Kid: Cerberus MC Book 2

by Marie James

  I feel guilty about not watering the plants out front for the last couple of days. I know they’re probably dead beyond resuscitation, but I head in the direction anyways. There’s no telling where Em ran off to or if she even plans on coming back.

  I can see Kid crouched down over pieces of wood with his back to me. He’s grumbling and turning a piece of wood different directions, clearly having trouble with the bookcase. Quietly, I try to make my way to the front door. I knew I should’ve never tried to sneak past a Marine. Just as I reach for the doorknob, I hear his voice.

  “Where ya going?” he asks. I know he’s the only guy here which means, even though he doesn’t have all of his memory, he’s responsible for looking after us. We always have a male member here. Most of the time it’s Doc, but it looks like today that responsibility has shifted to Kid.

  “To water the plants,” I answer without turning around.

  “I took care of that earlier today,” he says.

  I turn around and face him. “You what?”

  “I watered them already,” he says standing and wiping his hands down the front of his pants.

  “Thanks.” I begin to walk away.

  “Khloe,” he says to my back. I love the way my name sounds on his lips, but with the happiness also comes the pain.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” he says as I turn back toward him. My head tells me to scurry back to my room as fast as I can, but my heart wants me to stay. I’m torn between the two.

  I point toward the pile of wood and go for the safe topic of conversation. “That shelf giving you trouble?”

  He looks over his shoulder and runs his hand over his now bare face. He looks so much younger now without the beard. I can easily see why he earned the road name he’s been given.

  “Yeah it only has instructions in Chinese.”

  He takes a step closer to me; I take a step back. The last thing I need is him in my space. I have no control over my ragged emotions, and I don’t know if I’ll hug him or claw his beautiful brown eyes out.

  “Intelligence Not Expected,” I mutter, referring to our banter back and forth about the hierarchy of the different military branches.

  “What did you just say?” He takes another step toward me and reaches out for me.

  I see the second it happens. It’s almost as if the shutters have lifted from his eyes. I take a step even though I can see the recognition in his eyes.

  He stumbles back as if he’s been hit by a blow. “Khloe?” He says. His voice cracks suddenly. I turn my head as he reaches for me again. His hand stay suspended in the air when I angle away from him to avoid his contact with my cheek. He’s done it a million times. It kills me not to turn into his large, warm hand. “Oh fuck, Sweet Girl. What have I done?”

  I’ll never forget the sight of the tear I see running down his cheek as I turn and bolt from the room.

  Chapter 34

  The doctor mentioned the memories could flood back at any time. What I didn’t expect is the love, regret, and pain to hit me all at once.

  “Khloe,” I whisper. It kills me when she positions her body so I can’t touch her. “Oh, fuck, Sweet Girl. What have I done?”

  I don’t even try to fight the burn behind my eyes as the first tear fights it way past my lashes. I close my eyes and welcome the pain. She’s already fled by the time I open them again.

  I’m pinned in place, only able to turn my head and stare into the empty room.

  I hit my knees and cover my head with my hands; a vain attempt to stop the extremely detailed memories that are flooding my mind.

  The warm feeling I got in my chest every time she texted me in Vegas.

  The realization that I’d never let her go.

  The way her lips felt on mine.

  The perfect way her body curved against me while I held her at night.

  The glazed look in her eyes when she came from touching herself.

  The way Snapper moaned when I fucked her after getting out of the hospital.

  “Oh God. Please, no,” I moan rocking back and forth.

  I feel a warm hand touch my back, and I snap my head up finding Emmalyn, not Khloe.

  “You remember?” she says softly.

  I swallow roughly. “I’ve fucked up so bad.”

  “You didn’t know,” Em says soothingly.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say before bolting up and running outside.

  I barely clear the steps out front before I’m emptying my stomach into the bushes. I remember the day they were planted by Emmalyn and Khloe. It was also the same day my tongue first stroked over Khloe’s in the kitchen. It was the day I hitched her leg up high on my hip, and I allowed, for a split second, my erection to rub against the thinnest yoga pants ever made.

  I stand and wipe my mouth on the hem of my t-shirt. How can all of these memories be so vivid now, when minutes ago, I was seeing Khloe like it was the first day that I’d met her? I’m disgusted with myself.

  Every memory is vivid.

  The way I grabbed Em’s ass when I first got back.

  Shadow telling me Khloe was off limits, but getting called out front by Kincaid before he could explain why.

  The shitty comment I made about ‘new club pussy.’

  Jesus.

  The way I fucked Snapper on my bed as if I were a single man.

  The way I enjoyed fucking her at the time.

  I bend in the middle again as another wave of nausea hits. My stomach, now empty, hasn’t given up, and I continue to dry heave for what seems like days.

  The way Khloe’s hair feels sifting through my fingers.

  The tangle of Snapper’s hair in my fist.

  Khloe’s hot breath on my chest as she slept.

  Snapper’s lips wrapped around my cock.

  I stumble from in front of the clubhouse and close myself inside of the garage. I grab the bottle of whiskey from the top of the fridge. I haven’t taken the pain pills for the last two days, but at this point, it wouldn’t matter. I spin the lid off, not caring that it hits the concrete floor and bounced away. Getting drunk is the only thing I can think of that may help this situation, so I doubt the lid will ever need to be returned to the top.

