Before I Wake: A Kimber S. Dawn MC Novel

by Kimber S. Dawn

  “Fuck it. Call the cops,” I tell whoever will listen as I try to asses if Eve is breathing in between smudging her paler-than-normal complexion with the blood running in rivulets down my forearms and from my hands.

  “No sign of Ben. That must’ve been him in the stolen Lincoln. Just like King said. Phil said he’s still at the store, and there’s no sign of anyone else. Not besides Pipsqueak here.” Dreads walks around to where I’m still cradling her in my bleeding arms. “She breathing?” he asks. “Holy— Fuck! She’s bleeding?!”

  But I wave him off. “No. It isn’t hers, man. It’s mine. It’s not hers.” I keep scanning over her from head to toe. “She’s breathing. She’s just unconscious,” I mutter, realizing the facts when her eyes move behind her eyelids. “That or she’s faking, which I highly doubt.”

  She’s not nearly as banged up as she could be, but still. The fact that Ben isn’t here and I can’t make him pay for the shit my woman’s been through is probably gonna be the reason I hesitate when we have to leave here in about five to ten minutes.

  “Shit, Vagabond. What the hell’d he do to you, baby?” I keep brushing her hair from her face as the other brothers come to settle in the room once they’ve done their sweeps.

  When “King” walks in, I realize I may have fucked up when I busted in here without waiting on him. And that sucks; it really does. But I don’t have the time or the patience to fucking explain myself.

  As soon as the older Cajun man walks into the RV as though he’s gracing us with his presence, which irks the living hell out of me, I come up off the floor with my defenses raised. And with Eve Of’May O’Malley in tow, limp in my arms. “Look, bro—I know you wanted us to wait. I know we both agreed we’d wait until everyone was into position. But I saw her, and I—”

  Bam.

  The next thing I know, I’m seeing stars as King O’Malley’s fist retreats before clenching mid-cock back and preparing to clock me again. I hit my damn knees. Thankfully, Dreads and Phil step in, both yelling in unison.

  “Whoa! Whoa!”

  “Come on, Pops. You didn’t expect any less of him, did ya? I been telling y’all. Haven’t I been telling them, Philip? I been telling them,” Dreads says in a serious tone.

  However, the rest of the brothers catch his awkward banter and nervously chuckle, probably to try to ease the tension.

  I sniff some of the blood away then bring my forearm to my nose. “Jesus, motherfucker. You could have broken my nose! I was trying to apologize! Shit—”

  “No.” The man twice my age crowds my space. “No. You were young-gunning it. Flying by the seat of your pants. You weren’t fucking thinking! And, if you’re gonna be anywhere around my daughter, you’re gonna be thinking, yeah? She’s been through enough!”

  I grit my teeth and glare at him. Then I skip my gaze from Dreads to Phil to Slim. Then it lands back on the angry man’s in front of me.

  “I apologize. Okay? I just saw her and reacted. It was fucking knee-jerk,” I mutter then motion towards Eve. “Can we do something besides discuss this right now? I could hardly tell if she was breathing when I first came in…” My words trail off as I stand, and once I’m at my full height, I scoop Eve the rest of the way up until I’m holding her with one arm behind her back and the other under her knees.

  I motion towards the door he just came through then look at Dreads, expecting him to open it. When he does, I say, “Now, shall we? I’d like to get her out of here before my psychotic-ass cousin returns. Dreads, you and some of the guys stay behind. But fall back. Don’t let him see any of you. I wanna catch this motherfucker. Tonight.”

  Once the majority of the oversized men have moved from the confines of the small space, “King” interrupts before the other brothers are able to get too loud. “I want her at a hospital, Jacques. I want my daughter receiving the medical attention she needs. Now. If you have a problem with that, put her in Phil’s Silverado. If not, then she and the child she’s carrying—your child—may ride with you in your Tahoe.”

  I stop when I’m close enough to my bike and look over at him. Then, after blinking at him for a few seconds, I debate on setting little miss sleeping beauty on top of it. But, for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the hell this old man’s talking about.

