If I Should Die: A Kimber S. Dawn MC Novel

by Kimber S. Dawn

  The next picture is one of her possibly unconscious...and beaten to fucking hell and back. Her dilated pupils peeking through her cracked blackened eyelids are fixed on the camera lens. Then Jacques barks his words out, as if the image isn’t enough. “This is the difference the last three days has cost her. How much more time do you think she’s got? You wanna keep fucking doing this? Because I got all night, Vagabond.” His fingers snap directly in front of my face after he’s shoved one phone in his back pocket and dropped another in my lap. “It’s time for you to grow up. And it’s time to learn some respect.” After his hands clap where his fingers just snapped, he keeps them together until just before they reach my face. They almost look as though he’s praying, when his palms slowly separate before skimming the surface of my skin until they’re both cupping the sides of my face. “Your propensity to lack the ability to grasp how vital this shit is is kinda affecting your sister. And possibly the life she may or may not still be carrying. I suggest you learn to adapt. And really fucking quick, too.”

  He grabs a t-shirt and some jeans from his bag then points towards my room with both still in his hand. “You think the water is hot yet?” he asks. “Doesn’t matter.” He shakes off whatever else he was going to say. “Never mind. I’ll be back. I need a shower, but more than anything, I need some rest. Take these few hours to reflect on how your decision the other day has negatively affected Eden’s dire circumstances. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s never just been about you. No matter how alone you felt. It doesn’t matter how fucked up your family is, they’re still yours. You can’t stick your head up your ass and pretend they’ll go away...or one day they actually will. And it’ll be on a day you aren’t looking. Think about that while I go shower and grab some shut-eye. I’ve set my alarm. I’ll be up in time for the brothers to get here. Then we’ll head out.”

  He winks before heading towards my room.

  And the first thought that crosses my mind before many others aggressive in nature as he saunters down the hall is, damn, I should’ve told him I need to go pee.

  I had intentions of just telling her what the end game was. I really did. In the beginning, especially. But then she just kept falling apart. And asking if she could plead ignorance? What? Is she insane? I almost spit the words at her, “Yeah sure. We can wait. Until the next picture comes in via text in twenty-four hours from now, and she’s not just unconscious, she’s fucking dead.” But thankfully, I held my tongue and stormed towards her room instead of saying words I can’t take back, again.

  And once the hot water from the shower hit my skin, I didn’t think much else. Not until my head hit the pillow, then I was completely out and my mind completely shut down from exhaustion. The back to back drives to and from here. The stress of all this shit that’s going on. It all just left me as soon as my head hit her pillow and I smelled my little vagabond.

  When my ringtone, which just so happens to be David Allen Coe’s Panheads Forever begins, it stirs me awake and I roll over on Pipsqueak’s bed and grab my phone from the charger I plugged in beside her bedside table.

  “This is Jacques. Y’all in Jacksonville, bro?” I ask when I answer after seeing Dreads’ number.

  “Yeah, just heading out. Give us about an hour, an hour and a half.” When I hear the bikes roaring to life in the background, it kick starts my ass from the bed. And it’s probably because I don’t have the same shit running through my veins as the rest of you. I don’t have red blood cells and plasma running through me.

  As I cradle my cellphone to my ear, I grab my jeans from the foot of Vagabond’s bed and I feel the fuel and my love for the freedom I only feel on the back of my bike pump before pulsing through me. “Two hours tops. Gotcha. Ay, you bring anything I can use to calm her ass down with? Maybe not so damn much this time though, yeah? I kinda need her lucid when she meets her pops, ya know?” I chuckle, thinking back to her reaction to the drug before. “Maybe if we can get the dose right, she’ll be more pliable. I want her conscious but sedated. You feeling me?” I ask as I shove my legs into my worn out jeans.

  “Yeah, I gotcha covered. What’s her toxic ass done now? She still ain’t got her shit straight? I mean, YOU still ain’t got her shit straight? How’s this supposed to work anyway?”

