Captive (19 page)

So as not to hurt him, or let him know I wasn’t in fact with him the whole night I simply pretended I woke before him, made him breakfast, and then he would be on his way to do whatever it was he did for the club. I never asked, and he didn't tell. It wasn't my business, and to be blunt, I never felt the urge to know more about his life and what it was he did for a living. And it worked for us, until it didn't any more…Until nothing worked for us anymore.

“Do I need a reason? I’m a fucking biker after all…”

– Max ‘Reaper’ Andrews

              If you’d told me a week ago I’d be attending Trig’s funeral four days after he confronted me on my front lawn, I’d have called you a fucking liar. But seeing as I’m standing here in the rain, on a cold, miserable dark Sunday watching a good brother, a good man be lowered into the ground you’d have been right.

Leo ‘Trig’ Harding was a better man than I could ever be, because even standing graveside, soaking wet, side-by-side with more than fifty Devil’s Spawn members from across three states, I’m still focused on one thing; Adelyn. The rain’s doing nothing to hide the tears cascading down her face, it’s plain to see for anyone looking that she’s devastated by the loss of her fiancée. And if that isn’t the fucking kicker in all this.

For all I know they went ahead and got married. I could very well be staring at Trig’s widow as we speak, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to take my eyes off her. I’ve tried. Fuck, have I tried. No matter what I do my eyes continue to seek her out. No amount of forcing myself to look away is working. She’s all I see, she’s all I’ve seen for the last three and a bit years.

I should know whether they got married or not, and I would if I hadn’t taken off after the revelation that Adelyn was carrying my daughter before everything went to shit, and we lost her. That’s right, I was a fucking coward and took off before I had to speak to either of them. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, it seems that I’ve been doing nothing but taking off when people need me most, and I’ve been doing it for most of my life. When I’m not running, I’m fucking things up, so the way I see it I’m doing everyone a favor being gone. Or that’s what I tell myself anyway.

Answering the call from Priest four days ago the last thing I expected to hear was we’d lost a brother, let alone Trig. And the way he’d died, fuck. The way he’d died will haunt me for the rest of my days.

“Yeah?”

I was tired, so fucking tired, but when Priest’s hoarse voice crackled through the phone line I was instantly on alert.

“Reaper, brother. I need you to come home A-SAP.”

Waiting a few seconds in silence for him to continue I realise quickly he isn’t going to, so I ask,

“What’s going on? You need backup on something, Priest?”

“Not this time, brother. We’ve lost one of ours, and I need you here to help deal with the fallout.”

Say fucking what? The club might have enemies, we’ve had our fair share of run-ins with other MC’s, random fuckwits that think they can strong-arm us, and a few tweakers, but none of them would be stupid enough to take out a Devil’s Spawn member. Especially seeing as shit around the club has been under control, quiet even for so long.

“Who?” I rasp out.

Jesus, don’t let him say Jones or Pipe, I chant to myself. I sound like an asshole praying to God it isn’t either of them, and not anyone else, but they’re like family to me, if I lost one of them I don’t know what I’d do.

Priest’s voice is shaky at best when he replies.

“Trig. Fuck me, Reaper it wasn’t fucking pretty.” Taking a deep breath he goes on to explain what happened, and the weight that’s settled on my shoulders moves south, practically crushing my chest at what I hear next.

From the little he told me, from the little any of them knew, Trig was asleep in bed at Adelyn’s when he took a bullet to the head. If that wasn’t gruesome enough, and trust me when a bullet enters the skull at close range that shit
is
fucking gruesome, it was a sawn off shotgun that was used. I can only imagine the carnage my brothers walked in on.

There’s one thing plaguing me though.

“Where was Adelyn, Priest? Please fucking tell me she wasn’t there.” The lump in my throat grows, as does the silence between us.

Eventually Priest clears his throat,

“She was there Reaper, but she wasn’t in the room when it happened. Said she fell asleep on the couch watching a movie, or some shit. She didn’t hear the fucker come in, and from what I can put together it was the shot being fired that woke her. Whoever was in there got out without being seen, which leads me to think whoever it was knew the layout of that house. They knew how to get in, and where the main bedroom was, that shit doesn’t spell stranger, Reaper. I’ve got no choice at this point but to let the cops carry out their investigation. Adelyn’s at the station now giving her statement, been there for just over two hours, and Lila’s flying in from Dallas overnight. Gotta round up all the brothers and break the news together, Reaper. That means your ass needs to come home, and before you say it, I don’t give a fuck where you’re at, what you’re doing, or how long it’ll take you to drag your ass from wherever you are to here, you’ll ride all night if you have to, but you’ll get your fucking ass here, you feel me?”

