“Cindy’s not even wearing a bra. At least I kept mine on.”
Thank fuck for small mercies is all I can think. “Cyn, your behaviour reflects on me. Believe me when I say it was wrong. Dance during the day when no one’s around, but for heaven’s sake, not in the evenings.”
“Your brothers weren’t complaining.”
The stubborn twist of her mouth gets to me. “Is that what you want, Cyn? For men to see you as nothing more than a body?”
Her shrug reminds me this was the girl who professes to still love the only man who ever looked twice at her, despite him being abusive. Could she be so desperate for attention that she’ll take it in any way she can get it? Difficult, Mom had warned me. I’d just had no idea how true that was.
If she needs help, I’m not qualified to give it.
Fuck me. I don’t deserve this. I might be worried about Saffie, but that’s my choice. Cyn, well, I know just as little about what makes her tick, and what I’m learning, I don’t find attractive.
Tempering my voice, I ask, “You had any thoughts about going home?” It seems the best solution all around.
Her eyes widen. “I want to stay here.”
I sigh. “This is only temporary, remember?”
She looks disconcerted, and then a sly smile comes over her face. “Salem says I’m indispensable. He won’t want me to leave.”
Damn the man. What initially seemed like a good idea is coming back to bite me in the ass. For a moment, I don’t have a response.
“There are conditions to you staying, Cyn. The first is that you don’t embarrass me. Something like this happens again, I’ll be buying you a one-way ticket to Michigan.”
She opens her mouth and wisely closes it, then gives an exaggerated sigh as she senses I’m in no mood to hear the retort she wishes to utter. “I’m going to bed.” Without saying anything more, she gets up and leaves.
My eyes watch her until she disappears up the stairs.
“That your sister?” A woman comes over and sits herself in Cyn’s vacated chair. She jerks her head back toward the pole. “She’s got some good moves.” Winking, she adds, “It must run in the family.”
“Susie,” I growl in warning.
Ignoring me, she continues, “You look like you could do with some stress relief. Why don’t you and I hit the sheets?”
I’m in no mood to be diplomatic. All the good vibes I brought back from the ride out earlier today have disappeared. Leaning forward, I make myself clear. “Once was a fuckin’ mistake, Susie. Been there, done that, not going there again. You feel me?”
“No need to be like that, Niran.” She pouts, and fuck me, she inches herself forward so our heads are all but touching. “You sure you want to rob me of that big Black dick of yours?”
“Fuckin’ certain.”
Seeing there’ll be no reasoning with her, I get to my feet and stomp across the clubroom, heading toward the stairs. I could have done with another drink, but my mood has soured, and I want to be alone and away from the company of fucking women.
Closing my bedroom door, I stand with my back against it. Perhaps it’s for the best Saffie doesn’t want to see me. I’ve too much going on. Susie, for starters, who seems to think her vagina has some hold over me, and Cyn, who’s becoming a pain in my ass. Why did my sister have to come find me? It’s not like we’ve ever been close. If she wasn’t related, I wouldn’t even like her. Similar to Susie, she’s the kind of woman who turns me right off.
Cyn’s a complication and a responsibility I never asked for. Problem is, Mom doesn’t seem to want her back either. The whole thing’s a mess.
A mess I’d have been wrong to bring Saffie into.
If she saw me treating Susie as badly as I had, but little more than she deserved, I reckon I’d become the epitome of a biker in her head.
I know, though, by now, Susie’s probably already warming someone else’s bed.
Morning arrives and I’m still in a foul mood. Cyn wouldn’t speak to me at breakfast which should have been a pleasurable result but being made out to be the one who’d done wrong doesn’t settle with me. Hell, maybe I’m not good brother material, but I didn’t ask for this role. All I’m asking for is a little respect. Not for me, but for Cyn to have some for herself. Otherwise, she’ll continue to make the same mistakes over and over, and probably replace Hester with a man of the same ilk.