  “I brought my bike, not the Tahoe. It’s not here.” I shrug, quickly cut my eyes to Philip with a what-the-fuck look on my face, and then raise my eyebrows before glancing back at “King” with a smirk.

  “My uncle Renee had one of our prospects drive your truck up here from your club. Figured this,” Philip says, motioning at me as I carry Eve, “would pose as an issue with his definition of careful where Miss Eve is concerned. Unless...you’re fine with her riding with Beau and me?”

  “Fuck no!” I shout as the inkling of a headache starts circling the edges of my consciousness. And fuck no, I didn’t bring my damn yellow pills. “She’s not going anywhere with anyone besides me.”

  Phil jerks his head in my peripheral, and after I follow his line of vision, I catch sight of my white truck a few yards down the dirt road from where I rolled my bike. We pulled up under the low hanging trees behind the cabin “King” rented out an hour ago tops. I nod at the men standing around then make my way towards my truck.

  I glance over my shoulder, shouting and suddenly pissed as hell at everyone around me. “I dunno why you made your prospect bring my truck, ‘King’, but it was a good call! However, she’s not going to no fucking hospital. She’s going to see the Butcher. The man’s a certified baby catcher by day. What he does on nights and weekends when he’s not on call is no one’s business. And the cops aren’t asking any questions about the missing gunshot victims. That’s for damn sure. If Butch says she needs to go, then we’ll go—I’ll take her. But, with all due respect, I know this town, Renee. And I know how to get your daughter the help she needs and the quickest way for her to get it.”

  A prospect wearing “King’s” colors via a blue-and-black cut is standing closest to my white, jacked-up Chevy Tahoe, the keys in his left hand. As I step towards him, he holds them out.

  “Here ya go, man. She’s got plenty of gas. ‘King’ had me check.”

  After nodding, I swipe the keys from him and hit the button on the key fob. Once I have my little Vagabond gently laid out across the back seat of my Tahoe, I glance over to where ‘King’ is still standing. I shrug again when he doesn’t respond.

  “Butch is good for you, then, right? I gotta head back here after I drop her off at the compound.” I lightly close the door at Eve’s feet and walk around the driver’s side.

  Philip steps forward in front of “King” like he wants to say something.

  And between him, the headache that’s now slicing through any more important gray matter I already didn’t have, my quickly swelling closed eyes, and my bloody nose, I’m surprised when my only subtle response is to rest my hand on the Kimber 1911 my pops gave me when I turned eighteen and patched into SOS. With one hand on my pistol, which is holstered under my cut, I slide my other inside the driver’s open window and roll down the window above Eve’s head under the passenger’s seat. Maintaining eye contact with Renee “King” O’Malley the entire time, I slowly make my way around the car, and when I’m at Pipsqueak’s open window, I shrug my cut off and wad it up. After raising my eyebrows even farther, I jerk my chin towards him.

  “So? What’s the call? I’m not gonna fucking overstep your orders again, old man. She’s your daughter. I can’t really afford to fuck up this alliance, and we both know it.”

  I tuck my cut under Vagabond’s head from outside the window, and once she appears somewhat comfortable, at least by my standards, I lock eyes with her father. And wait on him to make his call.

  “King, she needs to be assessed, man, either way. And soon. Make up your mind.”

  After being stuck in a staring contest with the man for more than a minute, I end up sighing in defeat before looking up at the pitch-black sky, the wait
ing having caused exhaustion to set in. I squint when the leaves in the trees move and something—a memory? It’s something I’ve been chasing around my scrambled head since I woke up and remembered the quiet prayer I kept hearing being whispered in my unconsciousness while I was lying in a coma. It’s something real—and I don’t know if it’s the oak trees and their low-hanging branches or the stillness of the dark, moonless night sky peeking around the edges of it, but something profound happens, and it’s so profound the memory of it ricochets through me.

  Vagabond in the trees when we were kids. Yeah, of course. I already vaguely recalled that. I just couldn’t remember the importance of it. I didn't understand the moment’s significance. But, now, Vagabond—or the memory of her...the tree that makes no sound—suddenly makes all the fucking noise and sense in the world.

