Twisted Tales of Mayhem

by Sapphire Knight

  Chapter Two

  January

  Wade Price.

  I lean against the door of the bar as I exhale long and slow, gawking at him sitting there. Before me, I see both the boy who was a rebel and the man who ran away. I haven't laid eyes on him since the night we almost ruined everything. He looks good, somehow sexier, maybe it’s the way he’s staring back at me, or maybe it’s the new rough exterior he’s emitting.

  No one else was going to contact him about his dad, so I knew I needed to, but I didn't expect this rush of feelings to overload me at the mere sight of him. Those smoldering amber eyes that are heating me from the inside out. That scruff along his jawline, and that tongue he runs over his bottom lip…oh, that tongue.

  I'm transported back to the feel of it exploring not only my mouth but every inch of my body. The sensation of his eyes devouring me as if I was the only woman who existed, and the exhilaration of him filling me so completely, I never wanted to escape his hard thrusts. I loved the rough edges of Wade Price, as well as the softness that only I could see in his heart. Then he ran.

  Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I compose myself and step closer. "I'm glad you came."

  He takes a shot of the dark liquid sitting in front of him. "Yeah, I need to say my goodbyes, then I'll be on my way once again."

  I tilt my head to the side a fraction and my brows furrow. "You don't have to leave."

  His eyes size me up. "Yeah, I do."

  "But this is your home." I cross my arms over my chest. He’s so infuriating. He could just stay and deal with his issues instead of running.

  "Not anymore." Slamming the tumbler on the counter, he jumps from the stool and stomps toward the door.

  Following him out of the bar, I yell, "Wait!"

  He spins, throwing his arms in the air. "Wait for what, Jani? Waiting never did me no good before, and by the diamond sittin’ pretty on your fucking finger…” His glare turns cold. “You weren’t sitting around waiting for me to come back either."

  I clench my fists at my sides. "Can we just talk about that night?"

  He marches over, stopping in front of me. "Talk about what? You wanna talk about how it was the best night of our lives? You wanna talk about how after years of pining over you, I finally had that one fucking chance? Or how about, I fucking ruined everything that night?" He storms away. My eyes narrow onto the emblem on his black leather vest with the words Satan’s Sinners MC. Where has he been all this time, and what has he gotten himself involved in?

  “It wasn’t all your fault, but I stayed and dealt with it!” I shout at him.

  Groaning under my breath, I’m irritated that he can still get under my skin so easily. He straddles the same Harley he’s had for years, the same one he vanished on the night he left Millwood. It’s how I figured out he was here. I’ve been coming to Joe’s, driving through the parking lot every night since he left, hoping he would change his mind and come home. I kept waiting for him–even with this ring on my finger. I knew he’d come home for his dad, and my wait came to an end tonight.

  Rushing to my Civic, I jump in and quickly get it started, pulling out of the parking lot right behind him.

  We end up at his childhood home, he strolls inside first, but I’m not too far behind. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

  I square my shoulders, ready to feel the wrath. "I called him."

  Fletcher gapes at me incredulously. "Why would you do that?"

  "Good to see you too, brother." Wade smirks.

  Fletcher charges at Wade. "You stopped being my brother long ago."

  Jumping between them, I slap my hands against their chests. "You two are still blood.” My gaze snaps to Fletcher. “Wade has a right to be here. He has a right to say goodbye."

  "Fine! He can say goodbye, and then he can get the fuck out." Fletcher storms out of the room, and I hear something hit a wall. Flinching at the sounds of glass breaking, I close my eyes, attempting to try and keep it together. I get Fletcher is angry, however, that doesn’t give him the right to try and keep Wade from paying his final respects to their father.

  "I wasn't asking for permission," Wade yells before stalking down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

  While he does what he wants, I join Fletcher in the kitchen and see the shattered dishes on the laminate floor. "Is it really necessary for you to treat him like that?" He’s turned away from me with his head bent and hands gripping the counter so tightly his knuckles are white.

