by Jc Emery
“Remember when we were kids? Dad and Uncle Edgar would tell us that violence doesn’t solve anything.” Of course Holly remembers—we only heard it every day of our lives. “Dad doesn’t really talk like that anymore.”
“No, I can’t imagine he does.”
My dad’s changed, in many ways, just like I have. His unshakable faith in right and wrong has been destroyed. He used to hate the club and everything they stand for. It’s not like he likes them now or anything, but I think he understands them better. At least, I know he understands Ian. Contrary to everything I thought I knew about my father, there’s still so much I don’t understand. I tried to and failed, but just like Holly, I couldn’t live up to the Mercer family ideal of perfection.
“The last thing I want to do is to help you hurt yourself,” Holly says on a sigh.
“You’re not.” My voice is so quiet, I’m practically whispering. “I’m finally starting to heal. Larry Jennings tried to hurt Nic and kill Robin, but he got me raped instead. I have to do this.”
Tears well in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall down my cheeks. Aside from Holly, the only other person I think might understand my needing this is Ian.
“Maybe you’re right, and this will help you. Nic is better after she . . . nevermind. I love you, honey. They’re at the Jennings’ house.”
“Love you, Holls.”
I hang up the phone and dart across the lot for my car. The lot is always either locked up or under supervision—usually both, I suspect—so I’m not surprised to find the doors unlocked and the keys in the glove box. Most people aren’t stupid enough to mess with the club. Before anyone notices what I’m doing, I start her up and peel out of the lot, heading for the Jennings’ house.
Though it’s a short drive, I find myself starting to panic on my way there. It’s not a fear of what I might walk in on—it’s a fear of disappointing my dad. I didn’t think of him when I tried to take out Leo, but maybe I should have. The overwhelming need to talk to him hits me like a ton of bricks, and before I can stop myself, I’m dialing his cell phone.
“This better be good news, Mr. Buckley,” Dad says.
I laugh, once again having forgotten that I have Ian’s phone, not mine.
“Hi, Daddy.” I sound like a freaking child. It’s so ridiculous how I get around my dad. Before he can even respond, I’m pulling to the side of the road, a few houses down from the Jennings’ house.
“Baby girl,” he says with a smile in his voice. “Phone must have broke and that’s why you haven’t called your old dad.”
“I miss you.”
“What’s wrong, baby girl? That man of yours hurt you?”
“No, I just needed to hear your voice.”
“Well, something’s upset my favorite girl.” I try not to but end up crying. My mom and I may not be very close, but Dad and I have always had a bond. I don’t know that I realized how important having him in my life is until right now. It’s weird, how different my two favorite men are and yet how similar at the same time.
“We need to talk soon. I have some things I have to tell you some things about me that you’re not going to like.” My voice catches and I sniffle. I’ll never tell Dad what I’m doing here, but I need to tell him about who I used to be. I’m tired of hiding things from him, being terrified that he won’t love me because of it.
“Are you crying, kiddo?” Dad’s at work, I can tell from the background noise. He moves to a quieter place, telling one of his coworkers he needs a few minutes alone. Everything is quiet on the other end for a long moment before he’s back to talking. “You say it when you’re ready, baby girl. But if this is about what I think it is, I already know. Known for a long time now. I’m just sorry you didn’t think you could lean on me for support.”
Shame fills me at his comment. How could I ever doubt that my dad would be there for me? Why didn’t I think I could trust him?
“I’m sorry,” is the only thing I can manage. I’m full on sobbing now, so undeserving of his love. I’m sorry for more than not reaching out to him for support. I’m sorry for being an addict. I’m sorry for destroying my life. I’m sorry for everything except for what I’m about to do.
“Don’t be sorry, kiddo. Nothing’s ever gonna stop you from being my favorite girl, you got that?”
“Got it.” We hang up shortly after that, and with tears still wet on my cheeks, I get out of the car and head for the Jennings’ house. I barely make it up the driveway when the front door opens, and Ryan is standing there, with his arms crossed and a grim look on his face.
