by K E Osborn
Clara had a long time relationship with the Scotsman from the Piping Centre until he died of old age. Then she passed away from pneumonia in her hospital bed when she was ninety-four. Amber was a wreck for a while. It brought the pain of losing her mother back for her, and I had to help her through it again. She was doing so well, having gone through therapy and having come completely off of her anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds.
She was doing great and she stayed off them completely until she died last month of breast cancer. She fought a hard and long battle, and watching her go through the same thing that took her mother from her was slowly killing me on the inside too. Especially at such an old age.
Losing Amber was like losing my soul. I haven’t been the same without her. The world doesn’t feel right, and as I lie here in hospital surrounded by machines trying to keep me alive, I can feel Charli’s hand holding mine. I know Holly is talking to me telling me to hold on, and Noah is holding my other hand willing me to stay here for them. But I’m eighty-seven.
I’ve lived a full life, and I can’t survive in this world any longer without my precious Amber Jewel. It’s time for me to go and be with her. My children will be fine. They’re all married now and happy with their own families. It’s time for me to be back with my wife.
My eyes are closed already and as I hear Charli crying, the blackness engulfing me is replaced with a harmonious bright glowing white light. In the distance, a shadow forms and a woman is standing there. Her flaming red hair sweeps down across her shoulders and she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. She’s my Amber, and I smile brightly as she opens her arms for me and I walk toward her. Everything shines into a bright white and I’m filled with the most warmth I’ve ever felt in my whole life. As I feel my soul lifting from my body, away from the vessel it lived in for decades, death doesn’t feel as scary as people make it out to be.
I am whole again, and in the arms of my one and only love.
I am finally home.
Amber and Brax, together for all eternity.
Next from KE Osborn
Heart of Steel: A Satan’s Savages MC Novel #1
Click here to pre-order
BLURB
My name is Steel.
A Marauder Japanese Steel Knife is my weapon of choice.
I'm a hard-core, callous, biker in the Satan Savages MC.
I wasn't meant to fall for someone like her
My name is Willow.
I'm a kindergarten teacher.
I'm kind and gentle, but I'm sick of living the simple life.
I need something different.
She is sassy.
He is cocky.
They are drawn together by fate.
But together they could lose it all.
Willow isn't meant for my world. So when she's thrust into it, can she accept who I am? Will my brothers welcome her as a part of the brotherhood? Or will I have to protect her from the brothers I've grown to love?
Can Willow penetrate my heart of steel?
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Post-traumatic stress disorder can occur at any time following traumatic events such as military combat, wars, natural disasters, terrorist attacks, serious incidents or violent personal attacks. Most survivors return to normal given some time. However, some do not, and people that do have a stress reaction may not be able to resolve it on their own, or it may become worse over time.
PTSD can manifest itself in nightmares, flashbacks, you may have difficulty in sleeping, and you may feel emotionally numb. All of these symptoms can significantly affect a person’s daily lifestyle.
If you are suffering from PTSD, or if you know of someone who is, then it is recommended that you seek treatment to help you deal with PTSD and its related conditions.
If you are in emotional distress or struggling to cope, and are affected by any of the issues covered in this book, please contact:
The Samaritans USA - 1(800) 273-TALK
The Samaritans UK - 08457 90 90 90
Lifeline Australia - 131114
Read Chapter One of A Very Christopher Christmas
from author Kathryn Kelly
Click here to add to your TBR on Goodreads
By Kathryn Kelly
Chapter One
Christopher “Outlaw” Caldwell stopped his pickup in front of the two-story home with the red shutters and killed the engine. The place looming before him was a house of fucking horrors, and not only because it had belonged to Satan’s fucking twin, AKA Logan Donovan, AKA Christopher’s grandfather.
