Defying Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC Series Book 3) (4 page)

Swinging the tire iron around wide, I clip the side of his face. It isn’t hard enough to kill him or knock him out, but it was hard enough to drop him to the ground.

I see lookout guy step forward, but before he even takes two steps, the back door swings open and five of the bikers come out—the first being the older biker I noticed in the bar.

The lookout guy turns around as fast as he can, but it’s not fast enough. The biker swings and it’s a devastating blow to his head. He’s down and out, maybe even dead. Not that I care. I’d hoped to kill him myself, but beggars can’t be choosers.

The man I’m fighting looks around and notices the bikers coming closer, but I won’t let them interfere. He’s mine and it’s time for him to pay for his sins. I lift the tire iron above my head, ready to deliver the final blow. I don’t have time to make it slow and as painful as possible. But hopefully it’ll be enough for me to just kill him.

Before I’m able to deliver the hit, the biker grabs my wrist to stop me.

“You sure you want to do this, son?” the biker asks. It isn’t condescending or mocking. He asks me the question like he is genuinely curious and concerned for me.

Still looking down at the man that killed my father, I can only nod. This is exactly what I want to do. I wish I could do more, but this will have to do. Instead of letting my arm go, however, he forces me to lower it.

Further enraged that he is keeping me from avenging my father, I swing my other arm out and land a solid hit to his face. Everything around me turns hazy with a red tint to it. My vision tunnels, the only thing I can focus one is the motherfucker that killed my father and the man standing in my way.

“He killed my father! Shot him point-fucking-blank and walked away like it was
nothing
. Like he didn’t just take the only person I have left away from me. He needs to fucking pay for what he did. He deserves to die,” I roar.

The biker straightens up and walks toward me slowly with his hands up, like he means no harm. Fuck, the way I’m feeling, I could level every single one of them. Nothing is going to stop me from taking what is rightfully mine—this man’s life.

“I agree with you, son. I’m not saying he should live. But think about where you are right now. Someone could have called the cops. I’m sure they’re probably looking for you anyway if your only parent was killed last night. Am I right?” the biker asks.

I try shaking my head to consider what he’s saying, knowing he’s probably right, but I just can’t see fucking reason. The monster inside of me is snarling and begging to taste blood. Begging to take a life for a life. The only thing I can see is myself putting an end to the pain. To right a wrong.

The biker must notice that I’m not hearing him because he steps forward again, but this time, he doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me. It’s not menacing and he’s not afraid that I’ll lash out at him again.

“Look. Why don’t you let my brothers over there take this piece of shit to one of our warehouses?” he says as he points to the man I hate more than anything. “You and I will meet them there after we have a talk. I promise you, he will pay for what he did and what pain he caused you—either by your hands or ours. But let’s have a chat first, yeah?”

I know he’s right. I know this isn’t the place to do this and he’s right about the cops probably looking for me. Fuck!

Afraid that if I speak the barely suppressed violence will take over again, I just nod. The biker nods toward the others and they all move forward like an army of one and drag the man toward the other side of the alley. He screams and flails around until one of the bikers kicks him in the stomach and slams his head into his knee, knocking him out cold.

Once they’re out of sight, the biker in front of me pulls my attention back to him. “Did you drive here?”

Nodding again, I start walking toward my truck, not even looking to see if he’s following me. When I reach my truck, I open the door and wait until he gets in with me.

“Name’s Mack,” he says as I start the truck.

“Holden,” I clip out.

“Okay, Holden. Why don’t you tell me a little more about you and what’s going on? If I’m going to help you, I need to know what we’re working with.”

“I never asked you to fucking help me. I was doing just fine on my own,” I yell, angry he thinks I need his help. Angry my father is dead. And angry that the man who killed him is still breathing, no matter if it’s only delayed a few minutes. Every minute he’s alive when my father is dead is too long.

“I know you didn’t, son, but what do you think killing that man is going to solve? I know he did you wrong and took your dad away from you, but what happens to you once he’s dealt with? How old are you? Are you still in school? Do you have a job or a place to go after? What if you get caught? These are the things you need to think about. These are the things I can help you with if you let me.”

My rage starts to simmer, but only enough for me to finally hear what he’s saying. Like my dad has done my whole life, Mack is just trying to look out for me—trying to make sure I think before I act.

I give him the only answer I can.

