Daydream (Oath Keepers MC)

by Sapphire Knight

  Climbing off my bike, I stumble a few steps away and then puke. I wretch up every last thing in my stomach, eventually dry heaving, with the strong taste of stomach acid left behind in my throat. It takes an empty stomach before I’m able to pull it together enough to speak.

  I turn to my brothers with tears in my eyes. Swallowing, I take in each of their faces and then relay everything Princess just told me on the phone.

  Viking is on his bike and out of the parking lot before I even finish. We all follow quickly, and it’s amazing I can even concentrate enough to ride. All I know is that my son is gone, my girl is an absolute wreck, and I have to get the fuck back home.

  I have to fix this; I will fix this, if not for me and my club, for Bethany.

  The ride home is the longest I’ve ever been on. I shook the entire way, not just my hands, but the inside of my stomach quaked with worry and anger. I have no idea what to even do. Should I just hold Bethany while she cries, or should I immediately hunt down the bastards that have my son?

  I decide on both. As soon as I see her, I wrap my arms around her battered body and just breathe as she sobs into my chest. Tears fall down my cheeks hearing her so beyond broken. How do you get through something like this? What on earth do you say to someone who just had her child literally ripped from her hands, in a place where she should’ve been safe?

  They came into our home, killed members, and stole our son. There’s nothing I can say to bring her peace in this moment. I’m barely standing upright on my own two feet.

  I can’t remember the last time I shed even a tear for anything at all, but my cheeks are wet as her body shakes against mine. I have to be strong for her, for him, but I feel anything but. My physical being feels weak and beat down all over, I’m not even the one who took any of the physical blows either.

  Two brothers are dead and gone forever. If anyone could’ve been somewhat of a father figure to me, it would’ve been Scot. The man never passed any judgment and welcomed me immediately when he recognized I was young and lost. He led us for a time with the Nomads, and I’m honored to have had the chance to ride with him for so many years.

  Bronx was just a fuckin’ kid. I’d only known him since he patched over from the Widow Makers. He’d barely cleared his Prospect patch and been patched a full member with us. He was a punk the first time I’d come across him, and I’d gotten the pleasure to watch him evolve into a young man. He’d grown into someone honest and loyal over the past few years, someone worthy of wearing the Oath Keeper patch.

  I can’t help but have the festering rage building inside me toward Twist. I know I shouldn’t blame a brother for what has happened, but his woman brought the Iron Fists to their front door initially. They’d had run ins and issues with the club trying to claim our territory, but it was her that brought the brunt. It’s because of them that my son isn’t here with his family right now.

  We never should’ve ridden off and torched that clubhouse for them in Cali. The Nomads should’ve told them to take care of their own shit. But we were the hard ones, the true death dealers of the club. When shit hit the fan, they called us, and we were there to answer. Now it’s us who needs the help, my woman and me. Every motherfucker better step up to help out, too.

  Saying a silent prayer to a God I’d long stopped believing in, I can only hope I was wrong. Hope that He’s up there, listening to my heartfelt plea for assistance and helps me find my son and some peace in this life. Why is it we have to hit a new level of low to seek comfort and redemption from up above? It took a three year old to bring me to my knees and want to change my ways. I want to become a better man in life not for me, but for him and for Bethany.

  She shutters and I keep holding her, trying to give her some ounce of warmth to keep her with me. Bethany’s so fucked up, I’m afraid she’s mentally checked the fuck out. She weeps and stares into space. She won’t speak to me. She mumbles his name and sobs some more. She’s broken, and I can’t fix her, but I’m hoping to get our son back because I know he can fix her.

  “I have you baby. I will do everything to make this better, I promise you with everything I am. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I will get our son back if it’s the last thing I ever do,” I murmur in her hair, my voice laced with heartbreak, rocking her in my grip.

  She doesn’t answer, just cries more and I feel like each tear that falls from her eyes rips more of my soul from my chest. I’ll be completely black inside by the time this is over. My heart will match the bruises on her face.