Of course I’ll be there, he shouldn’t have to command it, and he should know better than to question my loyalty to the club, or my brothers. Regardless that the brother we’ll be laying to rest was the one who was with my girl, I’d never disrespect his memory by not being there for his final goodbye.

“I fucking hear you. But you hear me when I say this Priest, because it’s the only time I’m gonna say it; you ever fucking think about questioning I’ll do the right thing in circumstance like this again, and I’ll kick your ass. I don’t give a fuck who you are, to me you’re the guy I grew up with, and the one that’ll be on the receiving end of my boot if you say shit like that again, yeah?”

Chuckling he says,

“Good to have your surly ass back. Get home, Reaper. There’s a certain lady that’ll need your support whether she asks for it or not.”

“How’s she dealing? She holding up alright?” It’s a stupid fucking question. How would anyone hold up after seeing their fiancée/husband’s head blown across their bed?

“Can’t say, brother. Looking from the outside in, I’d say she was doing better than expected, but she hasn’t said a word to anyone from the club. Steel tried talking to her, asked if she wanted to come home with him for the night but she turned his ass down. Said something about not being allowed near his kids, or some shit. Don’t know what that was about, I’m figuring it was the grief talking, but she went down to the station on her own, and hasn’t been seen since she went in. I’ve got Saint and Glock on it, they’ll report back when she leaves, and keep me in the loop about where she’s off to after.”

Growling at him I ask,

“Any of the women approached her, offered her a place to stay?”  This is a bone of contention between us, and I know better than to push it, but under the circumstances I’d have thought one, if not all of them would have rallied around her.

Since I called them all off, told them none of what happened years ago was Adelyn’s fault they’ve been more friendly, or at least tried to be. All except for my daughter-in-law. Lou holds a mean grudge, and even though I cleared up the rumours, told everyone Adelyn didn’t do shit to trap me into a relationship with her, Lou has so far refused to welcome her back into the fold easily. And what Lou does the others follow, which meant Kendall was still standoffish, V avoided confrontation and Adelyn nearly completely, and Serena, Brenna, and Sheila tried to remain impartial. But in this, when it really matters they should’ve pulled their heads out their asses and been there for her.

“Not sure about V, or Lou, but I know Kendall hasn’t. I’m not happy about it, especially when she used the weak excuse of not having anywhere to put her, I raised my girl better than that. Family helps family, and that girl is family whether she knows it or not. Brenna said she’s gonna try and get Adelyn to stay with us, but I’m not liking her chances.” My only response is to grunt. “Lou dug her heels in, said she doesn’t want the drama,” that comment rips a laugh from me and Priest both. “Yeah, brother I know. Lou not wanting drama, hell must’ve frozen over if that shit was true, but I’m only relaying what I know.”

Hefting myself off the grass I ask,

“What all needs to be done? I’m on my way, about half an hour out, but what do you need me to do when I get there?” I’m not sure there is much I can do. I mean, Trig was a brother, and at one time I would’ve called him a friend, but in recent times we weren’t close, and some part of me feels like I’d be intruding playing any part in arranging his funeral. Not to mention I have no idea whether Adelyn will want me there or not.

“Just be here, Reaper. It’s all you can do. We’ve gotta sit the brothers down, lay it out, tell them what we know, and hopefully get a few of them on running down some leads as to who broke in. I hate to ask, but is there any chance this is going to come back on Adelyn, the shit from her past?”

I know who he’s thinking might be behind it, but he’s wrong on that count.

“Not a chance, brother. Boss told me he took out the trash himself. I’m not saying there’s not the possibility it’s linked to her somehow, but I can guarantee it’s not the motherfucker that you’re thinking it is.”

The guy in question is long dead. Adelyn’s foster brother Lucas was put to ground less than a year after she showed up at Vengeance’s clubhouse in Furnace, cold, starving, and beat to hell. Boss and Diesel had taken care of it personally, and reassured me they’d taken every precaution to identify him before they erased the predator he was from the face of the Earth. Good riddance too. Guy’s like him don’t deserve to share oxygen with the rest of us, and if you ask me he was walking around free for far too long to begin with.

