Book Read Free

Bohdi: King's Descendants MC #6

Page 14

by Bella Jewel


  I drive and drive, tears rolling, heart breaking.

  I don’t know what hurts me more, that Bohdi lied or that he did something like that. Maybe I should have given him a chance to explain, maybe I am being too harsh, and maybe I just can’t deal with any more pain.

  I don’t know.

  Rain starts pouring down, and it’s then that I realize I’ve been driving for over an hour. I don’t even know where I am. I wasn’t paying attention. Terrified, I pull over, panting. I could have hurt someone, killed someone ... or even myself. What the hell was I thinking?

  The rain continues to pour down, and the urge to go and stand in it is rather strong. I get out of the car and the cold droplets hit my body. I’ve always loved the rain, the way it made me feel like I could wash anything away. Standing under the shower mother nature has provided is one of the best feelings in this world.

  I close my eyes, stretch my arms out, and tip my head back.

  I’m soaked in seconds, the cold droplets rolling over my body.

  I don’t stop.

  I stand there until the sound of a truck coming to a stop has me lifting my head up. A man gets out, narrowing his eyes.

  “Are you okay, miss?”

  “I’m okay, thanks,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself.

  “You’ll get a chill standing out in this rain. There is a bad storm coming, is that your car?”

  I look behind me to the car. “It is. Sorry, I was just ... I’ll go.”

  I walk over to the car and pull on the door handle. It’s locked. How in the hell? I glance in and see the keys on the front seat. The car has automatically locked, thinking I wasn’t in it. I jerk on the door handle again. Then I rush around and try the others. I’m locked out, in a storm, and my phone is in the car.

  Just my luck.

  “You need a ride?” the truck driver asks.

  I have no other choice, really.

  “I’ve locked my keys in the car. I don’t have a spare, so I guess ...yeah.”

  “Where are you going?”

  I give him the address to my cabin, hoping Carson will be there waiting like he said and we can bring my car back to get his. I feel bad that I’m leaving his car on the side of the road in a storm, but I have no other choice but to go with this man now.

  The wind is picking up and the thunder is rolling in.

  It’s not safe for me to be here.

  I get in the truck, not realizing it’ll be the worst thing I could ever possibly do.

  I should know better.

  But I don’t.

  18

  THEN – BOHDI

  “Daniel,” I say to my friend when I reach the bar and find him sitting on a stool, sipping a beer.

  I didn’t expect to see him here. I came to escape for five minutes, because dealing with Isla and Sherry calling me over and over, was getting too hard. Our son is days off being born and, quite frankly, I needed five minutes to myself. Isla has been spending her days out, leaving me with Sunny. Meanwhile, I’m juggling work and trying to pull myself together after Sean.

  I’m not dealing.

  And dark thoughts have been creeping into my mind.

  Thoughts of leaving. Of disappearing.

  Of leaving this entire world behind and starting as someone new.

  Anyone.

  I can be whoever the fuck I want to be.

  But that means leaving my boys, and my family, and I made a promise that I would never leave them.

  “Bohdi, hey,” Daniel says, looking shocked to see me. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

  “I needed a break. Pregnant wife and all that.”

  “Yeah, how’s things going?” he asks.

  I shrug. “The same as always, brother. How are you?”

  “Findin’ an escape from Sherry, she’s fucking crazy. If it wasn’t for the fact that I know she’d drown on her own, I’d be out of there. But she’s an addict, and I’m trying to get her help so she can get her shit together and I can leave.”

  “That bad, huh?” I mutter.

  “You have no fuckin’ idea what it’s like living with her. I love her, I wouldn’t be there if I didn’t, but fuck it’s getting harder and harder every day. She’s accusing me of shit and acting completely fucking crazy.”

  “Yeah, she paid me a visit a few days ago.”

  He exhales. “Fuck. I’m sorry, man.”

  “No truth to her statements?”

  He stares at me. “No.”

