Slay (Storm MC #4) (15 page)

A realisation.

I’d uttered the truth when I said Marcus would never love us.

A truth I’d never wanted to admit out loud.

I’d buried that truth so fucking deep in my soul and refused to believe it.

There was no more hiding from it now.

“I love him, and I can’t stop,” she whispered.  “I know it makes no sense, but I’ve always loved him, even through all the shit.”

I stared at her and waited for more. 

“In the beginning, he wasn’t like he is now, not this bad.  Then we had Scott, and, at the same time, shit went down at the club.  It was a blood bath as they battled a war with Black Deeds and shed members with no loyalty.  Marcus changed through all of that, hardened, and became more violent.  He also began seeing your mother around that time, and I suspect he took most of his anger out on her because he was leaving me alone back then.  My father was still around and kept an eye on him.” 

“So you knew he was cheating on you?”

“He always had, but I didn’t care.  I grew up around the club and knew it was just part of the lifestyle.”

I stared at her.  Stunned a woman would accept that for herself.  “Were there other women besides my mother?”

“From what I could work out, one or two, but not really.  As his duties at the club increased, he didn’t really have the time.”

I took a breath and asked the one question I’d always wanted to know the answer to.  “Did Marcus abuse your kids?”

“No!”

“Why not?  He never hesitated to take to me with his fists if he was in the mood.”  I didn’t believe her. 

“Blue helped me.  After Dad died, he stepped up and looked out for us.  Marcus only began hitting me after Blue left.”

Fuck.

Blue.

“Who is Blue?”

“My brother.”

Fuck, under our noses all this fucking time.

“Why did he leave?”

“It was after his girlfriend died of a drug overdose.  Something happened between him and Marcus.  Blue knew something, I don’t know what, but it was enough to force Marcus to get the club out of drugs.  Blue always hated they were into that.”

“Blue blackmailed him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“No, he never tells me.”

He knows Marcus would kill him if he found him.

“How often do you hear from him?”

She shrugged.  “Every couple of months.”

“Does Blue know Marcus has pulled Storm back into drugs?”

“I haven’t spoken to him for a while now, so unless he’s heard it from someone else, I don’t think so.”

We need to get that information to him somehow.

I stared at her.  I struggled to understand what made a woman still want her husband even after she knew all this shit about him. I could grasp her falling for him when she was younger, but how could she still love what he’d become?  “Don’t you think it’s time you started putting yourself first, Sharon?”

She swallowed hard and that anxious look returned to her eyes.  “I don’t remember how.”  It was barely a whisper, but it fucking hit me in the chest.

It was like a piece of the puzzle fell into place for me.

My mother doesn’t remember how, either.

“The first step is to get him out of your life.”

The look on her face told me she had no idea how to do that.

Fuck.

I clenched my fists as the demons reared their ugly heads.

Marcus had infected our lives with his sins for long enough.  I may have grown up hating this woman for all she represented, for everything she had that I didn’t, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything other than compassion for her now.  She’d done nothing wrong other than falling in love with a man who didn’t have the capacity to love her back.  He’d taken her love and smashed it into pieces.

He’s broken all of us into pieces.

It’s time to put the pieces back together.

***

I needed to see my mother after Sharon left.  She’d stirred so many feelings and thoughts in me, and I had to get some of them off my chest.  Thinking of everything Marcus had put us through caused my skin to itch with agitation, and adrenaline surged through me at the thought of leaving all that shit behind.

The first thing I saw when I pulled into Mum’s street was Marcus’s bike sitting outside her house.

The second thing I saw was him yelling at my mother in her front yard. 

The third thing I saw was red.

I parked the Jag and stormed towards them.  Rage blurred my vision but I managed to land a punch on his face.  He stumbled back, holding his face, anger radiating from every inch of him.  When he regained his balance, he came at me and punched me in the gut. 

Pain. 

I embraced it. 

This was nothing compared to the pain of my youth. 

The torment of my life.