“Good to know. I’d hate to think it was him, but I can’t help but think it would’ve made it easier to track this sick bastard down.” He’s not wrong, but I don’t ever want to think about that scum anywhere near Adelyn, ever. My answering growl alerts him to that without words. “Calm down I didn’t mean anything by it, and you know it. You know anyone else with a vendetta against her. Anyone that’d want to hurt her?”

Now that’s a loaded question if ever I heard one. On one hand my answer is categorically no. On the other, any one of many could be a suspect if we can’t narrow down the field. Although most of them wouldn’t be likely, that doesn’t mean in the course of a regular investigation they wouldn’t be looked into.

“Honestly, you don’t want the fucking answer to that. I’m just hoping whatever fucktard detective they’ve got handling the case doesn’t ask her the same thing, because you and I both know practically all of Blackwater could be included in either of those categories.”

“Fucking hell!” Priest bellows. “Now we’re out, I’ve got no contacts, no resources, and no fucking pull to sway the local PD in any direction. I don’t even know who’s gonna be handling the investigation. We better pray Adelyn knows how this shit works, how to keep her mouth shut.”

I don’t like the tone of his voice. Priest better hope he’s not issuing any idle threats, or it’ll be me he answers to on that count.

“Whatever she says, she says, and you’re not going to do a fucking thing about it. They ask her, she answers. As simple as that. If it lands the club in shit, our families, you, me, I don’t give a damn. No one, and I mean no one is going to take shit out on her. You feel me?”

Snarling he replies,

“Fuck you, Reaper. I didn’t say shit about taking anything out on her. Rein in, and get your ass home.” With that he hangs up, and I get dead air.

Brushing my hand over the smooth marble I whisper my first, but not final goodbye.

“Love you, Princess. Daddy will be back soon, I promise.”

Getting on my bike I make the half hour journey home…not somewhere I want to be, but somewhere I’m needed, and for now that will have to suffice. Because until Trig is laid to rest, and I’ve let some time pass while figuring out how to win the woman I love back, that’s all I’ve got to hold on to.

Satellite – Rise Against

              You have got to be shitting me. Of all the people I didn’t expect to see at Trig’s funeral, she was one of them. And Reaper, well I knew he would be here, but I never thought he’d bring that skanky bitch with him. In all fairness it doesn’t look like he’s happy she’s here, but that doesn’t mean shit when she’s clinging on his arm like the parasite she is.

My dislike for Beth isn’t so much dislike as it is outright hatred, and I can’t say that about many people, bar one, and he’s dead so he doesn’t count. I like to think I’m a patient, forgiving person, but Beth and I have a conversation to have that’s long overdue, and even though this isn’t the time or place, one word from her and it’s going to be on like Donkey Kong.

If today wasn’t hard enough, burying my best friend, a man I’d come to love dearly, it’s made even harder seeing Max and Beth together. I’d come to start thinking of him as Max again since Trig was killed, a reminder to myself that he’s only a man, not a mythical being, not the king of the underworld, just a man. Because in the end we’re all mere mortals, and none of us know when our time is up.

Some of us are taken far too soon, like Trig, not given enough time to experience everything life has to offer. Others live too long, not only because they don’t deserve to, but because they suck the life out of others leaving nothing but carnage and destruction in their wake. I’m not judge, jury, and executioner, and it’s not up to me to decide what’s too long and what’s just enough, but sadly if it were up to me Beth would be six feet under, and with the death glares I’m shooting Max he wouldn’t be far behind her. Not that I really want Max dead, far from it, but a little pain and suffering wouldn’t go astray.

Pulling me out of my daydream involving lighter fluid, a match, and a roll of duct tape Fury nudges me with his elbow.

“Your turn, darlin’. You want me to walk you up?”

Shaking my head I stand making my way to the podium. I didn’t want to do this, but Lila was adamant that it was my duty as Trig’s fiancée to give his eulogy. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that her brother and I had parted ways, as friends but nevertheless we weren’t together anymore, when he was killed. So I sucked it up, put my big girl panties on, and took my place behind the solid timber podium that would be I’m sure the only thing to hold me up after I was finished.

Settling my purse at my feet, I pull out my sheet of paper that I’d tucked in the front pocket hastily while exiting the limo earlier. It’s wrinkled, a little torn on the edge, and resembles Trig and my relationship perfectly. Holding the piece of paper up to the sunlight that is barely filtering through the clouds, I can feel my throat getting thick with tears already. I now if I don’t start soon I won’t be able to so that’s exactly what I do.

