Echoes of Silence (Unquiet Mind Book 1) (25 page)

“You thinking so little of yourself, it breaks my heart,” I whispered. “Your mom is not you. That”—I threw my arm out in the direction we came from—“doesn’t mean a fricking thing.” I stepped even closer and put my hand on his heart. “This does. What’s in here is what matters. What’s in those photos you’ve saved of your dad. You’re not your mom. You’re not even him. You’re you. And you’re amazing. I’d wager your dad had a lot to do with building that foundation. But you’re the one responsible for the skyscraper.”

Kill was frozen for a second. His hand moved to cover mine. “No,” he murmured, “if anyone’s responsible for building me that high, I’m looking at her.”

I gave him a long look. “Agree to disagree.”

To my complete surprise and utter delight, Kill grinned and pulled me into his body, kissing my head.

“Let’s get you to the party,” he murmured finally, after he’d held me in silence for a moment. “Not scared of much, Freckles,” he informed me, letting me go and grasping my hand to walk back to the car. “But I am afraid of Gwen if I make the lead singer late to the party.”

I laughed. It was easy, genuine. At that moment, I knew everything would be okay.

Who knew how very wrong I could be about that.

****

I was floating, soaring higher than the clouds. We had just absolutely rocked this party. We even had the bikers dancing. Bikers. Big bad Cade even came up. Granted he just held his pregnant wife tight and swayed to the music, but I’d take that. Mom had gotten up and danced with Gage, one of the men I’d met today. He was big, menacing, and hot like most of the other men. Though his muscled arms were riddled with scars, and something was unnerving about his eyes. Not in a bad way, at least not the way he directed it at us. He was easy and friendly. I had a strange feeling those eyes could change with those he didn’t consider friends or family.

Looking out at the crowd beyond me, I knew that’s what this leather wearing group was. Family. My eyes touched on Zane, who was sitting at the very back of the picnic tables, not talking to anyone. He certainly wasn’t dancing. I doubted anything would make him dance, not even Mom, no matter how much he cared about her. Which, by the way he was glaring at Gage laughing and dancing with her, was a lot. I met his eyes and grinned while I sang “Scar Tissue” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He didn’t grin back, of course, but I was almost certain the sides of his mouth turned up.

We were rocking. The best we had sounded. We should be, considering how much we’d practiced.

Sam had been like a drill sergeant. “Dudes, these are the most baddest of all badasses in the state, maybe in the country. If we fuck this up, I may as well get myself a banjo and become a country singer. I’ll never be able to be a self-respecting rock star,” he had told us.

It was safe to say he was jerky with nerves as Kill and I had arrived, hand in hand. I didn’t even have time to meet anyone before he pounced on us.

“Detach, lovebirds,” he ordered, yanking my hand away from Kill, who glared at him. Sam, to his credit, ignored this or was too distracted to notice. “You’re coming with me,” he announced, “to go over last minute set lists and sort your tuning.” He yanked my guitar from Kill’s shoulder. “You”—he pointed at him—“will go far, far away where you can’t distract Lexie. You may be scary as shit when it comes to her, but don’t test me when it comes to my music.”

I cracked a small smile.

“This isn’t funny,” he snapped at me.

I nodded somberly. “I’m sorry, you’re right,” I agreed. “It’s not like this is, I don’t know, a
party
or anything.”

Sam did not find me funny, but luckily my boyfriend did.

Kill chuckled and kissed my head. “I’ll come find you soon,” he promised, turning away.

“No, you won’t,” Sam called to his shoulder. “She’ll come see you when I say she can.”

Kill ignored him and I snorted with laughter. Sam took me by the shoulders and maneuvered me through the group of mostly unfamiliar bikers, though a few gave me chin lifts. I smiled at them all.

“Bro, take a chill pill. You bump into one of these guys, you can kiss your nads good-bye,” Wyatt warned, looking up from the guitar he was tuning.

He put it down to lean in and kiss my cheek. “Hey, babe,” he greeted with a grin.

“I will not take a ‘chill pill’ or any mind-altering substance that hinders my godlike ability,” Sam hissed at him.

