Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (10 page)

I blink rapidly trying to lift the fog from the edges of my vision, which is not easy. I also attempt to maneuver myself off his lap where I’m seated straddling his firm thighs. I don’t know what to tell him, that’s why I need space. How do I make him understand that is exactly what I don’t want? I don’t want him to feel obligated to take care of my problems. How do I calm the tidal wave of emotions flitting across his face? I should have had answers on hand for when this day came, because regardless of how close to the vest I played it, I knew it would indeed come. I didn’t though. I didn’t have any answers for him that I thought would be remotely good enough.

Staring into his beautiful green eyes taking in all the beauty that is him, I reply quietly.

“I didn’t tell you because it’s dirty, ugly, and shameful. I hate that it happened, and I was ever so trusting to put myself in the position that it could. I despise everything about that man, but there was nothing I could do to change…”

“Yes, you fucking could have. You could have told your man and he’d have sorted it. I mightn’t have been able to take away your pain, Tilly, but I could sure as fuck have made his life a hell of a lot more painful than the one he’s been living, free and clear.”

Yes, he could have done that, and I know he would have given the chance. But the reality is, Demon is still Devil’s Spawn. That means retribution in any form would need to be decided on by the whole club, and that was something I couldn’t handle. I didn’t want people knowing what happened to me. Most of all I didn’t want my dad, Demon’s biological brother, knowing what he’d done all those years ago. I wanted it left alone. I wanted it dead and buried getting the air time it deserved, which was none.

“He’s a brother, Saint. In another chapter sure, but he’s a brother nonetheless. There isn’t anything anyone could have…”

“You don’t think if I’d taken this shit to Priest he wouldn’t have been all over it. Fucking hell, Tilly,” he exclaims throwing an arm in the air. “Priest would’ve had him ripped the fuck apart
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his brothers as punishment for what he did to you. No one hurts women and gets away with it. Least of all women that are part of our family. You know that, and you know I’d never let a man get away with hurting you without seeking vengeance for it too.”

Saint’s anger rolls through the room consuming all the air in its path. The small space is thick with the vicious rage he’s projecting.

“I know that too,” I reply sadly. “That was one of the reasons for me not telling you. Do you really think someone like me would want the club knowing? Uncle Priest knowing? I don’t think so,” I say shaking my head.

Attempting yet again to move off his lap, I’m met with two solid bands of iron in the form of muscle wrapping around my waist, keeping me firmly in place.

“I get that. I really do, baby, but that doesn’t change the facts. You should’ve trusted that I’d make this right for you, in all the ways I could. If that meant I had to hunt his sick fucking ass down on my own, without the club taking my back, I would have. If that meant I needed to tell the club some, not all just some, so I had them ride with me, I’d have done that too. All roads might end with me killing the bastard, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have listened to you. Taken your input on it, or discussed it with you before acting.”

I believe him too, because Saint is known for thinking things through. He’s not rash with his judgements. He doesn’t make decisions without exploring all the options. Often the club approaches him to help iron out the details in situations could be potentially volatile. Where I disagree with him is when he said he’d accept my input. I’m well aware he’d listen, but if I didn’t agree with his way of handling it he’d try to convince me to come around to his way of thinking, or do what he wanted anyway. Either way, I was getting fucked. I submitted to his ridiculous alpha-biker demands, or I took a stand and he blatantly ignored me.

“Mmhmm, sure you would’ve. Would this be before, or after you killed him?” I say rolling my eyes.

With a swift slap to my backside, the first hint of a grin spreads across my husbands’ face.

“You better stop rolling those pretty, chocolate eyes at me, babe. We’re having a serious conversation here, and we’ve got more ground to cover before I let your sweet ass off my lap.”

“What more is there to discuss?” I enquire anxiously. “Because I was kind of hoping we were all done for today.”

He knows my methods of coping, the way I check out on him. Squeezing the outside of my hips he brings my focus back to him, and him alone, easily.

“Tilly, there’s more to it than that, and I know you know that. I wouldn’t have come storming over here speaking that motherfuckers name in our house if there wasn’t.”

Again, he’s right. I do know he wouldn’t risk my reaction unless there was a lot more to this story. Sighing heavily I nod saying

“Just make it quick. Like pulling off a Band-Aid.”