  “Goddamn it, Dreads!” I toss the phone on the bed before pulling my v-neck t-shirt over my head, and when it’s tugged down, I snatch the phone back to my ear and continue bitching at him. “You know what? I’mma tell you like my pops told me. She’s my business, Dreads. You just do what the fuck you’re told. And I’ll handle her. I got this.” And even though he’s not in the room with me, I motion towards Eve in the kitchen.

  In the kitchen. Where she’s still strapped to the chair. Pretty securely too.

  “Shit, hey, bro. Okay, we’ll be ready when y’all get here. I gotta go handle her in the kitchen right now. And chances are the longer I wait to do so, the more pissed she’s gonna be. You and the brothers just fucking hurry up. I’m ready to get back on the road and headed home, and we can’t do that ‘til this shit with Unc is done.” I growl, then hit end before he can respond. After I’ve shoved my feet into some socks, I head towards the kitchen...and my little vagabond.

  And when I enter, I damn near chuckle at the sight I see.

  Eve. Still in the chair I zip-tied her to a couple of hours ago, just like a good girl. Only the chair is now on its side, lying on the floor. And Eve’s dark hair is blanketing her face and the floor around it as it lays against the hardwood linoleum. I can barely make out her eyes when they pin on mine through the veil of her hair.

  “I have. To fucking. Pee.” She growls from beneath her hair. Growls. And the gleam in her eyes would have caused the hair on my arms to stand on end had I enough sense to care how perturbed she currently was. But I don’t.

  I chuckle when she begins blowing the hair from her face the closer I get to her. My hand grasps the side of the armchair that’s facing up, grabs hold of it, and I flip the chair back onto its four legs. “Well, flipping the shit over ain’t gonna help ya none.” After grabbing the butt of the hunting knife I keep holstered to my belt, I tug it out and swipe the ties around her wrists and ankles. “When you finish, I’d pack a bag and take a shower. It’s all interstate from here to the Keys, but still that sand is kinda gritty. Especially with the storm that’s coming in.”

  I can’t tell if she’s lost her fucking hearing over the last few hours or she’s ignoring me, but to make sure it’s not the latter, when she’s almost to her room, I start stalking in her direction, closing the space she’s putting between us.

  And when I’m close enough, I circle one of her flailing wrists with my hand before spinning her around. After her hair has settled in a fan around her shoulders, and her dark brown eyes have settled on mine, I whisper something I don’t mean to say to her. “I’ll make sure you’re okay. Okay? Vagabond, no matter what, as long as you’re with me, I’ll keep you safe. That’s honestly the only fucking reason I’m here.” I cup her face with my hand and smile without meaning to. “You’re turning me into a man I don’t recognize. I don’t know what you’re doing, or how you’re doing it, either. But you’ve got me looking at my own play book, and questioning my own damn plays.”

  I can’t explain why the words keep falling out, but I decide it’s time to shut them up. I drop my hand from her face and step away before grabbing a pack of cigarettes from her bag on a bench at the foot of her bed. I nod towards the deck’s open doors and stumble in that direction. “You mind if I steal one cigarette? I’mma wait outside while you get ready. I can’t have you trying to run off...especially now, at the beginning. So I’m staying close, but I’ll give you your privacy.” I smirk at those last few words I also didn’t mean to say before shaking my head and stepping out onto the back deck, muttering, “Never mind. You go shower. I’ll be out here, Vagabond.”

  And as I hear the shower being turned on, it takes everything I have to direct my attention to t
he sea and let the noise of the waves drown out the sound of the water hitting her flesh before the shower floor and circling the drain.

  I have rules. I have policies. Because, much like an MC, the MC prez has to have the same core beliefs and procedures in place and set in stone. Stone that doesn’t break. If you’re going to rule something, you have to rule it by rules. And for the first time in my damn life, this girl has me thinking, ‘Fuck the rules. All of them.’ And my club can’t afford that. Not with all the shit going down.

  But I can afford to have her on my side. And her pops. And if I can work this out, if there’s a way this can go smoothly, I’m the one who can pull it off. I promise you, I’m the motherfucker who can pull it off if it can be pulled.

