His Last Chance : Sons of Lost Souls MC Book Seven

by Ellie R. Hunter

  He answers the call with, “What’s up? You and the baby okay?”

  “We’re fine. Your mom was just over. You need to come home because I need to talk to you.”

  “What’s happened? Is she okay?”

  “I really don’t want to do this over the phone. And yes, physically, she’s fine. Please, I just need you to come home, and you should bring your dad if you’re with him. He needs to hear this too.”

  “Um, okay? I’ll track him down and we’ll be right there.”

  Ending the call, I slump down onto the chair while looking over at my son, trying to imagine him grown, wearing the patch. I haven’t really thought that far into the future, being focused more on enjoying the now with him. I know what happened to India was horrifying and tragic— actually, worse than that—and I know other Lost Souls have lost their lives because of the patch, but there are still so many good things about the club. For me, the pros still outweigh the cons, even though when it’s bad, it’s very, very bad.

  I can’t live determining the future when being with Zach has all but made me live for each day.

  Zachery

  I hang up and frown. Nina gave away nothing to what my mom wanted, but it has to be something big for her to not want to tell me over the phone. It’s got me on edge. When I find Dad, I’m not surprised to see him perched at the bar, nursing a drink.

  “You’re not seriously drinking already?” I grunt, stepping up beside him.

  “I haven’t touched a drop… yet.”

  “Good, because I need you to come with me, now.”

  I go to head out, and stop when I don’t sense him behind me. Turning around, I see him still seated on his stool.

  “Dad, Mom stopped by to see Nina, and she’s worried. Let’s go.”

  “Your mom?”

  For a beat, he looks confused, like he can barely remember her. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, hence why we need to go.”

  This time when I head out, he’s quick to catch up. We climb onto our bikes, and just like old times, we ride together.

  I remember the first time I rode with my dad. We’d just finished working on my first machine. And while Mom was adamant I wouldn’t get the keys till my sixteenth birthday, Dad waited for her to leave for the shop and threw them at me, warning me not to breathe a word to her, ever.

  I’ll never forget that day, and today brings hope that this won’t be the last time.

  Parking up out front of the house, I notice Mom’s car isn’t here. Dad walks in behind me, and I find Nina standing by the window, waiting on us by the looks of it.

  “We’re here, so what’s going on?” I ask, sitting on the arm of the chair.

  Dad hovers in the doorway, and her eyes fall sadly on him. “I don’t know how to say this—”

  “Just spit it out, Nina. It can’t be that bad,” Dad growls.

  “Fine. Kristen’s leaving town, and she wants Zach, Sebastian, and me to go with her.”

  Mom’s leaving town? I glance over at Dad, who hasn’t moved from the door, his jaw tense and his eyes hard.

  “Well, that’s not going to happen,” he chokes out, and then clears his throat as he straightens his shoulders.

  “Yeah, about that… She’s got it covered.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask her.

  “When I pointed out your dad wouldn’t let her leave, she said she had a card up her sleeve. She was pretty sure whatever she has on you will be enough to get her out of here.”

  “And you don’t know what that is?” I coax, as Dad seems to have lost his tongue.

  She shakes her head and I sigh. Just when I think things can’t get any worse, I’m proven wrong.

  “Did she have anything else to say?” Dad asks.

  “No. That was pretty much it.”

  Without a goodbye, he walks out. We both look at each other silently while he starts his bike and rides off down the street.

  Nina stands next to me. “What do you think he’s going to do?”

  I want to wrap my arms around her so bad, but she’ll only push me away, and we’ll end up taking ten steps back. We’ve been getting along well lately, and the last thing I want to do is screw that up.

  “I have no idea, but I’m sick of trying to make them right. I don’t want Mom to leave, but maybe it’s what she needs.”

  Never did I think this would be how it ended between them, but losing a child changes you, and both my parents are irrevocably damaged.

  “She said something else. She said us having a son would guarantee his path in life, that he’d be groomed to wear the patch. She also said if it doesn’t kill him, it’ll turn him into a killer, because that’s how the club survives.”

  Exhaling heavily, I pull myself up to my feet. Fuck messing this up.

  I cup her cheeks with both of my hands.

  “You know what we’re about. When it comes to me and my patch, you’ve seen the worst, you know what to expect. But it doesn’t mean our son will live this life if it’s not what he wants. If I had chosen differently, my dad would still have been proud of me. My mom’s hatred for the club blinds her, even more so now, and she never believed I made the choice for myself. I’m promising you, right here, right now—Sebastian will have choices.”

  Turning her face into my palm, her lips scorch my skin, pushing me over the edge. Keeping one hand on her face, I slide the other around the back of her neck and claim her lips.

  I’m not sure if I do it to keep her against me, or because I can’t get enough. Maybe it’s that I always need more when it comes to her, plain and simple. I almost sigh in relief when she doesn’t push me away. Instead, she leans up on her tiptoes and winds her arms around my neck, sweeping her tongue across mine. I should stop, though, before I get too carried away—as she only gave birth last week—yet at this moment, I’m more than happy to have her in my arms and my lips on hers.

