Table of Contents
DEVOTION
A Note from the Author
ALSO BY NANCY HAVILAND
Copyright
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
Blind Devotion Playlist
Acknowledgements
About the Author
BLIND
DEVOTION
STEEL JACKALS MC
NANCY HAVILAND
A Note from the Author
Blind Devotion—formerly released as His Young Queen by Tiff P. Raine—was originally written as a short story I wasn’t even sure I was going to publish. Halfway through, as I got to know Tish, Josh, Nick, Nina, and yes, even Chase and the twins—in my head—I realized these characters were going to be another family for me to fall in love with. For almost a year, I considered, and even attempted to rewrite this book to include Josh’s POV. I wanted to merge it with the rest of Josh and Tish’s story which I wrote after first publishing His Young Queen, but it lost something along the way. So, giving up, I left it as an introduction to the series. And that means Josh and Tish will be back, in dual POV, in Blind Faith, due for release around the end of February 2017!
ALSO BY NANCY HAVILAND
WANTED MEN
Bestselling, award-winning mafia series
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text Copyright © 2017 Nancy Haviland
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the author. For permission requests, email [email protected].
Published by Nancy Haviland
ISBN 978-1-988716-03-9
Cover design by JM Walker, Just Write. Creations
DEDICATION
For every man, woman, or child who feels that undeniable compulsion to turn and look the moment they hear the rumble of a Harley coming down the street.
PROLOGUE
Tish O’Malley sat on the very edge of the sofa in the rundown apartment she shared with her mom, continuously picking at her swollen cuticles. She’d promised herself when she turned six she’d stop doing that, but yesterday had been her birthday, and here she was, still pulling at those little bits of skin. She put her thumb in her mouth when she felt a wetness and knew she’d made herself bleed again. She didn’t look at it, though. Not because blood made her sick or anything. She just didn’t want to take her eyes off her mom.
Rachel, she corrected herself.
Rachel didn’t like being called Mom. She said her friends liked her better when they thought she was only babysitting Tish, so Tish had to call her Rachel. That was hard to remember sometimes and she’d take one on the back when she messed up.
Rachel was on the floor. She’d started out on the couch that morning, but after using her bent spoon to, well, Tish didn’t know what her mom did to the stuff she bought from Freddy. Warmed it up? Cooked it with her lighter? Burned it? Who knew? All she knew was that after the smoke was sucked in, Rachel usually looked really tired. And she smiled a little. Rachel didn’t smile very much.
But the past couple of days had been different. Every time her mom, er, Rachel, breathed in her smoke, she got sick. Real sick.
Tish yawned so big her eyes watered. She wanted to sleep but was too afraid—
She jerked forward and flew down to land on her knees when Rachel lurched upright. Tish grabbed the chipped brown throw up bowl she’d used when she’d had the flu at Christmas and shoved it under Rachel’s face just in time to catch the rush of vomit that came out. It smelled awful, but Tish was used to it now. She patted Rachel’s shoulder and waited for it to pass. When it did, she got up and ran into the bathroom to dump the waste in the toilet and wash the bowl out in the bathtub.
She went as fast as she could, and when she got back to the living room, the smell of burnt plastic drifted through the air. Rachel was leaning against the couch, her spoon and lighter sitting in her lap.
Tish approached slowly and placed the bowl on the scratched table. “Maybe you can not do that tomorrow?” she asked quietly. “I haven’t been at school since Thursday…” It was Wednesday. Almost a week had passed since she’d sat at her desk.
Rachel raised sleepy-looking eyes. One had a spot of blood on the white part. Tish had seen it appear after a really long throw up session last night where she’d had to run and empty the bowl twice before it was over.
“So, go. I don’t need you here.”
She went down on her knees but stayed more than an arm’s length away. Rachel didn’t like to be touched. “But I’m afraid you’ll be sick when I leave.”
“So?”
She shrugged and nibbled on her lip. “I can’t clean it up if I’m at school.”
Rachel started moaning and holding her middle. Tish reached for the bowl again, but she was too late. The remainder of the chicken soup she’d heated up earlier, along with a brighter yellow liquid, spewed out of her mom’s mouth to land all over them and the floor. As it soaked into Tish’s jeans, she pushed the bowl—
Rachel shoved it away, and rather than save Tish a little work, she laid down where she was and retched until her tummy was finally empty. She kept making those terrible heaving sounds, but it wasn’t until a watery sound came from her bum that Tish jumped up and started cleaning up the little river that was running under the couch. She eventually got Rachel out of the dirty clothes and into the bathtub.
“What are you doing? I’m freezing! Where’s my clothes?”
