Knox Brotherhood

by Knox, Elizabeth

  I found myself sitting back on my bed and watching the sunset through my window. It was different to be home now, after these years. I missed the skies, the way that the auburn would slowly rise from the clouds in a soft lavender mirage.

  I’d stuck to myself mostly, relaxing, allowing my body to rest and recuperate from my trauma. My only visitors were usually Dad or Blackjack. Dad took the time to catch up on the four years we’ve been without each other. He’d mention some of the local updates that were going on in the community––including the jackass Roach, that just so happened to give me a tough time at the gate.

  He laughed at the story Uncle Cracker told him about Roach and I meeting. Apparently, Roach received his fourth reprimand since he became a prospect. Truth be told, I wasn’t shocked. I wouldn’t have let him get up to four fuck-ups, but my Dad is a good man, he gives second, third and fourth chances.

  In the last week I’ve learned that the Reapers are doing well, very well in fact. Dad worked more and more to give us a better distribution channel. Right before I left he’d just made the decision to get back into the drug trade after being out of it for so many years. As soon as he’d announced his return, the flock of his supporters came running. It turns out that they never stopped supporting him. There was only one problem, some of the shipments were running short. He wouldn’t go into detail, even though I pushed him for answers.

  “It’s just business, baby,” he told me. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

  Or so he says.

  Even as a kid I could always tell when he was lying. He was always a terrible liar with me. It came with having to raise me by himself after my mom passed away. His troubles became my troubles. His worries were my inheritance. His voice was my mouthpiece and so the both of us were always there for each other. Before I left home, I took it upon myself to play a governing role in the club to help level the burden on my father. When I left to get married, someone else took over for me. To this day I’m not quite sure who exactly that was.

  I saw Blackjack swing by the room more often than I’d anticipated. He truly was the rogue gentleman that roamed these parts of Montana. Even I had to admit that watching him dress up my wounds was like a daily dosage of eye candy.

  Whenever he caught me staring, I’d end up shooting my gaze somewhere else––the window, my wardrobe, my lap, anything! Usually five minutes after that, he’d start a conversation with me that wasn’t on the topic of how many pain killers I’ve had or whether my wounds were feeling itchy. He asked me what I did for fun when I moved out of my house which surprised me. After everything, I least expected him to want to know what happened after I left.

  After I left him.

  “Fun? I didn’t really have fun, Rob,” I admitted to him on Thursday, “It was pretty uneventful. Having to stay at home all day long––alone.”

  “You didn’t have friends over?” He asked me with a puzzled look.

  “Harry didn’t want company.”

  “Jesus, Ashley.”

  “What?”

  “You really married yourself a sociopath.”

  At the time he caught himself saying that and ended up apologizing a boatload for being insensitive. I, on the other hand, thought the little slip was hilarious. That day, I laughed so hard I could’ve sworn my lungs were going to collapse.

  We kept up our conversations since then and it was refreshing to get to know him every time I snuck in questions. More so, he made me feel a little bit normal again. I really fucking needed that.

  Blackjack had treated me with so much care, making sure that my body was growing stronger by the second. It was comforting to know that he was looking out for me, something I hadn’t experienced in a while since I’d left Montana.

  When I woke up today, I finally walked myself up to the vanity mirror across my bed. My reflection stared back at me as I took a step closer to the figure before me. Hands came up to my face, the pads of my fingers pressing up to my cheekbones as I checked the swelling. Everything had gone down––from my cheek to my eye.

  There was even a healthy tinted glow coming from the smoothness in my skin. Dad and Blackjack were both making sure I was eating normally again, I’d smelled freshly baked apple pie for the first time in ages – brought up with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s French Vanilla just the way Rob and I used to eat it years ago.

  I ended up smiling at the sight of me, so happy that I looked normal again. As I scooped up my blonde strands, I realized that even my hair was starting to regain its natural volume. When I let the soft strands leave my fingers, they fell across my shoulders in beach waves. I knew that being home was making me healthier, or maybe it was something else, either way, whatever it was, I put it in the corner of my mind while I got ready for the party going down tonight.