  And speaking of pulled, I pull the last few drags off my cigarette before flicking it in an ashtray when I hear Eve’s shower water shut off. Muttering my way back into her bedroom after the few seconds I use to clear my head, I curse myself, “Fucking bareback...twice. And breaking my own damn cardinal rules, just like Pops. Left and goddamn right—”

  She’s standing with her back to me when I enter her room. And she’s going through the top drawer of her bureau. Completely nude. Bare as the blessed day she was born…

  And Jesus. Mary. And Joseph. It’s the sight of her flawless tan skin that makes my mouth water. I attempt to pry my lips open and speak, maybe let her know I’m in the room, but when she glances over her shoulder at me and smiles, I slam that shit closed faster than I’ve ever slammed anything closed in my life, swallowing it around more words I shouldn’t say. Around words, I should never say. Much less tell the daughter of DDDs. Dammit, Vagabond—you gotta stop making me fucking want you. Especially this damn bad. A brother can’t think hardly.

  “I didn’t run. See? I can be good.”

  What?

  What the fuck did she just say? I can’t focus around her damn pouty mouth. And I do have to struggle, but eventually, I pull my eyes back up to hers. “What?” I demand.

  “See?” She pulls a cami over her head before slipping some black panties up her thighs then she turns. And I’m so past struggling at this point. So fucking far past. “I can be a good girl. I didn’t run away.” She then points to a duffle bag on her bed, and I briefly note she’s been tossing shit into it while she dressed.

  “Right. Pack.” I squeeze my eyes closed before turning around and shoving my thumb and pointer finger into my eye sockets. “Jesus, can you please put some clothes on? I swear to Christ, I can’t be held responsible, Pipsqueak. You’ve got literally less than five seconds.” I shudder out a breath, and when I’m certain she’s not in my field of vision anymore, and I’m facing the ocean again through her back double doors, I pull my hand from my face and look out over the sea.

  And as I’m trying to breathe around her scent that’s suddenly suffocating me, I wonder how I expect to get through this. How the hell do I think I’m gonna get through this—through her—alive? And pull the club out of this mess with her sister and Ben?

  I don’t hear her behind me. But I do feel her when her tiny hands skim my t-shirt covered back before circling my waist. And when I feel her face rest between my shoulder blades, it takes every fiber in my being to keep myself from turning around and slamming her against the nearest flat surface. “Vagabond—” I growl out my warning through my teeth, flexing every muscle I own and control beneath my skin. “You’re fucking with fire, baby.”

  “Shh,” she whispers. And oddly enough, I don’t feel anger spike at being told what to do. By her. I feel my pounding heart in my chest still to a calm beat. “I’m sorry I kept fighting you, Jacques. I’ll send Ty that text. We’ll get all this shit figured out. I just want Eden okay. I just need...I need her to be okay. Okay, Jacques?” she whispers against my back, and her plea makes my heart constrict in my chest.

  I turn in her small, frail arms, and circle her waist with my arms before pulling her up to me. And when her face is close enough, I press my lips to hers and smile. “I like you being a good girl. Makes it easier on me.” I smirk at her after brushing her lips with mine.

  When her little smart ass replies, “Makes what easier?” it stumps the fuck out of me.

  “What?” I ask her again, stupidly. After shaking my head, I chuckle at her. Or hell, maybe myself. “Never mind. Let’s get your little ass packed. We’re running short on time, Vagabond.”

  After my hand ricochets off her ass, I head towards her room and hear her head into her bathroom behind me as she books it into her closet.

  And without much else said, me and Vagabond pack her shit.

  Because this time when she comes home with me...she’s not gonna be coming back. Not for a long damn time. Not until this shit with her family is figured out. Not ‘til this shit with the no colors is figured out. And not until I find out exactly what the fuck Roxy Bell has to do with this. All of this. Because none of this shit is matching up so far. None of it.