  Just as the heat between us starts to build, the kid starts to cry, dowsing ice-cold water over the moment. Breathlessly, Nina pulls away and rushes to his side, cooing over him before I can situate myself. It baffles and soothes me how he always quietens when he’s being held by her. Because of my own insecurities, I almost lost them both.

  Shaking that fear from my mind, I fall on the chair and kick my boots up onto the coffee table. Nina’s quick to nudge them off with her foot and sits on the edge of the table herself with Sebastian and smiles at me.

  “I thought this mom thing would be harder than this,” she admits.

  “It looks good on you, being a mom.” Smiling back at her, I sit forward and brush the back of my knuckles against his little cheek while settling my hand on her knee.

  “There was one point in your pregnancy I looked at your bump and felt nothing for him. I spent months trying to push you away because of him, and now I can’t imagine him not being here.”

  A small gasp escapes her as her eyes dart to mine, pointed and disgusted. I don’t blame her. Hell, it’s how I feel about myself.

  “You have to understand, I never thought about having kids, and it was something I’d only planned to consider way, way in the future. When I saw you were pregnant, I didn’t want him and we both know it. I wouldn’t say I hated the idea of being a dad, I just wasn’t keen on the idea of it.”

  “If your dad hadn’t forced you to come to the birth, if you hadn’t laid eyes on him, would you still think the same way?”

  Staring her in the eyes, I say truthfully, “I have no idea. But I like to think it was easier not to feel anything for him because he wasn’t here. To me, it was like he wasn’t actually real. You carried him, got to go through all the exciting things that come with being pregnant, but I didn’t, so for me it was a lot different.”

  She thinks on this, and looks down at him. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. We can’t ever let him know this, though, or how it was.”

  “I agree. I don’t want him to ever know how it was,” I whisper.


  Her free hand covers mine, squeezing it until I look up at her.

  “Now that you’re home, we need to move forward. We’ll never forget your sister, and she’ll always be with us, but we can’t let her death consume our lives. Sebastian doesn’t deserve to come second to her ghost. He needs his dad in every way.”

  Closing my eyes, I nod. Nina’s right. And because she is, I can finally see a future for us that’s not so full of death and darkness.

  “I can be the dad he needs—I will be the dad he needs.”

  “I think it’s time we put the past where it belongs. It’s not like we can keep going around in circles over this, because it won’t change anything. I want us back as well.”

  “I’ve been back, waiting for you,” I say with a huge grin.

  Over the baby, we share one last kiss before she orders, “You’re still on the couch for now, just so you know.”

  Whatever she wants, she gets. “Sure.”

  I’m still in the house, we’re moving forward, and that’s all I want. The couch isn’t so bad for now. After the first night, your back’s fucked anyway.

  Slade

  What a fucking day. We’re no closer to finding out who fucked with the graves, and then I had to stand there and listen to what my old lady has planned. I’ve been sitting on my bike, parked behind Kris’s car on the drive for the last twenty minutes. And to top the day off, it’s starting to rain.

  I force myself to head inside and find the place still. I know she’s here, as her car’s out front. I walk through the house, not finding her in the living room or the kitchen, so I head upstairs. A chill passes through me as I walk by India’s old room, as if her ghost is hovering nearby, and I keep my eyes locked on my bedroom door. Well, the door that used to be to my room, anyway. It’s ajar, the soft lamp light seeping out into the semi darkness of the hallway. The house is so quiet, I can hear her breathing. Pushing it open, I lean against the doorframe, finding her sitting at the edge of the bed, like she’s been waiting for this moment. I keep quiet, allowing my anger to simmer on the inside while letting her take the time she needs to speak.

  “I’m assuming after being at the club, you’re only here because you’ve spoken with Nina?”

  Before answering her, I glance around the room, finding nothing out of place. Even the bed’s neatly made, with the sheets tucked in under the mattress.

  “Are your bags packed and hiding in the closet?”

  She has my answer.

  “You have seen her, then.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard everything you had to say, along with your offer.”

  “Is this where you beg me to stay? Try to change my mind?”

  She smirks at me, so sure of herself, which only makes me angrier. I’m terrified of letting it show, though, because once it’s out, I don’t think I’ll be able to rein it in.

  “I’ve been begging you to try and be happy here since we met. Is there any point now?”

  Shaking her head so casually, I can’t help wondering where the hell my wife has gone? There’s no pain in her eyes for me, for our marriage breaking apart right in front of us. She feels nothing for me anymore, and that sting is a bitch. The revelation is devastating, but I don’t have the energy to fight her. I see now I’m never going to change her mind, I’ll never make her happy again, and above all else, I know we’re way past the point of return.

  Who we once were died with our daughter. And like her, we’re never coming back.

  “In that case, I’ll stay at the club until you leave.”

  Walking over to the built-in closet, under boxes of shoes, I pull out a small suitcase and swivel around and toss it on the ottoman.

  Before I can unzip the fucking thing, she’s on her feet, pulling at my shirt for me to turn around and face her.

  “How can you stay there where she was killed?” Her voice is a broken mess of pain and coldness, but guess fucking what? I’m a broken mess of pain and coldness too. If she doesn’t give a shit, why the fuck should I?

