The Jameson Brothers Bundle

by M. Robinson

  “Creed! Fuck man! Creed! You hit?!” I heard Mason shouting from above me. “Bro, don’t do this to me! Don’t you fucking do this to me!” He patted my chest, down my arms and my legs. Trying to feel if I was hit.

  “Fine…” I sputtered, my throat raw and burning, making it extremely difficult to get any words out. I carefully turned over to my stomach, struggling to catch my bearings. Fighting a war with my body to do what it was trained to.

  “I’m fine… Owen… where is—”

  “Shit! I’ll be right back! We’re getting raided! Gonna go get these motherfuckers! Don’t. Fucking. Move! Do you understand me?! Stay right here! I’ll be right fucking back!”

  I weakly nodded, staring blindly in the direction of Mason’s voice. My eyes readjusted, slightly coming back into focus. I sat up, pressing my hand hard against my chest, trying to breathe through the excruciating pain from the impact. Applying pressure on my sternum, wanting to alleviate some of the tension, some of the buildup. Feeling as though I was internally bleeding, my body was giving out on me. I slouched against the wall, looking down at the ground, gasping for the air that wasn’t available for the taking. The sunlight and the dirty air were almost as blinding as the bomb that just went off in front of me.

  My eyes felt like they were bleeding, burning from the chemicals that radiated from the explosive. I reached up wanting to wipe away the debris, knowing it was fucking pointless, my hands were covered in God-knows-what. I blinked a few times, gradually looking up. Adjusting to the light, looking all around me. Needing to find Owen. Desperately pushing through the disorientation and confusion of our location from where we were and where his body could have been tossed.

  Several explosions sounded nearby, and it felt like the seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours. I was frantically trying to see who else had been hit, if it was more of my men.

  I pushed off the wall, stumbling to stand on my own. Placing one foot in front of the other, mind over fucking matter, I kept telling myself as my body started going into shock. The more I moved, the closer I got, maneuvering on autopilot as I hurried down the alleyway. Making my way toward the guy who had become a brother to me. Not giving a fuck about anything else but getting to him.

  Guns blazing.

  Bullets firing in all directions.

  War was all around me.

  It didn’t fucking faze me anymore.

  Not knowing if anything ever could, till I came upon his broken form. There was so much fucking blood coming out of what was left of his body as he convulsed, shaking uncontrollably, as I watched him fucking dying right in front of my eyes. I didn’t think twice about it. I grabbed him, dragging his limp body into the building next to us. Leaving a trail of blood staining the dirt. I didn’t have the strength to carry him, to throw him over my shoulder like I had done for so many soldiers prior, to get us the fuck out of there.

  I dragged his contorted body, ignoring his pleas of desperation to not move him, urgently begging me to just leave him there. That everything hurt. That he couldn’t take the pain. Crying, groaning, sounds of pure agony and misery fell from his lips in a way I’d never heard before. I stopped once we were far enough inside the concrete walls, away from any broken windows or points of entry, hiding us as best as I could, given the shitty fucking circumstances. Knowing one of my men would find us. Disregarding all the rotting dead bodies that were already in there, lives that were taken for good or for evil.

  It all blended together.

  “Ahh, shit, Creed,” he continued in a tone that wasn’t his. As if he had already given up on life.

  “You’re okay, man. You’re okay. I got ya.” I laid him by the wall, leaning over and covering his body with mine like a shield.

  Kneeling beside his mangled frame, looking up at the ceiling, keeping my emotions in check. Ignoring the active rounds of fire happening just on the other side of the concrete. Where I should have been fighting with my men. But I couldn’t leave my brother.

  “Creed…”

  I swallowed hard, shutting my eyes for a few seconds, needing a minute to get my shit together to look down at him.

  Not for me.

  For him.

  Mentally preparing myself for what I would see, for what would happen, for what I knew he was going to ask of me.

  Because I would ask for the same fucking thing.

