His Last Chance : Sons of Lost Souls MC Book Seven

by Ellie R. Hunter

  However, I sat myself down on the couch an hour ago, and I have no plans to haul myself up for anything. My eyelids droop heavily, and it feels so good until someone knocks on the door.

  I could sit here and pretend I’m not home, but after the third knock, I realize they’re not giving up.

  When I finally inch my way off the couch and to the door, I find a prospect standing on my porch, his hands dug deep inside his pockets, looking like he wants to be anywhere else but here. He seems too young to be wearing the prospect patch. His shaved head only makes him look menacing, not older.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Kyle. Zach sent me over to collect his things, said there wasn’t much.”

  He did, did he? This is just another hit, and I’m not sure how many more I can take. I saw a difference in him earlier I haven’t seen before, a cold hardness I believed was the end of us, but there was still that small chance I felt in my gut, telling me we’d figure our shit out.

  I can’t be expected to fight this any longer. I don’t know what he’s playing at or why he’s doing this, but I can’t fight a brick wall. Not yet, anyway.

  I open the door wider, and Kyle walks inside with a grim smile. I wave for him to follow me, leading him up the stairs and into the bedroom.

  “There’s a holdall under the bed. You can empty the drawers by the window, and his toiletries are in the bathroom. He has two guns hidden: one in the pantry downstairs, and one taped under the side unit in the hall.”

  He halts in dragging the bag out from under the bed, frowning.

  “Won’t you keep one?”

  “No, take them both. I have no need for such things in my house with a baby on the way.”

  If Zachery isn’t around, then I don’t want any part of his world lingering here. Besides, it’s not like I know how to shoot.

  He works swiftly in dumping Zach’s clothes into the bag before heading for the bathroom.

  Out in the hall, he jerks his head to the second bedroom door. “What about in here?” he asks, opening the door to the baby’s nursery.

  I’m about to tell him there’s nothing of Zach’s in there, but he steps farther into the room, whistling as he takes it all in.

  “When are you due?” he inquires, taking in the half-painted walls and unbuilt furniture.

  “In four days.”

  His brows knit together as he takes another look around. “Shouldn’t this lot be fixed up by now?”

  I lean against the doorframe for support and sigh. “I’ve been on Zachery to finish it, but as you can see…” I sweep my hand around to show him rather than finish my sentence. I’ve tried myself, but I never get far.

  “Have you got someone to help you before the baby comes?”

  I was planning to hire Gary Holmes, the town’s handyman, but I just haven’t gotten around to calling him yet.

  “Okay.” He dumps Zachery’s holdall of belongings onto the floor. “Give me a few hours, and it’ll be done before I leave.”

  Mouth hanging open, I stand there looking a fool.

  “You’re going to have all this done by the end of the day?”

  “Sure. I’ll finish the first coat of paint and build the furniture while it dries. This isn’t my first rodeo. Go on, and go put your feet up.”

  The words I’ve been wanting to hear for months come from a prospect’s mouth. A stranger being more helpful than the father of my child. How the fuck does that work?

  Instead of going to rest, I plod down the stairs and grab him one of Zachery’s beers from the fridge.

  He’s not the man I wanted to set up the nursery, but I’m grateful he’s here. I quickly check how much cash I have in my purse and shove the four twenty-dollar bills into my back pocket.

  Upstairs, Kyle works swiftly, and I sit down in the rocking chair I’d put together myself a few weeks ago. It must be sturdy, because my fat ass hasn’t broken it yet.

  I can’t bear the silence any longer.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you doing this because you want to impress the club, or because you would have done it regardless of wearing the prospect patch?”

  He continues to work as he answers with, “I doubt I would’ve been here if it weren’t for the club. But, if I were, I would’ve offered either way.”

  I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better. The idea of him doing it because of some club notion is about as worse as Zach not bothering at all. It goes to show there are still good people in the world.

