by Nina Levine
“Next week. Thank you for helping me get this job. I think it’s just what I need.”
I had no doubt. I’d watched Sharon Cole working at Layla’s bar, and saw the change in her, so I’d put the feelers out with my contacts regarding a job for my mother. I kicked myself for not thinking of it sooner, but perhaps she wouldn’t have been ready for it until now.
“Has Marcus been around?” I held my breath, waiting for her answer.
“No, I haven’t seen him since the day of your fight.”
Thank fuck.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw Layla’s name on the screen. Holding it up at Mum, I indicated I needed to take this. She smiled and left me to it. “What’s up, baby?” I asked, answering the call.
“How far away from the bar are you?” Her tone put me on high alert.
“About fifteen minutes. Why?” I went in search of Mum while Layla kept talking.
“Marcus is here, and it’s not pretty between him and Sharon. I’m concerned.”
Fuck.
“I’m on my way, but until I get there, I’ve got some guys watching your bar so I’ll send them in to watch him.”
“Thanks,” she said, ending the call.
I found Mum in the kitchen. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you later and check in.”
She nodded and gave me a hug. “Love you, baby,” she said as she let me go.
“Love you, too,” I said and headed out to the car. Layla’s voice over the phone had told me everything I needed to know. Marcus was going to be a problem, and I needed to get there as fast as I could.
On the way, I called Scott and asked him to get over there as soon as possible. Better to have both of us there to deal with Marcus.
The traffic was a bitch and it took me longer to get there than I thought it would. By the time I parked the Jag, my head felt like it would explode from the anxiety tearing through me. Worry about Layla getting hurt filled me, and I bolted out of the car and into the bar.
Thank fuck three o’clock was a quiet time for the place. Layla stood at the bar serving the one customer she currently had. Sharon and Marcus were nowhere to be seen. I walked to her and raised my eyebrows in question.
After she finished with her customer, she pointed towards the back of the bar. “They’re outside in the back alley. Marcus has had a bit to drink, Donovan. When he started getting angry with her, she took him outside. Your guys followed them, so, hopefully, that means she’s okay.” Her worry was clear, but I was simply glad she hadn’t been hurt.
“I’ll go see what’s going on. You stay here, yeah? Don’t come out there, because if Marcus hurts you, he won’t be leaving here in anything but a fucking body bag,” I said, and, at her nod, I left to go out to the alley.
Angry voices filtered through as I pushed the back door open. I took a step outside and came face to face with Sharon yelling at Marcus. “I should never have married you! You couldn’t keep your dick to yourself before we got married, and you still can’t keep it to yourself. If you thought I didn’t know about your new piece on the side, you’re a fucking idiot. She’s welcome to you.”
No fucking surprise there.
Marcus took a step closer to her, anger rolling off him. “She means fucking nothing to me, babe. None of them have.” His gaze flicked to me, and, while staring at me, he added, “Not even Stella.”
Blood roared in my ears, and I clenched my fists. As the craving for his blood threatened to take over, I forced myself to remember Storm needed him alive. Killing him would only cause them more problems, and that could possibly have an impact on Madison.
Fuck.
Sharon slapped him. “You think that makes it okay, asshole? You’re a fucking pig to women.”
He grabbed her hand, pulling her to him. “You think you can walk away from me that easily? Fucking try it and see what happens,” he threatened her.
My guys had been hanging back but they both took a step forward. I held up my hand to halt them and walked toward Marcus. “Let her go,” I demanded.
Training his filthy gaze on me, he snarled, “This is between me and my wife, Blade, so you can fuck off and leave us to sort it out ourselves.”
I kept walking. “No way am I leaving, and there’s no fucking way you’re beating your wife up again.”
He shoved her away and came at me. His fist tried to connect with my face, but I blocked it and punched him in the gut. As he stumbled, I punched him hard in the face. Bone crunched and blood spurted. My demons roared to life at the sight of that blood, and in that instant, I succumbed to the darkness. I let it pull me under and take over my soul.
My father was as good as dead.
For every punch I got in, I recalled a childhood hurt.
For every punch he got in, I remembered why his time was up.
My father would never hurt another human being again.
Every emotion I’d experienced at my father’s hands bubbled up as I kept punching. Blindly, madly punching. I was a crazed man. My father had made me this way, and this was his reckoning.
His sins were finally coming back to haunt him.
I blocked out the world as I fought to end his life, so it wasn’t until strong hands pulled me off him that I heard someone yelling out my name.
Scott.
“Blade! Fuck, don’t kill him,” he thundered, while fighting to pull me away.
I tried to punch Scott so he’d let me go, but he’d anticipated that and punched me first.
Motherfucker.
The pain roared through me, but I breathed through it, raising my arm to take aim again. However, another set of arms grabbed me.
Griff.
They held me back, and Marcus staggered forward, his mouth twisted in a sneer. Blood dripped down his face as he threatened me. “That’s the last fucking time that happens, you worthless piece of shit! I should have made your mother fucking abort you all those years ago.”
