From the Ruins

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “The two of you are quacks,” Riggs grinds out as Wolf lifts his hand to his forehead and makes him do the sign of the cross.

  Blessed, I turn and follow the sound of the priest’s voice. We step inside the chapel and stand in the back as he delivers the Gospel. Lifting his eyes, the man of the cloth pauses as he stares at us.

  “This is like that scene in Sister Act when the neighborhood hoodlums walk in during mass and the priest welcomes them. That’s us, we’re those people,” Riggs mutters under his breath.

  “Shut the fuck up. You’re in the house of God,” Wolf hisses. “Look at what you did, you made me curse in church.”

  “Come, my brothers,” the priest calls. “Welcome.”

  A sense of peace washes over me as I’m drawn deeper into the church. Staring at the crucifix hanging high above the altar, I kneel out of respect and slide into the last pew. Wolf and Riggs eventually stop bickering and follow me.

  The priest continues to speak and the Gospel shifts gears as he begins to speak of sin.

  “God made us sinners,” he begins. “He hates sin but he loves the sinner,” he says, lifting his head his eyes meet mine.

  He’s talking to me.

  God is talking to me.

  “He even loves the devil,” the priest continues, going on to talk about how it’s a person’s choices that send them to Hell and not God’s doing. He creates us with our own free will and though we decide to sin, there is still a chance for redemption. He looks at me again and tells me the first step is coming into his home, begging for forgiveness.

  “Forgive me father,” I whisper.

  “Jack, you can recite the Hail Mary until you’re blue in the face,” Riggs whispers. “But first we gotta go get Blackie and Pipe.”

  “Watch over them,” I pray. “My brothers and sisters, watch over them,” I plead.

  “Great,” Riggs mutters. “He’s gone.”

  “Parrish, you still with us?” Wolf whispers beside me.

  “I’m with you,” I murmur. “He’s with us too,” I assure him, pointing to Jesus on the cross. “He’s coming with us.”

  “Sure he is, buddy,” Riggs says. “Are Mary and Joseph coming along too?”

  “God is good. God is right,” I chant.

  “Is God ready to roll out?” Riggs asks, leaning over me. “Wolf, man, do something, we’re losing him to the other side!”

  “Come on, Jack, it’s time to go,” Wolf urges, taking my arm.

  “I want to receive communion,” I tell him, snatching my arm back. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know I need this. I need the assurance that everyone will be alright, that there is someone, some higher power looking over the people I swore to protect. Someone who will step in when I lose the war to my maker.

  As I wait to receive Holy Communion, I know that God above will help me. He will stay with me when my mind fails and he’ll help me keep my people safe. I’m not alone in this crusade anymore.

  “Body of Christ,” the priest murmurs.

  “Amen,” I reply as he places the wafer on my tongue.

  I make the sign of the cross one final time and make my way to the back of the church where Riggs and Wolf are waiting for me.

  “Let’s ride,” I say.

  “Thank Christ,” Riggs hisses.

  He doesn’t get it either but he doesn’t need to.

  Only I need to.

  The motherfucking Bulldog.

  The sinner who God still loves.

  With God on my side, I take to my bike. I think of the book of hymns a stranger gave to me at my son’s funeral and I start to hum along with music inside my head.

  Hallelujah!

  Hallelujah!

  Hallelujah!

  That’s when my phone rings.

  Hallelujah!

  Hallelujah!

  Hallelujah!

  Reaching for it, I flip it around and stare at Blackie’s number.

  Praise Jesus!

  “Black, you son of a bitch,” I shout into the phone. “Where the fuck are you?”

  “Listen to me carefully,” he says quickly. “I need you to meet me at my old apartment.”

  “The Gardens? That shit’s boarded up,” I reply.

  “Brantley has Pipe in the apartment,” he adds exasperatedly.

  “How do you know this?”

