...or something: Ronacks Motorcycle Club

by Debra Kayn

  Her hand shook, and she gripped the handle tighter. Every lesson, every practice, every instruction Battery drilled into her head escaped her. The weapon was heavy and awkward in her grasp.

  "Bree?" Mel leaned closer to her. "You'll be all right. I won't let anything happen to you."

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. They were all in together. What would come to the club would affect them all.

  "Mother fucker," said Battery on a growl at the same time he pulled his phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear. "Yeah?"

  Battery looked outside, blocking her view of his face. She dug her nails into the couch cushion and let her other hand with the pistol rest on her thigh. Her pulse deafened her to the uneasy mumbles in the room.

  Battery turned and shoved his phone in his pocket. "Everyone but Rod stays inside. You hear any gunshots; I want everybody outside with guns shooting. Do not stop until every fucking one of them is taken out."

  "Bree?" Battery turned to her, and his eyes retained their hardness.

  He simply stared, saying a million things without opening his mouth. She pressed her hand to her heart and gave up on the tears she'd held back. He was saying goodbye. One last look. One last moment, before he left her.

  "I won't say it," she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her. "You're coming back to me."

  He turned around, opened the door, and walked out with his vice president. She stood before Mel could pull her back down.

  "You can't go out." Mel forced her to sit.

  "What happened?" she asked, her jaw quivering. "Who called him?"

  Mel shook his head. "I don't know."

  "He can't leave me," she whispered, looking up at the ceiling, begging, promising, pleading for him to come back. "He promised me. He promised..."

  Her chest ached, squeezing the air out of her. She rocked on the edge of the couch, holding her heart in her chest.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Richard Murphy limped to a stop twenty feet in front of Battery and stared at the house. Battery took in the blood-soaked jeans and the way Bree's father leaned heavily on his uninjured leg in one glance. His attention was drawn more to the black Escalade rolling to a stop one hundred yards behind Richard.

  Battery recognized the driver with short, gray hair, black suit, and angled face who stepped out of the car, along with three other men who stood outside the vehicle. Boykov and the Russians presence more of a threat than one injured man.

  Rage filled Battery at the sight of all parties converging again after so many years. He itched to pull the trigger on his pistol. As the only one who stood between a threat to Bree and Bree herself, he wanted to annihilate everyone who had caused her pain.

  "I should kill you now for bringing them to your daughter," said Battery. "What the fuck are you thinking?"

  "I walked off the mountain and agreed to hand myself over to Boykov on one condition. He lets me see Bree and my death ends his revenge on my family. It's always been me they were after. Bree was only the bait they wanted to use to get me to come out of hiding and they would've killed my daughter once they had me." Richard swayed and caught himself. "They've shot me in an artery to guarantee I can't walk away or run. I'm bleeding out. It was the only way they'd allow me to see my daughter. I don't have much time, Battery. Boykov will get his revenge, and all of this will finally be over. Bree will be safe."

  "You can't know that," said Battery, watching the Russians stand at attention.

  "They've given me their word."

  "You're fucking crazy." Battery glanced at Richard. "Their word? They've been hunting you for nineteen years."

  "I'm a dead man. They'll get what they want from me. I need to see Bree with my own eyes. It's over. They're not going to bother her anymore now that they have me. It's the last thing I'm...doing for her."

  "I'm not allowing her outside around Boykov and his men," he said.

  Richard shook his head, his dirty red hair sticking to his sweating face. "They won't let me out of their sight. I don't have that much time, Battery. I'm losing my vision. Everything is going in and out, and I'm fucking weak. Please, let me see Bree and tell her I'm sorry."

  "What if they try to take her out?"

  "They won't."

  "Fuck you. You walked right to them. We had a plan, Murphy. A plan to protect Bree." Battery kept his gaze on Boykov in the distance.