“I got word from, Priest that Demon’s coming back into town the day after tomorrow. He wants his patch back. Shit went down in Montana. Nasty shit. Shit not completely unlike yours. He hurt a girl, Tilly. Laid her up in the hospital it was that bad.” He spits nostrils flaring, and the pulse point at the base of his neck is pounding a furious rhythm.

While I’m busy trying to comprehend what he just said he adds more wood to the fire.

“Priest knows, babe. He hasn’t known for long, and he’s giving me this time to talk to you before I’ve got to report back with where we’re going from here.” Moving his hands from my hips, Saint grips my biceps holding me firmly in place. “I can’t stop him from coming to, Blackwater, sweetheart, but I can stop him from ever wanting to come back five minutes after he crosses the county line. Grimm is aware he’s headed this way, and has offered his support whichever way we wanna go with this, but babe, I’ve got to have your take on it. If I keep this shit between Priest and I, Demon could very well rally enough support from the other brothers to take his patch to vote regardless of him not deserving it back. Not to mention that shit is going to look suspect seeing as Priest was one of his closest friends back in the day. Him all of a sudden casting a ‘nay’ vote is going to draw attention and questions, none of which we can answer if you want to keep this quiet.”

Looking at me with love, support, and compassion in his eyes, Saint strokes my arms gently, waiting for my decision. I come to it quickly, because there’s nothing I can do. I don’t want him here, not even temporarily, but if I don’t let Saint tell the club why, I have no doubt he’s going to be taking up permanent residence here. Knowing this is going to go from bad to worse, I say the most sensible thing I’ve said on the subject to date. I just hope I don’t regret it.

“I think it’s time we talked to my, dad.”

“Money won’t make the pain go away,

but it will pay for a hitman.”

-
        
Rotten eCard

I pushed end call on my cell and did it shaking my head. Saint and my baby girl have been having a rough time of it, and only partially due to his affair with that whore Stacey. There’s so much more going on there it’d take days to document all the shit they have to figure out. That doesn’t mean I’m not silently praying they’ll make it through the other side of it together though, because I absolutely am. The two of them paying me a visit within the hour, a visit I’m told doesn’t include my grandbabies, doesn’t bode well for my prayers however.

Spotting my wife in the kitchen working on some recipe she’s been trying to perfect for the last hour, I gently offer her the suggestion she go see Brenna and commune with her over tequila and donuts for the rest of the day. Sally knows when something’s going down, she’s been my old lady for over forty years after all, so she knows when to make herself scarce. With a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth and a wary smile, she leaves just in time to see Saint pulling into the driveway with my baby on the back of his bike.

As a father, it still fucking kills me to see my tender-hearted little girl shacked up with a man like Saint. But over the years he’s proved to be a devoted husband and father, even if he was stepping out on my girl. No matter, that’s something I took care of myself, kicking his ass more than once for his fuck ups. Any man that can take a beating like the one I gave him, stand up, spit out a couple of teeth, look me in the eye and tell me to go fuck myself, because he isn’t leaving his wife deserves some respect in my book. Not a whole hell of a lot, but some nonetheless.

Tilly and I had a rough reunion to say the least. I’d be more inclined to describe it as a grudge match with only the one contender if I’m honest about it. Tilly fucking despised me and her Mom when we returned from the “dead”. I don’t blame her for her reaction, anyone in her position would’ve been shocked, but what she failed to understand or listen to was that we didn’t have a choice. In order to keep her, her Sister, my brothers, and the club safe, Sally and I had to make the hardest decision we’ve ever faced. Leaving your daughters isn’t for the faint of heart, it certainly wasn’t something we took fucking lightly. We went back and forth agonizing over it for so long, that by the time our hand was forced we had little time to pull it off successfully. In the end it went off without a hitch, sure, and it was something I was grateful for, yet heartbroken over at the same time.

Not once when I held my little girls in my arms after they’d been born did I think I’d have to do something so despicable to them. There was nothing I wouldn’t have given to see the beautiful smiles on their faces every day, tuck them in at night, or listen to them fight like cats and dogs, but all of that paled in comparison to keeping them safe. My need to protect them overshadowed everything else. Regardless of what they both thought of me, how hurt they were by my decisions, and how long it took me to win them back, I wouldn’t change what I did for the world. It kept them safe and protected from the woman trafficking bastard we later caught, and that was all that mattered. In my eyes everything else could be solved, but losing them to a fucking psychopath like the one we were track was unacceptable.