“I’m not going to thank you all for coming, because like me I’m sure none of you want to be here, none of us should be here. Leo wasn’t meant to be here either. He was meant to be riding with his brothers, cracking jokes, and eating Sunday dinners with his family. He was meant to be living his life free and wild like he wanted to.” I sniffle a little and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. Shit, this is hard, harder than I’d ever imagined.

Pulling myself together I look over the crowd, my eyes locking with Max’s. We haven’t spoken, I haven’t even seen him since the day I showed up at his house to find him on the ground crying with Trig standing over him, but somehow he gives me the strength in this moment to keep going. It makes no sense seeing as I currently want to rip his arms from his body and beat him with them, but I’ll take what I can get.

“Trig told me once that it was on his bucket list to ride the ‘Dirty Dozen’,” that garners a few chuckles, along with a few furrowed brows. “For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s a stretch of barely sealed road a dozen miles long winding through the Colorado Rockies. Only the most experienced riders attempt it, and most don’t come out the other end of that strip of road without laying down their bike. Trig said that if he could conquer that he could conquer anything.”

Remembering the look of excitement on his face as he explained to me what the Dirty Dozen was, and all the ways he’d planned to outmanoeuvre the treacherous strip of road had me gripping the sides of the podium tightly.

“Trig was his happiest when he was talking about his bike, his brothers, and his club. Those three things meant the world to him, and it was a sight to behold when he smiled, really truly smiled.” The tears I’d held at bay finally break free, and I let them. I let them run down my cheeks unchecked. “Leo ‘Trig’ Harding is, was the best man I’d ever known. He was my best friend.”

Taking a deep breath I go for broke. I never intended to say what I did, but something came over me. Something that couldn’t be denied, so I gave in to it and let it all go…everything.

“It’s not often, actually it’s rare to come across someone that has the power to change the way you look at life, that has such a profound impact on you that you don’t know what you did before them. That was what Trig did for me. It was who he was to me. After I lost my baby I didn’t think I’d ever recover. The pain was too great, and I spent most of my time blaming myself. What could I have done differently? How could I have altered the course of what happened to save my child? Trig helped me realise that no matter what I’d done it wasn’t meant to be. She wasn’t meant to be. He held my hand when I buried Dakota. He sat with me while I cried, and he knew exactly what to say and when to say it to make me feel better. And as selfish as it is, I want him here to do that now. I want him to pop out from behind that tree,” I say gesturing to the huge oak tree to my right, “and tell me everything is going to be okay. I want him to hold my hand, squeeze it and tell me I’ll make it through this. I just want him to be here, so he can experience a little bit of the happy he gave me.”

I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t share all this. Today isn’t about me, but these people, the ones that call themselves his family need to know who Trig really was. What a wonderful man he was behind closed doors. Because I honestly don’t think they’ve got any idea what kind of man they’ve lost.

“Most of you think you know the man you’re saying goodbye to today, but you don’t. You don’t have the first clue.” I can see Priest go to make a move to stand, but Brenna quickly halts his progress by putting her hand on his arm squeezing tightly. “I’m not saying this to belittle the friendships you had with him, I’m saying it because you have the right to know who you’ll be mourning. Trig was more than the laid-back, easy-going brother you all saw. He was compassionate, loyal to a fault, sensitive, and the most caring man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. He was nothing like I first expected when I met him. I thought he’d be rough, grumpy, and crass like the assholes I’ve known in another MC for years,” I say pointing to Boss, Diesel, Fury, and Cash sitting in the third row.

Boss shoots me a wink, Diesel and Cash grin, and Fury smiles widely at my description of them causing me to crack a small sad smile of my own.

“That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Trig was sweet, considerate, and always thinking of anyone but himself. The number of times he came over when he was exhausted after work to bring me dinner, watch a movie with me when I couldn’t sleep, or just sit and talk to me outnumbered the times he didn’t.” This was going hardest bit out of everything I’d said, and I’d resolved to leave as soon as I was finished. Not because I was running away, but because I would be finished my finally goodbye to Trig, and I didn’t need to stay and hear the rest of it out.