  My dresser was still stocked with clothes that I had left behind when I left with Harry on my wedding day. As I opened the drawers, a faint smile came across my face at my old shirts.

  God, I’ve missed this crazy place.

  I pulled out a spare denim three-forth sleeved top and put it over top my black cami. The tight denim hugged up against my shoulders, perfectly snug. When I looked at myself in the mirror, my surprised expression stared back. The top looked pretty damn good on me despite it being one of the many slutty items I wore in high school, but it’ll do for tonight.

  I took the end of my sweat pants and shrugged them down my hips till they dropped to my ankles. With a scoop of my toe, I pulled them up to my legs and folded them back into the drawer before replacing them with a set of faded jean shorts. I rotated the shorts in my hands skeptically, the waistband looking awfully convincing that it’d fit.

  I might as well try them out anyway.

  Two legs pulled through the denim holes and I tugged them up to my hips, getting ready to suck in my stomach. Only, I didn’t have to.

  My eyebrows furrowed as I looked down to see that there was some space left in the shorts where my stomach had been. I thought for sure I would’ve gained weight over the two years away, from the stress with Harry. Instead, I lost a chunk of me from the trauma I’ve had to endure. I released the shorts and opened another shelf where my accessories were pooled into one box. A slip on boho belt was just what I needed. I lassoed it across my denim shorts and pulled it to the third slot.

  With a little twirl in the mirror, I smiled and smoothen my hands down the front of my denim top. I was ready to go. The door was shut behind me as I made my way to the house entrance. My old cowgirl boots were waiting for me by Grandma’s ancient coatrack. I slipped them on and made my way down the worn-out path leading up to the clubhouse. I could cut through the field and take the shortcut, but I’d be damned if I stepped on another snake again. I’ve learned that the hard way one too many times.

  On my way there, I took in a deep breath of the fresh night air. As I looked up, I could see the moon take up my sky in its transcendent glow. Its light starts to dwindle away as the torch lights coming from the clubhouse resonated with heat against my cheek and I looked ahead to see the party in its full swing. Everyone from my childhood was here. The clubhouse was emitting loud, old fashioned country music straight from the open windows. There was a good majority of people inside while I saw a few stragglers standing around. I knew exactly what they were doing standing around too, waiting for some peace and quiet, waiting to slip away from everyone. I can remember a few times where I’d slipped away to meet someone.

  The wind picked back up at my hair and more than ever. Nights like this reminded me of my life with Harry, when I thought long and hard I realized that I was put in a position where I was careless and vulnerable to a man who didn’t have a fragment of authentic love in him.

  He drained me of my energy, abused me of my strength, and what’s worse––he made me feel like I was the antagonist for wanting more. The thought made my hands clench together in balled fists as I walked up the steps to the porch without a degree of care for the men that followed me with their eyes. Wh
en I released my hand to take the door knob, there were aching crescents dug into the pit of my palm. I turned the knob and let myself in, the breeze leaving my shoulders as the AC kicked in.

  “Well, I’ll be!” A voice came hollering close to where I stood.

  I blinked, unsure of who the voice belonged to. Before I could turn my head to see him coming, he had his hand on my wrist and took me into a twirl.

  “Ah!” I yelped at the sudden tug.

  My feet danced upon the wooden floor, spinning until I hit his chest with a thud. His arms squeezed me into a hug and before I could look up, his mouth was on me!

  It was a sinking kiss that triggered my hand like a flash. Pull, push, and slap. I caught his cheek on my palm and it clapped back like whiplash. He released me in an instant, stunned at the contact. When I looked up at him, his face seemed so surprised that at first, I couldn’t even recognize him. That is until his stupid mouth started laughing and sent the whole room laughing with him.

  “What a hit, Wonder Woman.”

  “Kade?” I breathe heavily, still in shock as I wipe the saliva from the corner of my mouth.