Or, maybe, Christopher should say it belonged to the demonic duo who made Satan a triplet. Along with Logan, Sharper Banks had been reunited with their evil brother, Lucifer. The fucked up part was Logan and Sharper had out-eviled the devil. That’s how fucking vile those two motherfuckers had been, and the house Christopher stared at served as one of their little circles of hell.
Up and down the street symbols of Halloween decorated many yards. To the left, fake headstones popped up amongst the plastic skeletons laying in haphazard positions. On the right, an inflatable witch, Frankenstein, and a pumpkin carriage seemed so innocuous. It was just after ten in the morning, so some motherfucker must’ve forgotten to deflate the shit. Down the street, a family of bloodied dummies hung from a tree.
But nothing compared to the real thing, the living nightmare that just seemed like a vacant house surrounded by the colors of autumn. Trees trapped between seasons, part green and part brown. Grass that remained lush and inviting, despite the chilly air.
“Christopher?”
He blinked at the sound of his wife’s voice, wishing he didn’t have to do this right now when she was so heavy with their new baby. When, to him, she didn’t look well at-fucking-all. But in the months since he’d discovered the house and its link to Megan, he’d gotten rid of the drugs hidden in the secret room. He’d solved the mystery of why Logan and Sharper hadn’t just stormed the fucking place—that so many lives had been lost—to obtain entry. And he’d made the decision to sell it, although it would be best served blown the fuck up.
However, since it was in Megan’s name, and he already was keeping one awful secret from that dark time all those weeks ago, he’d tell her about the house.
She shifted in her seat, drawing his eyes to the mound of her belly. “Why are we here?”
Snatching his key out of the ignition, he rested his wrist on the steering wheel. The key dangling, he tapped it on the wheel.
He sighed. “I gotta show you some-fuckin-thing.” Not waiting for her to answer, he got out and went to her side. Once he opened the door, took her into his arms and closed the door again, he started forward.
Same rules applied now that had applied when she’d carried their twins. If, at all possible, he didn’t want her doing anything, not even walking. Usually, she protested. Not today. She laid her head on his chest, increasing Christopher’s worry that something wasn’t quite right with her.
Tomorrow was Halloween and while she tried to drum up excitement, it just wasn’t there.
“You have fifteen weeks left,” he told her and kissed the top of her head before strolling to the door. He enjoyed the feel of her body in his arms, without her usual death glares, because he insisted on transporting her around. “Not too fuckin’ long before he outta you.”
She nodded. To him, fifteen weeks with their son in her was a fucking lifetime. After suffering placental abruption, losing one of their sons, and getting pregnant before time with their twins, Christopher regretted not having his vasectomy.
He nosed her hair, loving her so much. “Lemme set you on your feet, so I can unlock the door.”
“You don’t have to. Give me the key and I’ll open it.”
Doing as she requested, he made a mental note to call Dr. Will, the OBGYN, who’d delivered their eldest boy. Once Megan got pregnant after her illness, Doc Will sent Megan to a high-risk pregnancy doctor to deliver the twins and, now, this b
aby. The motherfucker named Dr. Howerton might have to be killed if Megan got sick. Christopher was paying the assfuck to keep his girl alive. Since she wanted their new baby so bad, Howerton had to keep him alive, too. Any failure on Howerton’s part was a fucking automatic death sentence to Christopher. Case fucking closed.
“What is this place?” Megan’s voice brought his attention back to the house of horrors.
It carried a heavy feeling, one that he hated to have Megan associated with, although it was to be expected with all the blood, death and deceit associated with it. More than just the weather outside caused the cold draft inside. Kendall’s sister had hung herself in one of the bedrooms. Johnnie had killed a brother of a rival outfit on the staircase. Logan had slaughtered K-P somewhere on premises.
Big Joe had hidden the means to fund Logan’s and Sharper’s sex ring in a secret room.
“Put me down.”