“Get your ass inside or put a fucking ad in the paper that we’re here,” he says, barking at me.
“Like anybody reads the paper anymore.” I rush into the house. I’ve never been here before, but I know my mother has a few times. It’s hard to imagine her in the space as it is now. Furniture is turned over, months and months of dust has created a thick film on everything, and there’s the distinctly potent smell of gasoline that nearly chokes me.
“Shouldn’t be here,” Ryan says, locking the door behind me. He comes up beside me with a sick grin on his face. “Gonna piss him off. The man’s an artist when he’s pissed.”
“I need to be here, Ryan,” I say quietly. He meets my eyes, challenging me the same way he did the last time we had a heart-to-heart. “Ian thinks I won’t like his darker side, that seeing him like this will send me running.”
“You’ll look at him differently,” he says. There’s a hint of fear in his voice that betrays his hard-ass exterior, and I’m reminded how much Ryan loves his brother.
“I want to know this side of him, and I want him to see the darker side of me.”
Chapter 22
We don’t say anything else as we head up to the second floor and into the master bedroom. Jeremy and Grady stand in the center of the room, their eyes intent on what lies ahead. When they hear us coming up behind them, they both turn around, and I can see all hell is about to break loose. Ryan spares me the trouble of pleading with them for their silence when he shakes his head and whispers, “Don’t.”
It’s a long, tortured moment before Grady and Jeremy turn their attention back to what they were focused on before.
The master bedroom is large and opens up to an equally impressive en suite bathroom that can be closed off by a set of pocket doors. The decor is definitely high end, but that’s not where my attention is. There’s a light smattering of blood on the floors and walls, mostly pooled at the feet of Larry and Joanne Jennings, who are each tied to a side chair with their backs to me, facing the large, sunken garden tub that overlooks a large window. Duke stands beside Larry with a gun in his hand and a scowl on his face. Ian is crouched in front of Larry, a knife in his hand and a sadistic smile on his face. I take a few steps forward into the room, passing Grady and Jeremy. Ian and Duke stop what they’re doing and look at me. The vicious smile that once graced Ian’s face falls to a horrified grimace.
“Melinda, help me!” Larry screams from his seat, but Duke silences him by wrapping his hand around Larry’s neck.
“Get her out of here. Now.” Ian’s words are pained. He looks so distraught over my presence that I almost wish I didn’t come.
“I know what he did,” I say to Ian, ignoring Larry’s cries for help. Joanne stares at me in horror as tears fall from her eyes. She’s acting like she doesn’t know what she and her husband have done to deserve this from Forsaken, but she knows. I’ve overheard Joanne Jennings often enough to know she’s complicit in how her son was raised.
“You need to leave,” Ian says. Larry jerks in his chair, kicking Ian in the shins and earning a firm slap from Ian. I step closer, the smell of gasoline gets stronger, and it’s only now that I see the crumpled, unconscious body of Darren Jennings in the bath tub. “These memories don’t go away, babe. I won’t be able to fix this part of you.”
“No, but maybe I can fix this for myself.” The tears I cried in the car have dried on my cheeks, leaving
my skin irritated and red. I wonder what it says about me that I’m not scared of what I see. Two people bound to chairs, one in the bath tub covered in gasoline. Another man tied to a chair at the clubhouse. All deserve their fates. All need to pay for their sins. I don’t have an ounce of pity to spare for a single one of them. “I hate what he did.”
My eyes leave Ian and lock on Larry’s fearful face.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Jennings? Are you scared?” My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. I can barely believe it’s me saying the words. It’s like I’m watching a movie with characters I can’t connect with. The men ready to kill their enemies, the woman desperate to just somehow make everything a little bit better for herself. Who are these people? Who am I? Mentally, I think I’m breaking. It’s not the same as before, with the panic and sickness and fear. It’s different now. I’m disconnecting from my humanity, and even though I know it should scare me, it doesn’t.