  “After the cops showed up with the warrant to exhume Christine’s body I went looking for Brantley. I needed to make him pay for what he did to her but then that shit happened with Jones and he took off—”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “She was my wife, Jack,” he states. “This is personal. It’s not about the club. Or it wasn’t until he called me and told me to meet him at the apartment. I haven’t gone in yet because I saw him drag Pipe inside. He’s in bad shape.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to come here and get Pipe out of here so I can do what the fuck I gotta do.”

  He doesn’t need to say another word.

  It’s time to fade Brantley to black.

  It’s time to give Blackie peace once and for all and save Pipe. The doubt that has been haunting me since Layla showed on my doorstep fades as my maker becomes silent. Disconnecting the call, I find the agility I need to prevail.

  The strength I need to lead.

  Trusting I’m back in the game, Riggs and Wolf don’t ask any questions and together we peel away from the church. It takes twenty minutes for us to get downtown to the abandoned apartment complex. Parking our bikes on the street, we grab our weapons and take to the pavement using the feet God gave us and we meet Blackie in front of the building.

  When he first went off the grid, I feared the worst and expected to find him in a crack house with a needle in his arm. I should have had more faith in him. I should have never let my maker get to me. Like that bitch made me doubt myself, she made me doubt him too.

  Standing in front of me, he’s not the same Blackie who sat on the floor of a bathroom holding his girl. He’s not the man who tortured himself day in and day out over her death. He’s heartbroken over the loss but he has purpose. As a sinner God still loves, Blackie has found his way and this mission isn’t about his grief. No, this is about paying his respects to the woman he loved and lost.

  This mission is about Pipe and restoring his faith in brotherhood.

  It’s everything being property of Parrish is about.

  The broken hallelujah rings in my ears as I enter the building alongside Blackie. He leads us down the hallway to the apartment he shared with his bride. As he reaches for the door, Riggs grips his shoulder and pulls him back. Lifting his leg, he kicks open the door and steps back.

  “After you,” Riggs growls.

  “Who’s there?” Brantley hollers. His gun clicks into place and echoes loudly. “Blackie? Is that you?”

  Unable to move, consumed by the memories, Blackie remains rooted in place.

  “No, motherfucker, it’s me,” I call, leaving Blackie at the door with Riggs. “Jack fucking Parrish,” I growl as I step over the threshold with Wolf close behind.

  “No,” Brantley shrieks. “No, no, no,” he chants as I walk deeper into the apartment.

  “Someone’s shitting his pants,” Wolf mutters joyfully.

  Keeping my gun cocked, I turn the corner and spot Brantley in what once was Blackie’s living room. A disheveled mess, he spins around and points his gun directly at Pipe who is lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

  “Jesus, fuck! What’d you do to him?”

  “Pipe,” Wolf calls.

  “It’s about time you motherfuckers showed up,” he moans.

  “Shut up! All of you shut up,” Brantley shrieks as he rushes to Pipe. Bending down, he digs the barrel of the gun into Pipes temple and lifts his eyes to us. “Another word and I’ll kill him,” he hollers.

  “Like you killed my wife?” Blackie says from behind me.

  “She would’ve died anyway,” Brantley
argues. No one lives long under Parrish’s thumb. Ask him. Ask your friend Pipe here,” he growls. “Tell him. Tell him who killed your wife. Tell him how the club killed Oksana.”

  “The club didn’t kill my wife,” Pipe growls.

  “You killed her, motherfucker. You made me believe I was to blame but it was you. You’re the one who took her life,” Blackie shouts, his voice echoing off the bare walls. “Now it’s time for you to pay,” he says hoarsely as he drops his gun to the floor and cracks his knuckles.

  It becomes clear to me this isn’t my rodeo.

  This is Blackie’s show and the rest of us are just here to take Pipe back to his woman.

  Before I can question what he wants me to do, Riggs comes up behind Brantley. Squeezing his throat with one hand, he knocks the gun out of Brantley’s hand.

  “You ready to meet Satan, pencil dick?” Riggs sneers, as he drags him away from Pipe. Without hesitation, Wolf and I hurry to Pipe’s side.

  “Layla,” he rasps.

  “She’s waiting for you,” I assure him, lifting my eyes to his. “The kids too.”