Watching Saint help my girl dismount his bike, it’s hard not to notice the love he has for her. When it boils right down to it, I couldn’t have picked a better man to have her back. They’ve got their problems like any married couple, maybe a few more than deemed normal, but I truly believe they can get through this shit if they both want to.

Signaling them to follow me, I lead them into my office where we can get whatever they want to discuss over and done with. It comfortable, private, and I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need both for whatever they’ve got to say. Sitting behind my desk I gesture for them to sit wherever they want, and I can’t help notice Tilly positioning her chair as close to her husband as possible without actually sitting on his lap. Hmm…something’s definitely changed there in the last twenty-four hours I muse.

“Well, you’re here, I’m here, what is it that’s so urgent we needed to do this now?” I can’t say I’m not curious, but the underlying dread I’m feeling is stronger. I’ve always trusted my gut, and this time my gut and the expressions on their faces aren’t doing anything to assuage my fears.

“Tilly’s got shit she needs to tell you. It’s been a long time coming, and I’m telling you now you’re going to lose your fucking mind when you hear it. But I need you to lock that shit down and listen to us before you go off half-cocked and do anything stupid.”

We’ll see.

“I’m not promising anything until I hear what you’ve got to say. You should know me well enough by now to know that, Son.” I reply cocking an eyebrow at him.

My little girl looks nervous as hell. She’s fidgeting wiping her palms on her jeans, and the whole scene is making me feel more uneasy by the second. Breaking my train of thought, Tilly clears her throat. The look on her face is heartbreaking, and I know in that instant whatever she tells me is going to take all of my self-restraint to abide by Saint’s wishes.

“Did you know Demon had Intermittent Explosive Disorder?” She asks bluntly.

Shaking my head no, I reply,

“What the fuck is that?”

“It pretty much boils down to a person that has repeated violent and aggressive outbursts that could end up hurting themselves or others. They are out of the realm of what’s considered normal for someone suffering from just a simple case of situational anger or rage, and they aren’t easy to manage using traditional drug therapy regimes.” Her voice is still deadly calm. And that’s what’s scaring me the most. Tilly is always animated, happy, sad, or pissed, but never calm.

Did I know for sure there was something wrong with my brother? No. Did I suspect there was though? Fuck yes. You couldn’t be around him without working out he wasn’t completely wired up right. But he’d never hurt anyone and he loved my girls, so who was I to keep an Uncle away from his family, right?

Sighing deeply Tilly explains further.

“I didn’t see the signs when Priss and I were really young. Looking back on it, they didn’t start to surface properly until I was about seven. The research may say the disorder starts to show itself when the person is in their late teens to early twenties, but apparently it can make an appearance any time, especially if the person is suffering from severe emotional or mental duress.” That makes sense, but I’m still failing to see why she’s bringing it up now.

Demon has always been a hothead. He got into more trouble in his last two years at high school than any kid before him, or I’d heard about since. He’d done three stints in juvie by the age of fifteen, and our parents had even considered shipping him off to military school to straighten his ass out as a last resort. I might love my brother, but I’m not blind to his faults. They’re glaring obvious to ignore. You don’t even have to scratch the surface to see them, they’re right there for anyone and everyone to see.

“What are you trying to tell me, Tilly? Demon’s had his problems, sure, but we all have. He’s sorted most of those out over the years though, so what’s this really about?” I enquire gently.

“But he hasn’t, Dad, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Demon hasn’t fixed a damn thing. Leaving Blackwater didn’t do anything to help the disorder I think he’s suffering from. Not to mention, how many times have you heard from him over the years? Seen him? Has he come to visit?” Narrowing my eyes, Tilly stops me before I get the chance to answer her. “You might talk to him on the phone occasionally, but unless you haven’t told me you’ve been to see him it’s been over fifteen years since the last time you two were in the same room, and that’s a long time, Dad. A lot can happen in fifteen years.”