Relieved by her demand, Christopher complied without argument and pushed open the door. Meagan wanting to walk on her own meant she was fine. The thought calming him, he flipped on a light then closed the door. After scheduling the reconnection of the utilities, he’d had Probates refurbish the place, remove some of the cabinets and dark wood. The remodeling had been completed several months ago, but wood varnish, primer, and paint scented the air. However, Christopher opened several windows to vent the smell so it wouldn’t affect Megan—too fucking much, anyway. Judging by her wrinkling nose, her stomach was already upset.
Not complaining, she went from room-to-room, glancing in all directions, as he followed right on her heels. At the staircase, she stopped and looked up.
“What is this house?” she asked again.
“Whatcha think of it?”
“I don’t really like it. It’s beautiful, but it gives me a bad feeling.”
“Bad fuckin’ shit happen here, baby.”
“How do you know about it?”
Once again, her gaze roamed in all directions. Behind Christopher to where Johnnie boasted of giving in to his murderous urge and firing a shotgun at the head of the Torp he’d already killed. Back up the staircase that had been smeared with blood from the original shots into the motherfucker.
She looked at Christopher. “Who does it belong to?”
He cleared his throat. “You.”
“What?”
He’d felt as shocked as she looked when he’d found the deed in that secret room. From the moment Megan had come into his life, crazy shit had happened. It wasn’t until his club had been shot the fuck up, that he’d started to get the sense that there was more at play than Logan’s hatred and Sharper’s revenge.
Christopher had gotten the feeling that everything that had happened was somehow connected to Megan. And he’d been right. She’d been the key—and the catalyst—for the reappearance of his father, the resurrection of his grandfather, the murder of K-P, and the retaliation of Sharper.
She didn’t need to know all of that. Fuck, she didn’t need to be aware of most of the bullshit. Just the bare facts.
“When we got that motherfucker, Sharper, in the meatshack, he told us some interestin’ shit, Megan. Asked if I had a fuckin’ key that I ain’t knowin’ what the fuck it went to. I did have a fuckin’ key, so he gave us fuckin’ numbers.” Well, getting the information hadn’t been all that fucking easy, but she didn’t have to know all the details of the torture either. “The numbers was 6-3-4-2-6.”
“What did they belong to?”
“A combination, but look at your fuckin’ phone, baby. What the fuck the numbers spell on the fuckin’ keypad?”
He waited until she studied her phone and it clicked in her brain. Gasping, she gave him a horrified look. “It’s my name.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Your name. This fuckin’ key on my ring belonged to Big Joe. Ain’t never know what the fuck it went to. Your old man ain’t ever tell me. The odd fuckin’ key Sharper asked ‘bout belonged to this house.” He shifted his weight and swallowed, choosing his words carefully, not wanting to say more than absolutely necessary. “The moment we fuckin’ rode up on this motherfucker, John Boy recognize it. This where Logan fuckin’ stayed when that motherfucker rose from the fuckin’ dead.” Actually, when he’d left South America where he’d been in hiding for a decade. “We was tryin’ to figure out what the fuck was here. I mean shit seem logical that it had to be fuckin’ big for all the shit went down.”
Fear bloomed in her eyes. Without being told, she knew what they’d found wouldn’t be good. Almost any-fucking-thing connected to Logan and Sharper was fucking horrendous.
“And what was here?”
Instead of responding, Christopher swept Megan into his arms and headed upstairs, not stopping until he reached the last room. To the naked eye, it seemed like an ordinary room with four walls, a ceiling, and a floor. Once again setting her on her feet and opening the window to release the fumes, he felt along the back wall until he found the small button, tinier than a dime. If a motherfucker didn’t know exactly where to press, the spot would be missed. As apparently it had been with Logan and Sharper.
The wall clicked open a portion before Christopher searched the top edge for a stick pin that he slid into a narrow slot. The wall opened all the way and revealed a padlocked door.
Finally, he hurried to Megan. “At Logan farmhouse, there was a hiding space in his bedroom wall. Big Joe knew. He told Digger about it in one of his drug-fueled tirades. Digger hid in that fuckin’ space with Bunny and our boy when Sharper was lookin’ for him.”
