by Ashley Lane
A shiver runs down my spine and chills race across the expanse of my body. Something is wrong. I can feel it deep in my bones. “Oakley!” I shout. Nothing.
Taking in a deep breath, I walk toward the private restroom on this floor. When I open the door, it’s empty. Turning, I clench my fists and shove my hand in my pocket to call Angel when I hear a quiet thump. I still myself, listening, waiting. Thump. The storeroom is the only other room on this floor, but Oakley wouldn’t need to go in there…
With my hand on the doorknob, I twist it slowly then push it open. What my eyes see, feels and looks like a scene from my worst nightmare.
Malcolm is straddled over Oakley’s hips, wailing into her face, his fists raining down into her unconscious form. In that split-second, a monster is born within me. I grab Malcolm, two hands tight around his throat, and I slam his useless body into the floor, still squeezing his neck, hoping my strength is enough to crush his bones.
The glint of a knife catches my eye and I reach for it before holding it in my fist and plunging it into Malcolm’s shoulder. He screams as I do the same thing over and over until a gasp from Oakley catches my attention.
“MADDOX!”
Scrambling off a still Malcolm, I rush to Oakley and untie her wrists and ankles, and pull the gag from her mouth, begging her to say something… anything.
“MADDOX!” I shout. “MADDOX!” My throat is raw from shouting his name. I pull Oakley’s head into my lap and stroke her hair. “Baby, please open your eyes for me sweetheart...”
“Ja—” Blood dribbles from her split lip. “Hurts.”
“I know, sweetheart. Just hold on for me, okay.”
Malcolm groans in pain at the same time Maddox stops in the doorway. He takes in the scene before him, and with a roar, he lunges at Malcolm and rolls him onto his back before pressing his foot onto Malcolm’s chest.
“Oh look, if it isn’t the fuckin’ fairy,” Malcolm spits.
Using his grip on his shirt, Maddox lifts him from the ground before slamming him down again. “Why?” he growls. “She didn’t fuckin’ do anything to you.”
“Don’t take it personal, it’s just business,” he says, blood pouring from his mouth.
“The fuck does that mean?”
“Apparently I’m not the only one who wants the ugly bitch gone.”
Maddox glances over his shoulder. “Jax, baby, pass me that knife,” he says. “And call my brothers.”
“The fuck!” Malcolm screams. “You can’t kill me! He knows I’m here, he’ll tell the cops it was you.”
Maddox drops down, straddling Malcolm’s thighs, his wrists pinned beneath Maddox’s knees. He holds Malcolm’s face with one hand, and with the other he holds the pocket knife and drags it down Malcolm’s face, leaving a deep gash that bleeds profusely.
“What’s his name?” Maddox asks him.
“Fuck you!” he spits. “Fuck you, you’re gonna kill me anyway.” He turns Malcolm’s head slightly and does the same to the other side eliciting a piercing scream from the man.
Feet pound up the stairs and Priest’s frame appears in the doorway. With a glance, he takes in the state of the room and scowls. “Maddox, you need to get up. We’ll do this the right way… the way you wanted. Remember?”
Without a word, Maddox jabs the knife into Malcolm’s shoulder one last time, leaving the knife embedded in his flesh.
Maddox kneels on the floor beside me. One hand on Oakley’s head, the other in my hand, and his head resting on my shoulder. “She’ll be okay,” I promise. “We’ll be okay.”
Priest brings his phone to his ear. “It’s me… she’s not critical, but she needs to be examined immediately. Yeah, they’re on their way.”
His phone goes back into his pocket and he stares at Malcolm’s prone body. “Patch is waiting for you at the hospital. There’s a team on standby waiting for you to get there. Don’t worry about this. Well get him where he needs to be.”
I gather Oakley against my chest, being careful of her head. Maddox leads the way but stops in front of Priest.
“He’s mine,” he growls.
“And mine,” I cut in.
Priest nods in agreement. “He’ll be waiting.”