  I peered down at the soldier I’d known for what felt like a lifetime, taking in what was left of his body, a gruesome scene right out of a war movie. Except this was a reality.

  My fucking reality.

  Nothing of the man that would risk his life for me was left. Anything that made him human had just been blown off, and I was damn certain it didn’t stop there.

  “I’m here, brother. I’m here,” I gritted out, my lips trembling.

  “Creed… It’s bad, man… it’s fucking bad…” he lamented, struggling to get the words out. “I’m gonna die… Please… please… don’t let me die, Creed. I want to go home…” bawling, his voice breaking.

  I reached over and grabbed his hand on the only arm he had left, squeezing it, providing any comfort I could. Letting him know I was there with him.

  He wasn’t alone.

  “I want to see my family… my girl, Creed...” he groaned, gargling over the blood coming out of his mouth.

  “You’re goin’ home, buddy. You’re goin’ fuckin’ home! You hear me? You’re not gonna fuckin’ die. You’re not! Not here, not now! Fight, motherfucker, fight!” I yelled, unsure of who I was trying to convince.

  He started to cough up clots of blood. I tried to sit him up but he screamed in agony, so I laid him back down. Grabbing his hand again, waiting.

  “Fuck… man…” he whispered, looking up at me with half his face disfigured and covered in blood. “Tell my girl… I fucking love her… Creed. Tell my baby girl… I died with honor… I died a man… a goddamn soldier… fighting to keep her safe…” he let out, gasping through the despair. For his next breath. “Tell my mom not to be sad… tell her I died a happy man… with her on my mind… You… tell them… I did not suffer… You make sure… they know that… please… fucking… please… promise me… swear to me… they will know… it was quick and I did not fucking suuufffeeerrr…”

  I nodded, unable to form words. “I’m sorry, man. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I shoulda seen it. It’s my job to fuckin’ protect my unit. My men. This is my fault. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, brother.” Bowing my head in shame.

  His body started to convulse again, this time worse than before. “Creed! I can’t do this! Don’t make me suffer, man! I don’t want to go out like this!” he roared, crying uncontrollably through the pain. The agony, the future he would never have.

  “Don’t ask me to do that… please…” I begged, knowing what he was asking me to do.

  “Do it! Cut the cord! I’m not going home! It could be over in a split second! And… you know it! Bullet to the head! Let me die with fucking honor! Let me die a fucking soldier with my fucking dignity, not this pitiful man bleeding out!” He spit out more blood, forcing his body to yell at me. Telling me what he needed.

  Another gasp of air gurgled in his lungs. His end was near. I knew my worst fucking nightmare was about to come true. Visualizing my friend suffocating in his own blood until his lungs gave out, exploding in his fucking chest. His eyes rolling to the back of his head, the terrified expression on his face, fearing the next phase of his soul was too real.

  I couldn’t do that.

  Pulling him into my arms, I laid his head on my bicep. Holding him close, rocking his shaking body back and forth, it immediately brought back memories of when I did this with Luke.

  “Shhh… shhh… shhh… Owen… watching your baby girl be born on that video your wife sent was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, man. Shhh…” I repeated, reminiscing of happier times. Wanting him to go out with good memories, a sedated heart, a clear fucking conscience.

  �
��Yeah, Creed…” he gasped for air. “She’s… beautiful… most… beautiful… thing in… the world.”

  “I promise I will tell her all about you. She will know who her daddy was and what he did for our country.” My eyes watered with tears, but I blinked them away, wanting to be strong for him.

  Allowing his mind and body to calm down.

  Waiting until he felt some peace.

  “Thank… you… Creed…” he murmured, trying to smile, looking up at me.

  “I love you, man. Thanks for being my friend,” I softly said, hugging him closer. Reaching over, jolting my arm, hearing one very loud pop.

  Snapping his neck.

  Putting him out of his goddamn misery.