“This isn’t the farmhouse.”
“It ain’t, baby,” Christopher agreed. “That motherfucker burned to the ground. I want this motherfuckin’ house to burn to the motherfuckin’ ground.”
She scowled at him and he smirked, some of the tension momentarily evaporating.
“CJ ain’t here, Megan, and you gotta fuckin’ admit my ass ain’t cussin’ as much. I’m even cleanin’ up my goddamn thoughts.”
“Debatable,” she mumbled and he grinned.
“Admit it. You like my fuckin’ dirty mouth.”
“Maybe,” she agreed coyly, and he winked at her, smiling at her giggle. “Okay, I do, but if CJ goes around cursing, he’ll get expelled from school.”
“He ain’t startin’ for months yet, Megan.”
“I know,” she said with a sigh.
Abandoning his story for a moment, he took her into his arms and kissed her. “What up, baby?”
“I can’t believe he’s grown so fast. It seems like only yesterday he was inside of me.”
He leered at her. “It seems like only fuckin’ yesterday I was puttin’ him inside you.”
“I know,” she whispered, her skin staining a pretty pink.
Wrapping her in his arms, he bit her neck. “Let’s finish up here, so we can get the fuck home and fuck.”
“Okay.”
Adjusting his hard cock in his jeans, Christopher returned to his story, keeping one arm around Megan’s expanded waist. The sooner he explained, the quicker he could get into Megan.
“This fuckin’ house? Big Joe did the same with Val. Told him some wild fuckin’ shit ‘bout secret rooms and tiny fuckin’ buttons and lil’ ass pins. So when Sharper directed our asses here, Val came straight the fuck to the room your pops had been ramblin’ the fuck on over. He got the fuckin’ wall open and ran into this fuckin’ door.”
“The door that the combination went to.”
“Yeah.” Releasing her, he turned and twisted the combination to the different numbers until it clicked open. Once he went into the room and flicked on the light, he lifted Megan into his arms and carried her down the stairs. The drugs had been removed. Now, only the money remained.
The Probates who’d worked on this house knew nothing of this room. The clearing out of the merchandise had all been on him, Johnnie, Val, Mort, Cash, Stretch, and Digger. Cash served as foreman when the Probates were there, and assisted Digger and Stretch with keeping the place secure while
Christopher and the others worked in this room.
“Amongst the shit we found…besides legal documents and those photos of you, Big Joe, and Dinah I brought you,” when the room had first been discovered, “the money was here.” He nodded to the pallet of cash. “That money.”
Megan followed his gaze and her mouth dropped open. “Omigod that has to be…” her voice trailing off, she swallowed and shook her head. “How did my father obtain this cash?”
“Drugs and guns,” he answered honestly. At least that’s what he suspected. Even hoped. The idea that Big Joe had sold women himself was too fucking painful to consider. This was the man who’d turned Christopher’s childhood holidays into a bearable experience. The man he fucking idolized, protected women. On the other hand, the man Big Joe had become…
Fuck.
Whatever happened was done, dead and buried with Boss. The only thing left to deal with was the money that had been used to fund Logan’s and Sharper’s fucked up activities.
Stop fuckin’ thinkin’ and get shit done.
“The house in your name, baby. That mean that money yours.”
She snapped her brows together. “Mine?”
“Yeah. Big Joe bought this house. Even if he wasn’t your pops and you wasn’t his only surviving kid, he put the place in your fuckin’ name. That make it yours.”
For a moment, she stayed silent. “Please put me down,” she said finally.
Setting her on her feet, he allowed her to do a three-hundred-sixty-degree turn.
When she refocused on the money, she bit down on her lip before she heaved in a breath. “Why is it here? What was it used for?”
Fuck, he wished Megan wouldn’t put two and two together so quickly where she asked this line of fucking questions.