  “I have Spider searching any cameras in the area. We’ll find them,” Viking declares, but part of me doesn’t want to hear him. A piece of me is locking up and pulling away from everyone. If I don’t get Maverick back, I know I will never be able to forgive my brothers or this club. Whether it’s their fault this has happened or not, I will hold them responsible for my pain.

  One thing is for certain: I will never stop looking for him.

  “I’m so sorry, Daydream,” I repeat, not able to convey my true feelings. I wish I knew how, but I don’t. All I know is the person I love is hurt, sad, and broken, and the other person I love is missing.

  The doc finds us after fixing up Princess to check over B. Once she completes her exam, she asks if I want a sedative. I don’t take one, but have her inject Bethany with a mild tranquilizer.

  She’s too fucked up right now. She may hurt herself, and I can’t let that happen. I’m here and I have to protect her, even if that’s from herself.

  She’ll probably end up hating me for all of this, and I can’t blame her for that. One thing I’ve come to discover, though, is that I love her a great deal more than I’d begun to realize these past weeks. She’s it for me—the one—my everything, and that includes Maverick. So she can hate me. I’ll take it, own it, and wear that badge every day of my life. But, I’m going to do whatever I have to, to make her love me like I do her, with every single beat of my cold, once-dead heart.

  I love how you take care of

  me. How you keep working to be

  a better man. Even on days I fail

  to be a better woman.

  -IntentionalToday.com

  The days come and go, passing me in what feels like a drug-induced haze. I let Nightmare be my strength.

  I’ve been strong for the past few years. I took care of Mav when he was sick, up all night crying through fevers and puking. I took him to the hospital when he stepped on that rusty nail and held his hand and promised him the entire world to get him through his pain. I’ve been brave for him each time he’s gotten scared, but this time I just can’t do it. I need someone to be strong and brave for me, and that’s Nightmare.

  He takes it in stride, letting me cry when I feel that I need to. He accepts my hits each time I blame him, and he stands still when I pound on his chest in anger. Most of all, through everything, he keeps trying and he shows me love.

  He loves me so much, that if my little boy wasn’t missing, my heart would be so full, it would overflow. Through the anger consuming me over my son being taken by a rival club, I love Nightmare in return. I hold on to him for dear life and let him take the reins, knowing inside that he won’t let me drown. He can’t, because I won’t survive on my own anymore.

  My cell rings, and it’s a number I’ve never seen before. “Yeah?” I answer, not in the mood to deal with spam calls. I may rip their throats out if presented with the opportunity.

  “This Nightmare?” A gravelly voice replies.

  “Yep, who the fuck is this?”

  “I’m the one keeping your son alive.”

  “Motherfucker! You better not hurt him, or I’ll—”

  “You’ll do what?” he interrupts, chuckling. “You forget, I’m the one in control.”

  “Fine.” My voice is dark, coated in fury, wanting to rip him to shreds as I do my best not to plead. “What the fuck do you want so I can have my kid back?”

  “Oh, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. It’s quite simple, you s
ee. You took something from me, now I take it back.”

  “What did I ever take from you?”

  “Well for starters, your other club took my son.”

  “I’m not responsible for that!”

  “I know that, but you took something from me as well.”

  “I don’t even know who the fuck you are!” I can’t stop the shouting. I’m so pissed, I feel like my head is going to explode.

  “Shadow was my son, and you killed him.”

  “He was at my house, threatening my woman.”

  “He wouldn’t have hurt her. He was only there for the child. Like I told the women, you take a son from me, I’ll take one from you.”

  “Why? Why my son? There are so many other members that have club brats.”

  “I know that, we’ve been watching. However, your charter was the one to torch my clubhouse in Cali. So when that sexy bitch Bethany showed up with your kid in tow, it was the perfect opportunity to get my payback.”

  “So you’ve been watching the entire time and planning to take him since she showed up?”

  “I have…and now he’s mine.”

  “The fuck he is. I will find you, and I will get my son back.”

