Captive (2 page)

“She asked me to choose between her and my motorbike,

I miss her sometimes.” – Biker Guide to Living

Carly fucked around on me for years, ended up filling her nose with so much blow on my dime that she could barely stand all while she was supposed to be looking after our son. You’d think after the first time I fucking caught her in that state I would’ve done something about it, but you’d be wrong because like the dumbass I am I didn’t. I thought it was just a once off, we were in a hard place and she fucked up, lost her way. I overlooked it, made excuses for her, and moved on with our lives. Big fucking mistake.

Looking back on it I can’t believe I didn’t see the signs she was getting out of control, and when I did it was too late, the damage was already done and our marriage was unsalvageable because of it. I carried around a fuck ton of guilt over that, still do. I should’ve stepped in, stopped her, done something, put her in rehab. Fuck knows if it would’ve worked, but I should’ve tried. There was nothing I could’ve done about her spreading her legs like a common whore, but the rest… Yeah I could’ve done something about that shit.

Getting married at twenty-one was fucking stupid on my behalf, so needless to say when my boy came to me intending to follow in my footsteps I was fucking hesitant to congratulate him. But Steel being my boy, and him understanding his dads demons sat me down, talked to me, telling me he got where I was coming from, and convinced me by how much he loves my soon to be daughter in-law he wasn’t headed down the same path as his old man had.

The one good thing I’ve done, the one that I’ll stand by, and claim as my own is my son. The day William Stephen Andrews was born was the day I learned what love at first sight was. My boy was perfect…healthy. I’d never been as proud as I was the day he took his first breath. He was an excellent baby, a quiet kid, moody but easy-going teenager, and he’s turned into a fucking good man. Loyal, strong, patient, (he’d have to be with a wife like his), quick with his affection for his woman, my grandbabies and his brothers. I couldn’t have hoped he’d turned out better, he’s the best man I know. More than that, my son and I are close. As in
close
. Being that he didn’t have a mom for most of his life, if we’re being honest Carly checked out when Steel was two, I did the best I could when it came to raising him. There’s shit I regret, things I wish I’d done better, more time I wished I’d spent with him, but in the end all that shit didn’t matter my boy looked past all my shortcomings and became a man I envy. A man better than I could ever hope to be.

Carly didn’t actually leave until Steel was sixteen, she may has well have, the bitch was fucking useless for a fuck of a long time before she got shot of us. In the years leading up to her taking off, she was sullen, moody, withdrawn, quick tempered, and in general fucking miserable excuse for a human being. I should’ve recognised the cause of her mood swings, the way she slept all day, the ashen skin tone she wore as well as a stripper wore a G-string, and fuck the weight loss too, it all painted an obvious picture I was fucking oblivious to at the time. Whether I ignored it, or I refused to believe it didn’t matter, the truth was it was all there staring me in the face.

But what it took in the end was walking into my own house, with my son in tow, seeing her going down on some dude, sucking his cock like it was her last meal to earn her a set of divorce papers, and a new permanent address. At that moment nothing could’ve made me angrier. It wasn’t the fact that the cock she was sucking wasn’t mine, I could give a shit, it was that Carly had the nerve to do that shit here. In our house. In front of my son. That alone, nothing else, because news of her decade long drug habit came later, was what flipped my switch, in two short minutes Carly had obliterated sixteen years of marriage, and any concern I had for her well-being or future.

The news of her addiction made its way back to me through a few channels, fucking bikers. My brothers’ gossip more than a bunch of old women. I confronted Carly with it one of the rare times she blew into town, not a happy visit, and not a conversation I wanted to have, but I needed to know. Call it closure, call it confirmation that she truly is the cunt I know her to be, I don’t care, but it was high time she confess her sins. She didn’t deny it, and she didn’t elaborate which meant it was going to be the last time I let her anywhere near my boy. Well until he was eighteen at least, at which time he could decide for himself if he wanted anything to do with her.

It wasn’t a popular decision to keep Steel from her, she tried to convince me at every turn she had her addiction under control. I didn’t give a shit, I couldn’t, she’d put my son in danger for the last time. I wasn’t risking his safety with a junkie slut and I made my feeling on the matter clear. Like I said my boy and I are close, he’s chosen not to initiate contact with his mother and I stand by him in his decision. That’s not to say she doesn’t visit occasionally, but Steel laid it out for her swiftly without malice making it clear if he sensed she was high or intoxicated she could get her shit and fuck off back to wherever she came from.       

I wasn’t always like this; hostile, quick tempered, hard to please. This is what I turned into, how I’ve adapted to survive. It’s how I’ve learnt to cope with the shitty hand I’ve been dealt. Most days I don’t like myself, in truth I can barely stand to be around myself. So it isn’t surprising my brothers, my son occasionally, and my employees share that opinion. Lately I’ve taken it too far though. I fucked up
big
this time. I can admit it, and I’ll own the damage I’ve wreaked. That doesn’t fix it though. It doesn’t make a mends for the fruitless attempts I made to protect myself at the expense of someone else’s feelings. I know I shouldn’t be treating her the way I am. I recognise what I’m doing and why I’m doing it, but that only makes it worse in my book. Knowing what I’m doing and still choosing to do it regardless of the impact it’s having makes me a fucking asshole of the highest order.

I tried reigning my shit in for a minute, but that turned out to be about as effective as pissing into the wind in a tornado and not expecting to get a shower. I’m not one for excuses, you do it you accept responsibility for it, fuck, you stand by it like a man. Regardless that my view’s stayed the same, shit, it’s what I’ve taught my son, I’m still doing.