CHAPTER 24
ANGEL
The door to the hospital room opens, and I lift my head to see Patch coming through. He lifts his chin in greeting and nods toward the hall, gesturing for me to talk to him outside.
I glance at Jax’s sleeping form, he’s on the hospital bed holding a sleeping Oakley in his arms. I press a gentle kiss to their foreheads so as not to wake them, then leave the room to meet Patch outside.
“How’s she doin’?” Patch asks. He couldn’t work on her due to a conflict of interest, but he left her in the care of doctors he trusts, which was enough for me.
I lean against the wall, needing the support. “I found her upstairs in the storeroom at Corrupt. Malcolm had stabbed and beat her. By the time I got there, Jax had managed to get him down, but I lost it, man… If Priest hadn’t shown up when he did, he’d be dead.” Not that it’s a different ending then the one that’s coming to him, but unlike the blind rage beating I unleashed on him at the club, his death will be slower, thought out, planned.
“We brought her in and they got working on her right away. So far we know the CT Scan showed a ruptured spleen—they took her into surgery right away—”
Patch nods. “Splenectomy… Good,” he says.
“Yeah… Other than that, she’s got bruised ribs, a small knife wound to her abdomen that only needed medical glue, and she’s covered in bruises… It could have been worse,” I say. The doctors tried to console me telling me it could have been worse, to be thankful Jax found her when he did. They don’t realize that a single hair out of place on her head done in anger is too much. Not when Jax and I both vowed that she’d be safe with us.
“I’ll take a look over her charts. If there’s anything you should be worried about, I’ll let you know. But right now, it sounds like she’s out of the woods.” He pats my shoulder.
“She’s gonna be fuckin’ sore, but she’s a fighter,” I say, trying to smile.
Patch averts his gaze then shoves his hands into his pockets. “We uh... we didn’t know that you and Jax... shared.” He says, his eyes glancing everywhere except at me.
I laugh, he looks like a nervous dad about to give his kid the dreaded birds and the bees talk. “We’ve been known to share women through the years,” I admit with a grin. “But this is more than a night of sharing our bed.”
“So, it’s serious?” he asks. There’s a hint of shock in his tone, and if he even considers judging us, he can fuck right off, brother or not.
I glare at him. “I love them. Both of them. Is that serious enough for you, Dad?” I growl to ensure he knows I’m not fucking around here.
Patch holds his hands up in surrender. “No need to get defensive. You know we all accept you the same as we’ll accept them. No conditions.” The sincerity in his voice has me backtracking.
I slump against the wall, press my hands to my thighs and take a deep breath. I knew they would accept us, two, three, man, woman. It wouldn’t matter to my brothers.
I straighten and look at Patch as he says, “I know she needs some time to recover, but bring her around the clubhouse. The women would love to meet our newest female inductee.”
I shake my head, laughing when I remember how overwhelmed Oakley was when she started at Corrupt. The club women are a hundred times worse and will smother her to death if we’re not careful. Maybe I should ask Patch for a prescription for Xanax.
I’m about to ask, jokingly, when footsteps have me turning to find Priest walking toward us. When he reaches me, he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he fists the back of my shirt and pulls me in for a forceful man hug. It feels like I imagine a hug from a dad would feel, and for those few brief moments I linger in that feeling of calm.
When Priest steps back, Patch smiles and nods be
fore he heads toward the emergency room.
“How is she?” Priest asks.
“She’s good. banged up, but good.” I scrub my hands down my face; I’m exhausted, but I don’t have time to worry about it yet.
Priest nods and crosses his arms over his chest. “This what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Actually, no. That fucker Malcolm was wasn’t even a blip on my radar. Some shit went down a few weeks ago, but I thought I handled it. This time I won’t leave any loose ends.” I clench my fists.
Realization dawns in Priest’s eyes. “Malcolm was the sinner. The one you brought before the club.”
I grit my jaw and nod.