My mother’s screams barely registered as he and I fought. 

Nothing registered except my inescapable need to inflict pain on my father. 

My thirst for his blood
.

Every punch was for every moment he hurt us.

For every moment he ignored us.

For every moment he trashed the love we ached to give him.

“Donovan!”

My mother stepped into the fray.  She frantically tried to pull me away from the fight, but my rage had taken over. 

My anger and hatred owned me. 

It ruled me.

It stripped me of the control I’d carefully cultivated in my life.

“Donovan, you’ll kill him!  Stop!”

I ignored her.  I wanted to kill him.  His death could not come fast enough.

When he finally went down, I didn’t stop.  I kept punching.  His face was mangled, and every inch of it was covered in blood, but I could still hear his breathing.  I wasn’t done yet.

“Donovan!  I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Her words filtered through to me, causing me to stop.

Lose me?  Why would she lose me?

I turned to her with a questioning glance.

“If you kill him, you’ll go to jail.”  She choked on a sob.  “I’ve given him up...all I have left is you.  Please stop . . . ”

Fuck.

My mind frantically tried to process everything going on.  I looked down at my father.  Sprawled unconscious on the ground, bloody, and battered, but still fucking breathing.  I looked back at my mother.  Distraught, tears streaming down her cheeks, worry and panic clear on her face.

Fuck.

This was going to fucking happen, but not in front of my mother. 

I stepped away from him.

“Go inside,” I said to her.

“What are you going to do?” she begged to know.

Before I could answer her, the rumble of bikes filled my ears.  Turning, I saw three bikes pull up.

What the fuck?

I stalked toward them.  “What the fuck do you want?”

They were Storm bikers, and one of them jerked his chin at Marcus.  “He asked us to meet him here.  You want to tell us what the hell happened.”

“No.  What I want is for you to fuck off and leave my father and I to deal with family fucking business.”

He pulled his gun out as a menacing look crossed his face.  “Doesn’t look like Marcus is dealing with anything.”

I stepped forward so the gun was pressing into my chest.  “You use that, and you’ll have shit come down on you like you’ve never fucking known,” I snarled.

The air tensed with a standoff none of us wanted to back down from.

“Donovan!”

I jerked my head to look at my mother.

Fuck.

Not in front of my mother.

Turning back to look at the biker, I muttered, “Put the fucking gun away, get your fucking president off my property, and fuck off.”

I stepped away from him and waited for him to do as I’d said.

They dragged Marcus out of the yard.  He’d regained consciousness and spat blood at my feet as he passed me.  “I always knew you were worthless,” he sneered.

His words no longer had the power to wound. 

This was what freedom felt like.

I ignored him and went to my mother.

“Go inside, I’ll be there in a minute,” I murmured.  I wanted her as far away from him as I could get her.

She nodded and left.

After she was safely inside, I watched as Marcus left.  They’d put him on the back of one of their bikes and left his here.  Someone would collect it.  I could care less.

Pulling my phone out, I dialled a number.

“Hello,” he answered.

“I’m out.”

“What the fuck?”

“I can’t wait any longer.  It’s time to deal with Marcus now.”

“Fuck!  That fucks the whole plan, Blade.  Scott’s not ready yet.”

“I don’t give a shit anymore.  Storm can deal.  I need him gone now.”

“Motherfucker,” he swore, and hung up.

I put my phone away as a sense of peace settled over me.

Finally.

***

I cleaned the blood from my body and found some old clothes of mine in the cupboard of Mum’s spare bedroom to change into.  Once I was clean, I met her in the kitchen.  Still shaken from earlier, she looked at me with anguish.

“I hate I’ve done this to us,” she whispered.

I caught her cheek in my hand.  “Marcus did this to us.”

“Yes, but I let him.”  She collapsed against my chest and broke down again.

