“Where did you get this from?” I ask.
“It’s some stuff one of my footy mate’s hooked me up with. It’s all good. I’ve used it before.” The time it takes Benji to say the three sentences worries me, but I don’t get to examine it when he drops to his knees and lifts my skirt for me. Swabbing over my femoral vein with the alcohol wipe, Benji blows on it and grins up at me.
“What are you waiting for? I’m gonna be on my way down before you’ve even started.”
Taking the cap off of the syringe, I flick it to remove the air bubbles and depress the plunger so it’s ready. Knocking his hand out of the way, I feel for my femoral pulse with my middle finger and then lay my index finger next to it, locating the femoral vein. With a deep breath, I line up the end of the needle and insert the sharp point into my skin. I let the poison I crave flow through my system.
It hits me. Much harder than usual and I drop the syringe to the floor. My heart beat pounds in my ears and I literally hold on for dear life as the rush of euphoria heats my body like lava flowing through my veins. Flopping back onto the stool, I grasp the edge of the workbench and close my eyes in an effort to stop the world from spinning out of control.
I brace myself for the ride of my life.
CHAPTER NINE
BENJI
Present Day
“What the fuck’s going on in here.”
Ignoring Timber’s shouted question as he barges through the sliding door into the workshop, I stumble toward Lacey as she falls onto the work stool. She doesn’t look good. Her face is white, her eyes screwed shut as if she’s in pain, and I can see her shaking as if she’s stuck in an icy-cold blizzard.
My mind is finding it hard to process anything, my own high holding me hostage, yet even with my inability to make sense of what’s going on, panic’s setting in and the small amount of rational thought I can muster is screaming that I need to help her. Now. I lied through my teeth when I said I’d tried the meth my teammate sold me. I hadn’t, and I think I misjudged its potency when I mixed it. I’ve ridden some wild rides after I’ve shot up but I’ve never had one that’s rocked me this hard.
“I said, what the fuck are you doing?” Timber yells at me again, grabbing my arm and throwing me to the hard floor. He follows me to the ground, sitting on me, before he yanks my sleeve up and holds my arm in the air so the other person in the room can see the new marks in the crook of my elbow.
“Benji, you promised!” Maddi’s scandalized voice breaks through the numbness of the meth as it works it magic and dulls every part of me. The sound of my pulse roars in my ears, deafening me, and my whole body begins to shake uncontrollably. As the room spins, twisting up and down as if the world is trying to flip off its axis, I try to move out from under Timber and fight my way to Lacey. She’s turning blue, still holding onto the workbench as if it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth, yet nobody seems to be paying her any attention.
“Benji. Stop fighting. Please!” Maddi’s voice breaks through the fog that’s overtaking me.
Reaching one hand towards her when she falls to her knees next to me, I beg her as loudly as I can. “Mads...Lacey...Help her.”
My twins head snaps in Lacey’s direction, her mouth dropping open as she takes in her friend’s precarious state. Her face loses all color and she looks between me on the floor and Lacey at the workbench, indecision clear in her shocked expression.
I can’t take it anymore. My body won’t stop shaking no matter how hard I try to control it. The room tips upside down and my eyesight deserts me, leaving me in total blackness.
“LACEY!” I yell in one last effort to get someone to help her before I lose my grip on reality.
***
“Lacey! Someone help her!”
My own screams wake me from my sleep and I jolt into an upright position. Rivulets of sweat runs down my bare torso. I make my shaking hands let go of the sheets that I have scrunched in my fists and concentrate on slowing my breathing.
“Are you all right?” Joel’s worried voice breaks through the darkness of my room at the Clubhouse, making me flinch. He makes his way to my bed with concentrated effort, flicking on the bedside lamp, and taking a seat on the edge. Worry covers his features, ramping up the guilt that’s been choking me for the last three weeks.
“It was just a nightmare. Lacey’s okay. Doc said you should be able to sleep all night soon. You’re through the worst of the withdrawal.”