My attraction to her, the fact that I can’t get her out of my head, me wanting to fuck her within an inch of her life might explain me being a bastard to keep my distance from her, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve created carnage where I was supposed to create safety. Quite simply; I don’t blame her for not feeling safe with me. For not coming to me to tell me she needed help. That her situation is that bad she’s gotten herself a state of the art alarm system, handgun permit, and a fucking guard dog. But as my reasons don’t lessen the effect I’ve had on her, it also doesn’t change how fucking furious I am over her distrust of me. Now that I do know, I intend to take care of her situation whether she’ll let me, or not. I’m going to be the man that’s in her corner this time, not the asshole that’s treated her like the shit on my shoe, the bane of my existence.

The blowback for me personally will be drastic, the effect on parts of my heart that have been buried forever will be staggering, it’s going to change life as I know it, I can feel it. That’s why I’ve treated her the way I have in the first place. It’s why I kept my distance, pushed her into a corner, to keep her away from me. Not only for her sake, but for mine too. I’m not a good man. I’m a man that’s seen violence, the rougher side of life and gravitated toward it. I’ve been the one to commit numerous heinous acts that would scare some of the hardest men. I drink too much. I fuck nameless, faceless women, club whores, barflies, any woman that wants a night on my cock so often that it’s embarrassing, almost. But that doesn’t change the reality that I’m making the choice to step in to the shit storm I know her situation’s going to be.

Adelyn’s alone in Blackwater. Sure, Boss and Diesel will drop everything in a minute to run to her aide, be by her side, but I’ll be fucked if that isn’t part of my overreaction when it’s come to her. I don’t fucking want them to be here for her. I don’t want her relying on other men, I want her to rely on me. And how fucked up is that? I push her away, treat her like the plague, but I still have this overwhelming
need
to have her close, make her see that I’m the man that’ll fight for her. Yeah, I’m a fucking asshole, but we’ve established that already.

There is nothing, never was and never will be, going on between Adelyn and the Vengeance MC President or VP, but that was beside the point and my logical brain wasn’t listening, all rational thought flies out the window when it comes her.

The second I laid eyes on her I knew there was an innocence there that I wanted nothing more than to protect and nurture. I knew in that instant she was dangerous too. More dangerous than my ex-wife had ever been, more dangerous than any of the women I’d had my cock in. The depth of what I feel in one glance at the petite blonde can send me into a tailspin, the emotion she can illicit with one smile confirmed I wouldn’t stand a chance against her charms long term. Worse still, I didn’t think I had an inner beast as it relates to women, they were good for one thing in my mind, and it wasn’t commitment and relationships. That was until I met Adelyn Pippa London and I realised how wrong I’d been.

She blew in like a breath of fresh air, something I hadn’t had access to, and hadn’t wanted for years. My world had been dark, stale, fresh and clean was a commodity I was sorely lacking. And ultimately I shouldn’t have taken that breath, I shouldn’t have looked at her more than once because it’s only ended up complicating shit for me. I should’ve said fucking no to Boss when he asked if I was looking for help at the shop, but I didn’t and now she here I wouldn’t change it for the world. But, now I’ve fucked up big. Bigger than I ever have before.
Huge
.

Three weeks ago I’d had too much to drink, a frequent occurrence sure, but that day was worse than most. I’d desperately needed something, anything, to help me calm the fuck down. Usually I’m pretty cool, calm and collected, or that’s what most people assume. What they don’t know is that not far under the surface is an angry motherfucker fighting with everything in him to control the fury that lurks below. But that day my anger was too close to boiling over, it wanted to break free and destroy everything in its path.

The MC has been slowly adjusting to Jones’ return from the dead, along with the knowledge that the four men heading the table during Church were working a twenty year undercover FBI sting. Honestly, they’ve taken it better than I anticipated, but that’s not to say I haven’t had to break up my fair share of arguments that turned physical before I could step in. I swear half the time they only do it to piss me off. Watching me wade in to save their asses gives them sick pleasure that I don’t understand, but whatever floats their boat. And today was one of
those
fucking days. Starting with walking into the clubhouse to find Pipe and Dagger in a standoff by the bar on the far wall furthest from the door. Just my luck that when I begin making my way to them Dagger lets a fist fly, his aim hitting true catching Pipe on the hinge of his jaw. Needing to separate them before they can do more bodily damage I pry them apart like fucking toddlers that can’t control their tempers.

“What the fuck is your damage brother?” I ask Dagger.

Scowling in Pipe’s direction he says,

“He fucking is. Bad enough the club’s forgiven his shit, but now the bastard’s walking around like it never happened barking out orders, and shit. Well fuck that, and fuck him.”

“Watch your mouth boy. You might be my brother, but you’re walking a thin fucking line right now,” Pipe growls at him. “Vote was taken, you were there for Christ’s sake, and the vote went our way, end of. Nothing’s changed, you can’t get behind that then we’ve got a big fucking problem. I’m your VP the only choice you’ve got is whether we have more of these pointless fucking fights that end in you bleeding, or whether you get the fuck over yourself and move on. Let me know what you decide,” he says over his shoulder as he stomps off in the direction of the dorms.

“You got a death wish?” Dagger’s got to know Pipe could lay him out flat in less than a minute. For fucks sake the man has forty pounds, and three inches on him.

Snorting Dagger replies,

“Fuck you too.” I’ll give him this, the kid has a set of balls on him. Not many people would tell me to fuck off, not to my face anyway.

Laughing at the frown on his face I slap him on the back a couple of times saying,

“I get you’re pissed, you’ve gotta reign it in though brother. Pipe might act harmless ninety-nine percent of the time, but I can fucking assure you he’s anything but, so watch it yeah?” With a grunt and a chin life Dagger makes his way away from me, and over to the bar at the far side of the room. There’s no way in hell I’m lucky enough that that’s the end of it. Dagger had a way about him that aggravates even the most laid back brother, so no doubt we’ll be having words again soon.