  "The plan changed when she got old enough to love you," said Richard, wheezing. "I saw the truth in your face, my friend. I'm giving you a chance at a future with my daughter. Bree needs the life that she was meant for."

  "Fuck," muttered Battery.

  Richard's eyes closed longer than normal. "We need to hurry, man."

  "I want one of my men on them to secure her safety, and then I'll bring Bree out, and you can say your goodbye," said Battery, knowing if he had a chance, a future with Bree, she needed to see her father one last time.

  Richard hung his head, almost lost his balance, and shouted, "Boykov— he wants a guard on you while I talk to my daughter."

  Battery looked at Rod, motioned for him to move forward, and when his V.P. walked by him, he said, "They make one move, or you see a gun, shoot the motherfuckers."

  "You got it." Rod continued walking toward the car, skirting the grass in the yard.

  Once everyone was in position, Battery said, "LeWorth, bring Bree out. Put your body in front of hers until you hand her over to me. Whatever you do, do not let her move away from you."

  The door behind him opened and closed. Battery looked back at Richard. He hadn't much time. Bree's father weaved on his feet, and the blood pooled under his boot.

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Bree shot to her feet when LeWorth came in the house without Battery. "There were no shots. He's not dead. He's not—"

  "No, sweetheart. Battery is fine. President wants you outside." LeWorth motioned for her to come forward. "We're going to walk outside, and I want you to stay behind me and hold on to the back of my vest. Don't let go. If you let go, you'll endanger Battery's life."

  She nodded frantically, adrenaline and relief at hearing Battery's names uttered from LeWorth fueled her forward. She gave no thought to walking away from the security of the house to reach Battery.

  "Ready?" asked LeWorth.

  "Y-yes." She stayed right behind him, dogging his steps, afraid to look around him.

  When he stopped, she ran into the back of him. Her head came up, and Battery was beside her. She reached for him, and he placed his hand on her lower back, steadying her.

  "I need you to stand right here beside me, carney-girl. Whatever is said or whatever you see, you can't move away from me." Battery's worried eyes studied her.

  "What's going on?" she whispered.

  Battery glanced ahead of him. Her gaze followed his and she frowned at finding a stranger a few yards ahead of her and a big car at the end of the driveway with men wearing all black. She gasped at the realization she was looking at the Russian men who were after her and shifted closer to Battery. The second she understood the situation, she jerked her gaze back to the man standing closer in front of her, and every muscle in her body constricted.

  She stared, taking in the eyes looking at her, the interest and familiarity in his gaze.

  Her father.

  She blinked to keep the tears from clouding her vision and reached up to her hair and took in the same color in her dad's hair. Lightheaded at seeing her dad for the first time since before she could remember him, she stepped forward, and Battery grabbed her wrist.

  "No." Battery softened his voice. "You can't go to him, Bree. He's wounded, and Boykov won't allow him to come any closer."

  "He's hurt?" That's when she observed the blood soaking his jeans and puddling at her dad's feet, the unbalanced stance, the favoring of his leg, and the trembling of his hands. "We have to help him," she mumbled, feeling sick.

  "Richard, let's get this meeting going. I don't want her out here any longer than she n
eeds to be," said Battery.

  Richard lifted his hand, and it flopped back down to his side useless. "You look like your mother."

  She covered her mouth, holding in her cry. "Dad?"

  "Yeah, baby. I'm your dad." Richard's voice shook. "I know it's a hell of a way to see you after all these years..."

  She pressed her hand to her stomach, trying hard not to look away from his face to the blood everywhere. "I understand."

  "No." Richard shook his head. "I made a lot of mistakes."

  "It's over now. You're here." She looked to Battery and back to her dad, needing to get closer, to help him, to see his eyes.

  "I want you to know I never stopped thinking about you." Richard's knee gave out, and he caught himself before he fell to the ground.

  She gasped, lunging forward, but Battery held her wrist. "Please. Don't move. You're only making yourself bleed more."

