Hopelessly Shattered (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter #1)

by Bink Cummings

  Kade sighs yet again, chewing the corner of his lip. “Listen: I’m really fuckin’ sorry about all this.” He lifts a hand and waves it around the room like he’s projecting the ‘this’ he’s referring to, before returning it to his knee. More noise ensues outside the door. There’s a thud as the wall shakes, and the knob audibly rattles.

  “Shit!” Kade shoots up from his chair, heading for the door. Standing in front of it like a guard, his posterior blocks any possible intruders.

  “I’m going inside!” a man hollers from what I assume is the hallway. There’s another loud slam into the wall. Dust wafts into the air, coming off the nudie posters, making me wince.

  “The fuck you are! You need to go home, Ryker! Vanessa’s already pissed at you!” another man yells.

  “We need to talk! I need to speak with her!” Ryker growls, which is trailed by more wall rattling and muffled expletives.

  Kade shakes his head, leaning his back against the door, hands stuffed into his front jeans pockets. He’s not wearing any socks or shoes, which seems odd considering he’s fully clothed.

  He notices me regarding his outfit when he remarks. “You’re under my protection until further notice.” A smile graces his lips for a second, then it’s gone the next.

  “If I’m not to worry, then why do I need protection?” I ask, eyeing the door as someone attempts to turn the knob. Suddenly, there’s a deafening roar followed by a boom that rattles the entire bedroom, including the overhead fan. They must be killing each other out there, and I can’t seem to muster any concern about that. Ryker deserves everything that’s coming to him, and then some.

  Kade grins at the racket. “I knew Pops made the right choice to man the door himself.”

  “Your dad is the one fighting your brother out there?” Skepticism fills my words. Brent … Ryker … whoever he is—he’s massive. It’d take a rhinoceros to bring that behemoth to heel.

  Kade nods, his grin morphing into an endearing smile. “Yeah. My pops, Bear. He’s the only one ‘round here who Ryker respects enough not to take down. Pops took that spot last night after he kicked Ghost outta the clubhouse for tryin’ to start more shit.”

  “What kinda shit?”

  You’d think that my gut instinct would warn me to protect myself since I’m trapped in a room, half naked with a biker, as pigheaded men wrestle in the hall. Yet, it’s as quiet as a church mouse. Either my gut radar has short-circuited, or it’s on board with the rest of my senses. Which are telling me that Kade is one of the good guys. Aside from Ryker, I’ve always been a decent judge of character. And from the way Kade regards me with compassion, I’d say I’m on the mark. So, like he said, there’s nothing imminent to worry about. At least not where my body is concerned. Now, my mind, on the other hand, is a whole different can of worms.

  Kade opens his mouth to answer at the same time a sharp knock sounds at the door. “It’s me,” the man on the other side sputters, breathless.

  “Did he leave?” Kade doesn’t move an inch as he waits for a reply.

  “Yeah. The stubborn fucker left. Both of ‘em are gone for now. But, they’ll both be back for dinner.”

  Dinner… Wha—Duh. Today’s Thanksgiving. I almost forgot. I’ve gotta call my girls soon to wish them a Happy Turkey Day. I’m sure they’re driving my mother crazy by now, trying to help her cook. Scarlett, my eight-year-old, is a quick learner in the kitchen. Roxie, my nine-year-old … not so much. She still has issues pouring milk into her cereal bowl without spilling it all over the counter and down the front of the cabinets.

  Kade steps away from the door and turns the handle, pulling it open. The man who I’ve seen one picture of takes up the entire frame, before shuffling sluggishly into the room. Not seeking an invitation, he plops down on the edge of the bed a few inches from where my toes reach. A crooked smile graces his lips as he turns his attention my way and pats the top of my sheeted legs. Exhaling a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I relax beneath his compassionate touch.

  “I’m Bear,” he huffs, still attempting to catch his breath.

  Running fingers through my bedhead, I smirk. “I’ve seen what you look like. Haven’t changed much from your picture.” Except his beard has grown a few inches, and he’s even bigger in person than I thought. No wonder Bre—Ryker is so large. He must take after his dad. Shit. I still can’t believe he is his dad. The Brent I knew said his parents were dead. Another lie fed to me from the devil himself.

