Brute: The Valves MC (9 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Dawson had just taken his daughter home and I supposed he was putting her to bed. I tidied up the living room and went to make some coffee. He was to come by shortly.

Close to an hour had passed before I heard the knock on my door. I was starting to worry, so I jumped to my feet when he entered.

“Did something happen to Ginger? Is she feeling unwell?” I asked, fearing her cold had come back.

He smiled. “She’s just fine. She wanted a snack before bed, that’s all.”

“But, she already had a snack here,” I said, thoughtfully.

“And I bet it was quite a healthy one.”

“Yes! Why would I give her something unhealthy?” I was thoroughly confused by his amusement.

“Well, that solves the mystery, then. She wanted something sweet.”

“What? At this hour?”

“I gave her just a little. She wanted the pistachio flavour this time. Don’t worry, I’m not a completely irresponsible father.”

My expression must’ve told him I had my doubts because I heard cascades of laughter behind me as I turned to pour him coffee.

He sat on the same barstool he always did and sipped carefully, not to burn himself while I watched, captivated by the lines of his features. Even when he was making silly faces, like he tried to do now, for my entertainment, he looked amazingly handsome. I couldn't help but smile and when he winked, he made my core clench once again.

He stood and I looked up, as he approached. Gently, he placed a hand on the small of my back and bent his head towards me. I anticipated the kiss with all my being when his phone rang. I frowned; he kissed me furtively and raised a digit to signal he needed privacy.

He went into the living room to answer. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, as he talked in an especially low voice, but I did pick up on a change of attitude. He seemed harsh and mechanical and what piqued my interest was the undertone of malice permeating his words.

He threw a louder word, still undecipherable to me, and went outside.

The choice made me feel suspicious and I silently followed him, guilt tightening the skin on my body. I was still holding my cup of coffee and I grabbed it like it was my last hope and anchor when I heard what he was saying.

“No, we need to get that money sooner. The old man skipped one payment already,” he said into the headset, pacing angrily in front of my door. “No, I’ll take care of it. Just…Make sure you collect the taxes from the Solentanos. That’s your job and I won’t do it for you.”

I could hear myself gasp, as dreadful thoughts rushed through my head. He swung the door open and met my gaze. I saw something break inside him, his shoulders slumping, his feet frozen in place. I saw all that but I couldn’t help backing away. My face must’ve shown great terror, or the betrayal I felt, because he finally walked towards me, his steps bigger than mine. He caught my hand and stopped me.

“Mari…”

“No,” I whispered, unable to pull my hand back. My eyes related all the questions filling my head and I kept his gaze, but he backed down. Looking at the floor, he let my hand slip and sat on the couch. “What was that, Dawson?” I asked, when I finally regained my voice.

He shook his head in defeat, never looking at me.

“Answer me,” I demanded, standing in front of him now. I felt angry, and hurt, and suspicious all at the same time, and the strength of these feelings wasn’t something I had dealt with before. I thought that my eyes would bore holes in the back of his head as I repeated the question. Not from fury, but pain. I felt the dangers of hidden secrets hanging over our head and I didn’t want to lose what I had with him. I raised his chin, as gently as I could and sat down beside him. “What is it, baby?” I saw now the struggle inside him and I remembered every second he had this same expression before. I couldn’t see how, but he was hurt. Given what I just heard, I couldn’t understand the pain. I could’ve expected him to look guilty, but pain? He suffered for some reason and it resonated in me.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. I work for a loan shark; it’s exactly what it sounded like.”

I hadn’t thought of that, but the discovery was as shocking as any other such disclosure. Maybe worse, since I had never even admitted the thought of him being a criminal. And now? He had just told me, clear as day. I couldn’t speak; not because my voice would’ve been shaky, no. I just didn’t know what I was supposed to say. A lack of any actual feelings had settled in a cold knot in my stomach as I stood there, looking through him.

He helped me out by saying, “I want to end everything.”

I opened my mouth, afraid I might say something wrong. How could I help him out of this impossibility? He looked at me and saw my shock.

“No, no, baby. Not that. Never that. I’m sorry,” he said, hugging me tightly. “I meant I want to end everything I have to do with the Valves,” he followed, whispering in my hair.

Hearing the name of the gang, I felt my skin crawling with fear and disgust. The Valves!

“I…For Ginger?” I dared to say.

He nodded.

The Valves were a feared gang, renowned for being the most ruthless loan sharks in the region. “At least they don’t kill people,” I managed to whisper, squeezing my hand tight on his shirt.

“Yes…”

I felt something in his voice, something other than relief over their no-kill policy. I raised my head. “What is it?” I asked, trying to look into his eyes.

He looked away and I felt his hands loosening around me. I watched him change expressions, from the struggle of the confession to guilt. A darker shade of guilt, the kind one feels for his entire life. The dreadful suspicions rose once again in my gut and I pulled back.

“What is it?” I asked again, my voice shaking now. “Do they still kill people?” I couldn’t believe he could’ve been involved in something like this, something so sordid and heartless. Not the man he was with me and Ginger, no.

“No, baby. No killings.” His voice matched the guilt in his eyes and I sat silent, waiting for more. “I…this started because of me. Five years ago.”