“Godlike ability?” Noah repeated, jumping down from the makeshift stage and knocking his fist with mine. “Good to see you’re keeping humble, Sam,” he remarked dryly, slinging his arm around my shoulder.

Sam scowled at him. He then proceeded to order us around and make sure everything was perfect. We had just enough time to talk to Gwen and for all the boys to droll at Amy before it was time to start our set.

We started with old school rock, Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd, and then moved on to some other stuff. Kill sat in the front of the scattered picnic tables, chatting to men, sometimes playing with kids, but his eyes always seemed to be burning into me. I smiled at him, big and wide, as often as I could and sang every word to him. Music could cure anything. I hoped it would help chase away his demons.

It was getting to our last song. Sam had violently insisted we don’t play any “pussy shit” that would damage our precious street cred. But Gwen had specifically requested the song, and he turned into a puddle at her feet, pregnant or not.             

“It’s the accent,” he said afterward. “She could ask me to chew off my own fingers in that accent and I’d do it.”

So that was why I starting singing Ingrid Michaelson’s “You and I.” It was perfect for the sunny day. I was happy, deliriously so. The black mark on the day from Kill’s mom melted away with one of the most beautiful songs ever. My mom was happy, dancing and throwing her head back laughing. Zane wasn’t happy watching Mom dance with another man, but he was happy with her.

My eyes rested on Kill.

I was happy.

Deliriously so.

Then the world exploded.

I hadn’t even noticed the bikes fly into the parking lot at the edge of the grassed area where the party was being held. Had I, I probably wouldn’t have thought anything of them. There were bikes everywhere. I barely saw them.

I saw these ones the moment they started shooting, opening fire on the crowd. The crowd with little children, with families. My family. I watched, paralyzed in horror as bullets flew through the air, hitting people. People must have been screaming, I guessed, but I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anything but the shots.

I kept staring at those men on the bikes. The ones with the guns.

This must be a dream. This can’t be happening. Stuff like this doesn’t happen, I thought dimly.

Something whizzed past my cheek and I realized this was real. People were shooting. People were
dying
. Right in front of me. I was standing in front of it watching.

Then I wasn’t standing anymore. Suddenly, I was on the stage, flat on my back, Killian was on top of me, covering every inch of me with his body, his hands circling over my head.

“Get down!” I heard him roar to someone behind us.

My boys, I thought. Oh my God, someone was shooting.

Mom. Zane.

Zane would take care of her. I had to believe that. These bullets couldn’t take her away from me. It wasn’t the end of the world, as much as it sounded like it. Killian’s body on top of mine, his smell, it calmed me. I was safe. Kill was here.

Suddenly, there was silence. Not complete silence; there was the screech of tires and people yelling and crying. But it was silent compared to the deafening gunfire that had filled the air moments ago.

I was pulled up to sitting. Kill’s face was pale as he ran his hands frantically over my body. He wasn’t setting it on fire like normal. There was no hunger in his eyes; it was almost desperation.

“Lexie,” he said urgently, making me think it wasn’t the first time he’d called my name. “Baby, you need to tell me if you’re hurt anywhere?” he asked softly, his eyes locked on mine.

I blinked, understanding his question. “No,” I said quickly. “The boys….” My head whipped back and dread filled my chest.

“We’re fine, babe,” Sam called in a shaky voice.

“Lexie good?” Noah called urgently.

Killian pulled me gently to my feet. “She’s good,” he said, relief clear in his tone. He quickly surveyed the area around him. I couldn’t do it. Not at that moment. I was terrified of what I’d see. If I kept my gaze on Kill—living, breathing Kill—it’d all be okay.

“You guys go and help get the kids inside,” he barked at them.

He cupped my head in his hands, resting his forehead on mine for a split second. “You okay, Freckles?” he whispered.

I couldn’t speak. I could only nod.

Kill didn’t say another thing. He led us to the side of the stage and jumped down first, then held his arms up to me. I rested my hands on his shoulders, letting him grasp my hips and set me down on the grass. I still couldn’t look anywhere. I could hear it all. The people crying, the urgent barked orders. The sound of someone’s heartbreaking sobs. Sobs that echoed in my soul.

This isn’t happening,
I chanted.

