Brick (Knights Corruption MC Series-Next Generation Book 4)

by S. Nelson

  Snatching my beer back up, I raised it in the air, straightened my posture and nodded. “Go for it.” I didn’t think I’d ever seen anyone smile so damn big. He hopped off the stool and took one step. “But, Tag… if you hurt her in any way, I will kill you.”

  “I know” was his only response before he walked over to Morgan.

  “Love you,” my cousin shouted behind me.

  I waved my hand in the air but never turned around.

  My heart hurt a little less at this stage of my drunkenness. But it would take a few more bottles to erase the image of Zoe looking at me like she had the last time I saw her.

  “I knew I’d find you here.” It was late morning and I’d already had two shots of whiskey and was working on my third. The past few days, I’d switched to hard alcohol to do the job faster, and while it still took me quite a bit to get drunk, I managed to forget about Zoe and the fact she hated me that much quicker. As I brought the glass to my lips, Ryder stole it from me. “You’ve had enough, Brick.”

  “I’ll say when I’ve had enough,” I snapped, reaching for my drink, but he slid it down the bar. Trigger emptied it into the sink, nodding at the man next to me. “Hey.” I pointed toward the ol’ man. “You better pour me another one.” I was too sober for this shit.

  “I can’t believe I’m even gonna say this, but I think you need to go by the house today and see Zoe.” For Ryder to interfere and suggest such a thing should’ve sent up red flags something was off, but I didn’t have enough mental energy to care. I was drained, in every way possible.

  “Why? She’s only gonna refuse to see me. What’s the point?”

  “The point is, you’ve been moping around here for weeks and I’m tired of lookin’ at you like this. I was pissed at you for going after my daughter in the first place. So angry in fact, I told Braylen that if you didn’t back off, I’d have no qualms about shooting you.” I balked and he shrugged. “Not to kill, just maim you a little.” The bastard had the audacity to grin at me. “But I’m man enough to admit that I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It was still wrong for you to go behind my back, but I know you really care about her, and you’re beating yourself up for what happened. Hell, I beat myself up for not protecting my own daughter from those fuckers, and I probably always will, but you can do something about it.” He smacked my back. “Go see her.”

  “She hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  “I hate myself, then.”

  “And you can hate yourself all you want, but for now, go see her. Today. Trust me, you’re gonna regret it if you don’t.”

  There was something about the way he said that last part that bothered me. “Is there something I should know?”

  Ryder’s head moved from side to side, then did a little circular motion, slapping me on the back once more before turning his attention to Trigger. “No more for him.”

  I didn’t bother arguing because if I was gonna see Zoe soon, I should at least have my wits about me for the encounter.

  51

  “Do you need anything while I’m out?” Braylen yelled from downstairs, her voice drifting up the stairwell, catching me as I walked from the bathroom into my room.

  “No, thanks.” I mustered the strength to add my appreciation for her offer even though all I wanted to do was grunt my response. It was all I wanted to do these days. Just exist, but that wasn’t fair to my family. They’d bent over backward to be there for me, to help me, but they’d never know how I truly felt because I refused to tell them.

  Most days, I didn’t even know how I felt about what happened. Mainly, I was devastated, but more than that, I was numb.

  “Okay. We’ll be back in an hour.” Braylen never left me alone for long, and even though I reminded her she didn’t need to hover, I couldn’t stop her. I sensed she felt guilty for everything that went down, from her insisting she go to the doctor’s office that day, to not being able to defend me against them. But it was my choice not to wait for Brick or my dad to meet us at the house and go with us. It was my choice to offer myself up to them instead of her.

  What wasn’t my choice was what they did to me.

  Cinching the belt of my robe tighter, I removed the towel from my head and combed out my wet strands, pushing my bangs to the side. I didn’t want to do it because I couldn’t stand to look at myself, but I walked to the mirror to inspect my cheek. Addy had come by a few days ago to remove the stitches, the skin around the wound still red, although not nearly as bad as it had been. She said I was healing nicely, and, in a few weeks, I should be able to see a plastic surgeon. The scar on my cheek was the worst of them, but I had others littered all over my body, too many to count, and while most of them would fade into nothingness, much like how I felt, some would remain, a faint reminder forever.

  Gingerly touching the area, my fingers froze when I heard the doorbell. “She’s always forgetting something,” I mumbled, making my way down to the landing to answer the door, but as my hand grasped the handle, I hesitated, realizing Braylen would’ve used her key and not rung the bell. The chime sounded again, this time followed by several knocks.

  Then I heard his voice and every hair on my body prickled. “Zoe. Please let me in.” Two more raps on the large door. “I need to see you.”

  I backed away slowly even though he couldn’t see me. Not sure what to do as I’d been avoiding seeing or talking to him for weeks, I gathered the sides of my robe and pulled them closer together, ensuring as much of me was hidden as possible.

  My heart ached to see him, to touch him, to hear him whisper soothing words into my ear, but my brain refused to allow me such comforts. I wasn’t any good to myself, let alone him, a man who struggled with what happened almost as much as I was—information told to me by my dad on a few occasions.