Tish held back her tears as she ran and grabbed the pillow and blanket off her bed. Her limbs were shaking because she was starving and so, so tired. She came back to find Rachel in the same position, curled on her side, and she was peeing. Tish shrugged and quickly rinsed the urine down the drain, not minding it so much because it was easier than cleaning it off the floor with the already dirty towels. After drying her mom’s legs and bum—she wiped her up there as best she could until she was back-swatted on the chin for her troubles—Tish pushed the pillow under Rachel’s head and covered her with the blanket. Her mom’s blonde hair was dark with grease, but her skin was shiny and white as paste.
As fast as she could, before it all started again, Tish loaded up a basket with all the dirty laundry that she’d piled in the corner over the past couple of days. She raced to the second floor to toss it and some soap into one of the old washing machines. As the cycle ran through, she ran back upstairs, grabbed a handful of coins from the can on the counter and took off for the variety store at the end of the block. It was getting dark. With a loaf of bread under her arm and her knees feeling shaky, she ran back home. Two kids in her class shouted at her as she whizzed by, asking her where she’d been lately, and as she jerked open the apartment building door, Tish called out that her mom had the flu.
“Your mom has the flu?”
Mrs. Reed, the round landlady who always wore bright pink lipstick, was standing in the hallway.
“Um, yes.” Ti
sh was panting as she held up the bread. She felt her face go red when her stomach rumbled loudly. “I had to run out to get us some supper. She’s very sick, but she’ll be better soon, and she’ll have your money to you in a jiffy.” She smiled and felt her lips shaking. That was the spiel Rachel had taught her last year when she’d made Tish answer the hard knock that had rattled the door where they’d lived before coming here.
“Do you have a minute?” Mrs. Reed waved her forward as she headed for her apartment.
Tish looked up the stairs. “Um. I have to go put the towels into the other machine because I cleaned throw up with them.”
“It’ll only take a second.” Mrs. Reed disappeared into her place that always smelled like pancakes. She left the door open.
Tish inched over but stayed in the hall. She peeked around the jamb and her eyes widened. It looked like a house on TV. It was clean, and there was even a plant under the window and books on the coffee table. She jerked back when she heard footsteps, and then a plate with some bacon strips and a mountain of macaroni and cheese was being shoved into her hands.
“You take this up and eat as much as you can before your mom sees it, okay? Then you can share with her, but only if you want to. Bring my plate back when you can.”
Tish wasn’t sure what was happening. She bit her lip and swallowed because her mouth started to water. “What?” she finally said.
Mrs. Reed’s face went all soft. “After you put your towels in the dryer,” she said slowly, “you go upstairs, get a fork, and eat. When you’re full, you can give your mom some, too. The next time you go out, leave my plate in front of my door. Okay?”
“But this is your food.”
“And I want you to have it.”
“How come?”
“Because you’re hungry, sweetie.”
“But aren’t you hungry?”
She shook her head and patted her round belly. “I’ve had enough. You take it. Go on. Up you go. I heard the washer shut off. If you don’t get up there one of the other tenants will likely poach your towels.”
Not sure what she’d do without the towels, Tish bolted for the stairs. She paused halfway up and turned back to lift the plate she was cradling in both hands, being careful not to drop any. The bread she’d bought was getting squished under her arm. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re very welcome, Tish.”
As she ran up and into the cramped laundry room, she was pulling up the plastic wrap and using her fingers to scoop up the macaroni. She stood there chewing with her eyes closed, savoring the meal as she tried to figure out why Mrs. Reed had given it to her.
Maybe she was just nice?
Nah, she thought as she put the towels into the other machine and went up to check on her mom.
And that was the routine for seven more days, which was how long Rachel’s bad batch of drugs lasted. Tish missed painting and a math test at school, and a no-work-day party the teacher had thrown for the class. Rather than watching a Disney movie, Tish spent her time washing every surface affected by her mom’s throw up and poop. She made peanut butter sandwich after peanut butter sandwich and mixed jug of Kool-Aid after jug of Kool-Aid, in between running down to the second floor because she had to do load after load of laundry. She had to sneak up and down the stairs because she was avoiding Mrs. Reed. Tish was uncomfortable, and still didn’t understand why the landlady had given her that food—she’d returned the plate after washing it.
It wasn’t until the following Wednesday that Freddy, the guy who gave Rachel her drugs, showed up. Tish was sitting in the corner of the couch, her head bobbing because she was exhausted. Rachel heard the door slam and came out of the bathroom, her stringy hair clean, her shorts and T-shirt hanging off her because she was a skeleton with skin now. She saw Freddy and went right over to the coffee can on the counter that doubled as a piggy bank.
Tish was fading, her eyes just starting to close when she felt the blow land on the side of her head. Her ear instantly started ringing as she sat there, stunned, not sure what had happened. Until she looked up and saw a furious Rachel with the can in her hand.
“There’s five dollars missing!” her mom shouted.
“I-I needed to buy b-bread,” Tish stammered as she rubbed at her ear.
“From my money?”