  “I can stay there because it hurts the same as staying here. You died that night as well. The only difference between here and there is that her ghost doesn’t hate me and yours does.”

  Gasping, she moves away from me, like she’s finally realised how close she’d let herself get to me, and sits her ass back on the bed. She doesn’t deny her hatred for me as I begin packing my clothes, nor does she tell me I’m wrong and come up with excuses. Fuck me. I know she’s just as lost as I am, but she’s giving me nothing. I can’t stand it any longer.

  Zipping the suitcase closed, I drag it off the ottoman and head for the door, but I stop and turn around, hoping to see my Kris sitting there. Yet the shell before me isn’t her.

  “You told Nina you had a card up your sleeve if I tried to stop you from leaving. What is it?”

  She looks me dead in the eyes and says, “I would’ve gone to Agent Gallagher and told him everything.”

  I suck in a breath as it hits me just how far we’ve come. My eyes are well and truly open now. She’s not just a shell of the woman I used to love. Shit, I don’t recognise her at all.

  “You’d have done that? After everything, after all these years together, you’d betray me in the ultimate way possible? You hate me that much?”

  My voice catches, and I struggle to swallow the lump lodged in my throat.

  “I don’t hate you, Slade. I feel absolutely nothing. Not for you, not for this life, nothing. Hating you would imply I still cared, which I don’t.”

  For a moment—one single, fleeting moment—I’m stunned speechless. If there was a last shred of hope for us, it’s gone.

  Finding my voice, I say, “I hope you manage to outrun your grief, Kris, I really fucking do.”

  I make it to the bottom of the stairs before I hear her choked sobs. I stop, that bastard shred of hope returning, believing she’ll call down to me.

  I’m briefly distracted by a large envelope with my name scribbled across it, perched on the side dresser, leaning against the wall. Dropping the case on the floor, I pick it up and tip the contents out into my hand.

  “I told my lawyer you wouldn’t fight me or contest anything. I get my shop, and you can have the house.”

  I spin around to where she’s standing halfway down the stairs. Divorce papers. I’m holding fucking divorce papers. I don’t know why her hits keeping knocking me on my ass. I should expect them.

  “Burn it fucking down for all I care.”

  I grab the case and throw open the door, not giving a shit about closing it behind me. What the fuck do I want the house for? I bought it for my family, something I don’t have anymore.

  I only have one place left that never changes, never leaves me, and is always fucking there. I should never have left. I strap the case to the back of my bike, not caring that it’s dangerous or stupid.

  I head for the club, riding leisurely until I swing right and through the gates. Ignoring the stares from my brothers when I walk in the bar, I dump my case on the floor by my feet.

  “What room is free?” I question the prospect.

  I gave up my room years ago, being that I always slept at home, with my wife. The prospect turns, lifts a key from the board, and chucks it at me. I catch it in one swift action and tip my head. “Get me a beer.”

  “What’s with the case, Slade? You moving in?” Sparky hollers from behind me.

  “You got a problem with that?” I snap.

  “I’m not sure. I mean, Lost Souls are welcome here anytime, but I don’t see any patches on your ass.”

  I turn slowly, trying to gauge if the fucker’s being serious, but his mouth is curled into a smirk. For whatever reason—one I’m too tired to work out—it feels good to have him toying with me.

  “Then you best find me my cut, brother.”

  He hoots and hollers as he closes the distance between us and slaps me on the back. “About fucking time. Welcome home.”

  Word soon spreads, and Cas walks out of h
is office holding onto the familiar leather that fits me like a second skin.

  He can’t hide his joy as he passes it over. Shrugging into it, I feel like for the first time in months, I can breathe without the weight of the world crushing down on my chest.

  “Looks good, brother,” he notes.

  “Feels good,” I begrudgingly admit.

  His eyes drop to the case and back to mine. “You want to talk?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Then I guess we’ll celebrate your return. And while we’re at it, get Zach and Nina here. We can celebrate little Sebastian. It’s been too long since we had a reason to party!” Cas yells, and the bar explodes with cheers.

  “My daughter’s still fucking dead. I’m here because my marriage is over, fucking divorce papers and all. I’m not in the mood to party like a fucking teenager.”

  Cas turns sombre. Placing his forever unlit cigarette between his lips, it bobs up and down as he says, “What? Are you not going to sit here and drink all night, listen to the music in the background, and barely talk to anyone who approaches you? What’s the difference?” he asks. Then, moving closer, he whispers, “I know your situation’s nothing to celebrate, brother, but there are still reasons to do so. Your grandson for one. For us, our brother has come home, regardless of the reasons.”

  At that, I muster a smile.

  At least there are some people left who want me around.

  “In that case, I’ll take a double whiskey and another beer.”

  I slide onto the stool, making myself comfortable, and my drinks are put in front of me. Scooping up the tumbler of whiskey, I pour the liquid down my throat.

  I barely register the stool beside me being moved. Seeing that it’s Pope ordering a beer, I mentally prepare myself for the forthcoming conversation.

  “We’ll find who disrespected your daughter’s grave, brother. I fuckin’ swear it to you.”

  Not being able to find the words, I reach for my beer instead and tip it toward him.