by Ivy Black
My stomach and heart both fluttering wildly, I watch at the window as Ryan’s truck pulls out of the driveway and rockets down the road. I chew on my bottom lip as I pace the room, waiting for the phone to ring. And when it does about ten minutes later, I damn near jump out of my own skin. I’m wound way too tight right now, but I think I can be forgiven, considering the circumstances.
“He just picked up Rory,” Maggie says. “It’s time to go. Pack up that precious angel of yours and get out of there, hon.”
As Maggie tells me that Ryan picked up her boyfriend for their hunting trip, hesitation and uncertainty take hold of me and I fall silent. Gripping the phone tightly, I pace the living room, my face flushed and red.
“Ash. This isn’t the time to get cold feet. You’ve got a window, but it’s not going to be open long. If you’re going, you need to go. And believe me hon, you really need to go. If not for yourself, do it for Cole.”
Her words stop me in my tracks for a moment. The sound of Cole chattering away in his bedroom as he plays with his toys fills my ears, and tugs at my heart. A thousand thoughts collide in my mind, pulling me in a thousand different directions. My eyes well with tears and I feel a hitch in my chest.
“Is taking him away from his father the right thing to do?” I ask.
“If that father is as terrible as Ryan is, then yes. It absolutely is.”
“But—”
“Think of the example he’s setting for Cole, hon. Is that how you want your son growing up? Do you want him thinking the way Ryan treats you is normal?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then what’s the hold up?”
A sigh bursting from my mouth, I start pacing again. As much as I’d like to say it’s hard to put into words, or that I don’t know, the truth is, now that we’re here at the place where the rubber meets the road, I’m terrified. I’m really standing on the verge of taking my son and running away. Starting a new life somewhere else. I’ve got no job, no prospects, and though I have a place to run to, it’s temporary.
I have no means of providing for my son. I have a paltry bit of money, but that’s not going to last very long. And what then? How am I going to feed my child? How am I going to get us a place to live? I won’t be able to give him the basics. What kind of a life is that for Cole?
Yeah, his father is a horrible person and would undoubtedly be a horrible example for him, but at least here, I don’t have to worry about him going hungry. For all of his faults and flaws, and there are many, while we’re not living the high life here, at least Ryan provides for his son. But out there, on my own? How am I even going to do that?
“Ash?”
“I’m here. I’m here,” I say, my stomach twisting itself into knots.
“You need to get moving, hon. We don’t know how long they’ll be out there,” she says. “For all we know, they’re going to go have a beer and come home. You need to be out of there before they get back.”
Pressing my hand to my forehead, I keep pacing the living room, running through all of the different possibilities in my mind.
“Ash. Honey. Do you really want Cole to be like Ryan when he’s his age? Because if he grows up with that as his major influence, that’s exactly what he’s going to turn out to be. You know that.”
As if Maggie’s words summoned him, Cole walks into the living room and looks up at me, an uncertain smile on his face. He reaches a hand up to me, and I take it with my free hand, gently squeezing it. His big dark eyes are so innocent, his face so gentle. He’s got such a tender spirit about him and I don’t want anything to change that. To ruin his innocence. It’s that thought that makes the decision finally take root in my mind.
“I have to go, Mags. I need to pack some things and get out of here,” I say.
“Good girl. Call me from the road. Promise me.”
“I will. And Mags?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
“Go. You can thank me later,” she says.
“I love you.”
“Love you, too, hon. And good luck.”
Chapter Six
Domino
“Tell me what he said again,” Prophet says.
Cosmo and I are sitting at a table with the prez in the clubhouse, washing away the road dust with a cold beer. We thought he’d only be slightly disturbed, maybe just a bit pissed off. But Prophet’s face is red, his nostrils are flaring, and he looks like a man who wants to rip somebody’s head off with his bare hands. And right then, I’m pretty sure he could do it.
After taking a long swallow of his beer, Cosmo sets the bottle down and recounts the story once more. For the third time. And when Cosmo’s done, Prophet sits back, his expression dark, and a fierce scowl on his face.
“We need to teach these pricks a lesson. We’re not gonna have them thinkin’ they can just roll into our town and not pay a price for it,” he says.
“Is antagonizing them the best thing, Prez?” I ask.
His eyes shift over to me with a look that could curdle milk and I find myself wishing I hadn’t said a word.
“This is our town, kid. We have rules here. Standards. And there’s no doubt in my mind that these scumbags don’t meet our standards. You disagree?” he asks.
“I—no, you’re right.”
Cosmo shifts in his seat. “Afraid I have to agree with the kid here, Prophet. I don’t know that starting a war with these guys is in anybody’s best interest. These are the kinds of assholes who will go shoot up Blue Rock just because. I don’t want any innocents caught in the crossfire. And I know you don’t.”
Prophet drains the last of his beer and slams the bottle down on the table, then signals for Derek to bring him another. None of us say a word as he brings over a fresh round for all three of us. Prophet’s got this faraway look on his face, but his fist is clenched as tight as his jaw and I realize there’s more going on here than what he’s saying. This deal with the cartel is somehow personal for him.