As Rachel went on and on about thieves and how she’d be in a better place today if it weren’t for Tish, and why hadn’t she listened to her friends and dealt with her pregnancy like other girls did, Tish sat there, confused. Not about what her mom was saying because she’d heard it all before. But why would Rachel say these things now, when Tish had spent ten whole days taking care of her?
She hadn’t complained. She hadn’t gotten mad at the things she’d been forced to do. But then, she hadn’t been forced, had she? She’d done them because Rachel was her mom and she’d needed to be taken care of, so Tish had done it.
“Hey!”
Tish looked up when she heard Freddy’s voice through the ringing in her ear that wasn’t going away.
“I’ll eat the five bucks,” he said to Rachel. He looked mad, too. “Just shut the fuck up and leave the kid alone.”
Rachel glared at her while the deal was made, and through it all, Tish loved her mother.
And continued to love her and help her and try to care for her as best she could, year after year. Even when Rachel OD’d when Tish was nine, and she had to sit with the man on the phone and do everything he told her to make sure her mom didn’t die, Tish loved her. When she’d sat next to the hospital bed and held Rachel’s limp hand while answering the social workers’ questions, knowing exactly what to say so she wouldn’t get taken away, Tish loved her.
She even loved her through their many moves. They never stayed in one apartment for very long but did remain in the same neighborhood, so Tish was at least able to stay at her school. Until she turned ten, anyway. That was when she came home one day to find everything they owned stuffed in a taxi. The air-conditioned vehicle drove them out of Phoenix and took them all the way to a place called Queen Creek, which was where Tish found out she had an uncle who rode a loud motorcycle and wore a vest with the words Steel Jackals MC stamped across the back.
Apparently, that was also when her Uncle Nick, who was her mom’s stepbrother, found out he had a niece.
She and Rachel had been in their new home less than a week when the clouds finally parted and streams of light began to brighten Tish’s dark world.
It was Saturday afternoon, and she was reading a book Mrs. Reed had given her during one of their secret after-school visits. Tish didn’t understand much of it because the words were big, but she had a dictionary beside her, and she’d stop every little while to look stuff up like her teacher had taught her to do. She was just getting back to reading after having wasted a few minutes searching the word Heathcliff—not realizing it was the boy’s name in the book—when a heavy knock sounded at the door. Rachel had left not long ago, so Tish went to answer.
She pulled the door open and had to look up, and up, to meet a pair of eyes that were honest-to-God gold. She and the giant stared at each other for a long minute, him frowning, her in awe.
He cleared his throat. “You didn’t ask who I was before you opened.” The low rumble of his voice carried a note of disapproval.
Tish didn’t look away from those gold eyes. She knew adults didn’t like it when you looked away when they were speaking to you. “Who are you?”
His brows came down. “Josh Sylvan.” He put his hand out. “But my boys call me The Guardian. Your uncle sent me over to sit with you until your mom comes home.”
She shook his huge, colorful hand and stepped aside so he could enter the apartment. To sit with her? She didn’t need anyone to sit with her. Why would her uncle think she did?
“Next time I come by, and that door opens without you asking who’s on the other side of it, I’m not gonna like it. You got me?”
“Okay.”
Hi
s feet made solid thuds when he walked. She followed him into the living room and watched him look around. He was wearing the same kind of vest her uncle wore, but his body looked bigger and harder. Kind of like rock. He picked up the book she’d placed on the chair and flipped through it.
“You reading this?”
“Yes.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Our old landlady gave it to me. She said she finished it and didn’t want it back. She said I could keep it.”
He put it down. “Kind of heavy for a little kid to be reading, isn’t it?”
“Then I guess it’s lucky I’m not a little kid,” she said, completely serious.
He gave her a sidelong look that slowly became the warmest smile she’d ever received. “We’ll see about that.”
Tish O’Malley fell in love right then and there. She fell in love with her Uncle Nick’s best friend as a ten-year-old girl would her protector, and never would know when that love began growing, transforming into something deep and everlasting.
Over the next few years, for the first time in her life, Tish experienced a continuous stream of something most people took for granted; happiness. Josh, her defender, babysitter, playmate, and best friend in the world, became her beacon of joy and peace and everything good. He sheltered her from her mother’s poison and gave her a sense of security she’d never had before. He became her sounding board, the first she’d ever had. He listened when she talked, and seemed genuinely interested in her problems, big or small. He was gentle and patient and fun, but he could also be stern and unyielding and wasn’t afraid to give her shit when she deserved it, which wasn’t often. But best of all, he was always there.
Until the day he left.
Jumping off the bus at the corner, Tish raced up the sidewalk wearing the McDonald’s uniform she hated. No one looked good in a McDonald’s uniform. But today she was particularly resentful of it and her job because both had kept her away from where she really wanted to be. Where she was coming to feel she needed to be.
Blind Devotion (Steel Jackals MC Book 1) Page 1
