by Carina Adams
I didn’t know how to tell her I was going away, let alone how to break her heart. A hundred scenarios ran through my mind, but none of them were good enough. I was still awake, trying to find a way around hurting her, when the sun began to rise, filling our apartment with golden light.
The shrill scream of the phone jumped the shit out of me, and I hurried to grab it before it woke Cris up. “What?” I hissed.
“Is this Robert Doyle?”
“Who the fuck is this?” I asked, checking the clock. It was way too fucking early for telemarketers.
The woman cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for calling so early, sir. My name is Kathy and I’m calling from Maine Medical in Portland. Liam Doyle has you listed as his emergency contact.”
I didn’t remember waking Cris up, getting dressed, or the drive to Maine. I couldn’t remember hurrying into the hospital or finding his room. But I’d never forget walking into his room and seeing him hooked up to the machines, looking smaller than I’d ever seen him and so pale I almost thought he was gone.
He pulled the oxygen mask from his face when he saw us, and smiled, beckoning us to the bed. “You made it.”
He didn’t even sound the same.
I nodded. He seemed so surprised, like he’d doubted I would come. I grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. “I’m right here.”
Cris fell into the chair on the other side of the bed, her eyes filled with water. She grasped his other hand. “And I’m right here.”
Cancer. Aggressive stage four lung cancer that had spread. The crazy bastard had known for months. And he’d never told me. Never told Cris.
“I wanted to say good-bye to my two favorite people,” he rasped, “but I was scared you wouldn’t make it in time.”
“I know I have a problem being on time,” Cris joked. “But you know I’d do anything for you.”
“Don’t cry, my Crissy girl.”
“I’m trying not to.” She forced a smile.
“I’ll miss you, too,” he told her, squeezing her hand. The tears came then, streaming down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, she clutched his hand between hers.
He turned his eyes to me. “You take care of her.”
“Always,” I promised.
“I’m gonna find our Hannah Jean as soon as I get up there,” he vowed. “I’m gonna hug her, tell her I love her. I’m gonna beg her to forgive me.”
They say your heart doesn’t actually break. But I know that’s a lie. Because I felt mine crack.
Fuck if I didn’t feel the sting of tears in my eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive, old man. She loved you. Just as much as I do.”
“I’m gonna tell her how much her daddy loves her. And we’re gonna be waitin’ for you. But you make us wait a long time. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir. Seventy years, at least.”
“I’m proud of you, son,” he managed before he gasped for air. “I love you both.” Cris slid the mask back over his face.
Exhausted from the effort of talking, he fell asleep before she’d even sat back down. For hours, he drifted in and out. But he didn’t say anything else. Neither Cris or I moved, both clinging to him. Friends came and went, checking on us and saying their good-byes. When the alarms beeped and the nurse ran into the room, and I watched as the man who was my father took his last breath, I couldn’t keep the tears in anymore.
Cris couldn’t let him go. She crawled onto the bed next to him, holding him tight, sobbing. I wanted to comfort her, but I needed to get the hell out before I lost my mind.
The waiting room was filled with our friends and family; Bastards cuts everywhere I looked. Katie rushed into my arms as soon as I walked in the door, but after a quick hug, she went to check on Cris. The Murphys stood right behind her, their faces hopeful, but I shook my head. Michael wrapped his arms around Tina as she started to cry. Matty grabbed me in a hug.
“I need some air,” I told them, knowing I was running away. “I’ll be back.”
I made it outside, surprised by how dark it was. I needed a goddamn cigarette, but I wasn’t lighting up after what I’d just seen. Both out of respect of Liam, and fear. Instead, I leaned against the brick exterior wall, sliding down it as I tried to wrap my head around the shitshow that was my life.
“I’m so sorry Rocker.”
I looked up, surprised to find Jessie. Wearing a tee shirt and jeans, no makeup on her face, she looked almost normal.
“He can’t be gone,” I told her as she sat next to me. “It can’t be real. He’s been my dad for so long sometimes I forgot that he isn’t really. I can’t be without my dad.”
“I didn’t know he wasn’t your dad,” she admitted quietly.
“I’m adopted.” I explained.
Maybe it was because I was heartbroken. Maybe it was because I hadn’t said the words in so long. Maybe it was because I needed to talk to someone, the entire story came out.
“My parents were shanty Irish—wicked poor. There were four of us: me, Katie, Meghan, and Colin. They didn’t give two shits what happened to us as long as we stayed outta their way and didn’t interfere with their drinking.
“We were hungry all the time, never warm enough, and if we whined or asked for anything, my father would beat us. I’m talking you spent the next few days lying on a bare mattress in the corner because you couldn’t move. I started stealing shit when I was five or six—just food at first so we could eat once our parents passed out. Megs loved melon.” I smiled at the memory. “She had a piece of watermelon at school one day, but our parents wouldn’t buy it because that meant less food stamps they could sell to buy booze.
“Katie liked anything fresh—veggies, fruit, as long as it didn’t come in a can, she loved it. Colin, well, he wanted peanut butter. I’d make a couple of runs a week, grabbing bread and peanut butter, sometimes jelly, whatever veggies I could, and always a melon for Megs. I just wanted us to eat.