  ***

  When I hear my MC brothers begin pulling up in Eve’s driveway, I start making my way from the back of the house and into the living room. Earlier, after her bag was packed, and she and I didn’t have anything else to busy ourselves with, she headed into the kitchen from her room. And I kinda just felt it best if I kept my distance from her, so instead of following her, I headed out back and that’s where I’ve stayed. No need to have myself ten inches into something I’m not gonna want to get out of for some damn time after I sink back in when Dreads and them pulled up. I’m not fucking stupid. I may look it, but I can fucking promise you I’m not.

  So when I hear them pull up and I head in, I’m rounding the corner, heading into the kitchen in search of her. And when I find her, my boots halt in their damn tracks. She has on some tight as fuck skinny jeans and a t-shirt, but I’m past what her t-shirt says. I’m past what she’s wearing on top. I can’t see around her ass as she bends over the stove and reaches into the microwave above it. When she turns around, she smiles when she sees me and heads in my direction. And that’s when I see she’s got a honey bun in her hands. “Hey, is that them who just pulled up?” she asks.

  Then she brings the hand not holding the honey bun and starts licking the frosting from her fingers, and I for the second time tonight, damn near swallow my tongue. My eyes keep tied to her mouth, though. They never move the whole time. And once she finishes licking her thumb, she snaps her fingers.

  “Hello? I said how are we going to get my bag on your bike? I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve never been on one, Jacques. So you’re gonna have to be patient. With me.” I catch her wince when the last part of her sentence is muttered out under her breath.

  My heartstrings pull, and I move to walk towards her, but stop myself when someone knocks on her front door. Our eyes are still connected, though. And I question whether or not just a knock will break that. “Steady and straight, Vagabond. Remember?” I whisper across the small space between us, and reach out, linking our fingers, then I tug her towards me. “And I’ll be patient with you, baby. It may not always seem like you're witnessing patience, but I promise I’m doing my best to show you my side of Jobe. Deal?”

  When the person on the other side of the door bangs again, her eyes break our binding stare and flicker to the door. “Deal, Jacques.” She looks back at me and swallows before licking her lips, then whispers, “You want to get that? I sent that text to Ty, by the way.” When she glances from the door again back to me after the third knock, she winks before smirking. “See? Still being a good girl.”

  I wink back at her and have to fight the urge to swat her ass again like a damn caveman. Then I figure, fuck it, and swat it anyway as she passes me and opens the door. When I see Dreads across the threshold, I slide my hand from my side to the small of Pipsqueak’s back and guide her past him onto the front porch. After we’re on the front porch and I have Eve tucked in to me, I lock eyes with Dreads and nod towards the inside of Eve’s house. “Go through and do a quick double check. I couldn’t s
ee any signs of recent forced entry. Other than the shit I’ve done.” I shrug. “Place surveillance throughout, too. I want this place watched...just in case.”

  I motion for Eve to step forward, and slide my hand from the small of her back to around her waist when she stops me. “Pipsqueak, my bike’s—” And before I can finish what I’m saying, she’s turned towards Dreads with her hand out.

  “Hey, I’m Eve O’Malley. Can you tell me...what the fuck is going on here? ‘Cause I’m not getting jackshit out of this one.” After she’s finished shaking his hand, she hooks her thumb towards me and I chuckle.

  And this is about the time Dreads starts laughing too. “Dreads Burgh. Yeah—no.” Dreads chuckles before nodding towards me and shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “He said to let him deal with you. And I’m just an errand boy. I do what the boss tells me. And that’s it, missus.” He winks at her before looking back at me and raising his eyebrows. “This one ain’t like her momma, is she? She cuts straight through the bullshit. I gotta respect that.” He chuckles. “You two packed?” he asks as he steps into her house.

  “Yeah, just gotta go strap this shit to the back of my bike. There an extra helmet in the back of one of the trucks?” I ask, letting my eyes follow the long line of chrome bikes and the few trucks sprinkled between. And the feeling in my chest swells to something that feels a lot like an ache. The brothers who are here to pay their respect. Because it’s protocol. A fucking protocol his own son isn’t abiding. “Any word on Ben?” I don’t mean for the questions to fall out in front of her. But I’m beyond that respect. If he can’t do the same and at least show his father respect by following procedure and protocol then I’ve got nothing for him.