The Devil Don't Sleep

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “I might as well have!”

  The girl in the street dashing in between cars is back, and she moves to stand in front of me, pounding her tiny fists against my chest.

  “That so?” I sneer. “You didn’t look very dead when I got home.”

  “Because you didn’t look me in the fucking eye, you bastard! I was begging you, pleading with you to fucking save me,” she sobs uncontrollably.

  Those eyes.

  Those honey eyes of hers.

  Some of the most poignant conversations of my life were the silent ones I had with that pair of eyes. They were the first place I searched because they always told her deepest secrets and her best truths. Did I really not look her in the eye? That can’t be. I remember her face. I remember the smile she gave me when I entered the door. Thinking back, it wasn’t her greatest smile and that could possibly be because I never saw it reach her eyes.

  It was a smile of relief.

  One of sorrow.

  I glanced down and saw her stomach. I didn’t have to look her in the eye to know why she was sorry.

  Juniors hands on her belly gave me the answer to a question I never bothered to ask. An answer to a truth I never searched for. A secret too dark to comprehend.

  “If only you would’ve looked me in the eyes,” she cries. “I didn’t step out on you, Bas. I was fucking raped. Your brother raped me.”

  The bottle of whiskey falls from my hand and crashes onto the floor. This time, I don’t make the same mistake. This time, I look into her eyes. I search for the fucking truth and it’s there, it’s fucking there, and it’s ugly.

  So fucking ugly.

  “All you saw was my belly and Junior’s hands. You didn’t see the fear.”

  Before I have the chance to process the revelation, she’s spilling everything. Every bit of ugliness. Every bit of truth. All the torment and abuse. Every fucking thing I’ve been too angry to give a damn about.

  “After our last visit, I overheard a conversation between Milly and Junior. They were arguing. Milly accused him of blowing their plan to shit. She said she gave him five years to get his act together, and that it was too late. You would get out in a few months and nothing had changed. I didn’t want them to catch me listening in on their conversation, so I went back to our room but, I couldn’t erase what I had already heard. I thought back to when you started serving your sentence. I thought it was odd then, that Junior was being so attentive but looking back now, he was worming his way into my life, making sure I had everything I need, helping me send you packages—stuff like that. Then about halfway into the first year, he started talking shit. He tried to fill my head with lies, telling me prison would change you and that you wouldn’t be the same guy when you got out. But every month I visited you, reaffirmed that he had no idea what he was talking about. You were and always would be mine,” she says softly.

  Wiping at her cheeks, she continues to talk and all I can do is stare at her.

  “He would try to flirt with me and invited me out a few times, but I was still me then. I knew how to handle Junior. I rebuked his advances and told him to go fuck himself. I thought he got the message seeing as he laid off.”

  “What changed?” I croak when she pauses.

  “After I overheard your mother and him, I started paying better attention to my surroundings. If something didn’t add up, I went back to my room and racked my brain trying to connect it to something I may have missed. Putting the pieces together, I realized your mother and Junior had set you and the other guys up to take the fall for the drug deal. That plea the lawyer concocted was no coincidence, Bas. They played on your need to uphold your father’s values and got you away from the club…away from me.

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Milly and I got into it a while back and she confessed she wanted me gone. She claimed your head was up your ass whenever you were around me. Crank was making a mess of things so at the time she was grooming you to take the club back as long as you stayed in line and kicked me to the curb. She thought she could break me while you were away. That she would send me running,” she reveals. Pausing, she looks away. “I guess that backfired since you’re the one who ran and I’m the one she got stuck with.”

  Reaching out, I turn her cheek and force her eyes back to mine.

  Those eyes.

  The keeper of all this pain.

  “Please, keep going,” I say roughly.

  “You had your mother pegged wrong. Junior wasn't the golden child and neither were you. It didn't matter which of you took over the club, as long as she kept her place at the top. You were both her spares.

  “Somewhere, Junior veered off Milly’s course and came up with his own plan. He wasn’t going to let you take over the club. He wanted to lead and knew Milly would die before she let that happen. You had it wrong. You might not have been her first born, but you were the golden child and Junior was the spare. Junior went against Milly and partnered with Crank. That part never made sense to me. If he wanted his position why would he buddy up to him?”

  “Crank reigned over Milly, Junior needed him to push her out,” I explain. Believe it or not, there is logic to this twisted shit. He wouldn’t have been the first to kiss a little ass to get where he needed to be, and he wouldn’t be the last. He also wouldn’t have been the first to murder the leader of a club. “Junior would’ve killed Crank, eventually.”

  If he was smart, he would’ve used the cartel to do it.

  None of that matters to me though.

  “That doesn’t explain what he did to you,” I rasp.

  “Like I said, after I overheard that first conversation between Milly and Junior, I started paying close attention to everything and followed them around. I don’t think Milly knew Junior was playing her or even that he was working so closely with Crank. In her delusional mind, she was still the queen with all the power. I walked in on them another time and heard my name. Milly was telling him to get rid of me. She had spoken to your lawyer and there was a possibility you would get an early release for good behavior.”