Another day has passed and Saffie still hasn’t reached out to me. Not that I expect her to, but today that seems harder to accept. Instead of absence making her fade from my mind, it gets worse by the day. How is she, and has she come to a decision? If so, which way has she decided to go? Is she still safe in that apartment of hers? Damn, I wish I were able to be there to protect her. Anything could have happened, and I’d never know about it.
She’s just a friend. Yeah, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying.
Having dealt with Susie and Cyn the previous night, and being unable to turn my thoughts from Saffie, I’m in a foul mood this morning. I snap at Ross when his only crime was to ask to borrow a wrench, and damn near take Gibbs’ head off when he gets too close and jostles me. Snips nearly gets my fist in his throat when he makes a joke about Black dicks.
“Niran!” Grumbler’s voice is sharp. “A word?”
Tossing down the tools I was using, I follow him into the office.
“This can’t go on,” he states. “You’re upsetting everybody. Fuck, Brother. I know this woman’s got your head in a spin, but you’ve got to forget her. She’s fuckin’ terrified of bikers, and unless you want to turn in your patch, you haven’t got a chance with her.”
I know that. If it weren’t for that strength of feeling, I’d have confronted her again, but leaving the club is something I can’t countenance. “It’s not just her, Grumbler. It’s fuckin’ Cyn as well, and Susie doesn’t fuckin’ help.”
He grins. “Yeah, I heard your sister put on quite a show last night.”
Sighing, I rub my nose. “I don’t know what to do with her.”
“Send her home?”
“I would, but it’s the last thing she wants. And her parents seem to think they’re well rid of her.” I hold out both hands as if asking, what can I do?
“She reminds me of Alicia when I first met her.” Grumbler refers to his eighteen-year-old stepdaughter. “At war with the world.”
“At war with authority,” I correct. “I’m not sure what’s the best way to be done with her. At least Alicia has some darn self-respect.”
As if realising there’s no advice he can give, Grumbler reverts to the first topic again. “Mary and I were wondering if she decided to keep the baby.” He says it conversationally, as if it’s of little consequence. He can’t know how much my ignorance on the subject is eating me up.
I realise I’ve never asked his opinion before. “What would you do? If that happened to you and Mary?”
Grumbler winces. “Don’t be putting the hex on us, Brother,” he rasps back. “We’re too well aware of the problems in pregnancy. But yeah, we’ve spoken about it. Neither Mary nor I could see the point in continuing if there was to be no hope at the end.”
“Really?”
He shrugs. “Why prolong the agony for the baby or mom? Some things can’t be saved. Don’t mistake me, hell, it would break us to make that decision, but when all hope is gone, what’s left?”
His view coincides with mine. I wonder if Saffie’s come around to thinking the same way. Of course, at first, she’d hope the doctors were wrong, but the prognosis can’t be denied—a baby so badly formed as hers has no chance at life. It’s heartwrenchingly sad, but that’s the way of it.
“Anyway,” Grumbler continues, “it’s a decision only the parents, or in this case, the mom, can make. It’s she who’s going to have to live with the choice. Mary’s worried about Saffie. Whatever she decides, she’ll need support.”
I’d give anything to be able to give it. “She wants nothing to do with us, Grumbl
er. That day Mary and I went around, she was this close,” I put my finger and thumb so there’s barely a gap between them, “to calling the cops. Black man unwanted in a White woman’s apartment, what d’you think they’re going to make of that?”
He presses his lips together, before offering, “Shoot first?”
“Happens far too fuckin’ often, Brother.”
His face falls with sympathy. “Then you’ll have to move on. Look, I understand how this is fuckin’ with your head, but you can’t take it out on the civilians.”
He’s right. “I’ll apologise to Ross and Gibbs.” Snips though, he can go hang. He knew what he was doing.
“They don’t want your fuckin’ apology. They want you to get your head back in the game. Just like I do.”
Raising my chin, I exit the office, determined to pull myself together, while wondering how long it will be before I’m smiling again. I’m plagued by two women with two different problems. One won’t admit she needs my support, the other demands only what I can offer unwillingly. Three, if you count Susie who only wants me for my damn cock.