“Then I got a little bolder. I started on the bigger shit. Jackets for us, shoes for the babies, and this stupid teddy bear that Megs saw one day and swore she and Colin needed. I told my dad they came from school, but he was pissed because we’d taken charity. So, he threw everything out. When I stole more, he beat me worse than he ever had.
“Social services was a fucking joke. They’d come talk to us at school, take pictures of our bruises, but my parents would just move us to another shithole, and we were forgotten. It was a never-ending cycle. Until I was ten.
“We had a new baby sister, Elizabeth. Katie and I took turns feeding her and making sure she was dry, because if she cried, my parents would hurt her. Or us. I worried from the time we left for school until the time we came home.
“One day, we came home and found her all alone, sleeping peacefully. The fuckers had left her on the couch, under a pile of blankets, not even a chair propped up to keep her from rolling off. Katie picked her up, while I grabbed her bottle. I opened it to rinse it out and gagged. They’d filled it with booze.
“Katie started screaming because Lizzie wasn’t waking up. I picked up Megs and Colin, Katie carried Lizzie, and we ran straight to the nearest hospital. We never went back home. Child Protective Services came not long after and took us, split us up. They brought me to Uncle Liam.”
“I didn’t know all that.” I jerked my head up, surprised to see Cris, crying again. “You never told me.”
I cleared my throat. “You never asked.”
She sighed and sat next to me, reaching out to take my hand. “What happened to Lizzie? I haven’t met her.”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Closed adoption.”
“That’s horrible!” Her hand squeezed tighter.
“God,” Jessie sighed from the other side of me, and clung to my other hand. “I had no idea. I’m sorry, Rocker. I’m glad you had Liam.”
I nodded. I was, too.
“I hope they let you go to the funeral,” Jessie mused. “It would be horrible if they don’t.”
<
br /> “Of course, he’ll be able to go to the funeral,” Cris answered, her usual snark gone. “It’s going to be so hard to plan it.”
“Oh, good,” Jessie answered as she let go of my hand and stood up. “Family night was cancelled, but I hope I get to see you before you go.” She touched my head as she walked by. “I’m sorry for your loss, Cris.”
We sat there, clinging to each other, letting the truth settle in. Then, my girl began to tense up. I had no doubt it was because her mind was working hard trying to figure out what Jessie had meant.
“Are you going on a ride?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Let’s not do this here. We’ll talk later.”
“Rob,” she demanded, her voice cold. “Where are you going that you wouldn’t be able to come home for Liam’s funeral?”
I sighed. “I signed a plea.”
She jerked away, turning to look at me. “Explain.”
As I told her the specifics, her face drained of all color. Then she stood up, dusting the dirt from her butt. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Today.”
“How long have you known?”
I closed my eyes. “A while.”
“Wow. I’m always going to be the last to know, aren’t I?”
“No.” I stood up. “I was trying to figure out a way to tell you.”
“You were trying to figure out a way to tell your girlfriend that you were disappearing for three years?”
“No,” I admitted sadly. “I was trying to figure out a way to break up with you.”
Her eyes grew wide. “What?”
“I don’t want you stuck with me while I’m in prison. I won’t be a burden.”
She laughed, a bitter, cold sound. “You’re never going to learn, are you?” She shook her head. “That was my decision to make. Not yours.”
I shook my head thinking about my conversation with Tank. “But, I can’t do it.” She turned to go, but I grabbed her arm. “Cris, just listen.”
“No.” She batted my arm away. “I lost someone I loved very much today. Only to find out I’m losing two people I love very much. So, save it. I can’t do this anymore.”
I grabbed her again. “You don’t mean that.”
Again, she knocked my hand away. “I do. We’re done.”
“We’re not done,” I seethed as I grabbed her again.
“That isn’t your choice!” She snarled. “It’s mine. You don’t get to keep deciding things for me.”
“This time, I do. It’s been a fuck of a day. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Think what you want.” She pushed me away. “But, whatever this was, it’s over. We’re finished.”
“No. We’ll never be over. You and I will always be unfinished business.”
She pushed me away and ran down the sidewalk toward the hospital.
We weren’t over. Not by a long shot.
38
Cris
Present Day
I hated the hospital. The smells, the bright lights, the sadness that you couldn’t escape. Some of my worst memories took place at a hospital.
Yet, it was the one place I never seemed to be able to avoid. If I wasn’t visiting one of our new kids, I was picking up one of the boys after he’d been patched up. Lately, though, it was my friends I’d had to go see.
“Have you called to check on her yet?” Joes, my brother’s fiancée, asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
I shook my head, not needing her to tell me who she was talking about. “Not this morning.”
Joes fell into the chair next to me. “I’m worried about her.”
I nodded. I was, too.
I’d known Barbie for almost as long as I could remember. We’d never been friends. Hell, we could barely be in the same room together without claws flying. I guess that’s to be expected when two women loved the same man.
Over the last few months, though, I’d grown rather fond of her. Not that I would ever admit that to her. Even if I hadn’t, I couldn’t imagine my life without her in it.