“What’s goin’ on, Prophet?” I ask. “I mean, really. You seem to want to wipe the cartel out of existence. But why?”
He snatches up his bottle and drinks half of it down, seeming to ignore my question. Setting the bottle back down on the table, he looks over at me, the anger etched into every line on his face. Cosmo glances at me, and I can see that not even he seems to know what is behind Prophet’s intense hatred of the cartel.
“What is it, Prez?” Cosmo asks. “Even the kid here can see there’s somethin’ more going on here and that’s sayin’ somethin’, because he’s dumb as dirt.”
I give Cosmo the finger, but smile, knowing he’s just trying to lighten the mood in a room that’s suddenly gotten very heavy with tension. Even Prophet grins at that. He sighs and leans forward, folding his hands together on top of the table, looking at each of us in turn.
“A while back, I was with a special ops team and we were doing some covert work against the cartels. Came across a village down there who’d resisted working for the cartel and found a mass grave. Seventy-two men, women, and children had been murdered, beheaded, and tossed into the fucking pit,” he says.
Cosmo and I exchange an uneasy glance. Prophet is staring off into the distance, his mind traveling back to that day, and it’s as if he’s seeing it all playing out in front of him again. This is obviously a really painful memory for Prophet and the look on his face is one of sheer agony. It makes me feel like an utter asshole for bringing this up in the first place.
“In that village, I found that some people had been crucified. Left there, nailed to crosses, to rot in the fucking sun. There was a girl, maybe nine or ten, named Maria, among them. We’d done some work in that village before. Knew most of ’em. Good people, and Maria was a sweet kid. Really sweet fuckin’ kid. Loved Snickers and pop music. Said she wanted to be the next Britney Spears,” Prophet says.
The pain in his voice is as fresh as if this happened yesterday, not years ago. It’s the one
time I’ve ever heard that kind of emotion in Prophet’s voice and I find it a bit unsettling. I didn’t think anything could rattle the man.
I still see her eyes. It was like she was lookin’ right at me. Through me. It was like she was accusing me. Askin’ me why I wasn’t there to save her,” he said, his voice low and husky. “So yeah. I hate the fuckin’ cartels and I will do everything in my power to wipe them the fuck out.”
Silence descends between us as Cosmo and I both take a few moments to process Prophet’s words. Initially, I was struck by the heat in his voice. I’ve never seen or heard him so angry before. But given what he saw, I can’t say I blame him. There’s shit I saw in Afghanistan that’s stuck with me. Shit that still makes my blood boil if I think about it too long. So yeah, I get it. I get where his anger is coming from.
But he’s talking about starting a war with the most bloodthirsty, ruthless cartel in Mexico. The MC is only about thirty men strong and Zavala’s got an army at his back. If Prophet leads us into this, into a war with this cartel, not only are a lot of us going to die, but the bloodshed could erupt in the streets of Blue Rock itself.
The cartel, like the fuckin’ terrorist assholes we all fought overseas, don’t shy away from brutal, evil shit like murdering innocents. They wouldn’t think twice about gunning down a group of people at a restaurant any more than they would about killing us. To them, nothing is out of bounds. There is no bottom to their evil depravity. They have no sense of morality, humanity, or the rules of warfare. They’re little better than wild animals.
Going head up against them would turn into a bloodbath. Worse, it would be suicide. I have faith in all of the Pharaohs who are vets as well-trained soldiers. I wouldn’t be able to come up with a better unit that I’d rather have at my back when the shit got real. But Zavala is a man who commands an army and many times, sheer numbers carry the day. A superior force sends wave after wave after wave, wearing you down, until they’re finally able to overrun you.
And Prophet wants us to go head up with that?
“All due respect, Prez, but I don’t think puttin’ our thirty against however many hundreds Zavala can muster up is a great idea.” Cosmo says.
Thankfully, he and I seem to be on the same page as he said almost exactly what I was thinking. I know I should have said something, should have spoken up, but I don’t have much seniority in the club, and it’s not my place to be questioning the president of the MC.
Prophet turns to Cosmo, a contemplative look on his face. I know that look. I’ve seen it before. He’s got the gears in his head turning and is planning something. When he gets his mind set on something, Prophet’s often intractable. He can be a bit like a dog with a bone when he sinks his teeth into an idea. And he’s definitely got his teeth into the idea of going to war with the cartel.
This isn’t going to go well. Not for any of us. I guarantee it.
Chapter Seven
Ashley
After four days on the road, two nights spent in the car, and two nights in cheap and sleazy motels along the way, we finally pull into the driveway. I shut the engine on my ten-year-old Hyundai Sonata off, and look at the late-model, dark Lexus sitting in the driveway in front of me. Then I let my gaze travel to the house, which is massive. The yard is beautifully landscaped, and it looks like it’s been freshly painted. It’s the kind of home I used to dream of having when I was younger.
As I look at it, I feel the sharp pang of envy cutting through me. I push it away, knowing it’s a stupid feeling to be having. I should be feeling not just happy for her, but beyond grateful as well. Turning to Cole, who’s strapped into his seat in the back, I put on a big smile.
