Absolution (Heaven's Rejects MC Book 3)

by Avelyn Paige

  I pause, trying to ready myself for the last bit of my story. As much as I want to pretend that I am tough as nails, Ginny much like Ricca, was the light of my world. I lived to protect her. Ricca must sense that I am nearly through because she doesn’t say a single word on the other line.

  “A few years after she left, I became a full member. She begged me to let her come back now that she was of age, but I just didn’t want this kind of life for her. The woman that she lived with had homeschooled her, and gave her a life that she would never get living the club life. I got a call not long after that she had taken off. I searched for her for over three years, but when I finally caught up with her, she was heavily addicted to drugs. The day I convinced her to go to rehab, I bought that house, but she would never live in it. She committed suicide after a week of going through withdraws. The pain was just too much for her.”

  A stray tear gleams down my face, and I am thankful that Ricca can’t see me this way. There are only two things in this world that would make me shed my hardened exterior and actually give into the coiled emotions buried deeply inside of me. My sister, and my wife. While I could not save Ginny, I would save Ricca and Asher.

  “That’s why the house has been empty all this time, hasn’t it?” her voice finally answers. “You couldn’t live there because that house was never supposed to be yours.”

  “Somewhat,” I offer her. “Being alone in that house, I felt like I was suffocating. It was meant for a family, and at the time, I never thought that I would deserve one.”

  “Oh, Jude. My heart is breaking for you right now.”

  Her use of my first name makes me pause, and she notices it immediately.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that,” she back peddles with an obvious note of nervousness in her voice.

  “Say it again,” I plead. “I need to hear you say it again.”

  “Jude.”

  For the first time since I lost Ginny, I loved hearing my real name spoken out loud. In my mind, the right to use that name was only meant for my sister, but now that torch has been passed onto Ricca. Hearing it may have brought back memories of Ginny, but she was gone. Most might think that I traded one damaged woman for another, but they would never understand my reasoning. I needed someone like Ricca in my life to ground me.

  “From now on, when it’s just you and me, I want you to call me that. In public, we’ll have to stick to my road name, but alone, I’m your Jude.”

  I can feel Ricca’s smile beaming from my phone, and for the first time in my entire life, I feel absolved of my past. My misery of losing Ginny was long fading away, and in its place was beginning to fill with my happiness of Ricca, and hopefully Asher.

  Ricca’s silence returns, and I know that I need to push this conversation back to a lighter topic. I couldn’t have her self-doubt trying to overanalyze the story I just told her because it wouldn’t help her or me. We needed to keep our relationship away from the bullshit of our past, and only look to the future that was to come.

  “So what are you wearing?” I ask, bringing her giggles back to life.

  My time in California has been eye opening. Even with the distance, I feel closer to the man who holds the title of my husband. Ratchet let me into his past far more than I think he even intended. Yet knowing what I did now, I think that I love him even more. Despite the blood on his hands for the club, he was a man that had experienced the worst of what life has to offer discarded children. He protected his sister the best he could, but when someone is so far gone, there’s nothing more you can do. While his words told me he didn’t fault himself, his voice told a different story. His sister was everything to him, but no matter what he did the outcome would have likely been the same. I lived through addiction for years, and I barely survived the detox and withdraw process. Countless days of hot and cold flashes, the feeling of my insides burning and rotting from the inside out, and then the dark thoughts that screamed inside of my mind to end it all. Only the strong could survive it… and someone with a good support system, like I had with him. He may not be the hero that you read about in books, but my savior came equipped with a motorcycle and a blackened heart of gold.

  Though the weeks dragged on and on while I was back home in California, it seemed that time moved much faster here. Ratchet had done so much work on the trailer in the two weeks I was gone, that I barely recognized the place. This is what I can only surmise that kept him busy in my absence. He surprises me at every turn, and this is one of the things I like best about him. The point you think you have him pinpointed is the moment he pulls a bait and switch and reveals a completely different side of him. Much like a priceless gemstone, he is multi-faceted.

  The days after my return Ratchet filled me with satisfying the ache of our separation, and we began to learn more about each other, between my shifts at Willie’s. He was resistant at first to let me go back, and frankly after my father’s visit, I nearly let him convince me, but I needed something to pass the time. Where he had his renovations, I had nothing to occupy my mind and body besides him. Something he didn’t mind, but the days of waiting to find out when I would finally get to meet Asher, were killing me.

  Until today.

  Nicole called me shortly after my shift ended last night to give me the good news. She mentioned that the foster family wasn’t cooperating with them, and that she had to pull rank in order to make this happen. What Nicole didn’t know is that I knew this would happen. For whatever reason, my father didn’t want me to interfere with Asher’s place in his home. Having Asher in his custody was the last thing that I wanted. I would rather give up my custody battle and for Asher to be placed with someone else, than for him to remain under the same roof as that man. My father may seem like a reformed holy man on the outside, but the cold, emptiness of his eyes told a different story. A story with an unhappily ever after for us all. Was I scared of what he would try to do out of retaliation? Of course, I am, but my fear is not keeping me from doing anything, despite the consequences that may be coming my way.

