Walk the Line (Kings of Chaos Book 5)

by Shyla Colt

  “Come on, in. B has the coffee going.”

  “Thanks, brother,” Shadow says stepping in with the baby bag over his shoulder. Bolton pulls up the rear with a pack and play.

  “You can set it up beside the bed and Bolton we got your bed just across from that.”

  “Thanks, Freeze,” he says.

  “Our place is your place. B’s daughter, Whitney, is visiting from college, but we let her know you’d be here in the morning when she wakes up.”

  “I’m sorry to put you out,” Blue says.

  “Nonsense, why don’t we get the playpen set up and get this angel laid down for the night. Then I can make you a nice cup of tea or coffee, your choice,” B says in a soothing tone that makes me want to ram my tongue down her throat. She’s showing my people love and hospitality.

  “We can step out onto the balcony to talk,” I tell Shadow as I lead him away from the playpen set up. I close the sliding door closed behind us.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “We’re going to go over with Stone and confront him.”

  “Damn.”

  “Stone’s pissed. We never heard Battle got his walking papers. That’s a problem. Stone wants to make an example of them. We’ve had enough drama lately, and he wants some peace and quiet.”

  “He’s also been extra cranky, so he’s probably going to unload on those two.”

  “Pixie is dangerously close to being cut off, man. I hope for Blue’s sake that’s not the case. I know she has hopes of reconciliation. Especially with Calla due to get out next year.”

  “Oh, shit. Are you even ready for that?”

  “Man, it’s like trying to prepare for a natural disaster. No matter how much you tuck away for survival, it still hands you your ass every single time. My saving grace is that Bolton is grown and she can no longer use him for leverage. I refuse to let her drama touch Delphine, though. I couldn’t stop it with Bolton, but the cycle damn sure won’t be repeating.”

  “You want me to stay here or ride with you?”

  “No, I want you to stay here. Knowing they’re all safe will let me do what I need to. I’ll call you as soon as I have something concrete and know which way the wind is blowing. I’m going to say goodbye, and then I got to get ghost.”

  I follow him back inside and watch as he whispers to Blue who nods her head. Bolton is already in bed on the floor a few feet away from his sister. I turn away as they kiss and wrap an arm around B’s shoulder.

  “You did good, babe.”

  “Just showing them a little Southern hospitality.”

  Shadow kneels beside Bolton, and B moves to Blue and guides her over to the breakfast bar where she has a mug of coffee ready.

  Shadow stands, and I walk him out the door. I know I won’t be sleeping tonight.

  I post up in the chair I’ve moved up against the far wall by our bedroom door. Blue and Blanche talk for a bit more before Blue decides to call it a night.

  “Are you going to be out here all night?” B asks.

  “Just a precaution.”

  “You think they were followed?”

  “Not with Shadow driving. I’m just paranoid.” I kiss her lips. “You need to go to bed and get some sleep.”

  She nods and disappears into our bedroom. I find a comfortable position and wait.

  Two hours later the phone vibrates in my pocket.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m calling with an update. It wasn’t Battle. It was his younger brother, War.”

  “That makes it much better,” I say dryly.

  Shadow chuckles. “Agreed. He said he was headed back to his charter when he realized how close he was to Pixie and decided to visit and play catch up. She’s been talking to Battle again, and they’re petitioning to reopen his case because of new evidence they claim to ask. I don’t know. War claims the family wants to get to know his Calla better.”

  “What did Stone say?”

  “That he’d never keep them away from their family, and he’d help any way he could as long as the family wasn’t around to cause problems. Once we realized it wasn’t Battle, all the urgency dropped off.”

  “Glad it was a false alarm.”

  “Me too. Calla ain’t even back yet, and she’s already causing drama.” He gives a harsh laugh.

  “You coming back?”

  “Yeah, I’m just going to crash there with them.”

  I hang up and rest my head against my wall. Never a dull day with the club.

  ***

  Too soon I’m peeling my tired body out of bed as the smell of Bacon wafts into the room. I vaguely remember B leaving the bed when Delphine woke the world with her cries. I force my body out of bed and walk into the bathroom. I brush my teeth, work the tangles out of my shoulder length hair and walk out. The women and Bolton are gathered in the kitchen. I smirk as I take in the looks being exchanged between Bolton and Whitney. Her cheeks flush like her mother’s do when things get too intense. I hide my laughter with a cough.

  “Morning ladies, something smells good.”

  “Morning, babe. We figured we’d make breakfast for everyone,” B says with a bright smile. I can see Blue looking between us. It’s amusing the way people respond to me and B when they’ve known me first.

  “You need help with anything?”

  “No, we’ve got it under control.”

  “Thanks for letting us stay here, Freeze,” Blue says.

  “Yeah thanks a lot,” Bolton adds.

  “Our place is yours,” I say with a nod. “I’m going to hop in the shower, B.”

  “Food’ll be ready by the time you’re done.”

  I see the lump on the couch bed stir. It was a long night for Shadow. Daddy duty on top of club business. I can’t help but wonder if it’s a sign. My club family and B are merged seamlessly in the other room the day I decide to push for more. Trusting my gut has never steered me wrong yet.

