When I reach my sister’s door, I knock. I hope to God Betsy hasn’t been through what I’ve been through. I know I need to get us out of here and never come back and that’s gonna have to happen sooner rather than later. I’m going to go to Devin Sr. and see if we can stay with him. I’m sure my mom won’t even realize Betsy’s gone.
I knock again. “Bets, open up.”
When I’m met with silence again, I turn the handle and push through the door, feeling the breeze of air across my face. The window is wide open, curtains blowing around with no sister in sight. Drawers are pulled open, clothes pulled from their hangers, and the picture of us I gave her for her birthday that usually sits on her nightstand is gone.
My sister’s gone.
Cut twists the cap open on the bottle and hands me a beer. We’re in the middle of an open field not far from the compound. This is where he took me to teach me how to ride. Little did I know that riding on fucking dirt was nowhere near the same thing as riding on the fucking street. I’ve got the scars from the road rash to prove it.
“You know that how your sister turned out has nothing to do with you, right?”
Logically, yeah, I think. “That’s debatable,” I tell him instead.
“How do you figure? You were just a kid, Lick. Nowhere near ready to care for your kid sister. The system is the thing that failed you. Too many families and kids go unnoticed when they need help.”
“I was gonna ask your parents if they would take her in.”
Cut stops mid-drink. “No shit?”
“Yeah. She was thirteen when she took off. I never had the chance to ask, but I needed to get her away from that bitch and that life. I thought if I stayed close, worked and saved some money, that when I turned eighteen I could get us a place and she would be able to grow up. When I came home and I heard that shit the bitch was spewing I knew I couldn’t wait. I was going to take her to your house that night and hope your parents would help, but I never got the fucking chance.” Bringing the bottle to my lips, I welcome the coldness down my throat.
“I’m sorry, man.”
“It is what it is.”
Cut knows the things that I’ve been through in my life. He’s listened to plenty of drunk confessions, yet he’s never once brought any of that shit up. He’s like a fucking vault. Once that shit goes in, it ain’t never coming back out. That’s why he makes such a great leader. We trust him. That’s key. You can’t lead people if there’s no trust. And any one of us would lay down our lives for him.
He’s the only fucker in my life that I trust. Hands down.
“You think your sister went through the same shit you did?”
Just the thought pisses me off. How did I not see the signs? “I’m not sure. I never had the chance to find out. Once Betsy left, I took off.”
I was lucky I had some place to go. I always wondered where my sister ended up. Devin Sr. got the word out for me. Had other charters and other local clubs looking for my sister but it was as if she’d vanished.
“You know you don’t have to go through all this shit alone, Lick. We got you.”
“I know.” I turn and look at my best friend, my president. “But some shit you’ve got to do on your own.”
“I agree, but mourning the loss of a family member is not one of them.”
He, more than anyone, would know. When he found out that a rival MC raped, tortured and killed his sister, his anger consumed him. He was the big brother, the next in line to head the family and the club, and he’d failed one of the people who depended on him. His family needed him. His father needed him, and he wasn’t there. Devin was killed trying to bring his daughter’s body back, and Cut didn’t find out for days afterward. He still lives with that regret.
“There’s shit I gotta take care of that no one needs to worry about. That’s it, man.”
“I hear ya.”
“My sister went down the same fucking rabbit hole that our mother went down and that pisses me the fuck off.” I chuck the glass beer bottle out into the darkness, barely able to hear it hit the dirt. “She was so fucking stupid to think her life would turn out differently doing the same fucking shit. You don’t see me sticking those rigs in my arm.” My hand pounds at my chest. “You don’t see me needing my next fix!” I scream into the night. “Only pussies need that shit!”
Tilting my head back, I take in the night air. “I spent years paying for the selfish ways of my mother. The demons of my past are crawling to get free, and the shit eats away at my mind. The years of memories. I can’t get that shit out, man. Every night they replay. It’s like I’m a fly on the fucking wall watching as adults torture a child. A grown ass woman stroking a barely teenage boy’s dick. Watching some high as fuck bitch take the little boys virginity. Seeing that Teddy fucker as his dick fucks that little boy’s mouth while tears roll down his cheeks. But I’m not watching, man. It ain’t a fucked-up movie. It was my fucking life for three fucking years. I relive that shit on a nightly basis, man.”
My fist beats against my chest. I pound out the pain, out the grief and the hurt of a soul that was lost, probably long before she took off. “Now my sister…” Taking a deep breath, I stand up and set my eyes on my best friend. “She’s lying dead in the fucking morgue on a cold sheet of metal in a cold as fuck room. And that kid who was raped physically, emotionally and verbally—that kid who had all that shit happen to him? It was all for nothing.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
He doesn’t need to rehash the shit I just spewed. He doesn’t need to repeat the words or ask if I’m going to be all right. This ain’t a goddamn boo-boo. My knee ain’t scraped. My sister is fucking dead.
“Now I’m going to go tell my father that his daughter is dead and it’s all that bitch’s fault.”