“He’s waiting for you. Whenever you’re ready—he’s not going anywhere,” Priest assures me. “So you wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?”
I nod. “I’ll tell you what I know.”
Patch leads me to a doctor’s lounge and fixes each of us a coffee before he settles at the table opposite me.
“Oakley’s dad is Chad Manningham.”
My brothers stare at me with not a small amount of shock. They know him well. We all do. Oakley’s dad—AKA Holy Sabre is notorious in the criminal world. Word of the preacher turned arms dealer spread like wildfire. Fuel was doused on the already rampant flames when his wife and daughter mysteriously died in a house fire. Police spent years searching high and low for him, but the man was a ghost. Conspiracy theories said he was dead, others said he was in hiding—the FBI remained silent.
“But… I thought his daughter was dead?” Patch says.
“So did I,” I admit with a shrug.
When Priest remains silent, I continue, “Manningham and his right-hand man broke into the house one night raging about money he was convinced Oakley’s mom had stolen and hidden away—”
“Did she?” Priest questions.
I shake my head. “Oakley is convinced she didn’t.”
“And what do you believe?” Patch asks.
I take a mouthful of coffee before I reply. “She had no reason to lie. If anything, telling the truth could have saved Oakley the torture... they fucking burned her, man. All the while her mom was forced to watch until she admitted where the money was.”
“What happened next?” Patch asks.
“When they realized they weren’t getting anything out of either of them, they shot her mom and left Oakley tied up before they set the house on fire and bolted. Oakley managed to get free and made it outside, but not before she suffered serious burns.”
I rest my elbows on the table and push my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends. “She spent months in a burn center—multiple surgeries, countless hours of rehabilitation. She was released into witness protection where she stayed until a few years ago. She was tired of hiding and wanted a chance at a normal life. Her dad hadn’t been seen in years, she assumed he was dead,” I explain.
“So how does all this fit in? Oakley was presumed dead, and honestly, that situation worked to her advantage. She stayed hidden for years before she left WITSEC and has lived years since with no trouble. What changed?” Priest’s eyes are narrowed as he tries to make sense of everything.
“She got a text about two weeks ago. Scared the fuck outta her. She was packed up and ready to run, but Jax and I managed to stop her; told her we could protect her.” I say it as a statement, though I know Priest hears the underlying question in my voice. We need the club now more than ever.
Priest nods in agreement. “She’s one of us now.”
“What did the text say?” Patch asks.
“It’s time to come home,” I state.
“What the fuck,” Priest mutters.
“He’s been underground for years, so long that he was presumed dead, why would he come out now?” Patch is shaking his head now, confused. “He’s up to something.”
“I have no idea,” I admit. “But Daddy’s not the only one we have to worry about. His right-hand man, the one that scarred her—Renshaw... He knows who we are. Me, Jax, the club. Told me he was coming for her, that Daddy said it’s time to come home.”
I lean back on the chair and let out a heavy sigh. How the fuck am I supposed to keep her safe when I don’t know where—or who—the threat is.
Sensing my emotional turmoil, Priest kicks the toe of his boot against mine. “Maddox, don’t do anything stupid, no trying to take this on alone. We’ll handle it together, okay? The club has your back, and right now we’ll tackle one issue at a time, starting with Malcolm.”
When Patch and I nod in agreement, Priest continues, “We’ll also start off alternating nights to watch Jax’s apartment, and don’t forget there’s always a place at the clubhouse for you… all of you. But I understand your need for your own space right now.”
We all stand and hug it out, and as we’re leaving the lounge, Priest stops in the doorway.
“WITSEC… she still got a contact?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Good.” He nods.
“You think she’s gonna need it?” My stomach clenches at the thought.
“Just think it’s always better to be prepared, brother,” he adds.
I nod because he’s right.
“Okay, I’m going to head out,” Priest says. “We’ll keep Willow, Alaska, and Holly on a tight leash so they don’t smother Oakley until she’s ready.