  “Do you know what you’re having?” he asks, opening the paint tin.

  “A boy.”

  We settle into another bout of silence, and I focus on the walls as he glides the paint roller up and down. It’s not long before my eyelids droop and fatigue sets in. There’s something soothing about not being alone. The small, shuffling noises he makes lulls me into a relaxed state.

  I don’t know what’s going on with Zachery, if this breakup is permanent or if it’s something we’ll work out, but knowing progress is being made in the baby’s room brings me peace.

  For the next five hours, I doze in and out of sleep, trying to keep Kyle company while he puts together the crib and changing table.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you while I’m here?” he inquires, stretching his arms over his head.

  Before I can answer, his phone rings, and he picks it up from where he placed it by the window earlier. When he answers, I immediately hear Zach’s muffled voice come through the line.

  “Why aren’t you back yet?”

  What the hell gives him the right to talk to him like that! I’m on my feet and across the room, snatching the phone from his hand before I can think twice.

  “Because he’s been painting your son’s nursery and setting up his furniture. Unlike you, he’s not an asshole.”

  I shove the phone back at Kyle’s chest and try to calm down. My heart’s thumping and my hands are shaking. How fucking dare he. I hear him barking something I don’t catch clearly before the call ends, and Kyle shoves the phone inside his pocket.

  “I best get back. He didn’t sound so happy.”

  I hate the thought of him getting into trouble for helping me. It’s not right.

  “Don’t worry about him, he’s pissed with me. Thank you for everything, I truly appreciate it… Really, thank you.”

  I can’t express to him how grateful I am. Pulling out the cash, I thrust it at him.

  “Here, take this. It’s a lot less than what I would’ve had to pay out, but it’s still something.”

  He waves my hand away and bends down to pick up the holdall. Throwing it over his shoulder, he makes to leave, and my fury builds. Following him through the house, my hand reaches out and picks up my car keys from the dish by the front door. Following him outside, I head for my car, Kyle watching me silently as he dumps Zach’s bag into the back of his truck.

  I bring my car to life, and with one destination in mind, I follow him all the way to the club.

  I don’t know where my energy’s coming from. Maybe the pent-up anger is finally giving me something to latch on to, to move around without feeling like the size of a boulder. My anger spikes to new levels the closer I get. As usual, I have no trouble driving through the gates.

  Once Kyle parks, he doesn’t get out immediately. Digging out one of Zach’s lighters from my purse, I calmly climb out of the car and walk into the bar to order a bottle of vodka. It’ll work just fine.

  Back outside, I get there just as Kyle’s grabbing Zach’s stuff out of his truck. Snatching it out of his hand, I pull out every piece of clothing inside and toss them into a pile. Unscrewing the bottle of Vodka, I pour it over the pile until it’s empty.

  “Nina, what the fuck are you doing?”

  Flicking open the lighter, I thumb over the wheel. A small flame flickers before me, and without a care in the fucking world—thanks to the man I love—I go to throw it on the bundle. />
  Hearing footsteps getting closer, I don’t look up. All I can see is my relationship about to go up in flames. We were meant to be a family. He promised me he’d always be at my side, and he lied. Why does he get to walk away so easily? How can he leave us like we mean nothing to him?

  “Put the lighter down, Nina,” JJ pleads.

  He, Harper, and Alannah are edging closer to me. When a cool breeze hits my face, I feel the wetness running down my cheeks. Great. Now everyone will see my tears.

  “Come on, Nina, why don’t we go inside? We can talk,” Harper offers.

  Alannah then steps forward, her hands up in a placating manner. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this won’t make you feel better.”

  I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?

  I throw the lighter onto the alcohol-soaked clothes, and the heat from the growing flames shooting into the air warms me through to my soul. It’s not like he doesn’t have the cash to replace it all. It’s not like I’ve taken a penny from him.

  JJ orders someone to go for a bucket of water before he’s at my side, guiding me away from the fire, which is flickering higher than I expected.