Before going to prison, my father was a mechanic. He was magic when it came to using his hands. His father taught him, and once I was able to sit long enough to listen, he taught me. I always thought that one day, he and I would work together. Own a family business doing what we both loved.
It’s because of my father that I became an asset to the club. Not only am I able to fix the bikes, but I’m able to fabricate and build the actual engines. Crate motors are always easier and faster, but having a custom chopper is like the precious unicorn. My engines can either run with a purr like a kitten or rage like a screaming bitch.
It’s because of my father that I’ve been able to create some of my passion. My father was just a few years older than I am now when he was sent away. Once Devin started paying me, I took the money I had earned and rode the bus up state to see him. I wanted him to see what I had created, what he taught me, but I was naive, and the guard and warden didn’t give a shit what some inmate’s kid did. My first visit was on my eighteenth birthday. I hadn’t been able to see him before then since the bitch refused to take me and they didn’t allow minors without adult supervision. The next time I went to visit my father, I took a picture. After that, I continued to bring photo albums, and our visits became like brainstorming sessions. My father was able to teach me again.
Like clockwork, I’m patted down and my pockets emptied. It’s been fifteen years of visitation and I know it’s procedure, but somehow it feels personal. Once I’m cleared, they escort me with a few other family members of other inmates to the outside area. Big trees shade the green grass area, and picnic benches decorate the area.
I hear the familiar clanking of the metal doors and see my father’s figure come out into the sun. He instantly brings his hand up over his eyes to block the brightness, scanning the area before his gaze lands on me. I usually see my father once a month. I was just here last weekend, so I’m sure he’s wondering what I’m doing back so soon.
He approaches me and grabs my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. We do the typical pat on the back before he pulls away and studies my face. The time behind bars has been hard on my father. He’s a good man. Decent and loving. He always had a good heart and the best intentions
when it came to others.
“Son.” The concern is written all over his weathered face. “Tylan?”
“Let’s have a seat, Pop.”
Turning, I plant my ass down on my side of our usual table. He takes a seat and folds his hands in front of him. I clear my throat. Eight years ago, I had to make this same visit to tell him that his murder conviction was for nothing because that miserable piece of shit he called the love of his life took her own life at the tip of the cold needle. Alone, laying in her own shit and piss with two fucking used condoms wrapped around her arm as a tourniquet.
“What’s going on? You okay?”
I give him a slight nod, not really sure if I’m okay or not. “Betsy’s dead.” I say it straight, like ripping off a Band-Aid. There’s no reason to beat around the fucking bush.
“How do you know?”
“Cops came.”
“What happened?”
I can tell he’s in shock. He hasn’t seen my sister since the night of his arrest.
“Overdose.”
My father’s shoulders slump. He buries his face in the palms of his hands and cries. This is the first time I’ve seen my father cry. I feel fucking hopeless sitting here.
“She had children.” The words fall from my mouth.
He moves his hands away from his face. His eyes are rimmed red. “What?”
“The medical examiner who did the autopsy said there was scarring—evidence that she had been pregnant at some point. They were able to tell there were multiple births.”
“You need to find those kids, Tylan.”
“We don’t know if there are kids. The M.E. couldn’t tell me if there were any live births. Just that her body had evidence.”
“Find them.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. That is shit I don’t want to get involved in. “There’s no way I’m doing that.”
“Find. Them.”
“Pop, you don’t know what kind of condition they’ll be in even if I do find them. Betsy died of an overdose. Chances are those kids are already fucked up.”
“You can’t let the shit with your mother cloud your judgement on this, Tylan. Don’t let those kids suffer because of your beef you have with a woman whose been dead a long time.”
“All due respect, Pop, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Find the kids, Tylan.”
“I have no idea where to start.”
“Bullshit!” He slams his hand on the table. My eyes dart to the guards who seem to sense the tension building between us as they take a few steps in our direction.
“You find out, Tylan.” He jabs his finger into the wood of the table. “And don’t pull that shit that you don’t know where to start. Your club’s business is to find people. I suggest you call in a marker. You need to see if your sister’s kids are out there. They’re your family. My family. I’d like to know if I have grandchildren before my time’s up on this earth.”
“You’ve got plenty of time for that, Pop.”
He shakes his head. “You never know, son. Nothing is certain in life. I need to know, Tylan. Please.”
He’s never asked for anything from me. Each visit I ask if he’d like me to put money on his account, but he says no. He earns his own way. There is no way I can deny the one thing my father has ever asked of me.
Before we get into any more details about my sister or what’s going on with the club the buzzer blares overhead signaling visitation’s over for the day. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I can’t believe how big she’s gotten.”
I peer down at Grace’s little face. She has the biggest eyes and they’re constantly roaming around taking in her surroundings.
“She eats like a horse. I hope she’s gaining the weight and growing like she should,” Savannah says from across Bianca’s table. “Have you seen Lick at all?”
I shrug. “Not really.” I keep my eyes on Grace as she suckles on her fist. “I’m not his keeper.”
I hear her laugh. “Really? Because you’ve been like two peas in a pod since you got here.”
