by Bella Jewel
“Stop telling me how I feel,” he growls, low, top lip curling as he stares at me. “You know nothing about how I feel. I mean what I say, there is so much of you in my head I can’t get away.”
“Then why can’t you just let Penny go?”
“I don’t fucking know!” he roars, grabbing his hair in frustration. “Fuck. I don’t fucking know! You’re most of it, you’re the thing I wake up thinkin’ about, and the thing I go to sleep thinkin’ about, you light a fuckin’ fire in my soul. But when I go to do it, to cut her out, to tell her it’s you, I can’t. Because I don’t want to live without her, either.”
“Well, you don’t get to have it both fucking ways,” I scream, my own emotions getting the better of me. “Damn you Boston, you don’t get it how you want it. So, let me make this damned choice for you. I’m done. I don’t want you to pick me. Do you understand me? I don’t want to be a fucking choice. I don’t want you. I don’t want this. I’m finished. Go to Penny, your choice has been made.”
His eyes flash and he lunges forward, grabbing hold of me and hauling my body against his. “No,” he growls. “Now you’re fuckin’ lying.”
“No,” I squirm. “No, I’m not. I’m finished. I don’t want any contact with you. I want you to leave my house and never come back. Is that clear?”
I look up, holding his eyes, and together, our emotions flare. His eyes burn into mine, but I don’t back down. I’ve made my choice. I’ve made it and I’m not going to change it because I can’t take this anymore, and I don’t want to. I need to be freed of this feeling that is crushing my heart, and the only way I can do that, is to suck it up, and break my own heart.
Sometimes, that’s the kindest thing you can do for yourself, is break your own heart.
“I don’t believe you,” he growls. “I don’t fuckin’ believe you. You want me.”
“Oh,” I say, holding his eyes, knowing my words are about to crush him, but if that’s what it’ll take to get him to go, I’ll do it. I can’t handle the pain anymore. “I more than want you, Boston, I’m falling in love you. I’ve stupidly gone and fallen in love with my best friend, and the only man that’s ever made me feel the way you do. And that’s why I’m not backing down. I’ll get over it. I’ll hurt, I’ll scream, I’ll cry, but I’ll move on. And I’ll find a man that loves me as much as I fucking love you right now.”
His hands slip from my waist and he steps back, holding my eyes, his flashing. He doesn’t say anything, and for a moment, I think he’s not going to.
“Chantelle...”
“I need you to leave,” I say, my voice firm, but inside, I feel like I’m dying. “I need you to go and leave me alone. I’m finished. We’re finished.”
He stares at me.
I turn and walk out of the bedroom and down the hall. I reach the front door, and it takes him a few moments to come out of the room and reach it. He stops when he does, and stares at me, his eyes a mixture of such emotion and confusion, I have to look at my feet when I say, “Don’t contact me again.”
He steps out of the apartment and I shut the door, locking it.
And then, I drop to my knees and cry.
Because damn him.
Damn him to hell and back.
I wish I had never met Boston.
~*~*~*~
CHANTELLE
No.
No.
A big, god damned no.
Please.
This can’t be happening. This cannot happen.
I stare down at the white stick in my hand, and I just stare, and stare, and stare. It has been a long week since I kicked Boston out, and I haven’t heard a thing from him, or Penny, in that time. I’ve hurt. I’ve cried. I’ve sat here and gone over the worst-case scenario with Saskia, telling her they’re probably together and everyone is scared to tell me.
I’ve been over it all.
And in all of that, I didn’t realize my period was late.
Not until today, when one of the girls from work mentioned she had just gotten hers, and I realized, I hadn’t gotten mine on time. I was three days late. I’m never late. Not ever. I avoided it, thought of anything else, but knew that I’d have to test. Because, I’d been with Boston this month, and it was the night I was drunk at Saskia’s place, and I’m starting to think I didn’t take the pill that night.
I don’t remember.
But, clearly, I didn’t.
