Bayou Devils MC: The Complete Series

by A. M. Myers

  “Gotcha.”

  I scream as the man grabs my arm and rips me away from my parents. With the blood, it’s hard for him to keep his grip on me and I fight back as hard as I can, hitting and kicking at him with all my strength. I land a kick between his legs and he grunts as his grip on me falters, allowing me to slip my arm free. As I turn to run again, he slices the knife through the air. A burning sensation scrapes down the side of my neck but I don’t stop to see what it is as I start running again. The pain follows and I press my hand to my neck, hissing as it stings and blood trickles through my fingers. Pulling my hand away, I stare down at my palm and shudder. My blood mixes with my parents’ and a sense of dread washes over me.

  I’m going to die tonight.

  “Come here, you little bitch,” the man growls from the kitchen and it’s the kick in the butt that I need. My gaze flies from the stairs to the front door to the living room.

  Where do I go?

  When the sound of his boots smacking against the kitchen tile fills the house, I bolt toward the front door with my hand pressed to my neck. I need to keep running but it’s getting so hard to make my feet work and all I want to do is close my eyes and go back to sleep. Shaking my head, I push myself forward and unlock the front door before ripping it open as red and blue lights fill the night.

  Tears pour down my face and I suck in a stuttered breath before a sob overtakes me. I remember crashing into the police officer that was walking up my sidewalk that night and begging him to please help me. I run my fingers over the scar on my neck again. The doctors said that I was incredibly lucky since the attacker just barely nicked my artery and if the knife had gone any deeper, I would have joined my parents in the ground. I don’t feel lucky though. That man and that horrid night have haunted my life ever since. I was only nine years old but as soon as I was woken up, I could tell there was something different, that something was very, very wrong. The air was thicker, more ominous, and it almost felt like the very thing that I needed to sustain my life was slowly choking me to death and still to this day, I can feel that dread pushing down on me when I think about the events of that night.

  I can still hear the sound of my mother’s gurgled scream as the man plunged the knife into her chest and the eerie silence that followed. They are both still so loud in my mind and my stomach rolls. I spent two weeks in the hospital, first for the cut on my neck and then for my mental health before I was moved to a group home to wait for any family to step forward to claim me. It took a year for them to locate and convince my great Aunt Myra to take me in. I had only met her once before and she wasn’t a huge fan of kids so I suppose that I should just be grateful she took me in at all.

  Closing my eyes, the image of my parents lying on that kitchen floor floods my mind and I suck in a stuttered breath as I remember sinking to my knees and the slippery feeling of their blood against my skin as I grabbed them and tried to wake them up. The rich scent of iron fills my nose and I open my eyes again, shaking my head to clear the memory. The man, who I later learned was named Clinton Wood, was arrested that night and charged with two counts of murder in the first degree, one count of attempted murder, and one count of breaking and entering. At his trial, his lawyer painted a story of a good man who got addicted to drugs and lost his way but I’ll never forget the evil in his blue eyes as he stared down at me with that bloody knife in his hand. Despite my fragile state, I gave a compelling testimony about what happened that night and although I couldn’t meet his gaze, it felt good to know that I had a part in putting him away for the rest of his life. He was convicted and sentenced to three life sentences so I never have to worry about him getting released and being out in the world but it doesn’t really help when he’s free to run rampant through my mind and torment me.

  The tears fall, unchecked, down my cheeks and into the pillow as the memory replays in my head again and my chest aches. It’s been so long that I can’t even remember what my parents’ voices sound like and if I didn’t have photos of them everywhere, their faces would be fuzzy in my mind. I never got to go prom dress shopping with my mama or have my daddy walk me down the aisle when I married Wyatt. No one stood up and cheered for me at my high school graduation and when my life fell apart, I didn’t have anyone to help me pick up the pieces. The ache of missing them and the void they left behind in my life never really goes away. It’s just one more thing that became part of who I am. I fell apart that night and I didn’t have the love of my family to put me back together. All I had was pain and fear and that is what I became.

  And then I met Wyatt.

  My phone rattles across the bedside table with an incoming call and I scoop it up, not even bothering to check the caller ID as I frantically swipe tears off my face.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Pip.”

  I release a breath as my body melts back into the mattress. “Wyatt.”

  “You okay?” he asks, genuine concern lacing his voice and I whisper a curse as I sit up and clear my throat while I try to dry my tears.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I clear my throat again. “What do you want?”

  He chuckles. “Back to business as usual, I see.”

  “What do you want, Wyatt?” I repeat, rolling my eyes and he sighs. I can picture him running his hand through his hair and I wish I could do the same. Back before I left, Wyatt always had to keep his hair short because of the Marines but I love how it looks now, long enough to fall into his eyes and a little unkempt. It just makes me want to run my fingers through it again and again.

  “Can I come in?”

  I blink and turn toward the window before climbing out of bed. “You’re here?”

  “Yeah,” he says as I reach the window and look down. He waves up at me and I shake my head. Any other night, I would try to resist but I just don’t have the energy for it after my little trip down memory lane. Besides, the thought of Wyatt wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head like he used to anytime I woke up from a nightmare sounds way too good to pass up.