  I remember that.

  I also remember the gang that came at me in the yard the next day.

  A bunch of Mexican motherfuckers who tried to take me out with a razor.

  “He told her he was working on it and that if I wasn’t gone before you got out then he would resort to his ace. I wanted to know what his ace was. I thought if I was two steps ahead of him, I could protect us,” she explains. “He went on a run and I went in search for whatever it was he thought he could hold over our heads.”

  “He found out,” I say.

  “He found me in his room,” she whispers.

  As she turns her head, my boots step over the broken glass and I close the distance between us, taking her face in my hands.

  “You can stop,” I tell her as I bend my knees and bring us eye level. “I see it,” I rasp.

  Tears spill from the corners of her eyes as she nods her head.

  “I still think I need to say it,” she cries.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I don’t let go of her. My eyes speak to hers, telling her it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’m listening.

  Hating every minute, every word…but still listening.

  “He hit me,” she whispers. “Punched and kicked me. Broke my nose and knocked me to the ground. Then he climbed on top of me. I closed my eyes and begged him to stop. I screamed for help, I swear I did.”

  My eyes water.

  My throat closes.

  My heart fucking bleeds.

  “I didn’t step out on you,” she sobs.

  Leaning my forehead against hers, I close my eyes.

  It’s too much truth.

  Too much pain.

  “I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone and not because he threatened to kill me—I wished he would’ve. I couldn’t say anything because he pulled out a photo of a woman. A very dead woman covered in blood and told me if I spoke a word of what
happened, the photograph would show up on the district attorney’s desk, along with enough evidence to convict you of the murder. I couldn’t lose you forever when I was so close to getting you back,” she says as I open my eyes.

  I couldn’t speak.

  No word or look could possibly convey everything I was thinking and feeling.

  “So, I kept quiet. I shut my mouth and stayed with my Nana and I too counted the days until your release. Until I missed my period a month later and took a pregnancy test. Then I stopped counting because as much as I knew those two pink lines represented the end of me and you, I also knew I couldn’t get rid of my baby. He’s my baby, Bas. He will always be mine. Never his.”

  Dropping my hands from her face, I draw in a breath.

  I knew that already.

  Before tonight, I knew Ryder was Mac’s.

  One afternoon alone with him and I was able to determine he was all Mac. There was no trace of Junior to be found in that sweet well-mannered child.

  Just like I know from this night forward, he’s ours.

  There ain’t no way I will let that boy live another day worrying himself sick.

  He doesn’t need a book.

  He needs me.

  So does his mother.

  And maybe, I need them too.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  My eyes painfully flutter open the next morning, reminding me of all the crying I did. That’s all I remember though. I don’t remember climbing the stairs or getting into bed. I don’t even remember closing my eyes.

  All I know is the last thing I saw was a sea of blue.

  Blue eyes full of tears.

  Bas knew the truth. Well, he knows most of it. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell him what happened after he left Kentucky. It was painful enough to share what he deserved to know, the rest would just be torture for us both. When you live through abuse and somehow survive it, you never want to reenact it. You want to pretend it never happened. You want to break the chains of control and live for you again. Erase the pain and blanket it in happiness.

  I haven’t figured that part out yet.

  But I will.

  Not today and probably not tomorrow. It may be years from now, but it’ll happen. My son will look at his mother and know what her face looks like when she smiles. He’ll discover she’s strong and not some pushover he has to worry about. He’ll look at me and proudly say, that’s my mommy, and she’s a survivor.

  Someday, I’ll look in the mirror and I won’t cringe.

  I won’t wonder where the lost girl is because I will have found her.

  The world ain’t ready for my comeback.

  Pushing the covers off me, I force myself to sit up. The motion is too much for my pounding head and I groan in agony. Apparently, I’m not ready for my comeback either. At least not today.

  “Hey,” Bas calls.

  Turning my head to the right, I spot him sitting in the chair next to the window. Keeping his eyes firmly planted on me, he straightens up and reaches behind him to cup the back of his neck.

  “Did you sleep in that chair all night?”

  “Didn’t do much sleeping,” he confesses, pushing himself up. A frown works my lips as I realize I’m the cause of his insomnia. Closing my eyes, I try to remember his reaction to my confessions. He didn’t say much. He listened to my story and held me as I cried. He consoled me as I mourned over the secret I finally laid to rest. It’s crazy how something so horrific can tether itself to my whole being.

  The dip in the mattress causes my eyes to snap open. Sitting next to me, Bas reaches out and brushes the hair away from my face.

  “Are you okay?” he questions.

  As he stares back at me, I realize his eyes have been pinned to mine since the moment I confided in him and there isn’t a trace of hate inside them. For the first time in what seems like forever, he sees me.

  Just me.

  Just Mac.

  “Mac?” he questions. Lowering his head, a fraction, his fingers trace the line of my jaw.

  “I’m okay,” I whisper as the pad of his thumbs finds my lower lip.