I smiled. “I knew you weren’t a cold-blooded criminal.” He didn't share into my gratefulness. I could’ve sworn the guilt in his eyes took a stronger tint hearing my words.

“It’s…” he sighed heavily. “I killed a man. I had to; it was a job. It made me realize this wasn’t what I had signed up for. After that, I worked with all I had to change the policy.” The words came out like bullets, like he wanted to spit the out for the poison they were:. deadly torrents that swept everything in their way. It was hard for me to hear them, I was shocked in the darkest way, but his eyes screamed that it was more painful for him to utter them.

I saw his face, his suffering, and I realized, with a few seconds delay, that the shock had send me standing, a hand to my throat, mouth wide open, putting as much distance between us as my shaking legs could manage. He looked at me for a moment, then lowered his gaze, hurting so obviously, I could sense it through the catatonic shock of the news.

Even so, I couldn’t get close to him. “You killed a man?” I whispered, the worst happening before my eyes. I had imagined many bad things in my hours of pondering the suspicions I had, but this was something I didn’t dare to look upon. “An innocent man?” my mouth moved without my consent.

“He wasn’t innocent,” he said. “But nobody deserves that. To die like that, nobody to know what became of him...”

He sounded far away, buried in a tragic memory I couldn’t wrap my brain around.

“How…” I couldn’t finish my thought; I didn’t know where it went.

“I’m sorry. I kept this from you and I am sorry. As sorry as a man can be. I’ll understand if you want to leave but, please, don’t say anything to anyone.” His body hadn’t moved but his voice, his eyes, begged. In his eyes, he was kneeling, crying for this favor before me.

My eyes grew wider, shocked again by his request. “I…You want me to keep this God awful secret? You want me to be your silent accomplice?” I couldn’t hold back my tears. I couldn't control the accusatory tone of my voice and I certainly couldn’t stop the betrayal I felt from seeping through my words.

He didn’t look at me. His shoulders were slumped, his head bowed, his entire body giving up on holding itself with any shred of human pride. It hurt me to see him like this but I didn’t allow myself to take pity on him. No! He just asked me to keep my mouth shut, silently allowing him to go on. “Or…”

“Or what?” I asked, aloud. “You’ll kill me if I talk?”

He raised his gaze and met mine, the pain physical, the light I knew and loved, gone. “I deserve that,” he whispered, his head down again. “I asked you to keep quiet because if anything I said to you ever gets out, my plans won’t work and that’ll be the least of my concerns.”

“Your concerns? What about Ginger? What about…me?” I couldn't believe the selfishness in his words. It didn't match with the hurting in his eyes.

“That’s why I’m doing this!” he exploded, his voice like a thunder that made me cower back, against the wall. “That’s why I’m doing this! That’s why I’m putting my life, and your life and Ginger’s life at risk here. For you and for her. If you open your mouth to anyone else about this I’m a dead man. They already suspect something is wrong about me. They’ll kill me if they learn that I want to break all ties with them. They’ll torture me for punishment, and kill my daughter in front of me,
then
kill me.” He breathed once, exhaling loudly, like a wounded animal. “Do you know what this means? What I’m about to do means? I will break the code I worked on enforcing in each and every member of this shit clan! I will be the rat, the pest that tried to take down The Valves! Even thinking about it mandates a death sentence, to hell with the no-kill policy!”

His frustration and pain scared me but his words showed me I was in the wrong. He had told me he was intent on severing ties with the gang, but I chose to focus on the betrayal I felt and forgot. I saw how I have hurt him, when I should’ve offered him my full support.

I straightened up and stepped on my fears with shaky legs. I needed to show him I was sorry. He stopped talking, his face flushed with the anger of unwarranted betrayal and avoided to look at me. His mind struggled to reconcile his guilt and fears with my words and the way he felt about them. It was obvious he felt he didn’t deserved to feel the way he did and should’ve taken my accusations without a word.

I reached for his cheek and turned his face gently towards me. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry about what I said. I promise I will help you in any way I can, even if only by forgetting everything that happened today, in this room.” I tried to relate the seriousness of my promise. I looked deep into his eyes, hoping he’d feel how I felt.

He slowly put his hands around me and dropped his head and my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was a jerk. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It’s all right, baby. It’s all right.” I caressed his back, hugging him tight, trying to bring a little comfort into his world.

We spent minutes connected like this, two bodies so close; we shared the warmth of our blood. I could feel his heart and he could feel my ragged breathing. I was fighting tears I didn’t want him to see. I knew they would make him feel guiltier.

He broke the embrace and finally looked into my eyes. “Thank you. Thank you.”

I smiled, regaining control of my expression. “We probably need a new batch of coffee,” I said, immediately feeling stupid for my choice of changing the subject.

“Sure. I can help with that.”

He took my hand and led me to his favorite barstool, then proceeded to make coffee. I watched his back, muscles moving delightfully in rhythm. He was much taller than me so my low set kitchen looked Lilliputian around him. This man, with his dark secrets and warm heart, mesmerized me.

I couldn’t stop my mouth from asking, “Why did you tell me?”