  It was Kade “Shotgun” Nichols––son of Michael Nichols, the acclaimed “Grenade” himself. He also happens to be my not so adoptive brother and first crush. He stood there rubbing his cheek at the reddening hand print.

  “My gosh,” I shook my head, astonished. “Do I even want to know where those lips have been?”

  “Is that a trick question?” Another man’s laugh was heard at the corner of the room.

  I turned my gaze in its direction only to meet eyes with none other than Zane, Kade’s older brother by only three minutes, also my other not so adoptive brother.

  “Zane!” I laugh, running up to him with open arms.

  He caught me just as I jumped him, twirling me around like it was high school all over again.

  “Ashley, Ashley––where have you been!” The man exaggerates before settling me back on the floor.

  “Oh, man,” I reply, flipping my blonde hair out of my face and chuckle, “Where do I start?”

  How strange it all felt to have seen the two of them after being away for so long.

  As we sat by the fireplace next to the bar, I told my brothers the entire story. Sure enough, they had heard it before from Dad which saved a whole lot of swearing. Kade kept shaking his head in disbelief the entire time.

  For crying out loud, he shared drinks with Harry the night of my wedding. Had he known it would’ve turned out like this, he would’ve “smashed the motherfucker’s face in” without a second thought. Zane, on the other hand, was a tad soberer about the subject. He expressed his suspicion from the very beginning, telling me that Grizzly showing up at my wedding should’ve been a dead ringer for trouble. Looking back now, that was a sure as hell sign Harry was working with him.

  After being gone for the last four years I asked these two knuckleheads what they were finally up to. Zane apparently took on his role as a full patch member at the age of twenty-six; the guy had been earning his marks since he’d started following his own father’s footsteps. This was hardly a surprise, of course. Shortly after Kade followed suit, they were born and bred for this life, even if they didn’t know it.

  As I swirled my second tequila sunrise in hand, I noticed that my drink was practically empty of its contents. Nothing but a couple cubes of ice sitting in that fruity alcohol bath. When I had gone up to get a drink from the bar half an hour ago, there was a club whore bartending the booth with polish rag in hand. Now, the booth was empty except for the lone figure of Blackjack sitting at his preferred corner spot.

  I hadn’t seen the man slip by, he’d been damn good at evading attention through the years.

  Upon my observation, Zane noticed my stare with a little scoff.

  “You know, the guy’s been watching you since he sat down.”

  I gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on.”

  “It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, Ash.” Kade pointed out with a gesture of his bourbon. “Rob hasn’t seen you in so long, you might as well be water in a desert.”

  “You’re that tall glass of water that he’s been begging to drown in.” Zane adds with a wink.

  “Shut it, Fred and George!” I hiss at them with a lunge.

  “Watch it, Ginny!” Kade jumps as I almost spill my drink on him.

  I laugh and pull back into my seat, crossing my legs over to themselves.

  That was always the joke between the Nichol twins. They were so damn clever and provocative with their jokes, they might as well have been the Weasley twins from J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series. Of course, they always looked up to me as a little sister in high school given that they had my back whenever any jock tried to get their mitts on me.

  Now they were making fun of the oldest joke in the book: my little crush on Blackjack at the time.

  I stole Zane’s shot of tequila and drank it down before he could so much as protest. The contents spilled into my throat with a fire that flared my senses up. I slammed the butt of the glass back to the table with a slow sigh, my eyes searching their way back up to the bar until at last, they locked with Blackjack’s deep brown irises.

  Electricity ran across my spine as I could feel my body tingle with the thrill in our short glance. I bounced my eyes off him to distract myself with something else, but deep down, I felt like he was still staring. Waiting for the connection to reappear again. It could’ve been the tequila shot. Hell, maybe I drank three tequila sunrises and didn't notice. I didn’t know how to explain it, but my body felt warm all over with just the idea that his eyes couldn’t leave me at that moment. That look he gave me just had me what was going on in that mind of his.

  “Do you still gamble, boys?” I finally ask, twirling the shot glass between my fingers.