  "Caring, just like your momma." Richard straightened from his bent position. "I love you, Bree Ann. I never stopped loving you."

  "I love you, too," she whispered, her voice breaking. "It'll be okay now, right? You can stay with Battery and me. There's a doctor in town or Swiss can help you or something."

  "I need to leave, Bree, and I won't be back." Richard shuffled his good leg and kept his balance, and when he continued, his voice was stronger. "You've got a good man beside you. The best. He's taken care of you when I couldn't, and you can trust him."

  She nodded, tears running down her face. Unable to stop crying, she wiped her hands across her eyes so as not to lose sight of her father. "I know."

  "Forgive me, Bree Ann. I failed to protect you and your mom." Richard exhaled loudly and coughed harshly.

  "Can't I do something for him?" she whispered to Battery. "Can't you bring him inside? Please, he's going to die."

  Battery slipped his hand underneath her hair and palmed her neck. "If you've got something to say to him, Carny-girl, you need to tell him now and then let him go. Let him have his dignity and finish the nightmare that he's been living. You need to do this for him, Bree."

  "I can't," she said.

  "You can."

  She sobbed and covered her mouth. She wasn't strong enough. He'd only came back to leave her again. She couldn't understand what was happening and why he couldn't stay.

  "I forgive you and understand." She rubbed away the salty tears running into her mouth. "I had a good life," she lied.

  "You did?" said Richard, sniffing loudly.

  She nodded, muffling her sob. "I love Battery. It took a while for me to convince him, but I love him with my whole heart. He's my life."

  "That's good." Richard's smile was full of pain. "Real good, baby."

  Her chest burned, and her nose ran, her throat closed up, and she squeakily said, "I don't want you to go, Daddy. Don't leave me."

  Richard Murphy lifted his chin. "You'll be okay from now on, Bree. I made sure of that this time. You can stay with Battery. Hold on to him tight, baby. Love him. Let him love you."

  Her legs shook and if not for Battery's hand on her, she would've fallen to her knees. She nodded.

  "Be happy, daughter." Richard smiled, and the absolute resignation of his fate in his eyes settled on him.

  She covered her mouth and straightened her fingers toward him, blowing a kiss. Unable to say the words. Unable to tell him a lifetime of wishes, fears, and thoughts.

  Richard dipped his chin, accepting the affection the only way he could. Then, he looked at Battery and said, "Thank you, my friend."

  With his back straight, her dad turned around and limped away from her. She cried out wanting him to stop.

  "Daddy, don't walk away from me," she whispered, unsure if she even made a sound.

  He kept limping away.

  He was leaving her, and she couldn't stop him.

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she wheezed, drawing air into her seized chest. Battery's arm came around her waist, holding her up, dragging her back toward the house. She stared in horror at the Russian men walking forward, getting closer to her father.

  Her dad stumbled and fell. She screamed and kicked out against Battery holding her, trying to get to her father.

  "Get up," she whispered.

  Why wasn't he moving?

  "Daddy!"

  He wasn't getting back up.

  "No. no, no," she whispered, clawing at Battery's arm holding her steady. "Don't leave me."

  The men picked her dad up under his arms and dragged him to the car. She sagged over Battery's arm, gut wrenching sobs tearing her body in two. The realization of what her father had done screamed in refusal in her head.

  The car doors shut, echoing in her head over her screams. The vehicle backed up, turned, and drove away. She lost all strength in her legs and Battery picked her up and carried her into the house.

  Her father left her to save her.

  He was never coming back.

  He was dead.

  Dead.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Bree sat in front of Battery on the dock with her toes dipped in the water. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back to his chest and stared out at the water. The last twenty-four hours a nightmare that would stick with both of them forever.

  "How do I go on living knowing he died to save me?" Bree crossed her arms over his arms as if to hold in all her feelings that were coming out. "I can't even wrap my head around the sacrifices and depth you and my dad went to make sure I received a life away from the Russians."