Because the test in my hands, has a blazing positive symbol.
I’m pregnant.
With Boston’s child.
What in the ever-loving hell have I done?
Panic, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before in my life, bubbles in my chest and I start to go over every possible scenario. I can’t have Boston’s baby, but I can’t not keep it, either. I’m not that kind of girl. What the hell am I going to do? Tears burst forth and run down my cheeks, and I put the test down on the counter and go to find my phone.
Someone knocks on my door.
Now. Of all the times. Someone knocks.
Dammit.
I swipe my eyes, take a deep breath, and walk over. Opening it.
A hard punch is what I’m greeted with.
I stumble backwards, clutching my eye and crying out in agony. I’m taken aback, I don’t know what’s happening. I try to open my eyes, but a boot connects with my ribs sending me launching even further into my own living room. I scream out and roll, curling into a ball. I might have only just found out about my baby, but I instinctively roll to protect it.
Someone grabs my hair, and I scream out in pain as my head is jerked back and another punch is delivered to my mouth.
I kick and squirm, trying to fight, but whoever it is, is tossing me about like a rag doll. I can’t even get a good look. I don’t know who it is, or what they want, all I know is they’re going to beat me in my own home, and there seems almost nothing I can do about it, except lay here and cry out in bitter agony as another punch is delivered to my face.
Then I’m tossed, hard, across the room. I land on my side with a thump and a gurgled cry. There is blood in my mouth and my vision is blurring from blood dripping down my forehead and into my eye. I’m going to be killed here, if I don’t get up, and get out. I push to my hands and knees as quickly as I can and turn my head to see a pair of boots storming toward me. I scurry quickly, pushing to my feet and running to the cupboard where I keep the gun the club gave me.
I pull it out and spin around quickly, hands trembling, vision blurring, pain radiating through my body, and I look at the man who has now come to a stop in front of me.
“I will shoot, do not fucking doubt it,” I snarl, baring my teeth.
My knees are shaking.
I hope he can’t see that.
The man takes a step back, and I thrust the gun, letting him know I want him to move, and move fast. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
“Got a message for you,” he grates out.
“I got your message loud and clear, I’ll count to three, and then I’ll bust a fucking knee cap, you jerk!”
“Enzo wants his money. This is a warning. You have forty-eight hours.”
With that, he turns and flees out of my house. Only when I stop trembling, do I take a step toward my front door. Then another. And I slam it shut and lock it, then I turn and stagger over to my phone and pick it up, dialing Saskia.
“Hey chicky,” she answers.
“Sas,” I croak.
“Chan ... what is it?”
“I need help.”
Then, I drop to my knees and grip my head, the phone tumbling out from my hands.
I don’t know that I can stay conscious a second longer.
My vision blurs, and I fall to the floor.
~18~
NOW – BOSTON
“Mason,” Saskia calls, dropping her phone and spinning around on her feet, her eyes darting around the club for Mason.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
She looks to me, he
sitates, and then says quickly, “Chantelle is in trouble.”
I’m on my feet before she’s even finished the sentence. I bark out Mason’s name, and he comes into the room followed by Malakai and Koda.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asks.
“Chantelle called me, she sounded ... hurt. She said she’s in trouble and then her phone cut out,” Saskia says, her voice full of panic and concern.
Something clutches at my heart. Something strong, and fuckin’ painful. She’s in trouble? Has someone hurt her? Fuck me. If someone has hurt her, I’ll gut them from head to fuckin’ toe.
“This is all my fault,” Saskia whispers, running her hands down her face as Mason gathers his keys quickly.
“How so? If there is somethin’ we need to know, Saskia, you need to tell us now,” Malakai says, picking up his keys and turning to face Saskia.
“She got a visit from my sister, a few days ago. She threatened her, saying that Enzo wanted money, and if they didn’t get it, they were going to come after her. She made me swear I wouldn’t say anything, she didn’t want...”