I finally found the courage to move my eyes and everything in me relaxed as my gaze landed on my mom. In Zane’s arm. Living, breathing.

“Mom!” I cried, pulling out of Kill’s arms to sprint over to my mother.

I buried myself in her arms, needing them more than anything at that moment. More than Kill’s. I needed my mom. For her to make it better. I was five years old again, believing with every fiber of my being that my mom could fix anything.

“You’re okay,” she whispered to me softly.

I sagged against her arms. I was okay.

****

“So is anyone else craving fried chicken something wicked?” Sam asked the group of us huddled in the corner of the Sons clubhouse. There was silence as Noah and Wyatt just looked at him. “No? Just me, okay then,” he muttered.

I smiled weakly at him trying to lighten the mood, trying to normalize something in this situation, despite the fact his face was as white as a sheet. Despite the fact there were people in this room with gunshot wounds. There was a man outside. Dead.
Dead.

I shuddered in Killian’s arms and he tightened his grip around me, kissing my head. I snuggled deeper in his arms; the silent presence was the only thing that had me breathing evenly. That and the fact my mom was across from me. Not suffering from a gunshot wound. Zane wasn’t here, but I knew he was okay too. The people I cared about, my people, were okay. Others weren’t so lucky. I thought of the dead man and the woman who had to be dragged away from his lifeless body by Steg, an older man that Kill spoke of fondly. She was in the corner, staring blankly into space, a glass of clear liquid in her hands. Evie, Steg’s wife, was sitting near her.

There were no smiles. Everyone in this room was either wearing blank faces of shock, pain, or anger. Anger mostly came from the men in the leather cuts. It simmered underneath, but it was barely hidden. I peeked up at Kill. His jaw was hard, his eyes shuttered and carefully blank. He sensed my eyes and looked down at me. His eyes immediately softened.

“Are you okay?” I whispered before he could speak.

His eyes narrowed at me. “That’s my line, Freckles.”

“The man that...” I trailed off. “The man that died. He was your family,” I said softly.

Kill’s body went hard and his arms flexed at my words. His eyes went above my head, not staring at anything in the room, nothing I could see at least. Most likely something only he could see. Ghosts.

He only nodded sharply.

I reached up to cup his jaw. “I’m sorry, Kill.”

Before he could say anything, his eyes focused. On something. On someone. I turned my gaze.

“Mom,” I exclaimed, moving out of Kill’s arms to move in front of my mother.

She gave me a small smile and squeezed both my hands. “You okay, doll face?” she asked quietly.

I nodded. “I’m fine,” I lied. I was far from fine. I was close to freaking the F out, but I didn’t need Mom to know that. It would deepen the line between her brows that became pronounced when she was worried.

She gave my hands a squeeze and looked over my shoulders at the boys. “How about you guys?”

Sam gave Mom a shaky grin. “Totally fine, Mia.” He paused. “Well, freaked the fuck out, but fine,” he altered his original statement.

Wyatt and Noah both punched him in a synchronized move. Sam’s face was contorted in pain.

“Dudes,” he whined. “What in the ever-loving shit was that for?”

Wyatt glared at him. “Watch your fuckin’ language.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little. Mom full-on grinned at the boys. “If there was ever a time to use that word, it’d be now,” she told them. “Consider me giving you my explicit permission to swear as much as you find appropriate for the rest of the day,” she deadpanned.

All three boys grinned back; even though they were shaky, they were grins. Only Mom could do that, make them smile after they almost died.

Her face went serious. “I’ve called all of your parents. I think it’s safe to say they are all freaking the F out.” She paused, her eyes soft. “Apart from yours, Sam. I’m sure they will be when they find out. I just couldn’t get hold of them.”

Sam shrugged. “I would imagine my own house could get shot up, and Dad wouldn’t be likely to care as long as he didn’t spill his beer,” he responded, feigning nonchalance. “That’s if he was conscious. Fifty-fifty chance there.”

Mom’s line between her eyes deepened. I knew how much she had come to care about my boys and considered them family. She knew about Noah and Sam’s parents and the problems they had with them. Well, she knew some. I would expect she would apply to adopt them both if she knew all. It looked like she was considering that right now.

