“I heard you got rid of that nice piece of pussy you had, Killer,” Jake responded, ignoring Kink. “Ya know, she’s working at Essential Assets Gentlemen’s Club in Carson City, serving all those rich fucks. You can even buy her for the night if you want. I’m thinkin’ it wouldn’t be a bad idea to just ‘borrow’ her for the night but I gotta let Brooklyn and all the rest of the guys in on the fun too.”
Cillian’s temper was so close to exploding, his temples throbbed. “Oh yeah? You touch my ex-old lady and I will hunt you down and murder you myself. And I’ll finish off what Trey started in terms of Brooklyn…only I won’t miss and that asshole won’t be breathin’ when I get done with him.”
Jake looked back at Brooklyn who merely smiled. “We got Lennon covered and when we’re through with him and that skank bitch sister of ours who he’s fuckin’, believe me, if we find out he was takin’ a trip to the other side…thinkin’ ‘bout becomin’ a Saint like his old man, you don’t wanna see me because I will be staring at you down the barrel of a motherfuckin’ gun, you half-breed lovin’ shit for brains.”
Ronan laughed then. “Is that supposed to be some sort of racist joke? You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Jake—”
“—and you run your mouth too goddamn much, Ronan.” Brooklyn glared him down but he never flinched.
Jake threw a duffel bag at Kink. “Here are the motherfuckin’ drugs. Just what you asked for.”
Kink, their resident drug expert, opened it and grabbed a small vial of a chemical to test its potency level. The White Knights were a lot of things but there was a reason why they controlled the meth trade. Theirs was the best around, still made with the same ingredients as original Methamphetamine and not all the shit they used to dilute it nowadays with cold and flu medicine being harder to get a hold of in huge quantities.
Kink nodded. “It’s all good in the hood. Ronan, you can hand over the cash.”
Bookie quickly took the duffel bag from Kink and loaded it into the van before he and Quinn took off in a hurry.
Cillian had to stand there, his heart thundering in his chest as Jake counted the money, would make a joke with one of his cousins or Brooklyn, lose count, and then would have to start all over again.
Ronan cocked his Desert Eagle and all jokes stopped. “Listen, you can count that shit when you get home. You know where to find us if you want shit to go down, we’re out.”
Jake and Brooklyn looked at one another before both the brothers shrugged their shoulders.
“Then get the fuck out.” Brooklyn smirked. “Or did you forget you were in in Black Oak?”
Cillian nodded at Ronan and they slowly climbed on their bikes and stashed their helmets. No way did they want their back turned against these assholes with the kind of threats they’d just casually made.
He’d just turned on his Harley when Jake said, “Tell your Da he can be expectin’ his son’s head to come via Federal Express. Just as a parting gift from yours truly courtesy of Belfast. Trey will be dying in a matter of hours.”
Cillian finally put on his helmet and fastened it before he gave the signal and everyone left as they were ready. He was the last to leave but that he knew he could catch up with them easily.
He caught up and they drove back to the compound before they backed their bikes in and all hopped off.
“You better have your Da call Trey and make sure he’s okay.” Kink slapped his back and caught up with his family.
It was only eight but it felt later. Soon, the kids would be off to bed and it would turn into an adults only party where the liquor would continue to flow but marijuana and cocaine would also make an appearance.
Dizzy didn’t like drugs but as long as one stayed a recreational user, he generally stayed out of his members’ affairs. However, now that he’d had a triple bypass and was dealing with two cokeheads running one of his major charters, he’d gotten paranoid about the drugs. Now, he generally frowned on anything harder than marijuana being smoked.
This was a judgment call Cillian didn’t want to make but he had to tell his father about what was going on. Trey was in Belfast and he was supposed to be protected by the Lucifer Saints charter there but he was a grown ass man and could leave any time he wanted. There was nothing to stop him from wandering into the wrong area of Belfast. Something awful could go down that would not only hurt the Club but might end his father’s life.
Dizzy loved his children and he adored Cillian because he was the oldest but they all knew Trey Lennon had his heart. He’d been in love with Trey’s mother, the same kind of love he felt for Gisela. Although it hurt like a bitch to know his father played favorites, he understood where he was coming from. Surely if he’d been allowed to keep Conan and raise him as his son, he would be his favorite too. If anything ever happened to him, the pain would be felt just as deep, even if he’d never spent one day with his oldest progeny.
Conan was his and Gisela’s son, and no matter who raised him, that would never change.
Cillian was exhausted, and had absolutely no wish to stay at the Clubhouse. He wanted to go home, make love to his woman and fall asleep in their bed. He immediately sought out Gisela who was busy talking to Miranda and Naomi. Caitlin was on her lap, asleep.
“You ready to go, darlin’?”
She smiled and stood up after he picked up Caitlin and held her in his arms.
“I’ll go get Declan. I think he’s in the game room with Misty and that new guy she’s dating.”