  “You ready to go, Siren?” Ratchet yells around the corner of the bathroom doorway. My eyes move from my reflection in the mirror to his face, and in his eyes, I find my peaceful center. The dark storms may swirl and churn inside of me, but he’s like the lighthouse calling me home. All I need is his call to bring me back safely.

  “Almost,” I mutter, while swiping another layer of mascara over my lashes.

  “You know that you don’t need that clown make-up shit, right? You’re more beautiful without it.”

  I swivel and swat him away.

  “You’re bias,” I holler back at him. His chuckles reflect off the walls as he stalks back to the living room.

  Today is by far the most panic-inducing day of my life. Forgot the Tribe dungeon, my father’s threats, Ratchet’s surprise marriage, or the day in court. Meeting Asher tops them all. He’s grown up so much in his life without me in it, that I am afraid he’ll hate me. His reaction could run the gambit, but I was willing to try to connect with the one person on this earth who shares at least half of my genetic sequence. The DNA test results were still pending, but I knew that no matter the percentage of blood we share, he will always be my brother. Whether he is in my life or not, I will make damn sure that my father is not a part of the equation.

  I glance back in the mirror one more time, and check my appearance. My hair is slicked back in a long ponytail, and my make-up is minimal. The last thing I want is for Asher too take one look at me, and think I’m fake. This is the real me, and I want that to shine through. No frills. No pretentions. Just me.

  Slipping from the bathroom, I find my husband spread out on the couch with his arm draped across the back of it. Like me, he chose to be casual today with just a t-shirt and jeans. We had a brief argument about his insistence to wear his cut, but it was quickly solved with a promise of making it up to him later. I didn’t want my brother to see him and run for the hills, from the
scary biker. Ratchet was intimidating enough on his own without all of his pomp and circumstance. Today he was just a man, driving his wife to meet her little brother.

  His eyes remained trained on the car auction that is blaring from the television set, that suddenly appeared when I got home.

  “Earth to Jude,” I tease him. “Come in, Jude.”

  His head cranes around slowly, and he beams up at me.

  “I love it when you call me by my first name,” he smiles back. “It sounds so different rolling off those beautiful lips.

  “You know, I did a little web search yesterday to see what your name meant. Do you know what I discovered?” I giggle.

  “That saying it three times will get you the best orgasm of your life,” he offers back with a hint of arousal in his voice.

  “Nice try, but there’s no time.”

  He frowns, and reaches for the remote to flick off the show he was watching. He rises from the couch, and saunters towards me with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

  “As I was saying,” I start, grabbing my purse. “I found out that you share a name with a Catholic saint.”

  “That so,” he dares. “The saint of good fucks?”

  I laugh and squeal, when he grabs me and pulls me against him. I let him feel like he’s winning, before shoving him away, and pointing him out the door.

  “It couldn’t be farther than that. Saint Jude is the patron saint of lost causes.”

  “Well, that’s not even remotely right,” he offers, stepping out the trailer door. “I can’t be lost when I am with you.”

  My heart swells at his sweetness. For a man who can be so rough and vicious, he is a completely different person with me. He balances his light and dark sides so well, that there are times I forget the side of him that I should be scared of. The side I hope I never have to see him use again for my sake or the clubs.

  His mouth forms into a line of disapproval. Thanks for getting me in trouble, Google.

  “Don’t blame me. I’m just the name meaning messenger.”

  “Come on, wife. We have places to be, and once we’re done, I’ll show you the patron saint of lost causes.”

  The promise of his show and tell later is enough to make me move even faster out of the door. While most women would tire of their husband’s overwhelming need to fuck all the time, I will never have that reaction to him. Sex with Ratchet is far from boring and predictable.

  He opens up the truck door for me, and ushers me inside. Rounding the truck, he slides in the driver’s seat. We take off towards the park where we are supposed to meet Nicole and Asher. Each mile makes my heart beat faster and faster, while my nerves fray into tiny shreds of sanity.

  “It’ll be fine, Ricca,” he reassures me. “Just be yourself.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” I snap back. “If he’s anything like I was at his age, everyone is a potential enemy. He’ll have his guard up.”

  “Then I guess you’ll just need to figure out a way to knock those walls down just as I did with you.”

  “You didn’t knock them down, Jude. You chiseled a hole and found my weak spot, before you brought in the wrecking ball and demolished them with one blow.”

  My husband answers back with a garbled satisfactory moan, which makes me immediately, roll my eyes. Subtly and pride in his work aren’t exactly his strong suit. Our romp in the airport-parking garage was enough proof of that. His request for a repeat was promptly tabled for a later time.

  The pine trees that line the park dot the horizon. With the weather finally turning more summer like, young families flood the area. Family car after family car, line the parking lot that surrounds the playground. I say a silent prayer that we were getting to avoid that stage of my brother’s life. I liked kids, but not being in the save vicinity of tons of them screaming and yelling as they play.

  An open-sided pavilion comes into view with two people sitting underneath its metal roof. Nicole is staring at her phone when we pull up, and doesn’t notice us.