  I broke down, holding Owen’s lifeless body in my arms. Bawling, tears ran down my face, heaving in and out, crying like a little girl. He was so fucking close to never looking back.

  Freedom.

  And just like that.

  Owen was gone, and his blood was on my hands.

  TWENTY-THREE

  MIA

  “Finally! Took you long enough,” Jill said as I got in her car, shutting the door behind me,

  Jill was a junior from my AP English class. We hit it off after being paired together on our last assignment. She was a wild child to say the least, telling me all about the parties she would go to, drinking and fooling around with boys all the time. Her parents’ were divorced and didn’t really care what she did as long as she got good grades.

  I wish my parents’ were more like that.

  “I know! Sorry! My brother’s girlfriend needed to remind me again that she was covering for my ass with my parents’. Giving me a lecture on having fun but being safe and to text her every hour. Using Giselle was the only way I could come out with you tonight. They trust her.”

  “Your parents’ are ridic. You’ll be sixteen in like two months,” she replied, driving out of Giselle’s apartment complex. “You’re one of the smartest girls in our grade, they should learn to trust you more.”

  “It’s not really my mom, it’s my dad. But whatever, I don’t want to talk about them anymore. Where are we going?”

  “To one of the best parties you will ever go to. They have them all the time. So buckle in, biotch, you’re in for a hell of a night.”

  It didn’t take too long for us to get there, even though we had to drive through the woods. It was hard to see where we were going, branches scraped the top of the car as she made her way down a dark and narrow road. The headlights only illuminated so far in front of us, making the night creepy as hell. For a second I thought she may have gotten lost, but suddenly a huge warehouse appeared in the middle of nowhere. Rows of motorcycles lined the grass and gravel along with scattered cars in between. I could hear the rock music blaring through their sound system, beating against the windows of her car.

  There were people everywhere, most of the women dressed in skimpy outfits, while others were dressed in leather. It was then that I realized most of the men were wearing cuts exactly like Creed’s with the Devil’s Rejects logo.

  “Where are we?” I asked as she pulled into an empty parking spot in the back and killed the engine.

  “Mia, my sweet, innocent friend, we’re at an MC clubhouse.”

  “MC?”

  She laughed, looking at herself in the visor mirror before opening her door. “Wow, you really are sheltered. It’s a motorcycle club, girl. They have the best parties with the hottest guys. I’m actually meeting one of them. I bet he will have a hot friend for you, too.” She wiggled her perfectly sculpted eyebrows at me, closing the door the behind her.

  I nodded to myself. Coming to the realization that Creed was a biker and a part of this club. Remembering his cut said ‘Vice Prez’ on it. After all these years, I’d never associated him with this lifestyle, but now it made so much sense.

  I hadn’t seen him since that horrible night several months ago. Mason and he left to go back to war. I stopped writing him, I stopped sending him patches, but I never stopped thinking about him.

  What if he was here?

  I shook off the thoughts, wanting to have a good time tonight. For once I was about to experience what everyone else my age did every weekend, while I was at home thinking about all I was missing.

  Praying for him to return home safely.

  We walked up to the front of the warehouse, and it was almost like I was walking up to a different world. I felt like a fish out of water. The smell of smoke and weed instantly assaulted my senses as we made our way through a swarm of people by the entrance. They were all drinking heavily and swearing up a storm. Jill grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd, and into the clubhouse where there were just as many partygoers, if not more.

  Drugs were everywhere, lining every open surface. Some women were lying on the tables while men snorted white powder off their bodies, which I assumed was cocaine. While other women sat on men’s laps, dancing for them naked, for all to see. Couples were kissing in the corners, starting to go at it. It was like a train wreck you couldn’t look away from.

  I couldn’t help but think about Creed…

  Was this the life he led?

  Was this why he told me he was no good?

  Was he one of these men?

  No wonder he thought of me as a baby girl if this was what he was used to. I never stood a chance.