“What new guy?”
“You met him earlier. Clooney…he’s a Demon’s Bastard—I’m not sure if they voted him in or if he’s a prospect. I didn’t get a chance to look at his cut.” Her soft hand grazed his forearm before she walked out of the main room and down the hallway.
He took the opportunity with her gone to see his father quickly. It surprised him when he opened the door to chapel and his parents were together, speaking quietly to one another. Bronaugh looked up and smiled slightly before she walked over to her son.
“Why don’t you let your Da and I take the wee ones’ home? You and Gisela can have a little privacy.”
“Are you sure, Ma? Gisela is fetchin’ Declan right now.”
She touched his arm before she grabbed Caitlin like she weighed nothing. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure. I’ll go let Gisela know the kids are stayin’ with us tonight, love. You take care of that woman of yours, make sure she’s happy. You can’t imagine the type of stress she’s been under and right now, she needs you a lot more than the kids do.”
He closed his eyes and bowed his head. The tears came just the same though he had no wish to break down in front of his mother. “I know she does and…I’ve failed her in so many ways. She’s stuck by me time and again and I’ve been nothing but a useless git—”
“She loves you, son, and you love her. Tonight, give her what she needs and don’t ever forget no matter how strong she is, she still needs you. Your love and affection are what keeps her goin’ and for so many years, we deprived that from you both. Not just us but her parents too but we only thought we were doin’ what was best…the same way we’re doin’ what’s best for Misty. She can’t take care of her daughter but Drake and his wife can. A child for a child, my love.”
He stared into his mother’s amber eyes and breathed deeply. “I don’t think I understand.”
“You’re me eldest son. I couldn’t allow your child to be raised by another family. Conan had to stay within the family and we know where he is…safe and sound. He carries our family name and when the time is right, he will know who his true parents are but until that time comes, you and Gisela are still young. You can have children of your own. We can’t control your life anymore and that’s a good thing.”
His mother kissed his brow and walked out with Caitlin nestled in her arms.
Dizzy sat back in his chair and stared at his son. “Ronan said some shite went down this evenin’ with those fookin’ WKs. What happened?”
Cillian sat dow
n cater-corner to his father before he reached out and grabbed his right wrist. “Call Belfast, Da. See what’s goin’ on. The WKs—they know. I’m not sure who they’ve been speakin’ to or perhaps their charter over in Belfast keeps them informed but they are aware of the whole situation. They know all about Trey’s transition from a Bastard to a Saint. Hell, they even know he’s your son. They want blood and I fear we can’t trust them anymore. This was the last meth run I will ever do.”
“How do they know?” Dizzy’s face turned a deep shade of crimson and he clutched his father’s wrist.
“Calm down, Da. Just make sure Trey is okay and let him know he has to be careful over there. Tell him to stay out of Protestant dominated areas and we will have to find another way to bring more money into the Club. We can’t trust the WKs. Tonight, I was afraid all of us wouldn’t make it back here breathin’, and that is no way to live.”
He stared at his father and sighed before he reluctantly continued, “I am tellin’ you…I won’t continue to lie to Gisela and I can’t risk my case anymore than I already have. I have to stay out of Club activities until we get a handle on this case and some sort of upper hand. Right now, the prosecutor is painting me as this cold-hearted, sadistic murderer and the jury is buying it.” He slowly let go of his father’s wrist and rested his arms on the smooth wooden table.
“You have a beautiful family son, and if I messed that up for you, I’d be heartbroken. Concentrate on the trial and your old lady. Life is too short and with what I’ve been through, I know that. I’ve made so many mistakes, and now I’m payin’ for ‘em. Don’t be like me—be a better man and father than what I have been to you and your brothers, you hear me?”
Cillian nodded before he stood, and walked slowly out of the chapel. As he closed the doors softly behind him, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
Chapter Fourteen
Gisela
The weeks that followed the barbeque were some of the toughest of my life.
It was more than Cillian’s trial and taking care of the kids. I felt like my whole life was breaking down and there was little I could do to stop it.
I had a feeling the reason why I felt so lethargic, moody and just plain difficult to get along with but I was afraid to take the test.
Cillian had demanded as soon as we got back together, I have my IUD removed. He’d used that Catholic guilt crap on me and how it wasn’t permitted by the church. Last time I’d checked, neither was murder but that hadn’t stopped him from killing dozens of people in his lifetime.
Shortly after I moved into the family home, I’d finally made an appointment with my gynecologist and had the damn thing removed. My periods eventually returned to normal, and so did my sex life with my soon-to-be old man.
It was only a matter of time before something happened and when it finally did, that whole summer dragged by.
The prosecution’s case finally came to an end in late August, the same day I found out I was six weeks pregnant.