“We’re here, baby. Ready to meet Auntie Missy?”
Cole looks at me with an expression of uncertainty on his face and fear in his eyes. I know he’s too young to understand what’s going on, but he’s precocious enough to know that something’s happening. He understands that we’ve been on the road for four days and that his father isn’t around. I wish I could explain it to him in a way that he’d get it, but he’s simply too young right now.
The front door of the house opens as I climb out of the car. Two kids, a boy and a girl, both about five years old come streaking out, followed closely by Missy Perkins. Five-four, with hair darker than pitch, sparkling green eyes, and a figure to absolutely die for, she has always been the prettiest of our little trio. A wide smile on her face, she throws herself against me, squeezing me so tightly, I feel short of breath. I’d forgotten that in addition to being the prettiest, she was also the biggest hugger.
She pulls back, but still grips my arms, looking at me. Missy’s eyes are red and the sun overhead makes them shimmer with the tears welling up. My own vision blurs as I look back at her. It’s been almost ten years since I last saw her and though we lost contact as we moved into our own lives, I’ve never stopped missing her.
“You have not aged a day. You look exactly the same as the day you left Erwin,” I say sincerely.
She looks down at herself self-consciously. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“I do. I’m serious, you look amazing.”
Her smile is brighter than the sun overhead. “Thank you. And you still look amazing, too, Ash. You were always a stunner and you’re even more so today.”
We embrace again, and it feels like old times. Although we haven’t seen each other in nearly a decade, it feels like not a day has passed between us. Missy steps back and wipes her eyes, then puts a hand on each one of her kid’s heads. They look almost exactly alike, and with their dark hair, green eyes, and delicate features, they look like Missy did as a child. They obviously take after her more than
“These are the twins, Emma and Elton,” she introduces them.
I squat down in front of them and take their hands in mine, my smile as wide and warm as Missy’s.
“Hi,” I say. “I’m your Aunt Ashley. I’ve known your mom since she was about your age.”
They both smile shyly, then quickly dart behind their mom, peeking around her legs to look at me. I laugh as I stand back up and quickly unbuckle Cole’s seat, and pull him out. He immediately hides behind me, burying his face in the backs of my legs, making both me and Missy laugh. Reaching down, I gently pull him around to stand in front of me.
“This is Cole,” I say. “Cole, this is your Aunt Missy. She and I have been friends since we were kids, too.”
He looks up at Missy with wide eyes and slowly raises a hand to her in greeting. If Missy smiled any wider, I fear her face might split in half.
“He’s precious,” she says.
“So are the twins. You have an amazing family, and from what I can tell, an amazing life,” I say, nodding to the house.
She’s just about to reply when a large, brawny man steps out onto the porch. He walks down the stairs and is heading toward us. He looks to stand a little over six feet tall and has light brown hair and darker brown eyes. He’s got wide, sloping shoulders, and a body of taut muscle that tells me he works out. A lot. His beard has flecks of gray in it, and his face is all chiseled angles and planes. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, and if I didn’t know he was Missy’s husband, I might be telling him to take me home right now.
I arch an eyebrow at Missy. “You really do have an amazing life.”
She laughs. “I get by.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure you do.”
She takes his hand, and I can see the love in her eyes. This is a happy woman. I’m pretty sure I’ve never had that sort of look in my eye, not even when things were good with Ryan. And it’s a feeling I long for.
“Mark, this is Ashley. Ashley, Mark.”
I extend my hand, but he waves me off and pulls me into a tight bear hug. If I thought Missy was squeezing the air from my lungs, Mark might just break my ribs. It’s clear the man doesn’t know his own strength, but despite the lack of breath, I manage to laugh. He finally sets me back down, a warm, welcoming look on his face.
“Good to finally put a face to the name,” he says, then turns to Missy. “Do they just breed supermodels down there in Erwin?”
She and I both giggle and I feel my cheeks flushing with warmth. He squats down in front of Cole and ruffles his hair.
“And who are you, big man?”
Cole looks away shyly, but before he can duck behind my legs again, I put my hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.
“It’s okay, baby. Tell him your name,” I say.
“Cole,” he says.
“Well, it’s good to meet you, Cole. Your Aunt Missy and I are really happy to have you here. And I know Emma and Elton are going to love having you around,” Mark says.
“What do you say, Cole?” I prompt.
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Mark ruffles his hair again and with a laugh, stands up again. He takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, and as I look into his eyes, I can’t help but see the earnestness.
“I’ve already fixed up the guest house for you and Cole. You two are welcome to stay here as long as you like. You’re family to Missy, so you’re family to me, too.”
The lump rises in my throat and I feel my eyes well with tears yet again. Missy pulls me into a tender embrace. We remain like that for a few moments before we finally separate. I honestly can’t recall the last time I ever felt so welcome. Not even in my own home with Ryan.
“I just want to thank you both. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for taking us in like this,” I say.
Missy waves me off. “I, for one, am just glad you finally got out of there. It was well past time for that to happen.”