  Fletcher spins, his furious glare directed at me. "Yes, January, it is. He was supposed to be my brother, and yet, he fucked my fiancée. I believe I’m justified in treating him the way I did. I should have known you would go behind my back since it wasn't the first time, and here we are just like old times, you sticking up for him."

  My heavy footfalls don’t stop until I’m standing toe to toe with Fletcher. Lifting my hand, I slap him across his face. I ignore the sting in my palm and the sneer plastered on his face. "He was my friend before I chose you! Do not throw it in my face after we have moved past it. It was a drunken night after you broke up with me!" Spinning on my heels, I rush out of the house.

  After all this time, Fletcher is still using it against me when he's the one that dumped me. He broke my heart, and Wade tried to put me back together. That night, I was going to choose Wade, but he took off before I could tell him anything. Soon after, Fletcher apologized, and I tried to forget everything that happened with Wade and move forward. So, when Fletcher proposed, I accepted.

  I thought I was over Wade, but the way my heart skipped a beat at just the sight of him, I'd say I'm far from over him. I'm marrying his brother though. He's trouble, and I should stay far away from him; otherwise, I could potentially ruin my wedding, which is happening in one week.

  Chapter Three

  Drifter

  Slowly and quietly, I open my pop's bedroom door with trembling hands. I am not sure what to expect. Yes, I’ve seen men die, but none of them were my father. Walking in, I sit in the chair beside his bed. He looks peaceful in his deep sleep, and my eyes travel over him from his hair, which is grayer than I remember, to the black circles around his eyes, and his sunken cheeks. He's lost weight, and my heart breaks even more. The fragile man lying here is not the same strong, hard-working man I remember. I take his thin boney hand in mine.

  "Hey, Pop." I blink back tears as I begin to speak. "Sorry, it's taken me so long to get here. If I would have known you were so sick, I would have come back sooner. I've been in Kansas for a while now and found my place within a club there. Why didn’t you call me?" I wipe away a falling tear, knowing he won’t respond. "You can let go now, Pop. Go be with Momma.” I kiss the top of his hand. “I love you."

  His breathing is shallow, and he doesn’t even twitch to assure me he’s still here. And as I continue to watch the movements of his chest for a while longer, I reflect, remembering the last moments I spent with him before I left.

  "Son, what are you doing?"

  I glance at Pop on the bar stool next to me in Joe's Tavern. Taking a long pull from my bottle, my brows knit in confusion. "What'cha mean, Pop?"

  He waves his own bottle around. "This." His drifting eyes land on me. "You're so much bigger than this town. You had dreams, now you're twenty-five and still here waiting for something you're never gonna get."

  "Pop—" I start, but he cuts me off.

  "Wade, January chose Fletcher long ago, and you've been pining for her ever since. It's time to let her go and move on. What's that saying? ‘There's other fish in the sea.’" His mouth lifts into a smile.

  "I'm not pining, Pop." I laugh and shake my head.

  "Oh for fuck’s sake. Everyone in this town knows you're in love with your brother's girlfriend, but you and your brother are blood, Wade, don't let her come between that. I have always wanted what was best for both of you boys. Fletcher, he's made for the small town cookie-cutter life." His hand clasps my shoulder. "But not you. You need to find yourself, and you’re
never gonna do that here in Millwood, South Carolina. And especially not living with your ol’ man."

  Grinning, I ask, "You trying to kick me out, Pop?"

  "In a way, yeah." His deep, bellowing laugh echoes through the bar. "I just want you happy, Son." With those parting words, he stands from his stool, and I watch him glide out the door, and with a smile on my face, I take another swig from my beer.

  I thought we had all the time in the world, but now, here I am only a few short years later, telling him goodbye because he’s leaving me. Stepping out of his room, I stride down the hallway and enter the living room where my brother is sitting on the couch with his fingers laced together. "You should have stayed gone." His head raises, and hateful eyes connect with mine.