Gathering the last of my strength in a voice just above a whisper I say,

“Trig once asked me if I was happy with him, and I lied.” Turning to where his casket is seated, on a metal contraption draped with the Devil’s Spawn MC flag I breathe, “I’m sorry Trig, so, so sorry I lied to you.” Facing the sea of people I go on to explain. “I lied to him telling him I was.” A few of the women in the crowd let out gasps, but I don’t let that bother me. “See it wasn’t that I was unhappy with Trig, I wasn’t far from it, what made it a lie was knowing he was never going to be truly happy with
me
,” I emphasise with my hand pressed tightly to my chest. “I could never be happy knowing I was making him miserable. And I was, even if he hadn’t admitted it to himself yet, he knew deep down I wasn’t the woman for him.”

And here was the kicker…

“He met that woman years ago, and loved her with every piece of himself while they were together. But fate stepped in and tore them apart, and ever since I think he’d been looking for someone to recreate that feeling with. I’m not saying he didn’t love me, or that he wouldn’t have been a loyal, devoted husband, but I wasn’t his first choice.” And that was okay with me.

Knowing Trig was in love with someone before me, and probably still was up until the day he was killed didn’t affect me like it might have a lot of other women. In some ways it gave me a sense of peace, being aware his heart would never completely belong to me. As selfish as it was it made me feel better that he was intimately aware of how it felt to struggle with losing your first love, and if that made me a colossal bitch I could care less. The only part of finding out Trig’s struggles to move past his long lost love was who it involved.

“Both of us were looking for something to ease our pain, make the loss we felt more bearable, and we found that in each other. So yes I lied to him, but I only lied because he needed to hear it. Trig needed to know he was doing what he set out to when we got together, that he was mending the broken pieces of me, so I gave that to him. Before I go I want to say this;” I turn back to his casket once again so that I can speak my final words directly to him…the man that gave me my life back. “Thank you. Thank you for making me see I’m worth something. Thank you for telling me every day how special I am, how much I have to give. Thank you for guiding me down the right path when I wanted nothing more than to take the wrong one. And thank you for being the man you were to me. You were more than my best friend, more than my confidant, you were more than you ever realised. But I saw you, Trig. I saw who you really were, the man you’d worked hard to become. So thank you. I’ll miss you forever, but one day when I see you again, because I will see you again, I want to be able to look you in the eyes, and for you to see everything you did for me wasn’t in vain.”

Bending to pick up my purse I throw it over my shoulder, and walk down the center aisle between the rows of chairs. Everyone will no doubt have questions about what I said up there, they’ll want to know details, dig to find out who Trig’s heart belonged to, and that was not something I planned to stick around to entertain. She was in amongst the mourners, and all that mattered was that I’d given her some peace in her time of grief. That was how I justified what I did to myself; I was giving the woman Trig loved the closure she’d need in the days to come.

I almost make it to the limo that’s waiting to take me home when a big calloused hand clamps down on my forearm, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to catch my attention and spin me around. Not bothering to look up I snap,

“What?”

The growl that emanates from the body belonging to the hand clutching my arm has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, and delicious shivers running down my spine. As much as I’d like to deny knowing who the warm, work-roughened hand belongs to, I can’t.

“You weren’t planning on taking off were you, Angel?”

What a dick. Trust him to think I was running away.

“No, for your information, not that it’s any of your business, I wasn’t. I’m going home.”

I don’t know why I felt I needed to explain myself to him, I didn’t owe him a fucking thing, but I did it nonetheless. Cocking his brow Max looks at me with a disbelieving expression on his handsome face. That was another thing I hated. Him having the ability to look so handsome when I wanted nothing more than for him to have grown a gut, unsightly nose hair, go bald, anything to detract from his appeal to me.

“Why the rush then? I’m sure there’s people that’d like to speak to you after, you know the club’s putting something on when we leave here, right?”

Yes I knew that, and no I wasn’t going, so I told him as much.

“I’m well aware Devil’s Spawn is throwing a party in Trig’s honour, and yes I was invited, but I’m not going, Max. I’ve got no desire to sit in a corner biding my time until I can leave. You all have a good time though,” I say as I try to shake my arm from his grip. Something that was easier said than done.

“Not so fast, Adelyn. We need to talk,” he says pulling me closer.

From this distance, a mere foot apart, I can smell his deep, rich cologne, and feel the heat radiating off his body. Being this close to him sets off the same reactions inside me that it did the one night we were together all those years ago. Butterflies swarm my stomach, the tightening of my nipples against the lace of my bra and the wetness on my thighs are all indications that my body is a traitorous bitch and cannot be trusted.