“It was kind of hard not to be with you and all your drama. He played more like a guard than anything else, but now that Tyson’s dead he doesn’t need to stick around and play protector.” I glance up at Savannah and notice the pale look on her face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine, and you know it. A ton of crap went down a few months ago, and you haven’t had a chance to process it all. Heck, you haven’t had a moment of silence to wrap your head around everything. You wouldn’t be human if that stuff didn’t affect you in one way or another.”
“You’re right. It’s not fine. None of it was or is. But it’s done, and I just want to live my life. I want to move on and heal and love my little girl.”
“Do you think you’ll ever tell her about her dad?”
“Sin is her father, so there’s nothing to tell.”
It doesn’t matter if Sin’s blood doesn’t run through her veins because what matters is what the heart feels, and those two are bonded. She knows her daddy. You can see how excited she gets just by hearing his voice. Biology doesn’t make that type of connection, love does.
“I agree with you, wholeheartedly. He’s her father in every way that counts.”
“He is, and we couldn’t be luckier. And by the way, I see how you turned the conversation around to me and away from you and Lick.”
Damn, she caught that. “There isn’t much to tell, you know.” I bring a now sleeping Grace to my shoulder. “I tried to be there for him. To show him that women are more than what he thinks. That I’m more than what he thinks.”
“He does, you know. Lick is a certain way with you. I see how he looks at The Fallen and how he doesn’t give a shit about them or any other female for that matter. He’s standoffish with Bianca almost like he’s afraid of her. He doesn’t pay any attention to Lily, and I know that pisses Cut off. He barely stands me. But you’ve been different. Since the first day you arrived, he’s been different with you.”
“It’s because I haven’t opened my legs to him, that’s all. He sees me as one of the guys.”
She laughs a big belly laugh. It’s so loud that it startles little Grace and she lets out a whimper. Savannah covers her mouth as her eyes continue to dance with laughter. She takes a breath. “That is so not the reason. I haven’t opened my legs to him either. Neither has Lilly or Bianca.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. He told me to get the eff out, and I did. He hasn’t been by here in three days. He’s been dealing with all this by himself when I told him he didn’t have to, but he refuses to see it any other way.”
“Do you blame him?”
No, I don’t blame him. Not from what I’ve heard about his past, but that’s the thing. I’ve been here for five months, and I’ve only heard things, rumors. He’s never once opened up to me.
“I don’t.”
“Then let him handle everything on his own, and be there for when he finally needs someone.”
A knock on the front door ends our conversation, and I’m thankful for it. I don’t feel right talking about Lick. I don’t want to gossip about him and the things he’s going through. I hand Grace off to Savannah and make my way to the door. I know it’s not Bianca since she’s out with friends tonight.
“Jenni,” she says in a panicked voice.
“Don’t worry, there’s a shotgun behind the door.”
“That’s safe for a baby,” she grumbles as I go to answer the door.
I look through the peephole and see an older woman dressed in a pantsuit. She has a leather folder in one hand and her purse in her other. There’s a clear name badge on the lapel of her jacket. I open the door to her smiling face.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“Yes, I hope you’ll be able to help. This might be an odd question, but I’m not sure where else t
o go.” She glances down at the leather folder and then back to me. “I’m looking for a Tylan McCoy.” I continue to stare at her. “Oh yes, sorry. My name is Margaret Simons. You can call me Maggie, though.” She pulls a card from a clip attached to the folder and holds it up. I push through the screen and prop it open on my hip, taking the card from her hand.
“I’m with Social Services. I need to speak with Mr. McCoy.”
“So, you’re looking for Tylan?”
“Yes.” She gives me a tight smile. “The address I was able to pull is for the place next door, but I didn’t see a way to get through the gates, and there was no buzzer. I was hoping you’d be able to help me find him, seeing as how you’re neighbors.”
“What do you need with him? Is this about his sister?”
I know Lick’s next door because I recognize the rumble of his bike. It’s a bit deeper, meaner than the other guys and I heard him pull in just about an hour ago.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t divulge that information. I need to speak with Mr. McCoy.”
I look back to see Savannah nod. I’m not about to bring this lady into the club or the compound. But I can bring her in here and have her wait until I see if he’s willing to speak with her.
“Come in.” I step back, allowing her to enter. Her eyes scan the room and a smile tugs at her lips when her eyes land on Savannah and Grace.
“And who do we have here?” she asks.
“This is Savannah and her baby Grace.”
Maggie leans over and gentles runs her finger over Grace’s cheek. She turns her head, probably looking for her dinner. “Someone’s hungry.”
“Yes, I’m sure she is. If she’s always one thing, it’s hungry.” Savannah stands while maneuvering Grace into position.
“Don’t worry about me. Do what you need to do,” Maggie tells her before turning towards me. “Is Mr. McCoy available?”
“Yes, right.” My eyes dart to Savannah. “Please have a seat in the living room. I’ll run and see if I can find him. It may take some time.”
“I’ll be in the first bedroom if you need anything,” Savannah states.
Lick: Devil's Fury Book 2 Page 5