Patch agrees and takes off to finish his rounds.
“Don’t forget… we’re ready when you are,” Priest reminds me.
A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. It’s time for a confession.
CHAPTER 25
ANGEL
One week later
Oakley’s small hands are fisted in my shirt. She stares up at me, her emerald orbs pleading. She doesn’t want us to go and I can understand her reluctance, but this has to be done. Sooner or later, the day will come for each of us when we have to answer for the things we’ve done while here on this earth. Unfortunately for Malcolm, today is that day.
Perverse satisfaction thrums through me as the metaphorical sand in his hourglass reaches its last grains.
Tick-Tock. Time’s almost up, motherfucker.
My girl pulls me closer to her face. “Please don’t leave me here,” she whisper-shouts.
A bark of laughter spills from my mouth, gaining a glare from my pouting princess. A week ago, I was worried I’d lost her forever, but our girl is fucking strong. The lesser of her injuries will heal with time and rest. As for her splenectomy, she lucked out and was able to have the procedure performed laparoscopically. This thankfully means her healing time will be shorter than the alternative method.
“It won’t be that bad,” I assure her.
Her eyes grow so wide I fear they’ll fall out of her head. “Do you hear yourself? She asked me if I was taking prenatal vitamins, Angel. Like for pregnancy.”
My body shakes with laughter and her glaring intensifies. “I told her I wasn’t pregnant. She assured me taking them ahead of time would be good for the baby.” She leans in and her voice grows louder, “THE BABY, ANGEL. She’s planning ahead for our hypothetical children!”
Two hours ago, Jax was damn near green at the thought of bringing Oakley to his mom’s house while we take care of business, but I wasn’t worried at all.
All Mama Mendez has ever wanted is for Jax to be happy, and I have to give it to the woman—she didn’t bat an eye when we walked in, hand in hand with Oakley in tow and announced we were together. In the time we’ve been here getting her settled, Mama has already started a slew of Mexican soul food and brought Oakley a steaming bowl of soup.
Before I can calm her, Mama Mendez comes in. Oakley’s mouth snaps shut and twists into a smile for the older woman. Mama sets another bowl of soup on the table next to Oakley.
She frowns when she sees the first bowl is still full. “Drink, drink. You need your strength.” She thrusts the bowl at Oakley, and I won’t be surprised if she offers to spoon feed it to her as well.
“Mama, leave her alone. She’ll drink the soup when she’s ready,” Jax says, coming to Oakley’s rescue. His mother’s face falls. Before we can blink, Oakley grabs the bowl from Mama Mendez’s hands and lifts the rim to her mouth, taking a healthy gulp.
“That’s so good,” she praises, and Mama beams.
“What are these herbs?” Oakley asks as she swirls the soup around in the bowl before taking another swallow.
Mama waits until she finishes the bowl before listing off several herbs and spices.
“Well, it’s delicious, thank you,” Oakley adds.
Excitement crosses Mama’s face and she clasps her hands to her chest. “It’s a recipe my mother passed down to me. A much healthier alternative to modern day fertility enhancers.”
Oakley pales. “I’m sorry?”
She explains, “The herbs in your soup, they’re all natural fertility enhancers.” Mama glances at me and Jax and winks before leaving the room.
“Are you kidding me?” Oakley looks like she may hyperventilate and Jax drops his hand from where it was pinching the bridge of his nose. He drops to his knee next to Oakley’s chair and takes her face in his hands.
“Do you not want children?” he asks softly, and my gut clenches. While we’ve never discussed it, I never considered the possibility that Oakley may not want to be a mom.
“I…” She pauses and looks between us. “Is that something you both want?”
“Yes,” we answer together.
Jax is quick to rush in. “But we also understand and respect your decision... if it’s not something you want,” he adds, and it takes me an immeasurable amount of restraint to keep from kicking him in the shin.
Confusion crosses her face. “But... how would that work? There’s two of you,” she points out.