  Alannah was wrong, because I do feel better. For now, anyway.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” he says, his hand warm on my shoulder.

  “You don’t know what I need,” I mumble, shrugging out from under his touch.

  “Yeah, I reckon I don’t.”

  I move away from him, intending to leave, when a motorcycle rides through the gates. It’s Zach.

  Good. He can see what he’s doing to me—see what he’s done to us.

  I’m frozen in place as he climbs off his bike and struts toward me, or the fire being put out by another prospect.

  “I thought I’d personally deliver your shit to you,” I snap at him.

  His eyes cut to the burnt pile of his belongings, a charred mess, and then back to me.

  “I guess you’re owed this.”

  That’s all he has to say? No reaction at all?

  “I honestly thought you’d come home, but I see now I was wrong.”

  He says fuck all. I’m sure later it’ll infuriate me, but for now, it’s probably wise of him to keep his mouth shut. The last piece of my heart finally breaks, yet instead of losing my mind, I straighten my shoulders and walk away. You can’t argue with silence.

  I don’t care about the club. I don’t care that this is the last time I’ll be here. The only one I care about now is the little nugget growing in my belly. I thought Zachery was “the one,” but I was wrong, and fuck if it hurts. However, I can and will raise our child alone. I’ll never let our baby boy down like his father has managed to do before he’s even born.

  Zachery

  I don’t move. The smell of burnt clothes fills the air while brothers murmur around me.

  “Have you and Nina broken up?” Harper asks, stepping up beside me.

  “She’s burning his shit, so what do you think?” Myles laughs from somewhere behind me. Trust that fucker to enjoy this.

  “She’s due to give birth any day,” Harper points out.

  “I’m sure he’s aware of that, babe,” JJ tells her, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

  I glance back down at the scorched mess on the ground. If Nina hasn’t realised it already, she’ll see now that I’m no good for her or the baby.

  “Zach, what’s going on?” Harper badgers, shoving me.

  “We’re over.”

  It’s all I’m saying, though it should be obvious. I don’t have to stand here and explain shit to anyone.

  “And the baby?”

  “Leave it,” I growl.

  “No, I won’t leave it. Breaking up with her this close to giving birth to your child is a dick move, but you’re going to be there for the baby, aren’t you, Zach?”

  I ignore her, silently begging JJ to get her away from me. Her snort tells me my plea wasn’t heard. “You’re not that kind of asshole.”

  “I guess I am.”

  I head back to my bike and ride to my parents’ house, because no one will give me any grief there. Hell, no one even talks to each other, and they sure as shit won’t notice I’m around. A house thick with tension and silence is all that exists now. It’s becoming difficult to remember the good times we shared in that home. Nina remarked once she was looking forward to making happy memories there, like I had had during my childhood. It stayed with me all this time, but all I see is fear for every laugh shared, along with a thousand tears that will follow. The bad always follows the good, but lately, the bad drowns it all out, making all the good become a distant memory, only to be lost forever, like it never existed.

  Both my parents’ cars are parked in the drive when I pull up, and I take a minute to breathe through the past haunting my every thought before cutting the engine. The first thing I hear are raised voices, and something smashing coming from inside. I jump off my bike and let myself into the house.

  “You’re not fucking selling!” Dad roars.

  I guess the silent phase of their grief is over. It only took months and months.

  “It’s mine! It’s my decision, and there’s nothing you can do or say to change my mind!” Mom screams back at him. I walk toward the kitchen to find her standing by the sink, and Dad with his palms resting on the table, his jaw tight.

  “Son, we weren’t expecting you,” he mutters, standing to his full height.

  “Obviously. What’s going on?”

  “Where’s Nina? She hasn’t been around in a while,” Mom responds instead of answering.

  “I guess she’s at home.”

  “You guess?” Dad questions.

  “I moved out.”