I do make an effort. By the time lunchtime comes around, the atmosphere which could have earlier been cut with a knife has lightened. I even attempt a laugh at one of Snips’ lame jokes, which, of course, encourages him to embark on another.
Before he can reach the punchline, my phone rings, and I step aside to take it.
Chapter Fourteen
Saffie
After the door closed behind Niran and Mary I collapsed down on the couch, giving in to the wave of dizziness that I’d only just managed to keep at bay until they’d gone. My body was violently shaking, and there was a rushing sound in my ears which almost blocked out the sounds from the overloud television next door. My vision was blurry and my stomach roiled. For a moment I thought the nausea would overtake me, but gradually the impulse to throw up began to recede.
I felt drained, completely exhausted, as though all fight in me had gone. Nervously I raised my eyes to the closed door knowing if they came back again, I’d be in no state to take anyone on, even to mentally challenge them.
But I’d done it. I got them to leave.
It had been easier than I’d expected. My threat to call the cops had been the only thing I could think of, and it had worked with the results that I wanted. I wondered whether Niran’s got something to hide, and whether he’s a wanted man. Of course he is. He’s a biker. A member of the criminal underworld I knew only too well.
Just when I started to think I’d got my body under control, the shakes started again. Bikers know bikers. They have meets, mingle and mix. They run drug and weapon lines together, and as for women, well, I knew Duke used an underground railroad. It was not too much of a stretch to think Niran’s club could be involved.
But Niran had known where I was for a couple of weeks now. If he’d let Duke know, why hadn’t he come to collect his property? I would have expected him to come immediately. But then, I’d been gone for so long, perhaps a few days more was neither here nor there. Maybe if he was hatching business deals with his prez, at that moment, I took low priority. Nevertheless, I was certain there’d shortly be a knock on the door. The question was, how much time did I have?
Knock on the door? I scoffed at myself. Duke would just bust it down, and in this apartment block, the likelihood is no one would even notice.
My panic attack returned at full blast as images in my brain turned imagination into fact. This time I did vomit, only making it to the bathroom just in time. I was trembling so much I could barely splash water on my face, and sank to the floor, with my head in my hands, almost deafened by the thumping of blood rushing through my veins.
A body was not built to have so much adrenalin rush through it. Even after my breathing returned to something approaching normal, it was as though I was working through fog that filled my head. I worried about the effect on my baby. All this stress couldn’t be good.
Half of me thought I should pack as much as I could carry, pick up my keys and just leave. Then the sense of urgency started my heart racing again, and I ended up doing nothing at all. I felt like a guillotine victim, just waiting for the blade to drop. I was damned one way or another. If I ran, the problem of what to do about my baby stayed with me. What’s a pregnant woman to do while on the run without a place to stay or much money? If I left, I risked Duke catching up with me. If I stayed, he’d find me in any event. It would just speed up the inevitable.
As night approached, the darkness which hides monsters descended and my thoughts grew worse. Like a wave crashing into the shore, my predicament had hit me once more. I might be pregnant, but my baby probably won’t be born, or at least alive. No blow from Duke could have hurt me more, no insult hurled, no abuse.
Nothing else mattered. Not my own safety, not Duke, I realised as I collapsed on my bed, in my head hearing once again the fateful words the doctor had delivered as if she were here in the room.
With Niran here, his presence had kept me grounded. My problem was still there, of course, but somehow, he’d prevented me totally losing it. Now on my own, the pressure becomes too intense.
It couldn’t be true. The doctors must have made a mistake. But why would they have told me otherwise? Why talk to me with such sadness in their eyes if it was a lie?
Why the hell am I worried about Duke? Let him come to me. I deserve worse.
For that night and the next morning, I didn’t move, didn’t eat, didn’t get showered or put on fresh clothes, wavering between imagining things could be different, and crying out in utter distress knowing they wouldn’t change. My thoughts kept coming back to the fact that in another life, in another world where I could have looked after my baby better, maybe he’d have had a chance at a normal life.