I ran my hand over her hair and placed a kiss to her head.  I held her for a long time, letting her get her tears out.  When she finally lifted her head to look at me, I said, “There comes a point where we have to forgive ourselves, forgive the mistakes we’ve made, and make the decision to move forward.  You’ll be consumed by hate and regret if you don’t.  I don’t want that for you.  You’ve already been through so much shit. I just want you to be happy now.”

She stared silently at me before asking, “How do I forgive myself for the pain I’ve caused in your life?”

“You accept you’re not perfect, Mum.  We’re all flawed and capable of making bad decisions.  We start now and move forward from this point in time.  Everything in the past stays there.”

“I won’t take him back, Donovan.  I promise you that.  And I told him that today.”

My heart squeezed in my chest at the words I’d waited my whole life for.

“Thank fuck,” I murmured, and pulled her close again.

“I love you,” she mumbled into my chest.

“I love you, too, Mum.”

***

I spent the rest of the day alone. 

Thinking. 

Planning.

My headache had eased.  It was still there, though, and later that night I finally decided to deal with it.

I walked into her bar just before midnight.

She watched me walk towards her and didn’t say a word when I stood in front of her a moment later. 

We stared at each other until she eventually reached for the scotch bottle and two glasses.  She filled them and slid one to me.  I watched as she sculled hers, and then I downed mine.

I placed the glass down, and murmured, “I’m fucked up.”

She grabbed the glass off me and refilled it.  Pushing it back to me, she said, “We’re all fucked up, Donovan.  It’s how you deal with that shit that matters.”

Fuck me.

This woman.

“I’m dealing,” I said before drinking the second scotch she’d given me.

“Seven days.  You pull that shit again, and you can deal on your own.”

I nodded.  Message received. 

Her gaze travelled over my face.  “You need sleep.”  She ignored the cuts and bruises.

“Yeah.”

She took in my beaten-up hands and then said, “Go upstairs.  I’ll be there in a minute.”

I did as she said and sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for her. For the first time, I really took in what her room looked like.  It wasn’t at all what I would have expected of a woman’s bedroom, and yet it was all her.  Bed, bedside table, dresser, wardrobe and mirror; she had what she needed, no more.  A painting on her wall and a rug; she kept the decorations to the minimum.  It spoke of a woman who didn’t add fuss to her life.

She walked in a couple of minutes later with a bucket of ice, a plastic bag and towel.  After she placed them on the bedside table, she indicated for me to stand.  And then she put her hands to the bottom of my tee and gently lifted it up over my head.

“Shit,” she muttered, as she took in the bruising on my body.  “Who did this to you?”

“It’s not important,” I murmured, not wanting to drag her into my shit.

Her eyes came to mine.  “Yes, it is.  Tell me.”

I stalled.

Fuck.

“My father.”

She sucked in a breath.  “Fuck.”

“It’s okay.  He couldn’t walk once I was finished with him.”

Her eyes widened.  “Jesus, Donovan.”

I placed my hand under her chin and tilted her face to mine.  “I like you calling me that,” I whispered.

She smiled.  “I love your name,” she said, and fuck if that didn’t hit my sweet spot.

Moving to grab some ice, she placed it in a plastic bag and wrapped it in a towel.  She handed it to me.  “Lie on the bed and put that on the bruises.  I’m gonna get some painkillers.”

I did as she said and placed the ice to my ribs.  Fuck, the pain was intense.  But fucking worth it.

She came back with pills and water. 

I didn’t take my eyes off her. 

She fucking amazed me.

After she had me sorted out with ice and painkillers, she gently moved onto the bed.  I was lying on my back with my arms by my side, and I moved one arm out across the pillow so she could rest her head on my shoulder.

She hesitated.  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me, baby.  Come here.”

Something crossed her face.

“What was that?” I asked.

“What?”

“That look on your face just then.”

Her eyes came to mine and she held me there.  “I like it when you call me baby.”

Fuck.

Fucking hell
.

“Get here,” I growled, desire swirling in my gut.

She didn’t hesitate this time and came to me.

My arm went around her, and she curled herself into me.