  I glance to the side before meeting his glare once more. "I came back for Pop, that's it. You and January can go on about your happy little fucking life, and I'll stay out of it."

  He quickly stands and rushes toward me. "You can't stay out of it! You think I don't see the way she has always looked at you? How fucking sad she was when you disappeared? The joy in her eyes now that you're back?"

  "Not my fucking problem." I spin to march down the hallway, but he grabs my arm and whirls me around to face him.

  "You're not staying here."

  My eyes bore into his. "Yeah, I am." I yank my arm out of his grasp and head for the kitchen instead. I need a fucking drink. I huff at the irony–the love of a drink is killing my pop, and yet, I'm going and searching for one. Opening the icebox, I scan the contents, but no bottles or cans are in sight. I’ll hit up the liquor store in the morning. Shutting the door, I turn, and my brother is in my face. "Step back, Fletcher.”

  "What if I don't, brother?" He taunts, emphasizing the word “brother”.

  Lifting my fist, I punch him in the jaw, knocking his head sideways. He charges me and slams my back into the front of the icebox. Kicking the back of his legs, I try to take him down to the ground, but his back slams into the side of kitchen table before we fall on the floor. We roll around in broken glass, wrestling for control, both of us getting a few good hits in until we are breathless and panting on the cold laminate.

  I wipe the blood from my lip. "You had enough?"

  "Just leave. No one wants you here." He works to stand, and I watch him walk out the front door. I could be a smartass, but I'll let it go for now.

  Me and my brother used to be thick as thieves before fucking January Evans came into our lives.

  Both of us saw her at the same time. I was in sixth grade, and they were in eighth. My brother staked his claim first, and I had to sit back and watch it all unfold as he got the girl I quickly fell in love with. But he shattered her heart the night he broke up with her, and she came to me to help her pick up the pieces, and I did. However, I betrayed my brother in doing so, my own blood, and I couldn’t face him after what I had done. I ran like a fucking pussy and left January to deal with the aftermath. What kind of man does that make me?

  He has every right to hate me, but there’s a reason she called me to come home, and it wasn’t only for our father. At the bar, I saw the way she stared at me, and based on what he said, Fletcher sees it too. I’ll do what needs to be done, and when I’m through, she’ll be on the back of my bike, riding to Kansas with me instead of getting married to a man she doesn’t really love. One thing I’ve learned, life is too short to live unhappily.

  Picking myself up off the ground, I stroll out of the kitchen and down the hallway until I reach my old bedroom. Flipping the switch, my smile grows. It's the same as I'd left it. My old comforter and the same worn dresser. Growing up, we didn't have much money so the used shit Pop would bring home were like treasures to us. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I begin to remove my boots. It’s good to be home.

  Chapter Four

  January

  I attach Paul’s feeding bag to his G-tube and hook the supplements onto the pole so his “food” will drip for the next thirty minutes. While waiting for that, I begin my daily routine of making sure he is comfortable and clean. I remove his top sheet and blanket before rolling him side to side to put a fresh sheet under him. I grab two large bowls of water one with soap and give him a sponge bath.

  "Your two sons are a pain in my ass, Paul. You know that, right? They always have been. I know I did Fletcher wrong, but he forgave me and we moved past it. But with Wade back, emotions are bombarding me, they're fighting, Fletcher and I are fighting, and it's only been one day, not even twenty-four hours, and everything is falling apart. I thought I made the right decision by calling Wade. No…" I shake my head, "I know I did the right thing. He has as much right to be here as anyone. He’s your youngest son, your flesh and blood. He deserves to be here." I sigh heavily. "I won’t apologize for what I feel was the right thing to do. I wish you could give me advice like you’ve done so many times in the past. You were the one who knocked some sense into me and told me I should take Fletcher back. You always knew Wade loved me though, and I think you secretly knew how I felt about him too, but I chose Fletcher. I’ve been trying to remember why I did, and why I didn’t just pick Wade to begin with, but right now, all these lines are beginning to cross for me. I’m second-guessing the wedding, I’m second-guessing what I know is right, and I need you to remind me why." A tear slides down my cheek.