Saskia’s eyes swing to me.
She didn’t want me involved.
My chest clenches and rage bubbles in my chest. She was in danger, and because of my own stupid fuckin’ actions, she didn’t tell me.
She kept it to herself, and now she could be hurt, or worse.
“Why didn’t you say somethin’?” Mason asks, staring at his woman.
“Because, she said she wanted a few days, to figure out what to do. You have to understand it from her point of view, she was scared but she doesn’t really have anyone to turn to, that isn’t going to cause a problem for her.”
Fuck.
Fuck me.
“Talkin’ about this ain’t gettin’ us to her,” I grind out. “We need to get to her, fuckin’ now. Any idea where she is?”
Saskia shakes her head. “No, but I’m guessing at home. She worked today which means she’s probably at home because her shift would be done. We need to go there first.”
I move, out the door and to my truck. I’m not waitin’ for a single one of them. I need to get to her. And I need to make sure she’s okay. Because fuck, if it wasn’t for me, she would have told us she was in trouble. She fuckin’ promised me she’d tell me if she was in trouble and she fuckin’ didn’t. I hate myself for that. I fuckin’ hate it because once again, someone is hurt because of me.
That crushes my chest.
I drive like a fuckin’ bat out of hell to her apartment and launch out of my truck the moment it has stopped. I move quickly to her front door, turning the handle, but it’s locked. I pound on it with my fists. “Chantelle!” I bark.
No answer.
But her car is here.
I step back and with a forceful kick, I use my booted foot to slam into the door over and over. It doesn’t fuckin’ move.
“Chantelle!” I bellow.
Nothing.
“I have a key.”
I turn and see a nerdy looking young man rushing over from next door. He doesn’t seem alarmed or concerned there is a biker trying to kick her door in. She must have informed him about us.
“She’s in trouble,” I grind out, panting.
The man unlocks the door and I barrel in quickly, without looking around to see if anyone else is in here. Chantelle is on the ground, laying on her side, and there is blood covering her beautiful fuckin’ face. She’s curled up into a ball, hands covering her stomach, and she’s unconscious. I drop to my knees by her side, lifting her head carefully in my hands and calling out her name.
It takes a minute or two, but slowly her eyes flutter open, both of them red from blood and crying, and she croaks, “Boston?”
“I got you. I got you. Can you sit up?”
“Chan!”
Saskia’s voice fills the room and in a split second, she’s on her knees by my side. “Oh God,” she cries out. “Oh no.”
“Chantelle,” I say, wiping some of the blood from around her eyes. “Can you answer me, sweetheart?”
Her eyes look to mine, and she nods, “I can sit up,” she croaks.
“Saskia, get some warm water, a few cloths, a first aid kit.”
Saskia stands quickly and rushes off. I sit Chantelle up, supporting her head, my heart fuckin’ aching.
“Show me exactly where it hurts, what did they do to you?”
She groans in pain, but speaks, her voice strong. So fucking strong this girl. “It was just one. He hit me a few times, kicked my ribs, and tossed me across the room. I don’t think anything is broken, it just ... it hurts so bad.”
“I know,” I say, my voice gravelly, “And I promise you, I’ll make them fuckin’ pay. But right now, we need to know if you’re okay.”
She nods, and I get to work checking her over. Everything looks bruised, and bloody, but she doesn’t look like she has anything broken. She’s going to be sore for a while, but she’s going to be okay. Saskia returns with the items I asked her for, and I start cleaning Chantelle up, wiping her face, putting ice on her swelling, and then we get her onto the sofa with a blanket.
Only then do Malakai and Koda move forward and kneel in front of her.
“You okay to talk to us about who did this and what’s been goin’ on?” Malakai asks.
Chantelle looks to Saskia, and Saskia smiles weakly, “I told them, I had to. This is too dangerous now.”
Chantelle nods, and her eyes swing to mine. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask her, voice gravelly.
“You know why,” she whispers.