  Observing me for a moment, his gaze rakes me from top to bottom in a tender fashion before returning to meet my eyes. He scratches his beard, and Kade shuts the door, resuming his guard station. With his back pressed against the wood, Kade’s hands tuck into his front pockets, face impassive. He looks kinda cool in a lethal, badass sort of way.

  “I’m gonna cut to the chase.” Bear raises a brow as if he’s challenging me to protest. It’s not going to happen. I like straight shooters.

  “Okay,” I mutter.

  “I didn’t know jack about your website post. It was a lucky guess…” He sighs just like Kade does. “To make a long fuckin’ story short, I’m tired of dealin’ with Ryker’s bullshit, and Ghost bein’ a sullen baby all the damn time because of you.”

  My hackles rise, and I sit up straighter, eyes narrowing. “What the hell did I do?”

  Bear waves off my words with the flick of his wrist. “Now don’t get all pissy with me, darlin’. I’ve got enough emotional baggage I gotta deal with from them. I’m not sayin’ it’s your fault. It’s not. But Ghost made his damn bed, just as Ryker did.”

  Keep a tight leash on your emotions, Kat.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He pats my leg again, and I relax as if his touch is flippin’ magic or something. It seems that way. “The past twenty-four hours have gone to shit, darlin’. I’d planned on meetin’ up with ya, explainin’ all this, then lettin’ ya see both of the men to get some closure. That didn’t fuckin’ happen. So, now I’ve got a pissed off son, an even angrier VP, and a daughter-in-law ready to put my son’s nuts in a vice.”

  Secretly, I hope she does, and cackle internally at the thought. Maybe that’ll teach the jerk a lesson or two. Go, Vanessa. I like her already.

  “Listen,” I start.

  Warily, I reach out and pat his shoulder to offer a little comfort, letting him know there're no hard feelings from my end. Shit happens. I’m not actually angry. I was stupid enough to come here in the first place. Then, I passed out from blood sugar problems. They’ve taken care of me. Albeit, I wish my clothes were still on; but I’m safe, and Kade seems like a decent protector. Not that I actually need one of those. But whatever.

  I continue, “I’m tryin’ not to lose my shit, okay. Thinkin’ I’m coming here to find out stuff about my dad is one thing. Finding him alive is another. On top of that, my ex is here with a wife. An ex I haven’t seen in m—years, and is also the father of my daughters. Sorry, Bear. I’m doin’ the best I can to keep a fuckin’ lid on my emotions. But you gotta start fillin’ in the blanks. All of ‘em. And fast.”

  Bear turns his sights on his son, who’s watching us. “I like her.” He thumbs in my direction, talking as if I’m not present. I can’t lie. His little admission warms my belly, and I smother the smile that tries to quirk. Now is the time to remain impassive.

  Kade bobs his head, eyes on his father, smirking like the cat who swallowed the canary. “Yup. She’s somethin’.”

  Another flitter of heat joins the first.

  Shifting on the bed, hooking part of his leg onto the mattress so he’s facing me, Bear gets comfortable. “First, I think ya need to know your dad was in a bad way when the Sacred Sinners mother chapter, up by y’all, decided to put him under our form of witness protection.”

  “Is that why you faked his death?” I ask.

  “Yup. Big Dick, our national prez, sent him to us right after it all went down. Sorry. I can’t tell ya much more. That’s club business, and I’m no
t authorized to tell ya. Hell. You’re not even supposed to know he’s still kickin’.” He scrubs his long graying beard. “And ya wouldn’t know if it weren’t for my son screwin’ up a simple prospecting duty.”

  Now that tidbit has captured my attention more than my father’s mess—his, I kinda subconsciously suspected. This, not so much. I guess that’s what I get for sleuthing the past umpteen years, trying to get some headway into my father’s untimely demise. Faking his death seems more logical now that I think about it. Especially after the report went missing. Not sure why I didn’t consider it before. Guess that’s one of the reasons I’m not a cop. I suck at finding out stuff.

  “Keep going,” I urge impatiently, and he chuckles, shaking his head, wearing a lopsided grin.