  I take the chance to study my brother for a few minutes, before Ratchet reaches over and unbuckles my seatbelt.

  “Stop stalling Ricca, and just go,” he orders, reaching past me and unlatching the door.

  “Wait,” I hesitate. “You aren’t coming?”

  “As much as I want to meet him, Siren. This is your time with him. I’ll have my chance the next time. This is for you and him. I don’t want to intrude.”

  His gesture and words nearly send me melting into a puddle of happiness. How could this man understand me so well? It just isn’t possible.

  “What will you do while I’m with him?”

  Ratchet unbuckles his own seatbelt, and nods to the truck pulling in next to us. My boss sits in the driver’s seat, and waves to us both.

  “Why is Willie here?”

  “He’s my ride home. I don’t want you to feel rushed thinking that I am waiting in the truck. So, I am leaving it here for you whenever you’re done, and heading back home. Text me when you’re on your way.”

  He exits the truck, and comes around to my side, helping me out. His eyes peer down into mine with one last calming moment, before he kisses me and heads towards Willie’s awaiting vehicle. I watch him walk away, before I start toward the pavilion.

  Breathe. This is what you wanted. Stop acting like a damn chicken, Ricca. Go meet the piece of you that you didn’t know was missing.

  Nicole spots me when I get a few feet away, and stows her phone away. She leans down to Asher and speaks to him. His eyes lift from the ground, and meet mine. Nicole waves for him to stand, and he does so, just as I make my way inside. For the first time, I am standing face to face with my little brother, and I have no idea what to say.

  Nicole must sense my nervousness and jump-starts the introductions for me.

  “Asher, this is your sister, Erica.”

  “Hi,” he quietly says, outstretching his hand to me.

  “Hi,” I respond, taking his small hand in mine. My body doesn’t instantly throw me into a panic with the contact of his hand. The clenching of my muscles and chest remain dormant, and his hand feels so right within mine like a missing puzzle piece that is finally found to complete the puzzle.

  He breaks the contact first, and returns his gaze to the ground.

  “I am going to go sit over here, and answer a few e-mails while you two get acquainted,” Nicole interjects. “Take your time,” she whispers to me as she passes us.

  “Do you want to sit down?” I offer.

  “Sure.”

  Asher turns to the table he once occupied and slips his legs over the bench. I settle in on the other side, and the awkward silence continues to reign.

  What do I know about a kid his age? What do they like? Dislike? My lack of childhood was seriously hindering my communication skills right now.

  I study his face up close, and notice how similar his features are to mine. His tousled curls are like dark tendrils on the top of his head. The deep brown hues of his eyes match the lightly tanned color of his skin. Even the slight upturn of his nose, reminds me of myself. I didn’t need the results from my DNA test to know that he is my brother.

  “Are you really my sister?” he nervously stutters.

  “I am.”

  “Why didn’t mama tell me about you if you’re my sister?” he asks, looking into my eyes with sadness clearly painted in their dark hues.

  “Mom and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things. I hadn’t spoken to her in a long time.”

  “Oh,” he adds. “Mama could be like that sometimes.”

  “Yeah, she could. I may not have good memories of her, but I bet you do,” I state, in hopes of him giving me a glimpse into his relationship with her.

  “Mama was always busy,” he offers. “I spent a lot of time alone.”

  Those few words shatter my heart. My mother’s parenting skills had obviously not improved the second go aro
und. I observe him for a few moments as silence settles between us again, looking for signs of further abuse by our mother. The skin on his arms, neck, face, and hands are unmarred. I let out a breath of relief.

  “Can you tell me a little about yourself?” I hopefully inquire. “Do you have any hobbies?”

  “I guess so,” he answers. “I like to watch Marvel movies and play video games. And I like to watch WWE, when my foster dad lets me.”

  The mention of my father in that capacity sends an instant coil of rage into my hands. I try my damnedest to keep it at bay in front of Asher.

  “I like watching wrestling, too. Who is your favorite wrestler?”

  “I like John Cena. He’s pretty cool,” he offers with a flicker of promise in his eyes.

  “I like Roman Reigns.”

  Asher’s eyes light up, when he realizes that my interest in something he likes isn’t fake. Like me, I could see a fraud from a mile away.

  “He’s kind of a jerk. How could you like him?” he protests. “John Cena is a good guy, you should be rooting for him.”

  “Why don’t you tell me more about him? Maybe you can convince me to change my mind.”

  Asher smiles, and starts in on all of the wrestler’s attributes that should make me like him, including his hot girlfriend. I could only smile back as his animated reasoning for liking a man portraying a fictional character; it also helped drop his guard. For nearly two hours, we talk about wrestling and some video game that I could barely follow his explanations about. I didn’t care that our small talk was about silly things because I was here with him.

  Before long, we were laughing at the jokes he started to tell me. His silliness was a breath of fresh air in my life. His smile and laugh were addicting, and each second I was able to listen to him chatter on or laugh was a blessing. But like all good things, it had to come to an end.

  “It’s time to go, Asher.” She tells him, and his frown returns. He looks to me, and my heart sinks. The time we were given was far too short, and I didn’t want it to end.