  The more I took in the scene playing out in front of me, the more uncomfortable I became. I’d never been around anything like this in my entire life. This was definitely not my kind of party. The chaos all around made me wish Creed was there. One group of bikers with women who weren’t acting like animals caught my eye. The women had actual clothes on, wearing cuts that said property of so and so on them. It seemed like they were on a different level than the rest of the party.

  I was about to tell Jill I was going to call Giselle to come pick me up, but when I turned to find her, she was gone.

  “Shit…” I whispered to myself, remembering I left my cell phone in her car.

  I started to roam around other rooms, each one more graphic than the last. Trying to find Jill amongst the crowds of people and chaos. I must have gotten lost, ending up in what looked like a basement.

  “Well, lookie what we have here, fresh meat,” someone whispered from behind me, causing me to stumble back against the wall. He cornered me in with his arms on the sides of my head. “Ain’t ever seen you before. I would remember such a pretty little face and bangin’ fuckin’ body,” he rasped too close to my face, smelling like liquor and weed. “You got a name?”

  “Mia,” I replied, feeling much more vulnerable than before.

  “Pretty name, for a pretty girl. What are ya doin’ here?”

  “I came with a friend.”

  “A friend?” he questioned, cocking his head to the side. Smirking, “Don’t see a friend anywhere. All I see is you. Maybe you and I can become friends. In my room alone. Yeah?”

  My eyes widened. “Umm… I don’t—”

  “Jesus Christ, Jigsaw! Leave her the fuck alone! She look interested to you?” a man's voice echoed through the basement, interrupting him.

  I had never been more relieved to hear a stranger’s voice than I did in that moment. I released the breath I had been holding when Jigsaw backed away, turning around. We both looked in the direction of where the voice came from. A tall guy with dark brown hair that hung low around his eyes was standing by the door, wearing a cut that read ‘Prospect’ on it. I looked back at the guy he called Jigsaw, and he was wearing the same cut with the same word patched on it.

  “Mind your business, Rebel. You don’t know shit!”

  He grinned, looking in my direction again. Nodding to Jigsaw. “You wanna suck his cock?”

  I peered back and forth between them, sputtering, “Umm… no thank you.”

  Rebel laughed, smirking wide. Making me smile back, I couldn’t help but notice how cute he was. The light shade of blue in his eyes was so damn enticing,
luring me into his smile. He was covered in tattoos, wearing jeans, a cut, and combat boots. I was starting to think it was standard biker attire.

  When he caught me staring at his defined arms and broad chest, I blushed looking back at Jigsaw.

  “Oh, there’s some sort of love connection here, I see,” Jigsaw sneered, pointing between us. “Rebel don’t like to be held down, pretty girl. He also don’t like to be told what to do. I’m looking for an ol’ lady. He ain’t. Choose your battles wisely. Pretty boy over there just thinks with his cock.”

  “Thanks for the introduction, Jigsaw. Now get the fuck out.”

  Jigsaw shook his head, taking the steel steps two at a time, body-checking my rescuer in the shoulder before slamming the door behind him.

  “His bark is bigger than his bite. He comes on a little strong,” Rebel chimed in, walking down the stairs toward me.

  “Yeah… can see that. But umm… thanks. You kinda saved me there.”

  “No worries. Ain’t ever seen you around here. Got a name?” he asked, towering over me and letting his eyes wander all over my body.

  “Mia, but you can call me Pippin,” I answered without thinking.

  “Pippin,” he repeated, nodding.

  It was weird hearing him call me that when only one other person ever did. The way it rolled off his tongue was doing things to me, making me feel familiar flutters in my stomach. I found myself liking it, waiting for him to say it again. I didn’t know if it was from the way he said it or from who gave me the nickname in the first place, but it brought a sense of calm over me, making me feel safe for some reason.

  “How old are you?” he questioned, pulling me away from my thoughts.

  “Why do you ask?”

  He chuckled, “Right… girls don’t like sayin’ their age. Yeah?”

  “I’m eighteen,” I lied.