  "A good man will sacrifice everything for his family, carny-girl. Accept it, heal, and go on the way Richard would want you to."

  "I don't think I can." She leaned her head back against the front of his shoulder. "He barely knew me."

  "He knew you." He kissed the top of her head.

  She tilted her head and looked up over her shoulder at him. "Through you?"

  He nodded.

  "How often did you see him over the years after he went up onto the mountain?" asked Bree.

  He understood she needed to talk, but he'd hidden his visits, his contact, his guardianship over Bree practically his whole life. She wasn't the only one who struggled to understand the changes that came from Richard walking right to Boykov and his men.

  "Once a month for nineteen years." He moistened his lips. "I took supplies up to him and would share everything I knew about how you were doing. It was enough. Richard bolstered through the days living off of any news I had about you, knowing you were safe. It's what made it possible for him to live a life of seclusion."

  She turned back around. "I didn't even know my father, and yet when he was standing in front of me, none of that mattered. I knew he was my dad. It hurts."

  "Yeah." He rocked her side to side, remembering what seemed like a lifetime ago of taking her to the dock to get her to calm down and sleep. "The pain will lessen over time, and you'll see that everything he had done was out of love. His sacrifices meant you lived."

  "When will it stop hurting?"

  He stared down at her toes, now wiggling in the water. "When you have your own child and realize that you would do anything, even give up your own life, to make sure she or he will remain happy."

  She hummed in consideration. He looked at the woman who stepped over society's boundaries, never gave up on him, and planted herself so fucking deep into his life he understood the level of sacrifices Richard made and the reasons why. To anyone else, his relationship and love for Bree spanned an area that was inconceivable.

  But, he understood.

  Bree understood.

  That's all that fucking mattered.

  "I need to look for the good things happening. It's what my dad had done." Bree scooted sideways to look at him. "It's nice to be outside again, at the pond, and with you."

  He smiled tenderly, hurting more because it was so like Bree to hide the pain and show him the way to heal despite her age and lack of experience. "Fake it until you make it?"
r />   "...or something." She shrugged. "You know what I want to do?"

  He grunted. It wouldn't matter because anything Bree wanted, he'd make sure she got it.

  "Let's go for a ride." She kissed him softly.

  "You want to go into town?" He shook his head. "I'm not feeling it."

  "No, let's hit the interstate and outrun everything happening to us for an hour and go back to concentrating on us," she said.

  "Ride with purpose." He cupped her cheek.

  She pressed against his hand and smiled. "Definitely a purpose."

  He kissed her softly, pushed to his feet, taking her with him. Looping his arm over her shoulders, he tugged her close. Despite the heaviness in the air, the sadness beating in him, Richard had given him a gift. Another day and another night with Bree.

  The last several weeks, he never thought he'd be walking out of the situation alive. While not afraid to die, he feared leaving Bree to live the rest of her life alone. Sure, she had the club, but she protected herself from growing close to others. Always afraid to feel too deeply in case she had to leave, she kept her needs and wants to herself, afraid if others formed an attachment or opinion about her, they'd abandon her. That was something she'd live with for the rest of her life thanks to growing up in the foster care system, and he understood and accepted the responsibility of making sure he never unnecessarily disrupted the trust she'd placed on him.

  What they had was a once in a lifetime chance at love and happiness, and he was going to take it, make it, and be with her every step of the way.

  Swiss walked out of the front door of the house, spotted them, and lifted his chin. "Where are you two going?"

  "Bree wants a ride." Battery stopped at his Harley and passed the helmet to Bree.

  Bree worked the chin strap and said, "It's necessary."

  Swiss held up his hands. "You don't hear me asking."

  "We'll be back before dark." Battery sat his bike.

  Bree climbed behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist and grabbed his belt. He started the bike and headed out. Glad the past couple of months hadn't left its scars on her and Bree wanted to enjoy the outdoors again, he headed toward the interstate.