His words didn’t hit their mark. Not anymore. He’d shredded me for too long now, and I’d finally realised his words were as meaningless as he was.
Bang!
The shot rang out loud and clear, and the bullet that hit Marcus sent him reeling back. My head snapped around to find the perpetrator, and I was stunned to find Sharon staring at him with a gun in her hand. She began walking toward him, her intent to shoot him again evident. Scott let me go so he could halt her progress, but Sharon was lost in some kind of crazed state, too, and Scott struggled to stop her. Griff let me go, moving quickly trying to help Scott.
I didn’t give them my attention at all. It was focused completely on Marcus, and on the pain he was in. He deserved that pain and so much more for everything bad he’d ever done in his life. My demons took over again, and I pulled my knife from its sheath.
My father lay on the ground, staring up at me with a look of sheer terror as I approached.
Yeah, motherfucker.
My head pounded as the rage took over.
The rage I’d lived with my whole life.
The rage I’d done my best to deny and keep locked deep in my soul.
It swirled up through me, and my chest threatened to explode as it desperately fought to be let out.
And then...
I stopped fighting it.
I let it consume me.
I let it shatter around me, and, in that moment, I met the darkness I’d hidden even from myself.
My darkest moment.
The first time the blade sliced through his flesh, satisfaction like I’d never experienced before rushed through me.
The second slice produced a strong sense of justice.
The third slice, however, brought with it all the anger I’d bottled up my entire life.
I lost track after that as I stabbed my father to death.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Layla
I lay on the bed next to Donovan and held him while he slept. It had been about five hours since he’d fallen asleep, an
d it was the most peaceful I’d ever seen him. Usually, he thrashed about in his sleep and called out Ashley’s name. Tonight, he hadn’t moved, except to curl closer to me. He now lay with his head on my chest and his arm across my body, holding me.
He’d killed his father this afternoon. I didn’t have a clue what was happening in the back alley until Griff came in and asked me to close the bar so they could ensure complete privacy while dealing with it. I’d immediately done what he’d asked and gone to find Donovan. Pain had pierced my heart when I’d found him on his knees on the ground out the back, covered in his father’s blood. When I’d knelt next to him, he’d looked at me with such a haunted expression on his face. I’d never seen someone so broken in my entire life, and the need to make it all better had overwhelmed me.
Nothing would make this all better for him, though.
I’d eventually managed to get him to stand, and Scott had helped me get him upstairs to the bathroom where I stripped his clothes off and put him under the shower. Scott had left us so he and Griff could take care of Marcus’s body and the mess in the alley. They also had to take care of Sharon who had fallen apart, too.
That had been about six hours ago. Once I’d cleaned Donovan up, I’d gotten him into bed, but he hadn’t fallen asleep straight away. He’d spent a long time staring into space before finally succumbing to sleep.
I’d hated seeing him like that. It wasn’t the strong, powerful man I knew. And I hated his father even more for it. As far as I was concerned, his father had deserved everything he’d got today.
After Donovan fell asleep, I stayed awake as my mind processed it all. I was beginning to feel sleepy now, and just as my eyes closed, he shifted again and murmured something in his sleep. My eyes flew open to find him watching me with a look I didn’t recognise from him.
“Hey,” I whispered.
His arm tightened across my body as he whispered back, “Hey.”
I sensed he didn’t need me making small talk, so I remained silent, waiting for him to take the lead here. We lay there watching each other quietly for what felt like ages, until he finally asked, “You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll always worry about you.”
I reached my hand out to lightly trace his cheek. “You’re an amazing man, Donovan Brookes,” I murmured.
He stared at me. “I’m amazed you’re still here. I thought you’d be long gone.”
I frowned. “What?”
He moved so he was propped up on the bed, looking down at me. “I killed my father today. It wasn’t pretty, and yet, here you are, still watching over me. Still making sure I’m okay. That’s not something I’d expect from any woman.”
“I’m not just any woman, Donovan. I’m your woman, and I don’t desert the ones I care about in their hour of need.”
His eyes searched mine, and then he muttered, “Fuck, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
I held his face. “You’re a good man. Don’t ever underestimate that or doubt it, okay?”
He didn’t answer me, so I reiterated it. “Okay?”
“Okay, sweetheart,” he said softly.
“Good. Now, come back here and let me hold you. You need more sleep,” I said, bossing him around. And, for once, he let me.
My strong man needed me. He needed to know he was accepted for who he was, no matter what he did. And I was determined to give him that.
***
The next morning, I woke to find Donovan pacing the room while talking on his phone. I didn’t want to eavesdrop on his conversation so I got out of bed and headed into the kitchen to make coffee. He came out just as I’d finished, and I slid his mug across the counter to him.
Eyeing his clothes, I said, “It’s a good thing I like to buy you clothes.”
He smirked. “Yeah, baby.”