  I turn it up and chug, relishing the fire that burns down my throat and hits my empty stomach. I feel queasy again, so I wash that discomfort down with another chug of the golden liquid.

  I pace and drink until the bottle is empty and smashed against the wall. The whiskey barely takes the edge off. I’ve fucked up. It’s nothing new to me. I’ve done it more than once in my lifetime, and I’m sure to do it again. The difference is this time I’ve hurt a woman I care for more than any other person before her. Her heartbreak was evident in her eyes; in the dark, under-eye circles marring her usually perfect skin.

  I have no clue what to do now. The whiskey is telling me to go inside and profess every single undying feeling I have for her, but the still semi-cognizant part of my brain knows that shit won’t fly. I don’t even know if there is a chance to repair the damage I’ve done.

  Her birthday is in a few days. I could get her a gift, but even drunk I know grand gestures aren’t going to cut it. I didn’t accidentally run over her puppy; I cheated on her. For most, that’s an unforgivable act. Hell, if the shoe were on the other foot I’m not sure what I would do.

  “Kid?” I hear from the open doorway of the garage.

  I turn and see Emmalyn standing standoffishly on the threshold. She has a pained, unsure expression on her face. I don’t even bother to wipe away the tears I can’t seem to stop pouring from my eyes. I swallow thickly and keep pacing, knowing my voice would break the second I tried to mutter a word.

  On my pacing turn toward the door, I see her sit in one of the chairs around the small wooden table in the corner of the garage.

  “Snapper should never have gone with you,” she consoles.

  I shake my head roughly. The motion makes it swim, increasing the blurriness in my vision alrea
dy hindered by the alcohol.

  “This is all on me, Em. I did this. I’ve ruined any chance of getting her back.” I reach for a beer out of the fridge on my way by.

  She doesn’t counter my words, adding even more dread that my ramblings are more truth than not. The pacing isn’t helping so I lean against the wall and take a long pull from the beer bottle.

  “How can I fix this?” I ask staring at the poster of a half-naked woman on the wall. Even the sight of the blonde clad only in a tiny bikini that Snatch hung up years ago disgusts me. I close my eyes and let my body slide down the wall, defeated.

  “I don’t know,” she says softly.

  With legs drawn up, I place my arms on my bent knees, holding the beer bottle between both hands. I hang my head, counting the cracks in the concrete between my thighs.

  “The only woman I’ve ever loved, and I ruined what we had in less than a month,” I tell the speck of an ant crawling aimlessly near my boot.

  “You didn’t remember her,” Em offers similar words to what she’d told me earlier inside.

  I raise my head and look into her sad eyes. “How could I forget her?” The tears begin again. “How could I lose the warmth that rages in my blood at just the sight of her? How could I fuck that slut and enjoy myself? I enjoyed sleeping with her.” I close my eyes again attempting to combat the sickness creeping up my throat again. “It was innate for me to come home from a job and grab a girl for the night. I did exactly what I’ve always done. How will she ever believe I love her if I can do that after a bump to the head?”

  I see a tear roll down Emmalyn’s cheek before she speaks. “It’s more complicated than that, Kid, and you know it.”

  “I can’t live my life without her, Em. My world was empty before she came along. I don’t want to lose her.”

  “Give her time. That’s the only advice I can give you. She knows your memories were gone. This isn’t the same situation as if you were running around behind her back, or sleeping with Snapper to get back at her.” Emmalyn gets up from the chair, walking to the fridge. She reaches in and pulls out a beer and hands it to me, taking the empty bottle in my hands and throwing it in the large metal trash can with a thud.

  “What if this were Diego? What would you do?”

  She shakes her head back and forth as if she doesn’t even want the scenario in her head. “I can’t even fathom what Khloe is going through. Diego? I imagine he would be a lot like you are now.” She swipes at another tear. “I’d probably run, only, this time, he wouldn’t be able to just show up and bring me back. My heart would be utterly shattered.”

  I nod my head, acknowledging my future without Khloe.

  “She’s planning on leaving after her birthday,” Em says delivering the worst news yet.

  I can’t blame Khloe if she chooses to leave.

  “Where will she go? She has no one,” I implore trying to see the future in her soft blue eyes.

  “She doesn’t even know at this point,” she answers. “Give her time,” she says again getting up from the chair and softly kissing the top of my lowered head. “Just give her time.”

  Chapter 35

  That tear. The pain in his eyes. The tremble in his hand when he reached for me. The way his voice cracked when he said my name for the first time after his memories came back.

  It broke me. I had to get out of there as fast as possible. If I’d stayed, I would’ve wrapped him in my arms and held him while he cried. I would’ve put his pain above my own, and that’s not something I’m going to do any longer. Putting others first is how I got in this damn situation to begin with. I should never have opened my heart to anyone. Not just him, it included Alec and my parents.