  Both Kade and Zane bust out into laughter.

  “Do we ever.” Kade nudges his brother’s side.

  Zane smirks knowingly, “If we took our game to Vegas, we’d be wanted men.”

  “What game?” I snort, unconvinced.

  “Oh?” Zane raises a brow, “I think Ms. Monroe is calling a bluff.”

  “I do believe you’re right, Mr. Nichols.” Kade stands from his seat, dusting his jeans off.

  I throw my head back and laugh.

  “Unbelievable!”

  “You brought this on yourself, Sis.”

  Zane joins his brother, offering his hand to me.

  “I say one thing and you’re already trying to start something!” I retort, but take his hand, nevertheless.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma’am.” Kade shakes his head.

  “Ooooh, you guys!”

  With jabs and pokes, they lead me all the way up to the old parlor table by the center of the hall. It had been there for years and heaven knows that it wouldn’t be leaving the club house anytime soon. As I sat down and got comfortable, I could still see Blackjack sitting at his spot by the bar while Zane began shuffling the cards. His back was facing me, so I could observe him all I wanted––but if anything, it was just an invitation for me to call him up to join us. Before I had a chance to say anything, the cards were already dealt, and the twins were more than eager to start placing bets on the table.

  We played with pennies instead of chips since the club house ran out of chips the second people started losing them. Stacks of these pennies were lined up in tinfoil while Zane dealt us our starting cards. He even allowed us to see the first card before we had a chance to flip it.

  “That kind of confidence is going to cost you the game,” I point out.

  Zane scoffs, “Everyone knows the house always wins.”

  Kade just put his card back down after peeking a look.

  “Hit me,” he nods.

  Zane put his card down, face up. It was a five of clubs.

  “Hit me,” Kade repeats, rubbing his hands together with anticipation.

  His brother brings down a card and
Kade scowled the instant it hit the table.

  The Queen of Hearts winked up at him and chances were likely that she cost him the round.

  “Bust?” Zane asks.

  Kade was pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Bust,” he admits finally.

  Zane turned his attention back to me as it was my turn and I was eager to get started. The folded the card in hand before flipping it up to my attention. Queen of Diamonds. Before he had a chance to flip up a second card, I held my hand down on my draws.

  “Hold for me.” I smile.

  He cocks a brow, “Already?”

  “Absolutely,” I nod.

  His shoulders gave up an effortless shrug and he returns to his card. One draw and he was already biting into a confident smirk. I watched him carefully while he started the following draw. It was then that his smile disappeared, and he was left with disappointment.

  I pursed my lips and made a quick ‘pop’.

  “Shut it,” He quips.

  “Busted,” I whisper lowly.

  “Hey!” Zane’s hand shot down to my side to give me a jab.

  I sidestepped swiftly with a giggle just as Kade flipped my cards, revealing my win.

  Both groaned in unison when they saw that I ended up with a solid ten of hearts complimenting my Queen of Diamonds. I smirk with pride and place my hands on my hips while they grumble to themselves. Their clubs and spades were no match for what I had.

  The three of us kept playing at the ongoing pace. I was carrying a good fourteen wins while Zane collected eight. Kade was having the worst luck of everyone given that he could only keep up with four wins. Eventually, he tagged himself out saying that I was throwing off his mojo (sore loser).

  He opted out just in time for The Hound to take his place, sporting his best game face. Four games later, I had won two consecutive rounds. Hound ended up with one win while Zane shared the other.

  Kade ended up coming back with Booger and we split the cards into fives. Ironically enough, I ended up having to split the win with him after we ended up with the highest out of twenty. When Booger refused to share the win, we ended up fighting for it through a thumb war. Everyone laughed at the outcome. His grubby finger was struggling to pin my thumb and when my finger slipped from his grip, I ended up stabbing his hand with the tip of my nail. He let out a shout and pulled his hand back, claiming I had razor blades for nails. He finally let up and allowed me the win with a shaggy laugh.