  “I really like you,” he praises before keepin’ on, and I pretend my internal warmth didn’t just triple. “We caught wind of ya movin’ back home from Vegas, and my son was chompin’ at the bit to cut his prospecting time in half.”

  “What’s prospecting?”

  Hey. Don’t judge me. I don’t know a damn thing about this motorcycle club stuff, and I’m piecing tidbits together as I go along. You would be, too, if you were in my shoes.

  “When ya wanna join a club, ya gotta put in the time. Do grunt work. Show your loyalty. Shit like that,” Bear answers patiently.

  “Okay. So Bre—Ryker wanted to make this trial period go faster?” Rubbing my belly in tiny circles with both hands, I wait for another flutter or two to sharpen my objective thinking. I can’t dissect the potential ramifications of what I’m about to find out, and listen at the same time. That’s another thing my daddy taught me. Listen first, dissect later.

  Bear nods, still flashing me that lopsided grin like he’s tickled with me. I like it. I like it a lot. In front of the door, Kade, with his strong presence, raptly observes our exchange. “Right. So Ghost decided we’d put him on a three-month trial period. Send him up to you. Let him do some surveillance. Standard club stuff. Basically, easy work that we have to order somebody else do—”

  “He wasn’t supposed to be my friend, was he?” I cut in.

  Bear shakes his head, pressing his lips together, jaw ticking. “No. He wasn’t.” His tone is stern. “He wasn’t supposed to even talk to you. When we found out you were friends, I demanded he come home. The stubborn son of a bitch ignored me, and a week later, told us you were pregnant.”

  “So I was a job?” I blurt, aching at the thought.

  Of course, I was a job. There’s no way a hot guy like him would magically move in next door and want to spend time with me. Sure, that doesn’t change the fact that he befriended me when he wasn’t supposed to. But the outcome is much the same. My daughters growing up without a father as I mourn his loss alongside my own dad’s death. It’s sick and depressive, wrapped into a big ball of suck.

  “No,” Bear grumbles at the same moment Kade says, “Yes.”

  Swapping scowls between the both of them, I move anxiously on the bed, itching to walk right out of this place and never look back. I’ve stayed calm. I’ve heard what I needed to hear. I’ve been objective and done what I was taught. Yet, this is all I’ve learned—people really enjoy fucking with my life as if it means jack shit to them. Bear wanted me to come here so he could give me closure. As if seeing my dad would give me any. I thought he was already dead. What other kind of closure do you really need? One that says he’s fucking alive, and I can’t see him ever again? Are you shitting me? Or how about the fact that my children’s father was sent to spy on me. For what? I don’t know. Probably something to do with more of this phony-bologna club business that they won’t tell me, anyhow. So now I’m supposed to just sit here, digest all of this like a good little girl? Then what? Go home and forget this ever happened? There’s no way I can do that. No fucking way.

  My temper blazes, revving my heart into overdrive. Blood rushes through my ears. “You’re saying I was a job? And that you want me, or them to get closure? I’m confused as hell. This makes no sense to me. You put my dad in this MC witness protection bullshit, let me live without him for more than half my life, and now you want me to see him again? Why now? Why not then?” I shake my head, unable to wrap anything around it. “You’re not making a damn bit of sense. Except for telling me why he’s here, and that your lying-sack-of-dog-shit son only got with me out of convenience, or whatever you call it.” Reflexively, I cross my arms over my substantial chest to show I mean business. He better not jerk me around. I don’t have an ounce of patience left. Not when I know for a fact he’s not giving up all the goods. My dad going under this protection thingy makes sense, sure. But, suddenly wanting him to see me doesn’t.

  Sighing long and hard, Bear runs a palm over the top of his head. “I had a heart attack three months ago,” he says as if it’s the magical explanation to all of this idiocy. “It gave me a new outlook on life and the shit that really matters. My sons and the club matter. My grandkids matter. My VP matters.” He meets my gaze, an air of sadness floating between us. “I made Ryker leave ya all those years ago because I thought I was teachin’ him a lesson…”

  Dropping his eyes to his lap, looking awfully guilty, he continues. “I’m not the best kinda man. I’ve made some bad choices in life. Sendin’ Ryker up there to do surveillance on ya wasn’t right to begin with. Then, to allow him to sow his wild oats with ya was even more fucked. ‘Cause every time I turned around, he was knockin’ ya up. Lookin’ back now, I see he only did it so he could stay there longer, ‘cause he knew I wasn’t gonna make him come home when you were pregnant. After Scarlett was born, bein’ the prick that I am, I gave him an ultimatum. Told him he’d better come home, or he’d be out of the club. He had to choose. The club, or you three.”