  “No, you won’t, but I have a deal for you. You’ll get him back, eventually. He’s going to be raised by me, and when he’s a grown man, I’ll let him go back to you. If he wishes.”

  “Not fucking happening,” I grit and the line goes dead, making me shout.

  Throwing my phone against the wall, it smashes and I begin to hyperventilate. His words crawled right under my skin and have begun to fester already. I think he’s crazy enough to believe what he’s doing is in his right. He can’t take my son and keep him.

  That’s medieval shit, sending your kid to live off with the enemy or another king. In our case a rival club and I’m assuming Puppet is the President over them all. We didn’t snuff out the Iron Fists; we poked the fucking nest and now they’ve come back to swarm.

  I’d heard they were a hard club—hell, we all had. That was why we were sent in the first place. We were warned that they don’t fuck around. Neither did we. At least I thought we didn’t. Clearly we had no fucking clue what the hell we were doing.

  There’s so much more here, so much under the surface. I can’t just kill the Fists I find like I’d want to; this is going to take planning. How the fuck can I possibly pull this off? There has to be a way.

  To think the Iron Fists have just been sitting back and waiting, biding their time for retaliation. We were stupid enough to believe we’d outdone them. The opportunity arose, and they took it, leading us straight into a goddamn trap. I’d bet their clubhouse isn’t even in Oklahoma. It was all a ruse to make the club weak enough for them to easily take what they intended.

  “Talk to me,” Ex grumbles.

  They haven’t left yet; he and Ruger have been by my side waiting to help me—everyone has. We buried Scot and Bronx yesterday, but I wasn’t present. I loved my brothers, but I have my own shit to deal with. I know if they were here they would understand and want me to keep looking for Maverick.

  “What’s going on?” Viking asks immediately, noticing me flipping my shit. I puke again. I’ve lost weight this week from being sick so much, but it’s the only way my body is coping with the stress and pressure I’m under.

  “Breathe, brother; tell us what just happened.” Chaos rests his hand on my shoulder, another good friend of mine, having my back. Regardless, without Mav I will blame them, no matter how much I tell myself not to.

  “It was him,” I get out between heaves.

  I feel like my chest is seizing up, and I’m having a fucking panic attack or some shit. I can’t breathe. It feels like my ribs are squeezing me in a vice grip. Like my heart’s going to burst straight through my chest. It’s not like running too much. It’s like sticking your head under water and being forced to suck in nothing but water. It fills your lungs, weighing your body down, choking you the fuck out.

  My vision goes blurry for a moment, and I puke again, but this time nothing comes out. I have nothing left to expel. Acidic aftermath fills my mouth and I gag a few times. The blurred vision is new and not something I want sticking around.

  Eventually it passes and I’m able to explain what just happened. I tell them about Puppet and everything that was said. I feel like I’m losing my mind, like this is all a sick joke or a goddamn nightmare and I need to wake up.

  Letting it hit me all over, I shut down and go on a rampage, punching and throwing everything I can find. I down a bottle of Jager and then upchuck it all back up, damn near immediately. It gets so bad that I’m pricked with something in my back, and then everything goes black.

  Princess shakes me awake, upset.

  “What’s happening?” It leaves me in a groggy mumble as I meet her concerned gaze.

  “It’s time for you to snap out of it, B.”

  “I can’t deal with this, Prissy. There’s nothing I can do.” Brushing her off, I fall back against the pillows. My body aches from lying around and sleeping so much. I have to, though; I can’t handle being awake and not being able to do anything. No one here will let me leave to go find my son. No one has answers. I can’t cope like this.

  “The fuck you can’t,” she replies angrily and suddenly she’s straddling my waist. She rears back and unleashes a harsh slap. Copper overtakes my mouth as my lip splits on the inside, and, for the first time in a week, I’m seeing her face clearly. “Shit is happening!” she screams, her bruised face scrunching up in sadness and anger. “No more, Bethany. You’ve fucking slept and moped for a week.”