“My dad was my best friend, all I had left, and the only person who cared about me. We were going to move right after I graduated next month. He had just found out he won the lottery last night and everything was looking up for us. We were going to be okay. But now he’s gone and I have no one, so it doesn’t matter what happens to me. My father is dead and I have no one else and nowhere to go. That man took my father’s life. It’s only fair I get to take his.”

It’s probably not what he wanted to hear, but it is what it is.

Mack is quiet for a few minutes, thinking about what I said, before he finally speaks. “I know the pain and rage you are feeling, son, but you have to let it go. If you let it, it will eat you alive. When I saw you in that bar, it was like I was looking into the eyes of Lucifer himself. This isn’t the road I want you to take—killing a man changes you. But I also understand the feeling of being wronged and having something so priceless taken away from you.” He pauses again, making sure I’m listening. “I’ll make you a deal. You say you only have a month left of school and I’m here on club business for another month. You finish your schooling, because I have a feeling that’s what your father would have wanted. I’ll hold the fucker that killed your dad, keep him alive until after you graduate. Then, you can decide if this is the road you want to take. But regardless of what you decide to do with him, I want you to consider something else. My brothers and I are from California and a part of a club—a family, if you will. I want you to consider coming back with us when this is all said and done. You don’t have to join our club if you don’t want to, though I noticed that you have a nice-looking bike back there. You can still have people in your life that care about you, son—we can be that for you. So think about coming back with me and joining our brotherhood, but for right now, what do you say about waiting to make any life-altering decisions until after you graduate? Okay?”

Everything Mack said was right on. My father would want me to finish school first. And even though I want to end this right here, right now, I know that this is the best thing to do. Having someone talk to me the way Mack just did, like he cares about what happens to me and is trying to help me, I know I’d be stupid to walk away from that. I don’t know if I’ll take him up on following them back to California or joining their motorcycle club, but I do know that it’d be nice to be a part of something bigger than myself. Or just to be a part of anything again.

Looking at him, I hold out my hand to him to shake. “You have a deal, though I can’t promise that I’ll make the decisions you think I should make. I can promise I’ll hold off until after graduation to make them, though.”

With that, I put the truck in drive and think about everything Mack just offered. Maybe things won’t turn out so bad after all. And even though I still can’t feel any old piece of myself, I can still feel the monster…but maybe it’s not the end of the world.

Chapter 3

Age 26

Lying in bed at the clubhouse with my eyes closed, I try to shut my mind off. I know I’ve barely slept, as well as I know that as soon as I open my eyes, I’ll see the clock flash that it’s three a.m. It’s the same thing every fucking morning. I swear that night at the bar when Mack said he could see Lucifer in my eyes, he cursed me because not only is that where I got my road name—Louie, short for Lucifer—but I swear it’s why I am always awake at this hour. Three a.m., the devil’s hour.

Thinking about that night brings all those feelings of rage back tenfold, although I’m able to control it better now. After taking Mack back to the house I had shared with my dad my whole life, we sat down and figured out how the next month of my life would go.

Mack stayed with me at my house for that month. While I was at school, he did whatever it was that he was there for–club business, he’d said. I never did find out what that was, but I guess I never really asked, either. I had too much on my mind.

When I’d get home from school, Mack would already be there. Even on the days that I said “fuck it” and left school early, it was like he knew and would always be waiting for me.

He’d ask me how my day was, made sure I did what little homework I had to do to graduate, and cooked a hot meal before I went to my room. And it was always something better than ramen, though sometimes I wished for that because it reminded me of my dad.

At times, I hated Mack for keeping me from doing what I originally sought out to do that night. I hated that he called the police station to tell them that he was my guardian. And he spoke to the school I attended and told them that he was my uncle and to call him if there were any problems. I learned that when the first day I went back to school when I got into a fight with some punk who was talking shit about my dad, saying that he deserved what he got.

Mack showed up, but instead of scolding me for fighting, he pulled me aside and told me that fighting shouldn’t be the answer to every problem—that there was a time and place for it—he told me there are extenuating circumstances, that every man had to man up and never back down. This just happened to be one of those times. Honor and respect. He told me that he was proud I stood up for what I believed in and who I cared about. It was never wrong to stand up for family. He taught me that. No matter what the reason, if it involves your family, whether they are blood or not, you fight.

