;
it’s just leaning your head close to our baby.”

  “Gone too far this time,” he croaked.

  “There’s no place too far for us. No place I can’t bring you back from, Beckett Hope. If I have to follow you to the ends of the earth just to bring you back to us, I will. You are mine. I am yours; we are it for each other.”

  I felt his body wrack and judder with the force of everything he was going through.

  “We’ll do it together, whatever it takes, I promise.”

  Our unborn child was more awake, more alive that she’d been since I’d first felt her move. She needed this and I needed him to feel this. With his head in my lap and lips resting close to my middle, I watched as they pursed, and he placed the gentlest kiss against my tummy. “I knew you’d come home to us, thank you for finding the strength to come back to me. Let me be the strong one now and put us back together.”

  While Beckett was content to sit and hold us, I finally remembered Mac was in the room with us, his arms were resting on his knees, with his head bent to the floor, giving us the only privacy he could right now, but still be here as Beckett requested.

  “Baby,” I whispered, “Can we get on the bed, I need to lie down for a bit.”

  It was a risk, but if he said no, I’d stay down here with him, no matter how uncomfortable I was. I’d got us this far and I wouldn’t let him retreat. Beckett was calm as he moved away from me and stood up slowly, unfolding his frame and edging back to give me space. I’d never seen him dressed like this. Normal, drab, dark clothes that right now were hanging off his frame. When he allowed it, I was going to feed him, build his strength again, rebuild him, but the one thing I needed to see was him in his cut. My Beckett, the one I loved and loved me right back, he was part of this family and a biker. He wouldn’t be complete until he was reunited with that one item of clothing.

  Beckett held out his hand to me and helped me off the floor, guiding me to the bed and as he sat down first, I noticed Mac slip out the door. He was clearly satisfied Beckett had a lock on whatever he was battling before. When he lay down, I lay down with him, forcing myself to hold back more tears when he reached for me, pulled me into his space and spooned me.