  ***

  Jagger,

  I appreciate your honesty, and your willingness to try. It’s more than I deserve, or expected you to give me. I have vacation time built up, so if you give me a time frame, I can free up a week. I’m working at the Just a Buck store. It’s not glamorous, but it pays the bills, I like my co-workers, and as Assistant Manager, I’m on track to one day manage the store. There aren’t a lot of opportunities out there for people like me, with my track record at my age, so I’m grateful, and maybe even proud of how far I’ve come.

  When I first got home, prospects were bleak. There are so many questions I want to ask you, but one sticks out in my head. The rest can wait. Are you happy? I look forward to your next letter.

  Yours,

  Karen.

  Seated on a high back stool at the kitchen bar the answer to her question is yes. Things have changed drastically. I have a woman, a kid I’m starting to view as mine by proxy, and brothers I’m getting to know better every day. It’s one thing to be a brother it’s another to be friends. I didn’t get that distinction before when I was holding everyone at arm’s length. I been holding on to this letter for a couple of months trying to deal with the complex emotions writing my mother have stirred up. Hours have been spent boxing with Warp to cipher off the rage.

  B thinks I should see a head shrinker. I don’t like the thought of sitting on some couch like a baby, opening up, talking about feelings and bad experiences. It sounds like hell on Earth. I want to write her back, but the words won’t come. Does this relieve her guilt? Does she think we’re going to stand in a circle, hold hands, and sing Kumbaya? How am I going to feel when I see her? The questions run through my head raising the slow boiling anger I know is bound to bubble up. I stand so fast the stool slams to the ground. What would life have been like if she’d gotten sober? Would Dad still be alive? One stupid decision stole an entire life. Had I been the cau
se of my grandmother’s death? Was it the strain of caring for a baby and then a toddler? Or maybe seeing her daughter sentenced for life?

  Brushes out, of the bedroom. “What’s going on?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do this, B?” I pound my chest. “This is why I leave this emotional shit alone. Once it’s uncaged, there’s nothing I can do.”

  Her mouth forms an O.

  “How could she choose drugs over her family? Why the hell was robbing a bank a good idea? Jesus Christ, we put my grandmother in an early grave. I have to live with that. Me.” I slap my chest, but it does nothing to alleviate the ache in my chest where my heart lies.

  “You didn’t do anything, Jagger. You were a child.”

  “A child my sixty-five-year-old grandmother shouldn’t have been looking after. How much life did we steal from her?”

  “It’s not on you.”

  “Who is it on then? Cause she was never around to take any of the burden. Then she pops up like some ghost from my past, and I’m supposed to do what?” I kick the stool across the room.

  She jerks. “Whatever you want to do or not do.”

  “Then what? Do I stay in limbo? I lose the only blood connection I have left? I go on with all those questions I have unanswered?” I swipe my arm across the kitchen aisle sending utensils and decor clattering onto the ground. Glass shatters. She gasps. I wonder if she sees me for the monster I truly am. I’ve been hiding behind a mask. She steps over the broken glass and time stands still. She grabs a dish from the cabinet and throws it to the ground. I flinch.

  “You want to break things? We can break them. You think I don’t understand that fury inside that eats up until it twists everything up and you don’t know what’s up and what’s down? I have been there. You have been holding on to all this for too damn long. You want it to get better? You need to see someone.”

  “So now I’m psycho?”

  “Am I?”

  “Oh come on. You’re totally different.”

  “Why? Cause my pain was delivered all at once, and your hits were delivered blow by blow over the years?” She shakes her head. “No, we’re two-sides of the same coin. The people we loved the most devastated us. They stole our lives in different ways, took away our security, and ability to trust damn near anyone. I love you. I want what’s best for you. I’ve stood by and watched you silently rip yourself apart for weeks over this. You’ve helped me work through boatloads of issues. Let me help you with this.”

  My chest heaves as I struggle to breathe.

  The sincerity in her brown eyes and the broken dishes on the floor at her feet are everything. I’ve unlocked the gate to let emotions trickle out, and now my dam has holes in it. I can’t patch them up fast enough to control the flow of what’s going out, and I won’t risk her getting caught in the crossfire.

  “Okay.”

  “What?” Her eyes nearly bug out of her skull.

  “I’ll…go talk to someone.”

  “Good.” She nods her head. “Really?”

  “I ain’t going to lose you or this. You deserve more than a ticking time bomb who can’t control his shit. But when I’m done, you’re taking my mark.”

  Her lips twitch upward. “You bargaining bastard. Okay. I’ll bite.”

  “Good, now be still so I can clean up this glass. You don’t even have shoes on, B.” I walk over and lift her onto the counter. She laughs.

  “What?”

  “You go from being a bull in a China shop to an alpha male protecting his female in the blink of an eye.”

  “You always come before me and the bullshit going on in my head, B.”

  She cups my face. “I love you.”