Nodding, I reach for the bottle of water next to my bed and chug it down in an attempt to combat my constant bloody thirst. Maddi, Timber, Joel, Kyle, and even JJ, who I barely know, have spent the last three weeks rotating through this room as I’ve fought my way through nausea, constant shaking, an inability to eat, and body aches to end all aches. It’s taken every ounce of willpower I possess not to smash my way through the human wall of well-meaning people surrounding me and hunt down a hit to put an end to my suffering. The only thing that’s stopped me, apart from the pain and hurt that’s ageing my twin in front of my eyes, has been the vision of Lacey as she turned blue that night.
“You think you could eat? I’m starving. Gonna grab myself a sandwich.”
It takes me a moment to gauge if I think my stomach will hold something.
“Yeah, I reckon I could eat sandwich. Ham. And don’t put that fucking chutney shit you like on it.”
A gigantic grin breaks over Joel’s face and I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Welcome back, bro,” he quips as he pulls the bedroom door shut behind him.
What feels like the first genuine, non-drug-induced positive emotion I’ve had in years wraps around my heart and I lean back against the headboard of my bed with my unbroken arm behind my head. I’ve forgotten how good it feels to have a conversation where I don’t have to think about every word that comes out of my mouth in case it incriminates me. Having nothing to hide is a good feeling.
Well, not exactly nothing to hide my subconscious taunts me. I’m still hiding the fuck-up my father’s holding over my head as blackmail. Plus, there’s the unfortunate fact that Sherri’s still out there. Lurking. Like a snake ready to strike and bring me down.
“Knock. Knock.” Timber announces as he strides into the room without waiting for an answer.
I stare at the huge asshole when he stands at the end of my bed and looks down on me with a ridiculous smirk on his face.
“What?”
“If I was you, I’d show a little more gratitude to the motherfucker who’s sprung you from this shithole for the day.”
“You shitting me?”
“Nope.” He pulls his phone from his back pocket and checks it. “Doc gave you the all-clear for a day trip. It’s four-thirty now. I’m going to grab a few hours of sleep. Meet me in the bar at nine.”
“Will do.”
CHAPTER TEN
LACEY
Present Day
“How are you feeling today, honey?”
My mother’s concerned voice grates on my last nerve, and I turn my head away from her. Staring at the wall of my room in the stupid detox center they checked me into for thirty days, against my will, I ignore her. Waking up in here three days after my overdose was not the crowning moment of my existence.
“Please talk to me.”
I shake my head. Since she banned Maddi from coming to see me, and my counselor at the center confiscated my mobile phone so I can’t contact the outside world, I haven’t uttered a word. I will not speak until I get out of here and find out if Benji’s okay. Every time I ask about him, my father explodes into anger while my mother weeps. I don’t have a clue if that means they blame him for my OD or if he’s dead.
Each night before I fall asleep in this lonely room, I pray he survived. Watching him convulse on the floor of the workshop, screaming my name, was the only reason I was able to fight off the dark cloud of unconsciousness for as long as I did.
“Lacey.” Dad’s gruff voice breaks through my thoughts. “I�
�ve had enough of your pouting. We’ve never been so disappointed with you. This behavior, and the drug use, isn’t you at all. You’re to have nothing to do with that Club.”
That’s it. I’m sick of his accusations.
Sitting up abruptly, my head pounds and a wave of nausea overcomes me. Swallowing it down, I turn and face my parents for the first time since I discovered they’d admitted me.
“I’m an adult. You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Pointing at the door, my worries for Benji, my guilt at setting both of us down this path, reaches boiling point. “I hate you. GET OUT! JUST GET OUT!”
Mom bursts into tears at my outburst and my father strides toward me. Seizing me by the shoulders, he shakes me. “Stop it. Lacey, we’ve seen the x-rays. We know what’s been happening to you. We know that you’ve been beaten, had your bones broken. I could swallow your association with that club of criminals while you were seeing Connor because I knew you were safe with him, but—”
Dad’s words shatter what’s left of my pride. They know and it kills me—everything I’ve tried to hide, from myself and from everyone I love, is out. Except for one glaring detail.