  “Not for long,” Brantley cries as Riggs throws him to the floor.

  “Did I give you permission to talk?” he bellows, bringing the sole of his boot down on his throat. Brantley’s arms flail at his sides as he gasps for air.

  “Before you kill him get the key to these cuffs,” I order.

  Frowning, Riggs lifts his boot from the pig’s throat.

  “Fork ʼem over, Brantley.”

  “I’m a detective,” he gasps.

  “You’re a detective who has the whole NYPD gunning for him,” Riggs corrects. “Give me the fucking keys to the cuffs.”

  “Fuck this,” I mutter, rising to my feet. Using the steel tip of my boot, I roll Brantley onto his side and frisk him for the keys.

  “Should I read him his rights, Blackie?” Riggs asks as I pull the keyring from his back pocket. As I make my way back to Pipe, I glance over at Blackie. The syringe in his hand catches my eye and I toss the keys to Wolf.

  “What’re you doing?” I ask him.

  “Take him into the bathroom, Riggs,” Blackie orders calmly, ignoring me.

  “Blackie,” I grind out. “Where’d you get the drugs?”

  “Let me do this my way, Jack.”

  It’s not a request.

  It’s not a plea.

  It’s an order.

  Looking back at Wolf, I watch him free Pipe from the radiator. The man shouts in pain and Wolf meets my gaze.

  “We need a cage.”

  “Call Cobra, tell him to bring Celeste with him too. We can’t bring him home to his woman looking like that.”

  “You got this?” he asks me.

  Turning my attention back to Blackie, I watch as he rolls up his sleeves and follows Riggs into the bathroom with Brantley.

  “Yeah,” I assure Wolf.

  “They’ll all die like Christine,” Brantley screams as I make my way to the bathroom. Leaning against the door jamb I watch the men I trained do their thing. They hymn plays over and over inside my head.

  Hallelujah!

  Hallelujah!

  Hallelujah!

  “No they won’t because you won’t be there to shove a needle into their neck,” Blackie corrects him. “You’re done, Brantley. The game is over.”

  I watch the fear shine through the madness reflected in his eyes as Blackie places the needle on the bathroom vanity.

  “Turn on the faucet in the bath,” Blackie orders Riggs as he crouches down in front of Brantley. “Do you remember how it played out?”

  Watching him unravel, a vision starts to play out before me.

  This isn’t just Brantley’s death I’m witnessing; this is also a glimpse into the future. This is what will happen when I lose my battle with my maker. When the crazy wins and I find the courage to end it.

  “First you drugged her,” Blackie says as he rears his arm back and brings the point of the needle down to his jugular. “You poisoned her with enough narcotics to take down a person three times her size.”

  “Am I filling this thing?” Riggs asks from behind him.

  “No,” he says simply as he grabs a fistful of Brantley’s hair. “Do you know what happens next?” he whispers.

  Keeping my eyes glued to Brantley’s, I watch as they start to dull. The drugs start to flow through his bloodstream, paralyzing him and keeping him at the mercy of Blackie. Riggs turns off the water and we both watch as Blackie lifts the toilet seat. Grabbing the back of Brantley’s head he slams his face under the brown water.

  “You knew her respiratory system would start to shut down and you shoved her head under water,” Blackie says.

  Physically unable to fight for his life, Brantley ingests the dirty water and his arms start to fall limp at his sides. Adding to the torture, Blackie lifts his head from the toilet and we listen to him gasp before he shoves his head back under the water.

  “We don’t kill the people we love. We don’t mean to hurt them. We swear to protect and continue to serve long after they’re gone,” Blackie growls.

  After another moment, Blackie lifts his head once more. There is no breath, no fight and I think it’s safe to say he’s gone, but Blackie isn’t finished with him. He turns to me and asks for my help. I shake my head and point to Riggs.

  I need to watch them see this through to the end.

  I need to know what happens.

  Together, Riggs and Blackie strip Brantley down to his birthday suit.