Donovan had once made fun of my clothes shopping addiction. It was pretty much my only girly trait and I’d bought him quite a few pieces, which he’d left here. Thank god, because they came in handy now.
We drank our coffee in silence until he murmured, “I don’t understand where Sharon got the gun from.”
“She came back into the bar while you were outside with Marcus. I was busy with customers, but managed to get out of her that you and he were fighting. I got distracted and didn’t realise she’d gotten the gun out of her bag.”
“Fuck, after all those years, she finally got rid of him. Mind you, he may not have died from the gunshot wound.”
“Probably a good thing you finished the job then,” I mused.
“Why?”
“Would he have retaliated against her if he’d lived?”
He thought about that and slowly nodded. “Yeah, I reckon he would have.”
I sipped my coffee and kept quiet. It was up to Donovan now to decide if he wanted to talk about it or not.
He surprised me when he did speak. “I don’t know what I feel.”
“Maybe it’s too soon, too fresh for you to know.”
“I’ve thought about doing this for a long time, and I thought I’d feel a sense of immense satisfaction.”
“And you don’t?”
“It’s odd. I don’t regret it for a minute, and I would do it again, but it’s not this overwhelming feeling of anything. It’s like I feel . . . nothing about it.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Fuck, that doesn’t even make fucking sense.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “After I did it, I felt a sense of justice . . . relief that he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again, but now, there’s just nothing.”
I reached across the kitchen counter and placed my palm on his chest. “Stop thinking, baby. Just let it be what it is.”
He covered my hand with his. “You do listen to me,” he said, his lips twitching.
I smiled. “Yeah, most of the time.”
He finished his coffee and rinsed his mug before coming back to me. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to take care of today, so I’m not sure what time I’ll see you later.”
“It’s all good. You take care of what you need to, and I’ll be here whenever you get back.”
He bent his face to kiss me and then asked, “Do you have any idea how much I need you in my life?”
“Probably as much as I need you in mine.”
I watched him leave and decided I’d never let him go.
Ever.
Donovan Brookes was it for me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Blade
I stepped through the front door of my mother’s house with trepidation. The news I had to break to her would either gut her or help her move on. I wasn’t sure which.
“Hey, baby,” she greeted me with a smile as she wiped down the kitchen counters.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” I said, getting straight to the point. I didn’t have it in me to drag this shit out.
She stopped what she was doing and turned to give me her full attention. “What is it?”
I took a deep breath. “Marcus is dead.”
Her eyes widened, and her whole body stilled.
I waited.
“How?” she asked eventually, her voice shaky.
I was never one to beat around the bush, so I didn’t start now. “I killed him.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God.”
Still unable to tell if she was upset or just in shock, I waited to see what she would say next.
She grasped the chair at the kitchen table and collapsed into it, but didn’t say another word.
I sat next to her. “I’m not sorry I did it, and I would do it again, but I’m sorry if it hurts you. I never wanted that for you.”
Reaching out for me, she cupped my chin. “Donovan, it hurts but mostly because my son had such a bad father he felt it necessary to kill him.” Her voice cracked as she continued. “I did that to you, and for that I am sorry.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t blame you for that, Mum.”
> We sat together quietly, lost in our own thoughts, and I realised something. It’s easy to blame yourself for shit in your life and in the lives of those you love, but it just holds you back. Mum had blamed herself for Marcus for far too long, and I’d blamed myself for Ashley for too long as well, and both of us had stopped living our lives fully.
“We have to stop this shit,” I muttered, standing.
Looking up at me with a frown, she asked, “What?”
“All this blame. It gets us nowhere. Shit happened, and we survived it. We’re still breathing, but we’re not living. We need to stop blaming ourselves and get on with life.”
She stood, too. “When did you get so smart, baby?” she asked, softly.
“I don’t know, but I’m running with it.”
“Yeah, you’re right, it’s time to move forward.” She said the words, but I could hear the doubt in her voice. This was going to take her some time to deal with. Understandable seeing as Marcus had been a presence in her life for so long.
I embraced her, and when I let her go, I said, “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”
A small smile brightened her face. “I thought you might.”
“How?”
“You’ve changed lately, and I’m pretty sure those kinds of changes are usually inspired by a good woman. You better bring her over soon, because I want to meet the woman who has helped you.”
“I’ll do that,” I promised.
I knew she would love Layla, and I was fairly confident Layla would love her, too.
A man was lucky if he had one good woman in his life.
I had two.
***
I left Mum’s house and drove to see Madison. She had the day off from work, so I was headed to her house. I’d spoken with her on the phone about Marcus, and even though she said she was okay with it, I wanted to watch her face while she spoke the words. That would tell me the truth.
She answered the door with a mixing bowl in her arms and flour all over her face. Smiling at me, she said, “Just in time, big brother, we’ve just put some cookies in the oven.”
“We?” I asked as I walked inside. The fact she was cooking concerned me. Was it a distraction from thinking about Marcus’s death?