  I look down at Eve only to squeeze my eyes shut and look back up into the trees. But I don’t see the trees when I open my eyes. Rather, I see different trees. Trees that have little girls up in their branches, whispering a child’s bedtime prayer to me, as darkness creeps in. While I’m pinned between my favorite bike and that same damn tree. Then men stepping from around the trees, then slinking back into their shadows...

  King moves forward and it draws my attention to him before I glance back down at Eve and lean my forearms and my head against the roof of the truck. I’m almost on bended knees when Slim runs up and shuffles a pill bottle from his pocket.

  “Butch said one of us should carry a few as backup. We don’t need any seizures happening. We came too close last time. Here, bro. Take two.”

  My sweaty palm slaps his before scooping the pills from his hand. I don’t ask for water, nor do I look around for any—I just toss them both in my mouth and chomp them to bitter bits before running my tongue along the roof of my mouth and swallowing.

  “I want you to drive five under the speed limit the entire way back to the compound. I’ll have Philip call HQ and let them know we need them to round up Butch if he’s not still at the club. I want you to keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel while you’re driving her.” He tightens his tie and adjusts his cuffs, and when he looks into the car at Vagabond, a hint of a smile lightens his hardened features. “My cher bebe has been through so much, as I’ve already mentioned. And, when I think of all the times I wanted and prayed for a child, especially after my maman passed… And, now, I have one, finally. She’s precious, that child. You understand me, son, yeah?”

  After snatching a couple of old T-shirts from the very back of the truck, I wrap them around my forearms in hopes it will help stop the bleeding. Or at least slow it. Then I nod towards “King.” “Yes, sir. Will do. I understand.” I tie the last T-shirt around my bicep, and after it’s good and tight thanks to my pearly whites, I round the driver’s side again and slide behind the wheel.

  “King’s” men’s bike engines roaring to life split the quiet night, and they’re revving in unison when Dreads comes up to the truck and pats the hood. I roll my window down, jerking my chin towards him.

  “Hey, man. Like I said, keep them back. If he returns before I do, just fucking hogtie his ass. I’ll be back when I fucking get here. I need to make sure this one’s okay.” I glance over my shoulder at Eve, and my heart suddenly feels tight as fuck. I’m forced to cough to clear my throat when I look back at Dreads just to get the words out. “You, ahh...know anything about paternity tests and shit?” I chuckle around the awkwardness, but Dreads immediately calls me out.

  He leans his forearms against my car window and jerks his head. “Nope. Don’t need to. Neither do you. You know as well I as I do—”

  “I know. I fucking know.” I glare ahead, watching as the members of DDDs slowly file out onto the main path from the park. “I’ll be back. Hour—hour and a half tops. Keep our boy on ice. Don’t fuck him up too bad though. I wanna be here for that.” I point my index finger forward. “Text me as soon as he returns, yeah?”

  After Dreads slaps me on the back, he nods. “You got it, brother. Drive safe, or ‘King’ is gonna fucking kill you.” He chuckles.

  I release my foot off the brake. “No fucking shit, man. Right?” I chuckle before rolling the window up and toeing the gas.

  I saw the motherfuckers before they had the chance to see me, thank fuck. However, I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do now that I have obtained this knowledge. Circle the joint while the two MCs get their men into position to take me out? Umm, I think not. I didn’t raise no fool, and yes, I said I. Because I fucking raised myself. And, while that statement may not be totally accurate, it’s the way I fucking see it. In reality, I was raised by several different MCs.

  The first half of my life—the half I refer to as my red half—I was raised believing I bled blood as red as the red on my cut. My pops was a part of that life, but that’s a part of a different story. I wondered how long it’d last. How long I’d be able to step back and forth between my red life and my life with no colors at all.

  No Name—No Colors.

  The way it fucking should be. The way it always should've been.

  When we were kids, just barely fucking twenty, and Jacques acted funny about that girl I raped—I knew when I had to tell him she was faking, that that’s how she wanted it. I knew then he and I would never see eye to eye. Therefore, I waited for him to walk away to snap her little neck. Thankfully, Rox was there to help me clean up the mess. Like always. If anyone in any of this deserves anything, it’s my Roxy Bell. I don’t know how I went so long so completely blinded by Eden.