  The acrid taste of bitterness bathes my tongue. “Ryker chose you over his daughters and me. I get it.” My venom drifts into the air, potent and lethal.

  How fucking dare they do that! How fucking dare he! I don’t care who your father is. Or your brother. None of it. You choose your kids, always and forever. They are what carries your legacy through generations. They are the future. What is wrong with these men? What is wrong with Ryker?

  “My brother was a jackass,” Kade interjects, looking mighty pissed as he stands up straighter, his knife back out, blade tracing more of those tattoos on his arms without breaking the skin.

  “I’m the jackass,” Bear counters. “I’ve felt like shit for years over what ya must’ve been goin’ through with your pops. Then Ryker goes and fucks ya over even more. I do have a heart. It’s not very big. But it does beat, and I do feel things. Not much. But I’ve felt this. A whole ocean of guilt. So, one day I decided to look ya up on Facebook. Next thing I knew, I was emailin’ ya.” Finally, he lifts his head and meets my eyes once more. I want to look away to be a bitch, but can’t. The pain in his voice tells me that he’s trying. I’m a sucker for broken men, and never said I was smart. “The fact of the matter is, darlin’, I wanna make some sort of amends. I wanna know my grandbabies before I die. I’m not gettin’ any younger. And I knew I couldn’t see them without givin’ Ghost the opportunity to get to know more about ‘em, too. Since we’re both their grandpas. I don’t care how angry ya are about all this. You’re entitled to it. Fuck. I’d be stark ravin’ mad if I were you—”

  “I’m not that kind of person,” I interrupt.

  “You’re a better person than I’ll ever be.”

  Jesus. I hate to say this, but the sorrow coming off him in waves is stifling. I wanna give the guy a big hug just so he’ll stop killing my heart with all that anguish. He’s a lot more emotional than he thinks. His expressions show it all. Every ounce of turmoil, every spark of happiness, every flutter of hope. Ryker is a lot like him in that way; he was never able to hide his feelings from me, because they’re right there for all to see. Some might view that as weakness. I feel that it’s an admirable strength to be able to wear your emotions on your proverbial sleeve and not give two shits wh
at others think about it. Sometimes, I wish I had that much courage. I don’t. Not by a long shot. I’ve got what you’d call the ‘mom face’. I keep it all in, level and unemotional, until I feel the need to express a sentiment. It helps that I’ve had years worth of practice.

  “Why don’t I have a daddy?” is Scarlett’s new question that guts me. So I school my features instead of having a meltdown in my daughter’s arms. I don’t fill her with fatherly hope or colorful dreams of the knight-in-shining-armor he could be. No. I give it to her straight. The detached truth that she was given a mommy who was capable of playing both mom and dad. And that sometimes kids aren’t blessed with two parents. I don’t tell them how he vanished. They don’t even know what he looks like. I keep those few pictures hidden in a box under my bed where they’ll never find them. For all intents and purposes, Brent/Ryker, whoever he may be, does not exist in our lives. It’s not fair to my girls to place him there. Sadly, I know a bit of what they’re going through; what it feels like every time a dad brings their daughter to school or proudly attends their dance recitals. I felt it every time I saw a mother and daughter doing things together. Painting nails. Going shopping. I never had any of that either. My mom left me with my dad. He was all I needed. The one who learned to braid hair, teach me about female hygiene, and all of those other things moms are supposed to impart. Sure, my grandma was there to help guide him. But he did most of it on his own, in a way only a man can. I’d always hoped that my daughters wouldn’t have to experience what I did growing up. Unfortunately, history has somewhat repeated itself. If I could have changed that, I would’ve. Brent made it impossible. I guess that’s what I get for falling in love with the boy next door who shattered my heart into a billion pieces. On the bright side, though, I’m stronger for it. Nobody can hurt me like that ever again. Not when I refuse to give anyone that kind of power over my life.