“What’s wrong with you, Melinda? What have they done to you?” Larry asks with disgust in his voice.
Joanne snarls from her chair, tucking her chin into her neck and twisting her face up. Tears fall from her cheeks, and for some reason, her pain comforts me.
“Who, Larry?” I ask. My voice is breathy, exasperated. I fight to keep control of my burgeoning emotions. I’m feeling everything, every single ounce of pain, every drop of fear—all of it—and it ignites something inside of me, encouraging me to take it a step further. “Forsaken? Or the men you had rape me?”
His face pales like the pathetic fucking coward he is.
“Does that make you uncomfortable? Knowing you had the wrong woman raped?”
“Babe, stop,” Ian warns. He comes to stand in front of me, almost completely blocking my view of Larry, who starts screaming about something or other. His voice is muffled almost immediately by Duke’s fist smashing into his jaw. “I’m taking care of it. You don’t have to talk to him. Don’t torture yourself.”
“Don’t you see? This helps me. You told me once I might benefit from therapy,” I say. A soft, amused laugh escapes me.
“I didn’t really mean torture porn,” he says, fighting off his own smile.
A thrill shoots through me. I place my hands on his chest and lean in, kissing his throat.
“Does this make your dick hard?” I’m whispering, trying to keep this between us. I don’t care if Larry or Joanne hear us. They won’t be around much longer anyway. It’s Ryan who won’t ever let us live this down. “Because I’m getting wet at the idea of your blade spilling their blood.”
He groans and presses his hard cock into my belly. My face heats and I lick my lips.
“Christ,” Ryan says and voluntarily slams his head into a nearby wall. “Quit dry-humping your bitch and get to killing these assholes already. I’m bored!”
“That word,” Ian barks out loudly at Ryan. His chest heaves in anger, but there’s an excitement in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.
“Fuck, sorry,” Ryan says without even looking our way. He waves us off, still with his forehead against the wall.
I watch the exchange with curiosity. Duke steps away from Larry and goes to talk to Grady for a moment. Grady nods his head and fires off a text message.
“Men degrade women with that word. It’s not something I tolerate,” Ian explains.
I’m close to spilling my guts right here and now. This man just melts me, always saying the right thing. Ian must have seen a lot before his mom and Jim got together. I’ve heard enough about their world before Forsaken came along to know it wasn’t pretty, so painful in fact that it still haunts them to this day. I wish I could take that away for him, could make it better. I want to silence his demons.
“No wonder you two wound up together. You’re both sick,” Joanne says, spitting the words out. “Disgusting freaks.”
Ian takes a step back and uses the blade of his knife to gently lift Joanne’s face to meet his eyes. He stares at her kindly, willing her to calm down.
“You’ll be my first. Would you like that? I’ve never gutted a woman before. You should be honored.” His voice sounds so pleasant despite the message he’s sending her.
“I should have had you raped instead,” Larry shouts at Ian, taunting him. Duke moves back toward Larry, but Ian lifts a hand to stop him. When nobody moves to silence Larry, he keeps going. His eyes are wild and wet, and his chest expands and contracts rapidly. “That trashy whore framed my boy, lied about him, got him hurt. But I see how I messed up now.”
I turn my body fully toward Larry, staring at him in disgust. Remembering my conversation with Ryan that day at the house, I recall what I told him. Threatening to kill somebody doesn’t work if they don’t care. Larry already knows he’s going to die. He has nothing to lose.
“Melinda doesn’t deserve what happened to her.” Larry’s eyes fall on mine, and he actually looks remorseful. “But you—you like hurting people. I guess it’s true what they say.”
“What do they say?” Ian says, a maniacal smile on his face. He tosses his knife in the air and catches the blade in his hand with the graceful expertise of a man who’s spent hours practicing the move.
“Juvenile records are more accessible than you think, Mr. Buckley. It’s a shame that man didn’t get more than a year for what he did to you.”