  “Any idea where she got the idea?”

  “Nope.”

  He goes back to his beer. I have no fucking idea whether to believe him or not. He looks like he’s telling the truth, in fact, he looks like he doesn’t give a crap, but that doesn’t mean this doesn’t involve him somehow.

  “Well, either way, Sherry is causing problems, and it would be good if they stopped.”

  “Doin’ my best.” He nods. “She isn’t easy to deal with. You should think yourself lucky. Isla might be a lot of things, but she’s sure as shit saner than her sister.”

  He makes a valid point.

  “Another beer?” I ask.

  He nods.

  I order another round and we drink until it’s time for me to go home.

  When I arrive, Isla is asleep on the sofa, hand on her belly. She is beautiful, and I feel fucking horrible that I’m not giving her the love she needs. She deserves a husband who comes home, sees her like this, and thanks the lord he has her.

  I don’t feel that way.

  It’s a fucking hard truth.

  I go check on Sunny, who is sleeping soundly, tucked on his side, and I’m reminded why I stay.

  That boy needs me.

  He needs me to be a better father than the one I was raised with.

  I think about Sherry’s accusations, and the fact that she claims Sunny isn’t mine and our new son, isn’t either. Thinking of that fact makes my stomach twist in a way I never thought I’d experience.

  If I were to find out those boys weren’t mine, and Isla had cheated ... I don’t think I could ever look at her again.

  It would crush me in a way I probably couldn’t come back from.

  Lucky for me, it isn’t true.

  Right?

  “PUSH!”

  The doctor stands at the end of the bed as Isla pushes, her face red, her screams filling the room.

  She has been having contractions for hours, and she’s finally ready to deliver our baby into the world. I stand beside her, hand being crushed but not complaining and keep my eyes on the end of the bed where the doctor is crouched, preparing for the arrival of our son.

  One more decent push later, and they smile and tell us it’s a boy.

  Then, his little scream fills the room.

  His tiny voice ripping out into the world, letting us all know he’s here and he’s not going anywhere.

  They wrap him and put him on Isla’s chest, and I can see the tuft of white blond hair on his head. His skin, even as a newborn, is soft and olive. He stops crying the moment he hits Isla’s chest, and I reach down, fighting some incredible emotion, and touch his tiny hand. “Welcome to the world, little man.”

  “He’s so beautiful,” Isla says, her voice tired as she looks at our newborn son.

  “He’s perfect.”

  “What should we name him? I promised to let you have this one,” she croaks.

  “Taj,” I murmur, stroking his chubby little cheek.

  “Taj,” she whispers. “I love it.”

  I stay with her and relish in the moments of having our son, and things feeling semi-okay.

  They stay that way until we take him home and reality sets in.

  We have a demanding two-year-old, a newborn, and Isla is tired and angry. I find myself running around, getting up for feeds and trying to keep the house a sane place, but with every passing second, I feel like I’m drowning a little more.

  “Oh, Sunny, stop!” Isla cries two days after we arrive home.

>   Sunny is slamming a toy, over and over, making it sing. He loves that toy, but when you’ve had no sleep, and you’re tired, that toy is a fucking nightmare.

  “Sunny, buddy, let’s go to the beach.”

  “Can’t you take Taj, too?” Isla says, from her spot on the sofa, Taj on her chest.

  “He’s a newborn, Isla. I’m not taking him out into the sun and the wind.”

  “Put him in the carrier and put a blanket over him. I’m tired, Bohdi. You have no idea.”

  Considering I was the one who got up all of last night, while she slept, I’d say that I do have some idea. I’m tired, too, but we made the baby together and we take care of him together. I’m not taking him to the beach on a hot day. I know, from experience with Sunny, that he’ll have a hell of a night if I do that.

  “I’m not taking him out into that blistering sun. He’s sleeping, Isla, sleep with him.”

  “Every time I close my eyes, he wakes up wanting a feed.”