I tense my jaw, but I get it, and I fuckin’ hate that, because it shouldn’t be like this, but it is, and that fuckin’ sucks. She could have lost her life, because she felt like she had no one to turn to, and that’s a shitty ass feeling.
“Tell us exactly what happened,” Malakai asks, cutting it off.
Chantelle tells us, from start to finish, exactly what Enzo and his fucked-out girlfriend have done and said. It’s clear that they’re not messing around, judging by the state she’s in now. Which means Enzo is going to get a little fuckin’ visit from the club, because this shit will not fuckin’ fly.
We’ve had enough.
He’s fuckin’ done with.
“We’ll get on top of this,” I growl. “I fuckin’ promise you that.”
She nods, and Saskia sits next to her, putting an arm around her.
My phone starts ringing, and I glance down to see Penelope’s name flashing on the screen. I have to take it, she’s taking care of my sister which means that I need to be available at all times, in case something goes wrong. I stand and step out of the room a little, answering it.
“Penny, everything okay?”
“Boston,” she whispers. “He’s here. At your house. He’s going crazy.”
“Who?” I growl.
“Ashton. He’s threatening us. I think ... I think he has a gun,” she sobs. “Please help.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
This day couldn’t get any fuckin’ worse could it?
“On my way, you fuckin’ stay inside. I have a gun in my room, cupboard, drawer, find it and fuckin’ use it if you have to. Is Cassie okay?”
“We’re inside, but I’m scared. He’s losing his mind...”
“Be there soon. Hold tight.”
I hang up the phone and turn, rushing toward the door, but I stop when Malakai clears his throat. I turn, and everyone is looking at me. But it’s her, it’s her fuckin’ eyes that get me the hardest. She’s staring at me, almost desperately.
“Penny is in trouble,” I say, “I got to go.”
The flash of pure disappointment that crosses her face makes my feet almost stand glued to the ground. She thinks I’m picking Penny over her, again. But fuck. Fuck. What the hell am I meant to do? They’re in danger. I have to go.
“I have to go, they’re in trouble,” I say, my voice low.
Chantelle looks away.
And
I turn and run out the door.
God fuckin’ dammit.
~*~*~*~
BOSTON
I park my truck outside the house on the road, and move quickly into the front gates, gun in my jeans, and see that fuckin’ pshyco of an ex standing at the door, pounding a fist on it, bellowing out to Penny, gun in one hand, flying around. He’s lost his fucking mind, that much is clear by the way he’s wavin’ that fuckin’ gun around. Probably high as a kite. I pull my gun out, and walk toward him, holding it out in front of me.
I’ll shoot the fucker.
Without fuckin’ hesitation.
“Get the fuck away from my front door,” I growl.
He spins around quickly, letting a shot off that flies past my head. I flinch, but I don’t lower the gun. One look in this man’s eyes, and I can see he’s fuckin’ out of it. He’s not right. Not fuckin’ even close.
“Who the fuck are you?” he barks.
“I’m the owner of this house. I’m the person you just pissed way the fuck off when you came here and started threatenin’ those girls in there.”
“This is none of your business,” he yells, jerking the gun in my direction. “I suggest you walk away.”
I grin at him. “You think I won’t put a bullet in your head? You sick mother fucker. I will gladly put you down. I’m in an especially good mood today.”
“She fuckin’ owes me money!”
I shake my head. “No, she owes you fuck all. I’ll give you a few minutes to get the fuck out of here, before I start shooting.”
“I’ll fuckin’ shoot,” he yells, eyes frantic and wide. “I’ll shoot you if you don’t leave now.”
“Not goin’ to happen.”
I can tell by the way his hands are shaking, he will absolutely shoot if it comes down to it, and that makes me uneasy. He’s not right in the head, and he’s certainly not stable.
“Penelope!” he roars, still looking at me, hand trembling as he holds the gun. “You get the fuck out here, or I’ll shoot him in the fucking face.”