Ian is frozen in place, a look of horror mars his beautifully scarred features. The other men in the space don’t move either. I think I hear a sharp intake of breath coming from Ryan. My mind slowly puts two and two together.
No.
No.
My heart aches as the truth settles into my soul. It’s painful, more than I think I can bear. Someone hurt Ian. No wonder Ruby is so protective of him. I can’t handle this. I can’t stand here and listen to this man torture him like this. How dare he bring up something so clearly painful?
“I suppose it’s some consolation knowing his penis and scrotum were severed before the police found him. Did all of mommy’s boyfriends like you that much?”
The second the words are out of his mouth, I’m landing on him with a hard thud. The chair topples backward, and my hands are at his throat. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs and slamming his head into the tile flooring beneath us. Joanne screams from across the room, crying frantically and doing her best to free herself from her bindings.
Ian finally moves, like a statue come to life. In a daze, he walks to Joanne and shakes his head before slicing her throat open with his blade. I punch Larry in his jaw and use both hands to shove his face flat into the tile, forcing him to watch his wife bleed out. Blood spurts from her neck, and her body slumps in the chair as her life drains from her. I can’t even bring myself to care that I’m watching a woman die. I don’t like violence. I hate the pain vengeance causes. Everybody loses, but sometimes violence is the answer. Sometimes the only way to make peace with your pain is to share it with someone else.
“My woman shouldn’t have seen that,” Ian says quietly. “You’re going to pay for making me do that in front of her.”
Larry bursts into tears, giving up on fighting me now. His body relaxes into his devastation. I’m lifted off him and cradled in Ian’s arms. I rest my head against his chest and wrap my arms around his neck. He walks me to Ryan, where he gently places me on my feet. Ryan extends an arm around my waist, holding me in place. His touch doesn’t bother me, nobody’s does really, not like it used to. I place my head on his chest and cry for a little boy who suffered in ways even I can’t imagine. And I want to make it better for him, but I know I can’t. Some scars never heal.
Duke walks into the bathroom and gives Larry a sinister smile. He pulls out a pack of matches and lights one, then blows it out. He repeats the action with half the pack before he says a single word. “Been looking forward to this for a damn long time. Two things I’ve learned in the last year. First is how much I can love somebody. My daughter and her mother are the most important people in my world. You tried to take them from me, which w
as a huge fucking mistake.”
“I’m sorry!” Larry’s screaming and crying, nearly on the verge of hyperventilating now. He’s not sorry—he’s just scared, and he doesn’t have the stones to answer for his actions. Instead, he’s lying there, still with his back on the floor, bound to the chair, repeating his false apology over and over again.
“Second thing I learned is how much hate I can carry.” Duke lights two more matches and blows them both out. The third one he lights, he doesn’t blow out. That one he throws in the bath tub right on top of Darren’s unconscious body which bursts into flames immediately. Ian is crouched behind Larry now, forcing the man’s eyes open.
“You’re going to watch the consequences of what you’ve done,” Ian says.
Jeremy and Grady both pass me and Ryan and move to stand on either side of Duke. Jeremy places a hand on Duke’s shoulder as the men watch Darren being burned to death. I untangle myself from Ryan despite his protests and stand beside Grady. He spots me out of the corner of his eye but keeps his attention fixed on the fire before us. I place my head on his arm and try to find a way to comfort him. Holly and Nic both told me how scary Grady can be, but I don’t see it. At least not anymore.
Ian and Ryan lift Larry’s chair from the floor and prop him up so he can better see his son’s death. To my surprise, Ian frees Larry from his bindings and orders him to stand. The man can barely get his body to follow orders. His knees buckle under him, and he has to try again, still finding it difficult to get himself upright. He’s still crying, clearly devastated by what he’s witnessing, and trying to turn away.
“Be a man for the first time in your pathetic fucking life and stop being a coward,” Ian says. He shoves Larry toward the tub where the fire’s contained. The man stops at the edge, then screams out a painful cry and throws himself into the flames. He chose his own fate, something I can respect.