  I grab both bowls and carry them into the master bath and dump them into the sink. Stepping back into the bedroom, I cover Paul with a clean sheet and blanket. "You were always like a father to me, and I'm going to miss you so much."

  Quietly shutting his bedroom door, I head to the kitchen and reach for a mug, pulling it out of the cabinet before pouring myself a hot steaming cup of coffee. I sit at the kitchen table and open the newspaper to start reading it and stop. Groaning, I ask myself, Why do we have to live in such a small podunk town? Fletcher and I made front page news with the wedding announcement.

  "What're you doin' here?" The raspy voice makes my insides melt.

  Hiding the effect he has on me, I glance up and almost spit out the sip of coffee I just took. Muscles over muscles and inked skin–so many tattoos–and my body shivers at the sight. Clearing my throat, I try to compose myself. "Put on a shirt!" My hands tighten around the mug as I drop my eyes to the table.

  I can practically feel his smoldering glint staring at me as he steps closer. Leaning over me, his hand slaps the table as his huge body towers over me, caging me in. "You never had a problem seeing me shirtless before." His hot breath hits the flesh on my neck, causing my skin to pebble with goosebumps.

  "I do now," I mumble as his body hovers over mine. I want to hunker down to keep his front from touching my back. If he touches me, I’m not so sure I will be able to control myself.

  His fist clenches on the table. "The wedding is in six days?” His tone is angry, and then he scoffs, “Guess I wasn't invited." His words are said as if it’s no surprise to him, and he stands straight. I immediately feel the coldness from the distance he put between us. "You need to leave."

  Pushing my chair back, I stand and face him. "I take care of your father. I'm his nurse.” My eyes narrow, and I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not going anywhere."

  "Fine, but stay out of my way." He goes to the fridge and opens it before slamming the door closed.

  "Why are you angry? If you were here, you would have known about your father and the wedding. But no, you ran and left me to deal with the consequences of our actions."

  He takes a few quick steps toward me. "What makes me angry is you marrying someone you don't even fucking love!"

  With my own anger surfacing, I retort, "I do love him! I always have!"

  He leans in closer, his face mere inches from mine. "If you loved him, you wouldn’t have come searching for me, and you wouldn't have fucked me that night.” His voice lowers, “And you wouldn't have let me taste your sweet little cunt until I had you screaming for God." Reflex. An instant reaction to his words has my hand flying up to slap agains
t his cheek. I have now managed to slap both of them in the span of twenty-four hours. Maybe I should let both of them go and choose neither of their self-righteous asses!

  I poke my finger into his bare chest, not even caring how turned on he makes me. I’m too angry and heated. "When I called you here, it was for you to say your final goodbyes because I know that's what your father would have wanted. Do not make me regret that decision and do not come back here and throw the past in my face. I have moved on; your brother has moved on. You seem to be the only one stuck in the past," I spew the lies, but I’m so furious. I have never wished to hurt either of them, but I’ve accomplished it too many times.

  He storms away, bumping my shoulder as he goes. Releasing the breath I was holding, I fall down onto my chair. Gah! Why is it so easy to lose control of myself when it comes to Wade Price?

  Chapter Five

  Drifter

  It's been a couple days since the argument with January. I've stayed away from her, and she's come to take care of Pop before leaving to go home to my brother. The wedding is closing in, and these walls which surround me are becoming too fucking much. I want to run away again before she professes her lies in front of God and everyone, but my pop is keeping me here, and he's slipping further away every day. Standing in his doorway, I lean against the frame as I watch each of his breaths become more and more shallow.

  "He'll be gone soon." Hearing her voice at that moment surprises me, however, my attention remains on Pop.