I was still in my first trimester so I didn’t mention it to anyone but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out when I’d quit marijuana, cigarettes and alcohol cold turkey. The whole experience of carrying a child again brought back too many painful memories and I couldn’t tell Cillian—not yet at least—but I told Kyra.
“Good God, Gisela…what the hell are you gonna do? Have his baby and not know whether the kid will grow up to know his father at all?”
It was early September and I’d been presenting the defense case for a little over two weeks. Funny how time just snuck by when there was so much going on.
“I had my first…scan.” I nursed a cup of caffeine free green tea in my office as we went over case notes and planned my defense strategy for that upcoming Monday.
It was Friday, and although I could justify staying a bit late at work, Cillian would be calling soon.
Dizzy and Bronaugh had the kids that weekend, Brianna kept calling me and all I wanted to do was shut myself in an empty room, alone and away from the world.
“Okay. You had your first scan, without your old man because you haven’t told him yet and…” Kyra trailed off before she drank from a cup of coffee.
“I had my first scan and…I’m carrying twins.” The words didn’t feel like they were coming from me, and I didn’t recognize the voice speaking as my own.
“Shit on a stick…what are you going to do? You’re not planning on going through with the pregnancy, are you? I mean, he’s already got two kids and then there’s Conan.”
“Conan doesn’t belong to us so he isn’t even part of the picture and the kids…well, they’ll adjust. I can’t have an abortion, Kyra. It’s not in me to do something like that and you know I don’t judge—”
My best friend placed her hand on mine. “I know you don’t. You were with me when I had mine. I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it if you hadn’t been there. It’s just such…shitty timing. I mean, this case, and what he did to you with the cheating—”
“It was once, Kyra.” I closed my eyes and tried through sheer will and determination to keep an approaching headache at bay. “I can’t keep living in the past and thinking about that. It’s irrelevant—he doesn’t want to be with the woman in question. In the scheme of things, his indiscretion is a very small drop in the bucket. I want these children because we couldn’t keep our first. It’s bigger than bad timing and him being on trial. This is our life we’re talking about.”
She bit her lip before she nodded with understanding. “Believe me, I understand why you’re making this decision.”
However, I knew although she was my best friend, she didn’t. She couldn’t have; she hadn’t gone through what I had in Belfast.
The Past
The labor and subsequent birth of a child was more than I could have ever imagined but it was finally over. I was still a kid myself at sixteen and when the nun handed my son over to me, I couldn’t help but look at the scrunched up, rat looking creature and think he was the most beautiful baby in the world.
He opened his eyes and they were pale blue. He was bald but he’d entered the world weighing eight pounds and three ounces. He was twenty-four inches long and he was mine.
The last six months in Belfast had been miserable. I was in a home for unwed mothers and the nuns were not kind or helpful. We were a bunch of sluts who’d gotten knocked up and maybe if we were lucky, our child would be cute enough to be placed with a family.
My little prized possession went beyond merely cute. He was the love of my life and I already loved him as much I loved his father.
Sister Caroline walked in. She glanced at me with eyes so dark, they looked black in the dim light. Her skin, parchment white, and smooth, was a stark contrast to her eyes while her dark brown hair was perpetually worn in a tight bun.
“You have fifteen minutes, Gisela,” she greeted without so much as a “Hello.”
I held my little bundle to my breasts as tight as I could without hurting him. “I don’t understand…most of the girls get days and even a week. Why do I have fifteen minutes?”
She raised thick eyebrows and looked down her nose at me. “Looks like your child has been adopted out before you gave birth. The parents weren’t concerned with youse havin’ a touch of the tar brush. They only thought you and the father were very good looking people.”
I tried to swallow past a lump in my throat. “He looks like his dad and my mom…”
“Yes, thank God for small favors. The wee one’s parents are on their way from their hotel.” She turned and left the room, slamming the door shut.
Well, that explained why I’d given birth in a hospital instead of at the dreaded place I’d had to endure all this time. The adoptive parents had paid for my care to make sure their precious bundle would be born healthy.
My little one began to whine and I grabbed my right breast, full and heavy, and teased his lips with my nipple before he latched on without an issue. He was so beautiful and as he
looked at me with those pale blue eyes, I could see his father. The thought made me smile despite all the pain I was in.
I felt like I’d been ripped open from the inside although miraculously, I’d delivered an eight pound baby and had not sustained a single tear. My vagina felt like a watermelon had passed through it but I was in good shape down there thanks to being young.
I kissed his head and wondered what would be a good name for him. He looked like a Braedan or maybe a Joachim. It would be cool for him to represent all his mélange of cultures. Braedan Joachim Jackson-Cox. That was a strong masculine name for our perfect baby.
“Well, Braedan…looks like we don’t have much together. I want you to know that I love you very much and I won’t ever forget you. Your daddy would be here too but your grandparents won’t let him anywhere near me. He should be here to see you because he would think you’re just as gorgeous as I do.”
Deadly Seduction Page 18