After that day, no one bothered me or even spoke to me, which was good. I just needed to get through that month. I knew I was going to leave that town soon; I just didn’t know where I was going to go. Did I take Mack up on his offer and follow him to California? Shit, that’s where I wanted to go when my dad was still alive, anyway. But sometimes when I thought about it, it felt wrong to go there with him. That was our plan, and without him, it just didn’t seem right to go if he wasn’t going to be there too. I figured I would wait until the time came to make that decision. I just wanted to take one day at a time.

Then, finally, graduation came. Mack and a few of his biker brothers showed up to show support, but I was too clouded with rage and, I can admit now, sadness over my father’s death. Mack wanted to take me out to eat to celebrate, but I didn’t want anything to do with that. I just wanted him to take me to where he was holding the man that stole my dad from me. Clyde was his name.

Mack never once told me where they were holding Clyde, fearing that I would sneak out and kill him before I graduated. I probably would have done that too if I’d known where he was. Though maybe a part of me would have held me back. My dad always taught me to honor and keep my word. It would have been like spitting on his non-existent grave to go back on what I told Mack.

So when Mack started driving toward my house, I instantly became angry, thinking he wasn’t going to hold up his end of the deal.

I started yelling at him and told him to pull over. I’m not proud of this, but when he did, I wanted to kill him. Here I did everything he asked me to do, upheld every part of my end, was honorable, but he was keeping me from doing what was promised to me. What was my right to see through to the very end.

When we both got out and he met me in the front of the truck, I swung. I started screaming at him and hitting him over and over. But let me tell you this, Mack is one tough sonofabitch. He never once wavered, never once lashed out, and never once yelled back. He just let me pound on him, let me blame him for everything and everyone that wronged me.

When I was exhausted and completely drained, he just stood there and waited. And when I finally calmed down, he took me in a hug and told me that he was there for me and that everything would be all right. Then he released me and got back in the truck and waited for me to follow.

Back on the road again, he drove us two blocks away from my house to what looked to be an abandoned house. I followed him inside and down into the basement. There, sitting chained to the wall, was the man that killed my father.

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I open my eyes and see that it’s 3:03 in the morning. Knowing I won’t get any more sleep, I get up and head downstairs to the kitchen to start some coffee. Today is going to be a long-ass day.

***

Two hours later, I’ve had a full workout in the club gym and have had more coffee than I can stand. Not able to be here with my thoughts any longer, I decide to head into the shop and get some sketching done. I only have a few appointments today, but I do have a client that wants to add to his back piece, so I can start working on that for him.

When I step outside, I see Mack standing by my bike. Not sure why he’s out there waiting for me, I head over.

“I thought old men like you needed their beauty sleep,” I say as a way of greeting.

There’s something on his mind, though I can’t tell if it’s club business or not, but I know it’s not going to be something I like.

“Just spit it out already,” I say without looking at him. I just want to get this over with so I can get to the shop. I’m itching to get away and hole up in my room at Sinners Ink. Tattooing has turned into a form of therapy for me. I feel calmer when I’m sketching or when I have that tattoo gun on someone’s skin.

Letting out a long sigh, he turns toward me.

I don’t know how he does it, but with that one sigh I feel like I’ve disappointed him or let him down. I have a feeling I know why he’s out here waiting for me. Things have been really tense the last few years, more so than usual. With the whole Dani and me thing, then Blaze coming around and finding out that him and Dani had a thing, then her getting kidnapped, then everything that went down with Harlow and me, Toby falling in love with Sara and the whirlwind of her past coming back to bite us all in the ass, Dani’s pregnancy scare and then the twins. Add that all on top of the fact that I can’t stop thinking about Harlow or wondering if she’ll ever come back—I’ve been an ass lately—snapping at my brothers, quick to using my fists to solve everything, and letting things slip past me.

In the last two months, I’ve felt the monster inside start to take over. Maybe even more than when my father was murdered. Everything is falling apart, including me. I’m actually surprised he’s waited this long to call me out. I need to get my shit together, if not for me and my club, then for the man that took me in and treated me like his own flesh and blood.

“Sometimes I feel like I failed you, Holden.” Hearing my given name, I’m instantly on alert and know I’ve fucked up. Mack hasn’t called me by my real name since before I patched into the club. After I walked into that basement, my fate was sealed and my name was always Louie to anyone that mattered, though only Mack knows why or how I got that name.

I don’t know how to respond to his comment so I just wait him out. Maybe I should tell him I’m sorry and that I’ll do better, that I won’t let him down again. But I don’t. I stay quiet because I have no idea where he’s going with this conversation or how he thinks he failed me, but I don’t need to wait long.