“It was Connor who hurt me.” The final thread of my sanity snaps as I scream my truth at them. I begin tearing my hair from my scalp. It hurts, although the pain isn’t enough to stop the memories from breaking free. A series of long, piercing shrieks are torn from me as I recall incident after painful incident at Connor’s hand. My mind has cracked to the extent that it feels as if he’s in the room with me, delivering each devastating blow in person, as its corresponding memory resurfaces.
“Call the nurse, Janet,” my father sounds desperate as he orders Mom to find help.
I can hear my mother’s pleading cries as she ushers the nurses into the room. Everything feels as if it’s happening while I’m stuck underwater. The nurses move in slow motion toward me, one of them holding a syringe in her hand. I watch their mouths moving but the words are garbled, coming at me from a distance, their sounds lost before they reach my ears.
The sharp pinch in the top of my arm when one of the nurses inserts the tip of the needle brings me back from the brink of craziness, however it’s not enough to halt the memories. As they break free and attempt to drown me, the only thing keeping me from finding a window to leap out of and end this nightmare, is Benji’s face as it floats in front of my wavering vision. As my body relaxes from whatever sedation they just forced into my system, a warm blanket of comfort embraces me, calming my anxiety. Benji’s appearance in front of me is so realistic that I finally believe that he did indeed die when we overdosed.
His image begins to fade and I reach out for him with a shaking hand.
“Benji,” I call as loudly as my dry throat will allow. The room falls into darkness and he disappears from sight. “Wait for me. I’m coming with you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BENJI
Present Day
“You’re late.” Timber grumbles as I walk into the almost empty bar. The previous lockdown was called off the day after my overdose so it’s only been my family plus Timber and JJ staying overnight at the Club with the single members who live here full-time.
“Fuck you.”
Stomping my way to the bar, I nod at the prospect who’s serving for the morning, silently demanding a cup of coffee. He looks at me with disbelief and turns his back on me.
What the fuck?
“Ahem,” Timber clears his throat before laughing at me. His laughter doesn’t reach his eyes, setting my bullshit detector off. “Pretty sure he doesn’t have to wait on you anymore. Prospect.”
Fuck. I forgot. Just what I need to top off the shit morning I’ve already had. This is my first time out of the bedroom they put me in and I feel like a newborn cub trying to find its feet in the wild. Everything I’ve tried to do so far today has become a lesson in patience. I spent an hour trying to zip up my fucking jeans, my shaking hands not helping me deal with the loss of my dominant hand or my fucked up hand-eye coordination from the DTs. Having Joel with his broken hands come to my rescue so I didn’t keep Timber waiting much longer, and help me pull on a t-shirt after he zipped my pants was enough to make my previously good mood drop into my boots. Wearing clothes for the first time in nearly a month feels foreign, the fabric irritating me for no reason except for the fact that my body feels as if it doesn’t belong to me.
“Here, Benj.” Maddi holds out the cut that I’m supposed to be wearing as she walks into the bar. She’s dressed in a suit, appearing ready to head to work, even though it’s already past ten in the morning. “I sewed the patches on for you. You’re good to go...if you’re still serious about prospecting?”
Shrewd eyes move over my face as she waits for my answer.
“I’m still doing it.” I take the cut from her and attempt to shrug it over my shoulders. She ends up having to assist me, much to my annoyance. The touch of the leather as it settles on me feels a million times heavier than it should. The weight of the expectations that come with wearing it is enough to set my teeth on edge. I crave the euphoric oblivion that crystal meth brings more in this moment than I have in the previous three weeks combined.
I had a moment of belonging the day I was nominated that made me think I might’ve been making the right decision for once in my life. Right now, I’m filled with too many doubts to be sure if I’m making this choice to redeem myself or to satisfy Dad’s warped need to see an O’Brien remain at the top.