  The silence I’ve come to hear here returns for a beat, and then they’re both at it again.

  “Why?” Dad snaps.

  I shrug. “We weren’t working.”

  “Yes, you were,” Mom points out, like she knows what’s been going on while hiding away in her bedroom, ignoring the world.

  “You’re having a baby,” Dad counters incredulously.

  As if I could forget.

  I came here so I wouldn’t have to hear this shit. Ignoring the both of them, I walk out back and fall into a garden chair.

  Digging out a joint, I light it up, the flame from the lighter reminding me of Nina’s actions at the club. I should’ve expected her to pull a stunt like that.

  Inhaling hard, I hold in the smoke for a second too long, and exhale until my lungs stop burning. It’s better to feel nothing. It’s even better to get so high, you can’t think clearly too.

  The back door opens and slams shut. Rolling my head, I see my dad sitting himself in the chair across the table from me.

  “I’m not having anything to do with the baby,” I state before he can come at me.

  Stunned silence hangs between us, but he gets over it quickly.

  “What the fuck did you just say?”

  “You heard me. Before you say anything, it’s what’s happening. I’ve made my choice.”

  Sighing, he sits back, focusing his gaze on me.

  “When… When India was born, I couldn’t think straight because I was scared shitless. I was happy, and so overwhelmed by this tiny little being, but—”

  “It’s not the same,” I cut in.

  “I didn’t raise you to run out on the people who need you the most,” he advises, his voice turning sharp.

  “Like you didn’t run out on the club?”

  Two can play this game, and it knocks whatever argument he has coming out of the water.

  “Besides, it’s for the best.” I shouldn’t have to explain it to anyone. Not when I can’t explain it to the one person who needs an explanation the most.

  “Best for you, maybe, but not for Nina or the baby.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  Pushing up out of the chair, I don’t bother saying goodbye. There’s no point in staying here, having to listen to everyone tell me
how to live my own damn life.

  Within moments, I’m on my bike. I shouldn’t be riding, as I’ve smoked far too much today. I should be heading for the club, not riding to the one place that only triples my pain.

  The cemetery.

  It’s late when I ride up to India’s grave. The dirt has long settled, and grass has fully grown over where her coffin was lowered into the ground. Half the flowers placed by her headstone are dying off. Soon they’ll be dead, just like her, and they’ll be swept away into memory, just like her.

  Closing my eyes, I can faintly hear her telling me to go home, to apologise, and to hold my old lady and our child. Sometimes, when I’m here, her voice is like a whisper, but other times, she’s screaming at me. Tonight, she sounds like a song floating on the wind. She died because she was a part of the club, important to the right people for revenge to be taken. I’m the club through and through, and Nina won’t be. That night changed everything, and I regret it’s taken me this long to put shit right. I should’ve walked away a long time ago and kept her at a safe distance. The patch is everything to me, but it comes with a price. It’s a price I’m not prepared to pay, costing someone their life. Perhaps brothers have gotten it wrong over the years, believing they can protect the ones they love and still be the men they need to be. Dad’s been a Lost Soul nearly all his life, and look how it turned out for him. I was there that night. I saw that prick hold my sister against him, pointing his gun to her head. A part of me—though petrified he would kill her—believed he’d let her go because she was a woman, an innocent. She didn’t kill his brother, so she would be okay, if a little banged up. The sound of the shot not only echoed around the bar, but through every single person there. The thud of her lifeless body collapsing to the floor still reverberates through my head like it happened yesterday. The stench of her blood filling the air as it seeped out and pooled around her body still lingers in my nose. There was nothing I could’ve done. My Mom and Dad don’t have the memories I have. They lost their child, but they weren’t forced to watch it.

  “I thought I’d find you here.”

  I turn my head and find Cas standing five feet away, a cigarette sitting snugly behind his ear, though he won’t smoke it. This is what he does now. It’s become a comfort of sorts to him, to know it’s there, but doesn’t need lit.