  “Well excuse the fuck out of me, Mrs. Fucking Perfect, but my son was stolen from your husband’s club!” I shout back and the bitch rears back, hitting me again.

  It’s enough to infuriate me to the point of throwing her off my waist and jumping out of bed. “Bitch!” I yell, my hand coming to my face as I get some distance from her.

  “Do I have your attention now?”

  “Yes. What. The. Fuck.”

  “Time to pull yourself together and stop being selfish. Your man lost his shit today, and he needs you. He’s doing what he can to hold it together for the both of you, but girlfriend he’s fucking falling. He got a call last night about Maverick that rocked him. He went off the deep end, and your ass needs to pull him the fuck back so he can get your son!”

  “What do you mean? What call? Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about, Princess.”

  “Nice to finally have your damn attention. We need coffee and I’ll explain everything to you.”

  Hours pass as he sleeps, and I pace the clubhouse like a caged animal. Princess was right. I needed coffee, and then I needed her to hold me while I broke again after hearing what Puppet told Night. And then I became angry. It’s what’s keeping me going right now waiting for Nightmare to wake up. He freaked his brothers out so badly, they fed him a mild horse tranquilizer. Thank God the man’s the size of a mountain or they could’ve killed him.

  “Ermmm,” he mumbles, waking from his own fog. He’s been asleep since last night.

  “I should fucking punch you for letting them knock you out. Really, Nightmare, a whole bottle of Jager?”

  “Huh?” His sleepy gaze meets mine, bloodshot to hell. “You’re up?”

  “Well one of us had to be since they put you out.”

  “They put me out?”

  “Yes, sleeping beauty. Now wake the fuck up and find our son, it’s been long enough.”

  “What happened to your face?”

  “The new shit? Princess.”

  “Jesus, I don’t even want to know.”

  “It was my wake-up call, now here is yours. Get up, get your shit together or I’ll be the one stabbing you in the throat.” I hold my hand out, coffee cup near the brim. He’s going to need it just like I did.

  “I can’t believe you’re out here.” He sits up from one of the couches in the bar.

  “In the fles
h.” I hand him the coffee and take a seat beside him. “We need a plan, Night. This self-destruction shit we’re doing to ourselves is getting us nowhere. We’ll be stronger together and our son needs us to save him. No one else will.”

  “All right then, what did you have in mind?”

  You put your arms around

  me and I’m home.

  -Love Quotes

  “You think your plan will work?” Prissy asks, sitting across from me in the kitchen.

  I haven’t eaten in days, and I’m trying to choke down some soup to get some strength back. We’re failing Maverick, and he doesn’t deserve this. He needs to have two parents he can count on who will go into battle for him. We have to fight for him; I’ll never forgive myself if we don’t.

  I can only imagine how scared he must be, away from everyone and everything he knows. And I have no idea if Puppet is being nice to him or even feeding him. I have to have faith with what we know.

  Puppet said that he wanted to keep Maverick until he was grown, so I have to think that he’s feeding him. I need to keep telling myself that he’s okay so I don’t lose it again and go off the deep end.

  “It has too. We don’t have any options, and I refuse to let this shitbag keep my kid. I don’t care if Nightmare killed his son or not. Shadow was a grown-ass man and knew what he was doing. Maverick is a three year old little boy; he has no part in any of this. I can’t believe we missed his birthday. That piece of shit not only stole Mav from me, but his third birthday. The first one Nightmare was going to get to celebrate, too, and it was stolen away.”

  “I know it, B; I wish we could freaking gut Puppet for this. I don’t normally want such evil to touch someone, but I hope this guy slowly rots for what he’s done. If the brothers have any say in how Puppet goes, we can have faith that they’ll make it very painful.”

  “I want to do it myself, Prissy. I told Nightmare that they need to catch him alive because I want to be the one to end him. He says we have to wait, though, and that as much as he wants him gone, the Fists are more than what they originally thought. Nightmare believes our revenge will take time to get.”