“You can come home with us,” she declared. “After we get the all clear, of course.” She glanced over at Cade, who was in a man huddle, though his eyes touched on us.

“Thanks for the offer, Mia,” Sam replied. “But I’m gonna head home and steal a couple of my old man’s beers and try to chill the... heck out,” he replied. His eyes bugged out. “Shit," he muttered. “Any chance you can forget you heard the ‘beer’ part of that plan?”

Mom’s eyes twinkled slightly. “One time. It’s the only ‘get out of jail free’ card on that one, kid,” she told him. “But if I hear it again, or if you involve my daughter in the underage drinking I know nothing about, I’ll personally come to your house and shave your entire head,” she warned. She knew how attached Sam was to his mop and her threat had the intended effect.

Sam blanched slightly and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, I won’t ever do that,” he stuttered.

Wyatt shook his head and muttered something that sounded like “idiot” under his breath.

Mom turned her gaze to me. “Gotta talk to you for a moment, doll.”

“Okay,” I replied, noting something in her tone.

She glanced around the room, eyes narrowing a small sofa that was currently vacant. She led me to it. I knew Kill was behind us. He sat on the arm of the sofa when Mom and I sat in it. His hand went to the back of my neck.

Mom glanced at him and smiled. “Guessing you’re now Lexie’s shadow until the end of time?” she teased lightly, but she seemed glad.

The hand at the back of my neck squeezed. “Not lettin’ her out of my sight.”

Mom nodded as if this was exactly what she expected. Then again, she lived with me; she was my mom, and she knew exactly how much Kill meant to me.

Her eyes moved to me and they turned serious. “I’ve just been speaking to Cade,” she began, her voice gentle. “Honey, I hate to ask this. I hate all of this.” She glanced around the room, her eyes settling on a man getting a bleeding arm bandaged. “That any of this is even happening,” she said after a pause. “That my little girl had to be involved in this.”

I reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m okay, Mom.”

She smiled sadly at me. “Yeah, and your very okayness is creeping me out, like a lot. You’re braver than your mom, kiddo. Stop showing me up,” she teased lightly. She sucked in a breath. “I need to ask you, Lexie. When... when it happened, you were on the stage.”

Kill’s hand tensed at my neck.

“I was on stage,” I confirmed, confused at this turn of events.

“Yeah, honey, so you had the best—” she cringed “—view. Cade wanted me to ask you if you saw anything,” she clarified. “They’ve already spoken to the boys. They were a bit behind you so they didn’t see much.” Her face was hard, and I had the feeling she was not asking me of her own volition. “No one expects you to see anything, hon. If you didn’t… good,” she declared finally.

I got it. The reason for my mom’s tight form, for the way she seemed to physically hate saying the words. Kill’s body stilled behind me, and I noticed the way Cade was looking at me across the room. They wanted to know what I saw. Who I saw. They wanted revenge.

“Yeah, I saw,” I replied quietly.

Mom sighed, her face falling into what was close to despair. She closed her eyes a second, then opened them again. “You up to telling Cade what you saw, baby girl? I’ll be there the whole time.”

“So will I, Freckles,” Kill declared tightly from behind me.

I nodded quickly. “Yeah, I can talk to him.”

Mom tore her gaze away from me and gave Cade a little nod that seemed to signify something.

So that’s how I ended up in the room off the common area, the one with the word “Church” over it. There was a long oak table taking up most of the room, surrounded by seats. One bigger than the others sat at the far end of the room. A gavel, like the one judges use, sat on the table in front of that chair. I had a feeling this room was not intended for teenage girls and their moms. Then again, an anniversary party had not been intended to turn into a bloodbath either.

I was sitting on a chair with Kill beside me, his hand in mine. Cade and Brock leaned on either side of us on the table. Mom was close behind me, chewing her lip.

“Sweetheart, you just tell us what you saw. This all gets too much, you stop. We won’t mind,” Cade told me, his hard face turning soft.

Brock, the tall and equally menacing blond biker covered in tattoos, had the same soft look on his face. They were being patient and kind with me. Even though I guessed they were furious. I smiled at them. They were good people.