Needing to change the subject, I focused on my future sister-in-law.
“I’m worried about you.”
She glanced up. “Me? I’m fine.” She chuckled—the fake laugh she’d spent months perfecting sounded almost real—and waved a hand, dismissing my question as silly. “I’ve been so concerned about you two that I haven’t really had a chance to think about anything else.”
Her fingers drummed silently on my table, a nervous tick she’d only recently developed. Most of the time she didn’t even realize she was doing it. Just like she didn’t know that her eyes drifted around until she found all the exits every time we went somewhere new, planning escape routes in the back of her mind. I reached out and closed my hand around hers.
“If you need to talk, I’m here.”
She ignored the comment. “We should call and check on her.”
I nodded and lifted the phone to my ear.
The truth was, as long as we were taking care of each other, we didn’t have to focus on our own shit.
The last few months had been hell. The club had been attacked, but not in the usual way. The brothers had been spared. Instead, the pricks responsible had gone after us—the old ladies, the Brats, any woman associated with the club in any way. The people they thought couldn’t fight back.
When the boys had started the Bastards MC all those years ago, they’d decided to honor family above all else. There was nothing they wouldn’t do for the women they loved. Most of the time, the bond between a patched member and his old lady was just as strong, if not stronger, than his bond with his brothers. Many brothers shared information they weren’t supposed to, and many women were involved in the daily business in a way no other club allowed. Combined, that created a weakness most other clubs didn’t have.
We’d become a liability.
How do you hurt men who don’t fear pain or even death? It’s a simply answer, really. You torture the ones they love.
One by one, five of us were attacked before anyone realized what was really happening. Not five random women. No, Dyer, the man behind these attacks, had done his homework and had aimed to cause the most heartache.
Tank’s old lady, Tinkerbelle, had been first. Using the fact that they were estranged, and that Tink didn’t get along with the rest of us, Dyer knew that no one would realize she was gone right away. He’d tortured her for days, trying to get information. It was still unclear what she’d told him.
When Rocker realized that something was wrong, he assigned security to each of us. Most of us had been annoyed. We were part of the Bastards. No one in their right mind would mess with us.
We’d been wrong.
Bear’s old lady Taylor had been next. She’d ditched Preach, her protection detail. And been taken only minutes later.
Then they’d come for me.
I’d just finished a private session when I’d seen Katie’s number on my phone. She never called me in the middle of the day unless something was wrong. The gym wasn’t crowded, but Nick was in the office, and Caleb, the man I’d been dating, was hanging around, so I’d gone out back to make the call.
Two men came out of nowhere. I’d started to tell them that they were on private property when they’d attacked. They’d done their research and knew I wasn’t going to be a grab-and-go kinda girl. They were prepared for a fight.
I held my own at first. For every hit they got in, I connected two. One held me while the other beat me. I struggled and my arm was dislocated. I didn’t give up and managed to take one down as the other hauled me toward a van in the alley.
I hadn’t said good-bye to Caleb, and after a few minutes of waiting for me to come back, he’d come looking for me. Thank God. And, by some miracle, Caleb had left the door open. Nick heard him scream.
Nick took care of the second guy and rushed me to the club, but I was in and out of consciousness and didn’t really understand what had happened. Eve
n now, it didn’t seem real.
Jo had been next. Taken from her class at Boston University during a fake fire drill. Her protection detail still sitting out front where she’d left him.
They’d also grabbed Jessie. She hadn’t talked about what happened, but we knew she’d been snatched on her way to the club. She was the last to be discovered missing when she should have been one of the first.
We were the backbone of the club, loved and respected by every member. The attack on me and the disappearance of the others terrified even the most cold-hearted brothers. They swore they weren’t going to rest until they got each one of us back. Matty had only been that angry, revenge burning in his eyes, once before—the day he’d found me with Dale.
Dyer and his men held the girls in a warehouse, using whatever method necessary. Maybe the assholes wanted information, maybe they were just sick fucks who got off on causing pain. The fact that it was the women the Bastards loved, women the brothers would die to protect, was the icing on the cake.
Tink hadn’t made it. The monsters used every tool imaginable to suck the life from her. Jessie and Taylor were alive when the Bastards found them, but just barely. Remembering how they’d looked—bruised, burned, and battered—still made me nauseous. They’d been in shock but were alive.
They’d been rushed a local hospital, and I’d made a prospect drive me up as soon as I’d heard. I’d stayed with Jessie the entire time. I’d cried with her, held her hand while she’d slept, and talked about mindless shit to distract her when she was awake.
Joes hadn't been in the warehouse when the Bastards raided it. The pricks had taken her somewhere else. She'd been breathing when they found her, but that was the only positive thing I could say.
Jo had also been rushed to the hospital after the guys hunted her down. They’d run tests, completed scans, and bandaged as much as they could, yet they had to admit her. Blunt force trauma had caused internal injuries and broken bones, and the doctors were worried about unforeseeable damage, memory loss, and pain. My brother had been out of his mind with worry. I’d never seen him cry like he had when he found out she was alive.