  “I know.” I fall back on the Han Solo response, and she gives me a soft Mona Lisa Smile. A simple upward curve of the lips that speaks volumes. I’m getting closer to forming those words for her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Blanche

  We did it. I turn around and look at the home that’s slowly but surely coming together. We opted to not renew the lease on the condo and found a ranch style four bedroom home not too far from the club. We’re renting it now, with the option to own should we decide. It felt like the right move. My job is going well, his counseling is steady, and neither of us is going anywhere. It feels like the logical next step in my life.

  The knock on the door made me frown. Blue and Dixie Rose just left. Did they forget something? I run to the door and peer through the peephole. The blood drains from my face, and I sway. What the hell is Elizabeth Watkins doing here? How does she even know where I live? The things money can do disgusts me. Every time I think I’m moving on, the past resurfaces. I open the door.

  “What are you doing here, Elizabeth?” I ask with a sigh.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “Well, you have, so you can leave and never return because the next time I see you, I’ll be calling the cops.”

  “I had to see it for myself. You living happily ever after with your biker trash while Brooks is out there somewhere.”

  “He did that, not me.” My jaw flexes.

  “Because he wanted to be with me,” she hisses.

  I arch an eyebrow.

  “We had a plan. You’d be gone, and I’d step in and take my rightful place. The one you stole from me.”

  “Get out.”

  She pulls her hand out of her pocket and points a gun at me. My stomach drops.

  “I’m going to finish what he started, Blanche.”

  The sound of a motorcycle distracts her. I knock the gun from her hand and rush forward with my shoulder. She stumbles back, and I run toward the bike. Bullets whizzed by and I run in a zig zag pattern. A door slams. I turn and see her climb into a black SUV as Jagger pulls up.

  “What’s going on?”

  I open my mouth to speak, and the SUV roars toward us. He steers the bike in front of me and takes the impact. I scream as he’s flung from the back. She continues to drive, shredding the bike as she runs over his lower body. The metal from the wreckage pierces her tires. She cuts the wheel to the right and pulls out onto the road. She weaves to the right and left like a drunk. I gasp as she slips the rear of the car in front of her and spins out, ending up in oncoming traffic. Unable to decelerator in time, a car slams into her. The hit sends her car rolling. I run to Jagger and kneel beside him.

  I straighten his body as much as I can without moving him. His face is scrapped and swelling. Patches of jeans have been worn down. I can see patches of road rash, split skin. Dark pools of blood stain different parts of him. “Jagger?” I place two fingers on his neck, relieved when I find his pulse, fast, but steady.

  He moans as his eyes flutter open. I can see the disorientation and pain.

  “You okay?” He forces the words out.

  Incredibly, his first thought is for me.

  I sob as I nod. “Thanks to you I am.”

  “Love you.” I feel like my heart is going to explode from my chest.

  “I love you too, Jagger. So much.” His face wavers as the tears continue to flow.

  A bystander runs up. “I saw, the entire thing, and I called 9-1-1. How can I help?”

  “Wait to flag them down?”

  “Okay.” The young brown haired man with a crew cut takes off and stands by the side of the road.

  Jagger cries out. I place a hand on his chest.

  “Try to be as still as you can. What hurts?”

  “It’s not what hurts that worries me, B. It’s what I can’t feel.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t feel my legs.”

  The air leaves my lungs. Oh my, God.

  “B, why can’t I feel my legs?” His voice cracks.

  “You just went through a tremendous amount of trauma, there’s all kinds of swelling, and you
r body is essentially in shock. Don’t assume the worse.”

  He closes his eyes and clenches his teeth. I take his hand and bring it to my lips, praying that God won’t take his ability to walk. Riding is his life. Without it, I’m not sure what he’ll do. The sound of sirens grow closer. I close my eyes and rock back and forth as my stomach churns. The Good Samaritan waves them down, and they park the car and bring the stretcher.

  “What happened here?”

  I rise and step back to let them do their work.

  “He was hit by a car, knocked off his motorcycle, and run over by an SUV. He’s been talking to me, and he’s aware, but in pain, and…” I swallow. “He can’t feel his legs. I’m a physical therapist, so I kept his head and body as straight as I could without moving him.”

  Time slows as I watch them return with a back brace. They bend over Jagger, shining a pin light in his eyes as they ask him questions.

  “Don’t cut his vest!” I scream as they pull out scissors. They peer at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

  “Believe me this is incredibly important.”

  “Alright. I think we can take it off with the transfer if you’re willing to help so we can keep him steady.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  I rush over and kneel beside them.

  “One, Two, Three.”

  My hand shakes as I work his arms free of the cut. The cry of pain that spills from his lips when they lift him onto the back brace and then onto the bed rips my hair open. All of this is my fault. I hold back the break down. He needs me to be strong now.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “His fiancée.” I lie. Fiancée holds far more weight than a girlfriend.

  Bikes roar up as the EMT’s carry him to the ambulance.

  Warp jumps off the bike and runs over. “What’s going on here, girly?”

  “He got hit by a car. I’m headed to the hospital right now.”

  He narrows his dark gaze at me.

  “I have to go. Where are we headed?” I yell to the EMT as I rush toward them.

  “San Mateo Medical.”

  “We’re going to San Mateo Medical,” I yell as I climb up and move out of their way. I hold his hand, bow my head, and pray.