  “He really does have a pencil dick,” Riggs comments as Blackie drags him across the tiles. Lifting him over his shoulder, he dumps him into the bathtub.

  “That’s for my wife,” he rasps.

  He bends down and turns the water back on, recreating the scene in which he found his wife and turns back to me.

  “Now what?” Riggs asks.

  “We go home,” Blackie says simply. “Where we’re all property of Parrish,” he says, meeting my gaze.

  Tried and tested a million times, we’re a resilient bunch of sinners that prevail every fucking time. Sinners who will all be fine when I’m gone.

  Property of Parrish will live long after I’m gone.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Time gets away from me and I forget how long we’ve been here in Wolf’s house. I forget that we came here as strangers and somehow, we’ve been brought into their fold. These people, all of them make it easy to forget the reason my children and I are here. The calmness that radiates from them soothes me and instead of fearing the worst, I’m staring at the door, waiting for it to burst open and Lee to walk through it.

  Crazy, I know.

  When I first arrived, I thought they were all fucking nuts, Jack Parrish especially. I actually felt like he played me. He seemed so normal when he came to our house and now in crisis he’s calling us all his property and going on about eggplant parmigiana. It wasn’t very comforting when he sat down and fixed himself a drink either. I expected him to turn into some kind of hero and save Lee from the villain, but this wasn’t like any motorcycle club you see on television.

  Gemma Teller wasn’t going to bust out of the kitchen with a bloody serving fork and strippers didn’t parade around the living room moonlighting as babysitters. No, this wasn’t anything like that. These people were family.

  An unconventional family but nonetheless a family.

  A family my children and I are now part of.

  I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’ve accepted danger as a way of life or that I’m over the fact I had a gun held to my head. I’ll never forget the look of fear in my son’s eyes or how hopeless I felt when I watched Brantley drag Lee out of the bar. In truth, I’m not sure how we move on from it, but looking around the room I know for sure it can be done.

  They’ve all done it.

  They’ve all been in my shoes at one point and yet here they are, sitting around eating eggplant parmigiana.

  “Layla, would you hold hi
m a minute?” Hearing my name, I force my attention to Jack’s wife as she extends her baby boy to me.

  “Sure,” I reply, sitting upright and holding out my hands as she places him in my arms. I forgot how it feels to hold a baby and that addictive scent they carry. Reina starts cleaning away the empty plates cluttering the coffee table as I rock the gurgling boy in my arms.

  “You’re a natural,” she comments. Lifting her eyes to mine she offers me a smile as she tosses the paper plates into a garbage bag.

  “After three kids, I better be,” I tease.

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking about the baby,” she corrects as she continues to clean. Understanding what she means, I cock my head to the side and try to see me as she does. How does one know if they fit the mold to live this life?

  “It’s not easy,” she murmurs, placing the garbage bag down before taking a seat beside me. “I won’t lie to you and tell you I don’t lay awake every night wondering if he’ll make it back home. Every time he walks out the door I pray to God. I ask him to forgive him of all his sins, even the ones he hasn’t committed yet and beg him not to take him from me. There are days when I question my choices, days when I wonder if I’m really cut to be the president’s wife.”

  Touching her hand to her son’s head, she smiles at me.

  “Then there are days when I look at him and I know for certain I wouldn’t change anything about him. Every tattoo, every scar, the darkness that inebriates him, I wouldn’t change any of it. Flawed and all, God made him this way and I’m the woman he trusted to love him. I love our life and I love all these people who are part of it. I know it’s a lot to process and it takes some time to get used to but I promise you the good outweighs the bad and whenever you question your place in Pipe’s life, something will happen and it’ll remind you why your paths aligned.”

  Her words resonate with me and as I nestle the baby closer to me, I start to piece everything together. Reina is right, there is a reason we found one another. At a time when everything felt hopeless and I had given up on myself, Lee came storming into my life. He accepts me for who I am and loves my children as if they’re his. He restored my belief of how the most beautiful things come from the risks we were too afraid to take. I’d like to think I’ve done the same for him, that in some way I healed his broken heart.