  He moves a little closer and I hold my breath as my hand finds my thigh. Pinching my skin, I know it’s not a dream.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmurs as the tip of his nose touches mine. It’s always been this way between us. Stolen moments that fill the silence and simple touches that pack enough heat to turn us both to ash. They’re the little details that bring the story together and keep it moving. The pieces that spark life into the pages.

  Thinking I’m finally going to feel his lips against mine again, I close my eyes and prepare myself. However, the kiss falls on the side of my nose, right over my beauty mark. It’s the exact spot where my nose broke. I probably needed surgery to repair it, but I never saw a doctor afterward so when it healed my nose became slightly crooked. No one ever notices unless I point it out.

  Bas noticed, and he noticed because his eyes are now open to every scar and every flaw.

  Inching back, his hands fall from my face. For a man who has always seemed so sure of his actions, he looks like he has no idea what to do next. Bringing the story back to the beginning chapters, I find the courage to lead, taking his hand and setting it on my hip. Holding my gaze, his fingers slide to where my shirt meets my shorts, and he squeezes my hip bone slightly.

  Reaching between us, I lift my hand to the knot on top of his head and work the rubber band from his hair. The strands fall around his face and I brush them back, staring into that sea of blue.

  Then my eyes do the talking.

  Kiss me, show me I’m not as broken as I think I am.

  Searching for a reply, I swallow the lump in my throat.

  Once I start, I might never stop.

  A soft breath escapes my lips as I reveal another piece of our story.

  I hope you never do.

  The conversation dies and simultaneously we move, his head lowers as mine lifts off the pillow. Our lips touch for the first time in a decade and all that was lost is found the second I open my mouth and his tongue sweeps over mine.

  I used to think the sweetest kiss was the one exchanged a thousand times between the eyes before it reached the lips. Now, I know the most amazing kiss, the one that makes time stand still, is the one that comes after you’ve waited so long for it to find you. It’s the kiss you’ll measure every other one to. A kiss you’ll leave this world feeling. It’s the one that seals two souls for a lifetime.

  Groaning against my mouth he pulls my lower lip between his teeth. The vibrations travel from my mouth to between my legs and I moan as I arch my hips, desperate for more. His tongue dips back inside and sweeps over mine in even strokes. I feel his cock stiffen against my thigh and my hand lowers to where his still rests idly on my hip. Intertwining our fingers, I lift our joined hands and place them over my breast.

  Taking a breath, he stops kissing me and leans his forehead against mine. I untangle his fingers from mine and move my hand to my side. Staring up at him, I demand more of him.

  Do it.

  His hand squeezes around my tit and his mouth falls to my neck.

  “Fuck, Mac,” he growls against my skin.

  “More,” I murmur as his teeth graze the spot where my neck meets my collarbone.

  He pulls my shirt down over my tits and slips his hand inside the cup of my bra as his mouth travels up my neck. Our lips lock and it becomes a frenzy of teeth and tongue. He fucks my mouth and twists my nipple until I’m gasping for breath and riding his leg.

  “We gotta stop,” he says between kisses.

  “No, don’t. Please don’t stop,” I beg.

  “Mac, I’m going to come in my pants and that’s now how this goes down,” he grunts, rolling my nipple between his fingers. He pecks my lips again and again. “I need to get Ryder from Jack’s,” he reminds me. Hearing him say Ryder’s name, sobers me up and I grind against his leg one last time. “I promise you, this isn’t over between us,” he
says, pushing my hair away from my face. “Still the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on,” he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss. Pulling back, he touches a finger to my flushed cheeks and winks. “A sexy little thing when she’s horny too.”

  Rolling off me, he climbs off the bed and I watch as he presses the heel of his hand over the bulge in his pants. Sitting up, I adjust my breasts and fix my shirt before meeting his gaze. I watch as he combs his fingers through his hair and draws in a deep breath.

  “What happens now?” I murmur.

  “Now, I go get Ryder while you fix yourself. Don’t want him seeing his mom with swollen eyes,” he says softly as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls on his boots. “You asked me if you should enroll Ryder in school and look for a job,” he continues, tugging on the laces and turning to face me. “I’ll find out what elementary school we’re zoned for and you get a move on that,” he says. “As for the job, I don’t give a fuck if you work or not but, if it’s important to you then add that to your list too. You used to take wedding pictures, maybe you can do that again. Or baby pictures. That’s all the fucking rage these days. People will pay an arm and a leg to get a snapshot of their kid in a basket. The way my brothers keep popping out kids, you’ll never be out of work. Hell, you’ll make a killing on Riggs alone. Lauren gets pictures taken every time one of those kids passes gas.”

  Everything he’s saying is what I want to hear, but he’s forgetting one thing.

  “Bas—”

  “You and Ryder aren’t going back to Kentucky, Mac,” he says adamantly. “Your home is wherever I am, and I am here. We’ll work everything out. Take it slow but, I’m not letting you two out of my fucking sight. I’m not letting go again.”

  “Milly isn’t going to let me take Ryder away from her,” I tell him.

  “You let me worry about that cunt,” he growls, rising to his full height. “All you need to do is make Ryder happy. I’ve got everything else.”