  I barely made it through my door and into the bathroom before the ice cream curdled in my stomach from my despair. I prayed to empty my feelings, pain, and heartache out of my body as it released all the food in my stomach. It went on forever, largely in part because Em and I had been snacking on junk all day and then topped it off with more ice cream than could be consumed by a playground full of kids at a birthday party.

  “Seems to be the theme around here,” Em says coming into the bathroom and placing her hands at my temples to pull my hair up.

  “Getting sick?” I manage finally after the heaving stopped.

  “Yeah,” she says softly wetting a rag as I flush the toilet, close the lid, and sit on top.

  She hands me the rag, and I hold the cool wetness to my face. I shouldn’t feel a tiny twinge of joy from knowing that Kid was upset enough to also get sick, but I do. He has destroyed me, so it’s only fair that he suffer as well.

  When I pull the washcloth away from my face, Em presents me with a toothbrush already loaded with paste. The sight of the dark blue stick makes my eyes water.

  “Mine is the red one,” I say softly. “That one is his.”

  “Sorry,” she mutters preparing my toothbrush, handing it to me, and rinsing the paste from his.

  “Just put it in the trash,” I tell her before beginning to brush.

  “You’re done with him? No chance? He’s pretty fucked up over this as well,” she says as she respects my wishes and throws the toothbrush in the small trashcan.

  “I’ll always care for him,” I say as she steps aside so I can rinse my mouth. I try not to let my anger show. I’m not the one who’s done something wrong, but the tone of her voice in his defense rubs me the wrong way. I remind myself that they have been friends for a while, and I’m the newest addition to this group. Her loyalties lie with him, regardless that he was the one who took Snapper back to his room and fucked her the second he got back to the clubhouse.

  “What am I supposed to do if this happens again? If I forgive him now, how much more will I have to forgive in the future? How easy it would be for him to do this again, and his expectation would be that I forgave him once, and I should do it again?”

  She shakes her head. “That’s not what this is,” she seethes, the anger in her voice evident. “He’s fucking broken too!” She points toward the front of the clubhouse. “He collapsed on the damn floor and had to run outside to puke in the bushes. He didn’t get caught cheating. He lost his fucking memories.” I take a step back from her, unsure if this is going to turn violent. I’ve never seen her this way before, and I have no clue how she’s going to act.

  Another tear runs down my face, and it pisses me off. The pain, the betrayal, and her defending him cause it all to reach the boiling point. I straighten my spine and narrow my eyes at her. “You don’t know what this is like. Diego would never fucking do something like this!”

  “Kid would never do something like this if there weren’t extenuating circumstances! That wasn’t him, and you know it.” I see her take a calming breath before she continues. “That club whore Bunny made me think more than once that she was fucking Diego. I left him several times because of it. I know what it feels like.”

  I shake my head and chuckle lightly. “The major difference is Diego never laid a finger on that whore while you were together. It’s not the same. Not by a long shot. I watched him take her by the hand and lead her out of that room. I watched her answer his door with her tits out in nothing but a thong. I saw,” I lower my voice to a sneer, “his hand print on her ass when she turned around. That,” I say taking a step closer to her, “is not the same as finding her in his room when he has no idea she’s there.”

  I remember the story she told me about Bunny in agonizing detail. I can remember it vividly. I cried for her and the pain she felt, all the while feeling grateful in my heart because I was sure Kid would never do something like that to me. Who’s eating fucking crow now?

  I quickly change out of my clothes and pull on an oversized t-shirt. With no energy to worry about a shower, I climb in the bed. Emmalyn sits down as well and leans her back against the headboard like she’s done a hundred times over the last couple of weeks.

  “Well let’s not think about all that other stuff right now,” she says
.

  As if I can think of anything else.

  “We have your party in a couple days, and the other guys should be back by then.”

  “I’m not interested in a birthday party, Emmalyn.”

  “Well,” she says quickly. “We can call it a welcome home for the guys, not a birthday party.”

  I fluff my pillow under my head and look over at her.

  “He’s going to want to talk to you.” I shake my head not even entertaining the thought.

  “I’m not ready to talk to him. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

  “Understandable,” she says kissing me on the forehead and climbing off the bed.

  “You’re going to go see him aren’t you?”

  She gives me a weak smile. “He’s my friend, too,” is all she says before leaving my room and closing the door softly behind her.

  ***

  “You’re going to have to get it together, Khloe. Foster parents aren’t going to even want to touch you if you keep acting like this,” my caseworker says putting her car in park outside of the Target.

  I close my eyes at her choice of words. The last thing I want is foster parents to touch me. That’s the whole reason I’m in the car to begin with. My foster dad has been coming into my room drunk for the last three months touching me.

  My caseworker, of course, doesn’t believe me. Why would she? I’ve had trouble at every foster home I’ve been in since my parents were murdered. My record going against the deacon of a church didn’t stand up very strong.

  I cringe at the memory of his disgusting hands roaming over my newly developed breasts. It takes a sick, disgusting man to want to abuse a young, thirteen-year-old girl. I did what I thought was best to get out of that situation. I call it a cry for help; the local police called it arson. At least it was his car not the damn house. It was the only way to get out of there before he could fulfill the promises he muttered in my ear the night before.