Not that I really have a choice. Nothing’s changed just because I’m three weeks clean. Dad still has shit over my head; Sherri’s still out there waiting to take me down; and my knee’s still fucked. As much as I’ve tried to escape this for so long, it’s looking like it’s my destiny.
Another O’Brien bites the dust; selling their soul to the Black Shamrocks MC.
“If you’re sure...” Maddi trails off as she takes a sip of the coffee the prospect who ignored me must have placed in front of her. Shooting daggers at the lazy cunt, I make my way behind the bar and fix my own cup.
“Anyone heard from Dad?” I ask, pretending that I don’t care about the answer. He might be able to force me into prospecting, but I’m not going ahead with his hair-brained scheme to challenge for President if I can get away with it.
Timber grunts, his expression filling with rage at the mention of his former President before he answers me. “He’s gone back to the farm. Seems intent on drinking himself into an early grave. He’s demanding to see Princess to explain.”
Turning to Maddi at Timbers statement, I watch as she puts her empty mug on the bar, and shoots me a fake smile. Her eyes hold her pain at our father’s desertion, even as she tries to hide it. Brushing down her shirt, she buttons up her jacket and smooths her hair. “I don’t have the energy to deal with him right now. Mik’s my priority.”
Watching her try not to crumble, I stride out from behind the bar and give her an awkward hug. My stupid, fucking broken arm gets in the way; however, she finds a way to melt into me. Her shuddering frame sends a dagger through my icy heart and I pat her shoulder with my free hand, feeling useless.
“Have you seen him?”
“Every day,” she whispers. “I don’t know how much longer I can last without him. I need to touch him.”
Her confession hangs in the air; the desperation and need in her words clear for all to hear. Timber and I exchange glances of mutual frustration over her head. There’s not a thing we can do to fix this for her and it pisses me off.
Unbeknownst to Maddi, Dad worked with the Mavericks and Thomas Taylor to take Mad Dog down, and even though the Shamrocks have disposed of the evidence I left behind that night in my drug-induced haze, the new anti-biker laws the state government’s passed, can keep him locked up until his trial. There’s no such thing as innocent until proven guilty for bikers in Queensland anymore.
Pulling away from me, she brings herself to her full height and paints on a blank expression
. False composure in place, she stands on her tip-toes and kisses Timber’s cheek before giving me another hug.
“I took the morning off so I’m heading to see him now before I go to work. You can come if you want?” she asks me, hope written all over her pale face.
“NO,” Timber barks, urgency in his voice. “You can’t go today.”
At his loud declaration, every head in the bar turns to him. He blanches, apparently aware that his response was over the top. Timber’s an open book—way too straightforward to pull off deception with ease. Guilt is written all over him as he shifts from foot-to-foot and avoids making eye contact with Maddi by looking at the floor.
“Why?” she asks him, taking a step toward him and grasping his chin, she tilts his head upright until he meets her inquisitive gaze.
“No reason,” he mumbles.
A grin breaks across my face at his meek behavior. He might be head over heels for the good Doc, and ready to start a family with her, but Maddi’s still his “Princess”. She has him wrapped around her little finger. Probably always will.
“Lucas?”
Speak of the devil. JJ’s voice breaks the staring contest that the pair in front of me are currently engaged in as she makes her way into the room.
“Why are you still here? You should have left over an hour ago.”
Timber snaps out of his Maddi-induced stupor, nodding at me to follow him.
“You’re right, Doll,” he addresses his Old Lady, sweeping her into his arms after she comes to a stop next to him. Kissing her while he holds her in the air, he puts her back on her feet and rubs her still-flat stomach. “I’ll be back later tonight. Take care of yourself and our báibín.”
With Maddi sufficiently distracted by JJ, we leave the two women giggling together, exclaiming to each other about how cute Timber’s acting.
“Báibín?” I ask with one eyebrow raised, feigning ignorance as we walk through the parking area.
Seeking Redemption Page 8