  “Okay… there’s a key taped to the underside of the mailbox.”

  He frowns as he glances at the little black box next to the front door. “That’s not safe, Pip.”

  “Do you want to scold me or do you want to come in?”

  “You just told me where the damn key is, baby,” he says, looking up and meeting my eyes through the window as he fights back a grin that makes a shiver run down my spine. Good Lord, I always thought Wyatt was the cutest boy I’d ever met but now… he is all man and he can reduce me to a puddle with just a simple look. “Do you really think you could stop me?”

  I roll my eyes. “Just get up here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His grin makes my heart melt and I blink, fighting back tears again. God, I missed that man so much these past ten years and it’s a wonder how I ever survived. Now that he’s back in my life, or sort of back, I don’t know how I ever went one day without him. But the bigger problem is, I don’t know how to keep resisting him. I watch him as he walks up to the front door and peels the key from under the mailbox before I turn back to the bed and hang up, tossing my phone on the bedside table. As I climb on the mattress and pull the blankets around me, I hear the front door open and my heart kicks in my chest.

  I’m so stupid.

  I’ve known him for twenty damn years and I still get butterflies in my belly at the thought of seeing him. Just the sound of his name is enough to have me fighting back a grin and when he steps in close to me, my heart beats a little bit faster. Shaking my head, I close my eyes. I seriously need to get ahold of myself if I’m going to face him. I still don’t know which way I’m going to go when he asks the inevitable question - keep my secrets or tell him everything - but either way, I’ll need all the strength I can muster. When I open them again, he’s standing in the doorway, his brow arched as he grins down at me.

  “Nice shirt.”

  I glance down and nod as I meet his gaze again. “Yeah. It is.”
>
  “I like the little trail you left for me,” he says and I scowl.

  “Huh?”

  He motions over his shoulder. “The clothes leading up to your bedroom.”

  “Oh. That.”

  “You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head slightly as he studies me. The genuine concern filling his eyes kills me. If I tell him the truth… he may never look at me like that again. I nod as my lip trembles.

  Shit.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No,” he whispers, taking another step into the room. “You’re not.”

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I rip my eyes from him. “Stop acting like you still know me, Wyatt. It’s been ten years.”

  “And whose fault is that?” he growls and I shake my head as my heart sinks. I look up at him and hope he can see how truly sorry I am for the state of our relationship. Not that it really matters at this point, I suppose. We are where we are and we can’t go back.

  “I wasn’t trying to pass off any blame. We’re not together now because of me, I know that.”

  “Yeah, about that…” He steps further into the room and shoves his hands in his pockets. “You ready to talk?”

  “No.”

  He shrugs. “Do it anyway.”

  “Stop telling me what to do,” I snap, ripping the covers up my body as I cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him. He shakes his head.

  “No.”

  “You’re so fucking stubborn.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Me? Are you serious?”

  “Yes, you.” I narrow my eyes and he laughs again. The sound sends heat radiating through my chest and I fight back a smile. Wyatt’s laugh was always one of my favorite sounds and I used to do the silliest things just to hear it or see him smile at me.

  “Did you just tell me to come up here so you could fight with me?”

  I’m about to tell him that is exactly why I let him come in but I stop myself as I let out a sigh, Eden’s words from dinner run through my mind and I bite my lip as I go over my options. As much as I hate it, it is time to decide for good. Am I going to continue pushing him away and spend the rest of my life with my secrets or can I really let him in again? Finally, I shake my head. “No. That’s not why.”

  “Then why?”

  “I don’t know…” I admit, my voice weak as tears sting my eyes again. It’s a total fucking lie and we both know it. I let him come in because staying away from him, missing him is torture. I’ve lived with it for ten years and I just don’t have the strength to keep going. His gaze softens and he walks around the side of the bed before sitting next to me.

  “What happened back then, Pip? Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can handle it.” His voice is kind, full of empathy, and I avoid his gaze as tears well up in my eyes. As soon as I tell him the truth, that kind, caring voice will be gone. I just know it. Shaking my head, I pull my hand back.

  “I can’t.”

  He rakes his hand through his hair. “You can. I’m telling you, baby, I’m here for you. Whatever it is.”

  “You won’t see me the same way,” I whisper as a tear streaks down my cheek and I meet his gaze. He reaches forward and cups my cheek, the desperation and love in his eyes is too much to bear. He brushes his thumb over my cheek, wiping away the tear.

  “I promise you that I will. You’re my Pip, you always have been, and you always will be. Just tell me the truth.”

  I shake my head again. “No.”

  “Goddamn it,” he snaps, releasing me and jumping up from the bed as he starts pacing across my bedroom floor and running his hand through his hair again. I’m not trying to cause him any pain but I can see that this is killing him and it’s not fair to keep dragging this on. But neither one of us know what the truth will do to him and I’m terrified once he learns everything that he will wish I had kept my mouth shut. He turns to me, fire and determination dancing in his eyes, and his lips set into a firm line.