Uncaring of myself, I waited for that knock on the door. What have I got to live for? What punishment could be bad enough for a mother who’d failed to care for their child?
If not Duke, I was expecting Niran or Mary to knock at the door, coming to entice me once again to their lair. Nothing good would come of being associated with bikers.
Waiting in limbo, lost in my devastation, I neglect to go to work. But by design or by accident, there Niran had helped. My boss assumed I’d had a reoccurrence of what had ailed me before.
The second night, when Duke still hadn’t appeared, my common sense began to vie with my distress as I began to wonder whether I might have read the situation wrong. Both my visitors had seemed concerned about my less-than-ideal living arrangements. They’d offered sanctuary, and once I’d refused, they hadn’t come back. Maybe they had no connection to the man who haunts not just my nightmares, but every moment of my life. But Niran’s a biker, and that can’t be ignored.
I’ve got his number on my phone, but I don’t call. I can’t take the risk that he knows Duke, or of him. And being a biker, I’m pretty certain I know what he’d say if I admitted to being another’s property. Hell, I’m still married to the man. Niran might think his obligations are to another man wearing a cut rather than a woman who means nothing to him.
Even if Niran’s got nothing to do with Duke, the manner in which I sent him away was embarrassing. How could I see him again without offering an explanation? Especially one I’m not prepared to give. My past is something that happened to Sapphire Marshall, not to Saffie Jones.
As I don’t call Niran, he doesn’t contact me. Why should he? If he knows Duke, he has all he needs, if he doesn’t, he’s clearly washed his hands of me, and who would blame him?
Abandoned to my fate, I feel very alone. For some reason, although I’ve been that way for months, it hits harder now. More than anything, I want someone to tell me what to do, what action, or inaction to take. Is carrying this baby for a further three months a punishment I feel I deserve to inflict on myself?
That night I still can’t sleep, can’t eat. Semi-delirious, I dream of a future with a happy, healthy son, and then have waking nightmares about giving birt
h to my child who’d have only minutes, if that, to live.
The next days follow the same pattern. I ring work, telling them I’ve got a serious virus, and begging for a few days off. My boss’s best wishes and instructions to look after myself don’t help one iota. I’m not too concerned about losing my job, in the scheme of things it would be the least of my worries, but I doubt there’s too much risk of that. I don’t qualify for sick leave and otherwise fully staffed, she can afford to be magnanimous.
I’m left with far too much time on my hands. Time in which to think.
Do babies feel pain in the womb? Some people say yes, some no. What if he does and he’s suffering now? Would it be fair to allow him to suffer for three more months, and all for nothing? What if for now he can’t feel anything, but birthing him would cause immense suffering? Or would it have no effect on him at all?
As for myself, I don’t know what would be best for me. Ending my pregnancy now would allow me to start healing, if that’s even possible, which I doubt. But if I continue, am I just delaying the inevitable? Simply putting off the pain for another day?
He’s alive now, I can feel fluttering. Is he moving like a normal baby? How would I know? For him, continuing will only result in a death sentence. Am I selfish wanting to hold him in my arms if only for a minute?
I love him with every fibre of my being. I just don’t know what to do for the best. If I continue this pregnancy, my thinking about what’s in store for him will gradually drive me crazy. But if I end it, how will I cope?
Sometimes in the night when I fall into an exhausted sleep, I dream of a sweet little boy, his arms reaching out for me calling Mommy, Mommy, but in my dream he’s drifting away. I run with my feet stuck in quicksand. I pull one foot free, only to have the other sink in deep. All the while he’s getting further and further from me. I can’t get to him, and I scream and jerk awake.
I can’t go on like this, day after day, torturing myself, not knowing for certain whether I’m torturing him, the most important being in my life.
Avenging Devil Part 1: Satan’s Devils MC - San Diego Chapter #3 Page 15