  And the entire time, she’d been sleeping with Jacques. My own goddamn cousin.

  Roxy was scared to death—for me, for our club. Roxy’s always had her finger on the pulse of the SOS MC. If anything was ever going down, if there was ever anything being rumored about and you wanted the facts, you went to Roxy. And, if Rox trusted you, she’d let you in on what she knew. And I said IF.

  When Rox met me in Clearwater, I was only there to get what I thought was mine. I thought my only competition would be Josh, the fucking newest prospect in the Clearwater chapter. And I knew that Eden’s kid wasn’t his; the damn girl had just met him. Hell, I know for a fact she was already pregnant when they hooked up! Josh didn’t give a shit who she belonged to. He made it a point to tell me. All he wanted from her was what she had between her legs. And I understood that—I did. That’s why I let the motherfucker live. At least until he started making too much ruckus when Eden didn’t make it out of the abortion Rox and I made her have. I didn’t know the dumbass punk would try to rally his brothers up and then force Rox and me out of town.

  We didn’t have shit to call home after that. The whole damn SOS MC put out an APB to the other MCs. One of my men said they’re asking for us dead or alive…

  I snicker under my breath as I make my way onto the interstate headed anywhere but towards New York City. And I’m supposed to believe that Jacques still has Roxy stashed away somewhere? I’m supposed to fucking swallow his lies—trust he’s kept her safe and alive? He failed to mention the APB. That’s where he fucked up. Or that’s where he would have fucked up had my plan stayed on track. I didn’t foresee her going into preterm labor, and I’m not sure how Jacques is gonna handle that. But she’s his damn problem now, isn’t she?

  After she’d passed out in the middle of smoking her dipped cigarette, I tossed her over my shoulder and carried her into the small room in the back of the RV. A split second of her flailing through the air passed, and she landed on the bed before I dragged her body towards me by her ankles, making sure she felt my erection pressing into her as I leaned over limp frame.

  But, when my knuckles hit something sticky on the bed, I jerked her up and stood. Then I tossed her onto a chair next to it.

  “Please.”

  I thought I heard her murmured word, but when I looked back and saw her slumped over, still seemingly unconscious, I left her where she was, turning to the mess on the bed.

  “Did
you fucking vomit, Vagabond? God, you’re nasty!” I stripped the bed while taunting her just in case she could still hear me. “Ugh! This is so disgusting. You’re just like your sister. Both of you are a pathetic, nasty waste of time. You know that? I had to clean up her fucking mess too!” I toed the chair my prisoner was in until it flipped back and she spilled out of it.

  After getting a few good giggles of my own in, I toed her forehead a few times with my boot. Then my hand circled her upper arm, and for the first time since I’d taken her a week ago, I realized how much weight she’d lost. I’m not sure when it happened, but I cleaned her vomit off the bed and it’d been stripped and was bare when I tossed her limp ass back on it.

  I was heading from the room, towards the kitchen, when I glanced over my shoulder at her. And the angle of her face—or maybe it was the way the setting sun shone through the broken blinds and barely brushed across her dark hair and smooth complexion. But her beauty—while it was so similar to Eden’s, it was different. It was captivating, odd...yet poignantly mesmerizing. And, somehow, even in and out of consciousness, she captured me, enrapturing me in the middle of my task!

  It’s easy to see why Jacques loves her. The thought entered my mind as my feet slowed, and for the first time, I stopped and really looked at the woman carrying my cousin’s child. It was easy to see why he’d finally let go of not only Roxy, but his flock of bed warmers, too. Eve is beautiful. The thought barely whispered across my brain as I tugged her tank top down. Then her bra. And, after her tits had spilled out, I slapped at them before plucking her nipples as tight as I could between my thumb and my forefinger.

  “You like that, you dirty bitch?” I continued taunting her even though her lack of response was beginning to bore me. I’d been dying to get my hands on her since the flight home though, to be completely honest. “Did your dirty-ass sister tell you she was carrying his fucking kid too? It’d be alive right now, you know it? Fuck, and if it’d been mine?” I gagged, remembering when Rox had spelled everything out for me in Clearwater.