“Maybe I was wrong. I never should have made that deal with you. I should have just told you that I would take care of it and been there for you. I don’t regret asking you to come back with me or you joining the club, but maybe I should have done more to shelter you. You were so young. You never should have been faced with what you had to face or choose to take someone’s life or not. Now, every day, I watch you drown in your pain and anger. I know you have trouble sleeping—I don’t know if it’s nightmares or what, but I know you struggle. And I guess I just feel that there was something I could have done different to make your life better.”

Hearing the pain and regret in his voice guts me. After Mack took me in that basement and watched me torture and kill Clyde, we never once talked about that night—not like I probably would have, anyway.

Then, the next morning, I woke up and knew I had to go with him. It felt right packing up what little I had and following Mack to California. And I haven’t regretted that decision once. I don’t even regret taking that man’s life, he deserved what he got. But maybe we should have talked before now. I hate that Mack feels this way. He was like a second father to me, he was always there when I needed him.

Taking a deep breath before letting it out, I turn to face him. “I know we’ve never really talked about it and I never said anything, but I appreciate everything you have done for me—including giving me the choice and chance to do what I needed to do. Do I have trouble sleeping? Yes. I’m not gonna lie, but it has nothing to do with what I did or the deal you made with me. I don’t have nightmares and I don’t regret anything—especially not following you back here or joining the club. I don’t know why I don’t sleep right, but I want you to know, it’s not because of anything you did or didn’t do.”

I take a break to catch my breath and gather the rest of my thoughts. It’s not easy talking about this, but I know Mack needs to hear it, maybe as much as I need to say it.

Mack opens his mouth to say something, but I can’t let him—not yet. Holding up my hand, I motion for him to stop. “Just let me finish. I need to get this out.”

I wait until he nods.

“I never had a lot in my life. I had my dad and the things we used to do together—or more of what we talked about doing together, but they were good memories all the same. Granted, not all of them were good, but I thank God every day that I had him in my life for eighteen years. I wish I had even one more day with him, but that’s not the hand that was dealt to me, and I understand that and am as okay with it as I can be. But the things you did for me—I gotta tell you, man, those are things I am truly thankful for. You didn’t have to stop me from killing that fucker in the alley. You didn’t have to listen to a pissed off, vengeful teen. And you sure as fuck didn’t have to stick around and make sure I didn’t fuck my life up. But you did. You gave me something to look forward to, something to work toward. Sure, it’s not what most people would do, but it was exactly what I needed. It’s not about right or wrong in others’ eyes, it’s about what you did right for
me
. I’ll admit, I still think about that night and the things I did to that guy, but I will never regret it or think poorly of what you offered. Never. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is this—I’m good. I may have problems, but who the fuck doesn’t these days? I’m alive, I’m living the life I want, and I’m surrounded by those that would lay their life down for me and vice versa. I don’t say it enough, but I love you, man. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. For being there when you didn’t have to be.”

He’s not looking at me, but I can tell my words have struck a chord with him—they hit him deep. We aren’t ones to voice our feelings a lot, but when we do, that shit’s deep.

Finally, Mack composes himself enough to look at me and speak.

“I hear ya. I’m not saying that I still think it’s okay or that I didn’t fuck up, but as long as you’re all right, that’s all I can ask for. You let me know if you ever need to talk though, don’t hold that shit inside, ya hear? I don’t ever want to see that look in your eye like I did that night. It’s come close a few times and I see it getting close now, so if you need something or need to talk, find me. I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing.”

I just nod and slap him on the back. “I hear ya. Now go back to bed, ya old bastard.” I end on a laugh, and duck when he moves to slap me upside the head.

As he walks back inside, I can hear him mumble something that sounds like “fucker.”

Getting on my bike, I take a deep breath and let it all out. I actually feel pretty good after that talk with Mack. Granted, if anyone finds out about our heart to heart, we’ll both never hear the end of the pussy jokes, but I’m glad we finally cleared the air. We should have done that a long time ago.

On the drive to the shop, I think about that night one more time to try and make peace with what happened and what I did—put it all behind me once and for all. I think about seeing the man that killed my dad chained and gagged in that basement. I think of the rage and demonic out of body experience I had. I think about all the things I did to him to force him to feel physically half the pain I felt emotionally from the loss of my father. I think about how he begged for his life and wondered if my father pleaded for his life too. And I think about what I felt when I finally ended his sorry excuse for a life.