  If I stood there and did nothing, he’d eventually go away, but then what? Would he start showing back up here unannounced, calling my cell and leaving me voice mails about how sorry he was, some of them while he was sober and some while he was drunk, not making much sense like he’d done before?

  Only I wouldn’t be here for him to surprise, a discovery he’d find out soon enough. But did I have the strength to tell him face to face, or would I sneak off without another word?

  Question after question bombarded me, my own thoughts making me dizzy, so much so, when Brick rang the doorbell again, he managed to startle me.

  Over the days that passed since the attack, I’d been punishing him, but it wasn’t Brick’s fault for what happened.

  It was mine for not heeding his warnings.

  It was theirs for forcing themselves on me.

  My feet moved surprisingly quickly, and the door was swung open before I could change my mind.

  Brick gasped when he saw me and my hand immediately flew toward my face to cover my cheek, even though I believed his shock was that I opened the door and didn’t ignore him like I had been doing.

  “I didn’t think you were gonna answer,” he said, reaffirming what I thought. I looked him up and down, taking in his state of dishevel. His dark hair was a tad longer than I remembered, his beard scruffier and borderline unkempt. Red-rimmed eyes stared back at me and his skin was slightly sallow, most likely from the endless days of drinking himself into oblivion, more information given to me from my dad.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “What made you change your mind?” My shoulders lifted, then fell because I didn’t have an answer, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know where to begin. “Can I come in?” he asked after we’d been staring at each other for what seemed like forever, when it was but a moment.

  Cinching the top part of my robe even tighter, I moved back so he could enter, his arm brushing mine as he passed. I didn’t miss the eruption of tingles from the brief contact, but I didn’t dare say a word or react in any way. After I closed the door, I stood motionless in place, averting my eyes from his when his stare became too much.

  The deep pulls of
air into my lungs were useless because I didn’t know what to say to him, and when I finally did muster up the courage to speak, I froze yet again.

  “How are you?” He took a tentative step closer but didn’t reach out to touch me, even though I saw his arm rise several inches from his side, only to drop back down, his fingers flexing repeatedly.

  Telling him I was fine would be a lie.

  Telling him I was dealing with what happened would be a lie.

  Telling him I’d rather be dead than have to succumb to the memories that plagued me every waking hour would be the truth, but I didn’t want to lay that at his feet.

  He didn’t deserve it.

  Instead, I simply shook my head, glancing up at his face before looking away again.

  “Zoe… I… I’m so sorry, for everything. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I….” His words trailed off and the air between us became overwhelmingly stifled. I dared to look up at him again only to notice he wasn’t looking at me, but over at the corner by the door. I followed his line of vision and tensed. My suitcase and carry-on bag rested against the wall. “Are you going somewhere?” he finally asked, his posture straightening, his muscles coiled tightly. His expression gave nothing away, except for the deep frown line between his brown eyes.

  “Yes.”

  He followed up his question with another. “Where?” His hand landed on his chest, resting over his heart. “Where are you goin’?”

  “Back to London. I can’t be here right now. I’m going to stay with Andy for a while until I can get a handle on things.” I said more than I intended but not more than he deserved to hear.

  “You’re gonna stay with Andy for a while until you get a handle on things.” He echoed my words back to me. “You’re gonna stay with your ex.”

  “She’s just my friend.” Brick’s lips pressed firmly together, trapping whatever words he wanted to say behind them. “I can’t stay here,” I repeated.

  “What about us?” He was in front of me before I realized he’d moved from his spot, his hands landing softly on my upper arms, and even though I hadn’t meant to react to his touch, I cringed.

  “I can’t.” My vision blurred with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you hate me but please don’t do this. Please don’t go. Let me take care of you, help you get through this.”

  I wanted to scream at him that I’d never get through this, that I needed to be as far from this place as possible, but all I could focus on was the first part of what he said.

  “I don’t hate you. Why would you think that?”

  “Because you told me.”

  “When?”

  He removed his hands and buried his fingers in the thick of his hair. “The first night at the cabin.”

  Racking my brain to try and recover that conversation, I inwardly flinched when I recalled the memory. “I was in a dark place, still am, and whatever I said to you that night, I didn’t mean.” My sadness escaped and trailed down my cheek. “I don’t hate you, Matteo. I…” I clamped my mouth shut briefly, killing the words resting on the tip of my tongue. “I don’t at all,” I finally said, swallowing the need to run into his arms and seek the comfort he offered.

  “Please don’t go,” he whispered. “Stay with me. I promise to help you, to take care of you.” The slight quiver of his bottom lip tugged at the deepest part of me, my soul splintering apart at having to witness his sliver of defeat.

  “I need to go.”

  “Please.” He reached to touch me again, but I backed away, and his expression morphed into one of heartache. “You’re rippin’ my goddamn heart out, Zoe.”

  His raised voice didn’t startle me like I thought it would. It was the look of utter despair he wore that frightened me because I didn’t know how to process his reaction, or what to say in return. My hurt and anguish prevented my true feelings from surfacing, hidden away deep down.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t go.” Brick didn’t know what to do with himself and his resolve dwindled the more I refused to give in to him. He was hurting, I could see it written all over his face, but I couldn’t worry about him right now. I had to worry about me. How I felt. What I wanted, even though I wasn’t sure what that was yet. I had to learn how to deal with the attack in order to start to move forward, something I didn’t even think was possible at this point. But I had to try, and I couldn’t do it here, with constant reminders everywhere.