  “Why did you leave me?”

  I shake my head and drop my gaze to the bed. He growls.

  “Why did you leave me?” he yells and another tear slips down my cheek as I shake my head again.

  I can’t tell him.

  I can’t…

  “Why did you leave me?!”

  A sob tears through me as his roar echoes around the room and I meet his eyes as I scream, “I don’t know!”

  Silence descends on us and time seems to stand still as we stare at each other. Both of us stunned by my sudden admission. I didn’t intend to say anything but hearing the hurt in his voice as he demanded the truth again pulled it out of me. More questions fill his eyes and he shakes his head as he takes a step toward me, his brows knitting together.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  Sucking in a breath, I play with a loose thread on my blanket.

  Fuck.

  I guess we’re doing this now…

  “It’s complicated, Wyatt.”

  “So explain it,” he demands and I look up, my heart pounding in my chest as the words I need to say roll around in my brain. I open my mouth to speak before snapping it shut again.

  God, I don’t even know where to start.

  “I…”

  I snap my mouth closed again as the words stick in my throat. He closes the distance between us and grabs both of my hands between his. “Just start somewhere, babe. I don’t even care if it makes sense at first. Just start talking.”

  “I…” I whisper, my mind screaming the words that I can’t seem to force through my lips. I suck in a breath and squeeze my eyes shut. “I had an episode…”

  “What does that mean, Pip? What kind of episode?” The worry and pain in his voice breaks my heart all over again and I blow out a breath, trying to find a piece of my soul that might still have a little bit of the bravery I need to tell him everything.

  “Technically, it was called a psychotic break…”

  Silence.

  Just like the night my parents were killed, the silence steals the air from my lungs, choking me as I wait for his reply and more tears fall down my cheeks.

  I can’t open my eyes.

  I can’t see the disgust on his face.

  The one time he needed me to be strong for him, I couldn’t and living with the shame of that for the past ten years is just as bad as the pain of missing him. He went to war for God’s sake and I couldn’t even handle being without him for a year. It’s pitiful and I don’t blame him one bit for being appalled by my weakness.

  “Piper,” he whispers and my lip trembles.

  Please don’t hate me…

  “Piper, look at me,” he says, his voice soft and my eyes snap open immediately, meeting his gaze as my heart beats so hard I think it might explode. His eyes are filled with love and sympathy instead of the disgust and anger I expected and a sob bubbles out of my mouth. “Tell me what happened, baby.”

  Oh, God…

  Nodding, I grip his hands and give them a squeeze as a newfound strength rolls through me but it’s always been that way for us. Wyatt is my support system and he makes me feel strong enough to take on the world around me which was exactly the problem that led to the end of our marriage.

  “After you deployed, I felt pretty good, at first. I thought I could handle the stress of everything and I knew that you would be back with me soon enough…”

  He nods.

  “But then there was this news story about a troop that was killed over where you were and I remember sitting on the couch for an entire day with my eyes glued to the screen as I waited to hear from you.”

  His brows draw together. “But I was okay, baby.”

  “I know,” I whisper, nodding. “But after that, my mind was consumed with thoughts of you never making it home to me. I was still able to deal with it, though. I mean, I wasn’t taking good care of myself but I hadn’t completely lost it yet and then four months into your tour, I was bringing in some groceries and I saw one of those black town cars pulling down our
street.”

  Closing my eyes, I still remember that day like it was yesterday and the fear that I was about to lose everything, again, as the Casualty Assistance Officers rolled up to our house and then the pure relief that flooded my body when they kept going.

  “After that, I was paralyzed by the fear that you weren’t going to come back to me. I stopped eating. I stopped sleeping and I didn’t leave the house for two months. Anytime someone rang the doorbell, I would cower in the corner of the living room and wait for them to leave. Some days, I didn’t even get out of bed, too scared to face the possibility and things just devolved from there. By the time I left, I can’t even tell you what was real and what wasn’t. I was seeing the man that killed my parents and I was seeing you… dead with bullet holes all over your body… lying in our bed… sitting on our couch. No where was safe anymore.”

  “My God, baby,” he breathes, releasing my hands and pulling me into his arms. Another sob tears through me as he crushes me to his body and buries his nose in my hair before pressing his lips to the top of my head. It’s even better than I remember and for the first time in ten years, I feel safe enough to let myself fall apart because Wyatt has always loved me enough to put me back together. Pulling away, he shakes his head. “But why didn’t you come back?”

  I meet his eyes. “My next clear memory was waking up in the psychiatric wing of the hospital a year later.”

  “What?” He blinks, confusion all over his face as he waits for an explanation.

  “My doctor said that the psychotic episode was compounded by PTSD from the night my parents were murdered and I spent a year living in my car and running from the demons that had become very real for me. When I didn’t think the man who killed my parents was after me again, I thought you were dead and I was completely alone in the world.”

  He stumbles off the bed and backs up a few steps before slowly shaking his head and running both hands through his hair, gripping it and tugging. “Why wasn’t I contacted? I’m your goddamn husband! I should have been notified that you were in the hospital.”