She’s not far off the mark there. I’ve seen my brother once since he took off for parts unknown. We caught up when I was riding through Montana about eighteen months after he’d left, Blackwater. It was a short, uneventful visit with not a lot of conversation from either one of us. We ate, spent a few minutes catching up, and I left. That was the last time I saw him, and I still can’t get my head around why he chosen to be absent for all this time.

It’s not like we were close, not in the way Tank and his brothers are, but we weren’t what I’d call estranged either. We’d been closer when we were younger, until I saw the pain he was causing our Mom and Dad that is, then we started to drift apart. He did his thing, I did mine. We still spent time together don’t get me wrong, it was just more strained when we did, and neither of us enjoyed it.

Crossing my arms across my chest I prod further.

“You’re still not answering my question, sweetheart. What’s going on that we need to talk about your for Uncle all of a sudden? You haven’t mentioned him in years, and now you wanna delve into the deep, dark recesses of that mans’ mind?”

Leaning forward, Saint mirrors my position replying for her.

“You didn’t hear, did you? No one told you the asshole’s coming back to town in a couple of days, did they? He wants his patch back. The brothers will be voting it tomorrow. Not a lot of details floating around about why, but apparently he’s had a come to Jesus moment and wants to come home.”

That’s definitely news to me, not unhappy news but news nonetheless. Like I said, I haven’t seen him in years and we don’t speak often. The tone of the odd conversation we do have is based on generalities, he doesn’t share anything that’s going on with him, and I give him the same courtesy. The truth is, I know less about what’s going on in my brothers’ life than I do some of the prospects for the club.

“It’ll be good to have him home. He shouldn’t have left in the first place, but whatever he had to work through he’s obviously finally done, now it’s time for him to come back home to his family where he belongs.”

A distressed sound escapes my daughter, and has me snapping my head toward her ignoring the scowl on my Son in-laws face. Tears are streaming down her beautiful face and I can’t help wondering, again, what the fuck is going on here. Saint doesn’t waste any time scooping her up and planting her in his lap. Nor does he focus on anything but her until she’s calmed down enough to look at me. One thing I know about my girl when she’s like this is, you do not push her. You push her and she’ll shut down faster than you can blink. Your best bet is to wait patiently for her to get shit straight in her head, and then she’ll talk. Not before she’s ready though.

“I don’t want him here, Dad.” It’s near on a whisper, but I hear her loud and clear.

“Why the hell not?” I growl confused, and honestly a little hurt she’d want to push away a man she’d adored.

“Watch how you talk to my wife old man, or you and I are going to have problems, yeah?”

Kissing his cheek Tilly turns to me again and starts talking. Finally. Maybe now I’ll get an explanation to the odd behavior she’s displaying.

“You remember how much time I used to spend with Demon, right?” At my nod she says, “Mom couldn’t get me from dance class one afternoon, Priss was held up at practice, so she asked Demon to pick me up.” Nodding again, because I remember the exact time she’s talking about, my girl gifts me with a tiny smile before getting back to the point. “He hurt me for the first time that day, Dad. Badly. It may have been the first time, but it wasn’t the last.”

Standing abruptly, pushing back against my desk I snarl,

“Bullshit. He’d never hurt you, Tilly. That man worshiped the ground you girls walked on. You especially.”

Tilly jumps off Saint’s lap and braces her palms on my desk. Her body is vibrating with anger, making me think I’d spoken too hastily.

“This, this right here is why I didn’t tell him, Tobias.” She snaps at her husband.

“Just calm down, babe, and tell him what happened. He still doesn’t believe you after that, we’ll just have to show him, yeah?”

What the fuck are they talking about now? Show me what? I swear, the swings and roundabouts they’re taking me on are making my head spin.

Taking a deep breath Tilly pulls herself together.

“I’m not going to go into detail with you, because it’s pretty evident you’re not going to believe a thing I have to say, so let’s skip to the show and tell portion of the evening, shall we?”

Before I’ve got the opportunity to do anything, Tilly unbuttons her jeans, ripping them down her legs. Staring at her, my mouth gaping I take in the expanse of her upper thighs. Marred with dozens and dozens of thin, partially faded scars, my daughters’ thighs look like a fucking war zone. No two marks are the same, they differ in depth and length, and I know from personal experience being stabbed more than once, they would’ve been horrifically painful when they were inflicted.