  “Then lay back, let him feed, and both of you rest together. He’s a good baby, he rarely cries. I’m doing my best here, but I can’t do it all. I’ll take Sunny out so you can sleep, but I can’t take both. He’s too little and he’s happy.”

  “You’re a horrible husband,” she growls.

  I shake my head. I’m not going to argue with her.

  “Come on, buddy,” I say, taking Sunny and grabbing his hat before disappearing out the front door.

  We enjoy the beach for a few hours until Sunny gets tired, and I bring him home and put him to bed. When I get in, Isla is in the same spot on the sofa, sleeping, and Taj is lying on her chest, head to the side, little eyes open as he stares around. He’s a good baby, he really is.

  He only cries if he’s hungry.

  I go over and lift him from her arms, bringing his soft little face to my lips and kissing his cheek. “Hey, buddy, you’re a good one, aren’t you?”

  He squeaks, and I keep him in my arms as I prepare some lunch.

  Isla stays asleep until his next feed.

  When she wakes up, she’s angrier than she was before, and insists she needs to go out and get some fresh air.

  I let her, because I know how I get if I’m cramped up inside the house too long.

  When she doesn’t come back for an entire fucking night, and I have to feed Taj formula, I don’t take it so well.

  The screaming match begins as soon as she gets in the door, and by the time it’s done, I’m exhausted.

  Utterly fucking exhausted.

  It’s going to be a long fucking life.

  And I’m done with it already.

  I am praying for something to change.

  Little do I know, it’s about to.

  19

  NOW – MERLEIGH

  “This isn’t where I asked you to take me,” I say, my voice shaky as the truck driver goes right past my town and keeps driving.

  Suddenly, fear cripples me, and I realize I’m in a very dangerous situation.

  “It’s okay, I’m just going to pick something up and we’ll turn around.”

  “You went right past my house. I need you to stop,” I say, trying to keep it together but feeling like I might just scream.

  “Calm down, it’s fine.”

  “Please pull over.”

  “Lady, it’s fine.”

  “Pull over!” I scream.

  He lashes out, slamming his fist into the side of my head.

  I bounce off the window with a scream and start immediately trying to unbuckle my seatbelt. I’ll jump out of this truck. I will not be someone’s prisoner again.

  He reaches for me when he realizes what I’m trying to do and goes to hit me again. I duck this time, having had some experience with learning how to defend myself in a dangerous situation. I lash out and hit him in the ribs, causing him to swerve the truck. He reaches down beside his seat and pulls out a gun, and everything in my world stops.

  “You move again, I’ll blow your brains out. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again. See the blood on the fucking window, that’s the last girl who tried to fight me.”

  I glance down and sure enough there is dried blood at the base of the window, right where it goes into the door. There isn’t much, you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking, but it’s there. Like he’s cleaned it up but left a little.

  “Please, just let me go.”

  “Shut up, and don’t fucking move.”

  He pulls the truck over to the side of the road and keeps the gun on me. He reaches down into his door again and pulls out a set of cuffs. I shake my head, tears rolling down my cheeks.

  “Put them on, or I start shooting.”

  I hesitate and he slams the gun over my head again, making my world spin. Then, he’s jerking my hands forward and snapping the cuffs on. I’m dazed and unable to do anything but stop myself from passing out. My eyes flutter open and closed again, everything spinning.

  “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, starting the truck up again. “You be good, you’ll get out alive.”

  I don’t believe him.

  I don’t believe a single word coming out of his mouth. I know these kinds of men, these kinds of monsters.

  Because of that, I have learned a lot. I know what they want, what they like, what they don’t like. They want fear and pain, they want a victim.

  I’m not going to be a victim.

  Oh no.

  Not this time.

  This time, I’m going to get out of here with my head held high.

  He won’t break me, I’ll make sure of it.