  “I can’t.” My feet took me back a step and he finally decided to leave, his walk toward the door slow and unsure.

  “I love you, Zoe.” His voice cracked with his confession. “I’m so sorry, and I hope one day you can forgive me.”

  I barely held my shit together, breaking apart only after I heard the click of the door.

  52

  It took ninety-two days for Brick to finally stop calling me, filling up my voice mail when I refused to answer. I couldn’t bring myself to block his number, and as the days wore on, he called me less and less, his desperation at an all-time low on his last voice mail when he told me he wouldn’t bother me anymore, ten seconds passing in silence between the last words he uttered and the end of the call.

  Today was day thirty-eight of phone silence from him. Every time I’d seen his name flash across my screen, a lump formed in my throat at the thought of talking to him, which I never did. But his persistence had given me a sense of comfort, and now that he’d stopped, had given up, I missed him more than I ever had before.

  “So, how are you doing today, Zoe?” Dr. Rapport gazed at me over her thick, beige-rimmed glasses, sliding them back up her nose when they slipped down for the third time since our session started eight minutes ago.

  If I had to guess her age, I’d put her in her late forties but no older than fifty. Wheat-blonde curls were piled into a high bun, her light-gray wraparound dress quite stylish, and I couldn’t help but think that she was rather fashionable for a doctor, although I’d never known another head shrink to compare her to.

  I’d been seeing her for close to three months now, on the insistence of both Andy and my parents. Telling my mom what happened was difficult, more so because our conversation was over the phone and not in person. She struggled more because she wasn’t physically able to comfort me when I broke down. But our talks were often, and it was only in the past couple weeks that she didn’t constantly ask how I was doing, instead focusing on other topics such as friends, and what new movies I’d seen. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that most days I barely got out of bed to shower and eat.

  Natasha, my boss, had been wonderful in accommodating me with extending my short-term leave, even offering me additional sick pay. She didn’t know the extent of what happened, only that I was attacked and trying to work through the events, focusing on healing and getting back to normal, whatever that would look like.

  And that was why I sat on the soft leather couch in my psychiatrist’s office, to try and find a hint of the normal again.

  “I’m tired, but that’s nothing new.” I smiled but the grin didn’t reach my eyes.

  “What else?”

  “I’m not as anxious as I once was. Not as paranoid to go outside. I still don’t go anywhere at night, though.” My new phobia was odd considering I was kidnapped in broad daylight. My right shoulder bounced lazily. “It’s progress, right?”

  “Yes, it is.” She shifted in her seat, uncrossing her leg only to cross the other. “How are things with you and Andy? Last time you mentioned you sensed some tension there. Are you still experiencing that?”

  When I decided to come back here, I called Andy and asked if it would be okay if I stayed with her for a couple weeks. Then those couple weeks turned into a couple months, which at present was just over four and counting. I told her about being taken and most of what happened, but I didn’t tell her it had anything to do with my dad and Brick’s club. I left out that detail and I supposed it was my way of protecting them. S
he looked after me, mostly making sure I had enough food to eat, seeing as how I barely left her flat. But with her late hours at work, we didn’t see too much of the other. Then recently, she seemed to be acting a bit strange around me, uneasy, unsure. It turned out she started seeing someone, Sophia I believed her name was, and she didn’t know how I would react. When I told her I was happy for her, that I would find someplace else to stay, she hugged me and told me not to worry, that I could stay as long as I wanted, that they’d shag at her place. That was the first time I laughed in as long as I could remember, and she gave that to me. Andy was a true friend and I’d forever be grateful for what she did for me in my darkest time.

  My head craned from side to side. “No. That’s all cleared up.”

  Then without warning, she switched to asking me about the man I couldn’t stop thinking about as of late, as if I ever stopped. “Have you heard from Brick recently?” Her question didn’t surprise me, as she’d ask about him during every other weekly session, but for some reason this time, my heart sped at the mention of his name.

  “No.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  A noncommittal noise filled my throat. Her raised brows spurred me to give a verbal answer. “I’m upset he stopped calling, even though…”

  “Even though what?”

  “Even though I was the one who pushed him away. I never answered. I’m not even sure why I’m upset about it.”

  “Could it be that on some level you assumed he’d always be there for you? And when he stopped making contact, he let you down in a way?”

  I thought about her questions for a moment. “I guess.”

  “Do you want to talk to him?”

  Shaking my head, I said, “I just want to hear his voice, not necessarily talk to him.”

  “Is that because you think he’ll bring up the attack? Reminding you what happened?”

  “I’m reminded of the attack every time I look in the mirror.” The scar on my cheek had faded drastically after I went to see a plastic surgeon a month after I arrived in London. It was only a faint mark now, one I could easily cover with makeup. But when my face was bare, I could see it. “I look at his picture sometimes and…” I wiped away an unexpected tear. “I just wish things were different.”