  I close my eyes and act like I’ve passed out. A hit that hard is very likely to cause problems, and I play along with that. He’d be expecting I’d fight, if I were awake, so if I’m not fighting, then I must be out of it. I groan and shift every now and then, murmuring incoherent things.

  He drives for a little longer and then, finally, the truck comes to a stop.

  He gets out, and I crack my eyes open to see we’re in the middle of some woods and there is an old, worn-down cabin sitting by a stream. If you were to see it at any other time, you’d say it was spectacular. But right now, it’s the ultimate nightmare. The chances of running from something like this is next to none. He probably knows these woods like the back of his hand and he knows exactly where I’d run, if I were to do so.

  I have to outsmart him, I just don’t know how I’m going to do that yet.

  I do know one thing is for sure, I’m going to go against every automatic instinct I have, the expectations he has of me, and I’m going to change the way this goes. I have spent many hours after being saved by the club, thinking back on my time with Bryant and how so many things would have been different if I wasn’t so afraid.

  If I didn’t fight every time they attacked me.

  If I wasn’t so timid and quiet.

  That’s exactly what they wanted from me.

  People like that, they get off on someone else’s fear. It thrills them to see someone scream and beg. They get great satisfaction.

  I’m not going to give him any of that.

  It’ll probably frustrate him.

  Maybe it’ll bore him and he’ll treat me worse.

  Either way, I’m going down a different road.

  I’m going to play a different game.

  Because I can’t be the person I was last time—that person destroyed me.

  I close my eyes again when he reaches the truck door and opens it, grabbing me and hauling me out. I stir and squirm, my eyes flickering, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He takes me inside and there are some shuffling sounds and then I hear him open a door, walk in, and he places me on something. He secures me to what feels like a hard bed, my hands above my head, and then ... it’s quiet.

  I open my eyes, daring to look around.

  I’m in a well-secured room. I can tell that right away by the bars on the windows and the lack of absolutely anything in the room. There is nothing that can be used for escape. Nothing at a
ll. The bed is a mattress on a big chunk of wood, literally, like someone has cut a large tree down, sliced it in half, and put a mattress on it. There is nothing to pull off it, nothing beneath it, nothing except two shackles coming out of the wall that my handcuffs are attached to.

  The door is solid steel, with what is clearly a keypad entry.

  He’s thought this through.

  No doubt about it.

  I try not to let the panic seep in as I think about my options. Getting out of here is basically impossible, but I can’t let myself become so fearful I lose hope. I just got my freedom back and, dammit, I’m not losing it again.

  I calm my breathing, even though my head is throbbing, and I try to think of my options.

  Something that’ll get me out of here.

  A strange but twisted plan comes to my mind. A plan I’m not entirely sure if I could pull off, but it’s worth a shot. I acted scared at the start, sure, but what if I change that? What if I scare him? What if he thinks he’s picked up the most twisted, crazy woman and is now stuck with her? Will he just kill me? Will it work and turn him on enough for him to ease up?

  I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot.

  Anything, right now, is worth a damned shot.

  Please let this work.

  NOW – BOHDI

  “I found my car on the side of the road,” Carson says, running into the clubhouse, panting, wet from the storm. “I was driving home, and I saw it just parked there. Nobody in it. She’s gone.”

  I’m just shooting back my second shot when his words fill my ears. I spin around on the barstool, letting his words sink in.

  She’s gone?

  What does he fucking mean she’s gone?

  “Slow down and tell me what you’re fuckin’ talking about,” I order.

  “My car, the one Merleigh took, is sitting on the side of the road. It was locked, her phone is inside. I think she locked herself out, but she isn’t there. No sign of her.”

  “Maybe she got a ride back to her place,” Alarick says from behind the bar, where he’s grabbing a full bottle of whiskey to take to his office.

  “I checked,” Carson says, his voice still tight. “She wasn’t there. The place was all locked up. I checked the beach, drove around town, dropped into her work. She’s not there.”

 

‹ Prev