Stitch: Satan's Fury MC (5 page)

As soon as I parked the car in the driveway, I turned to him and asked, “Can Momma get a hug?”

Without answering, he reached over, slipped his arms around my neck and squeezed. “Love you, Momma.”

Still holding him tight, I said, “Wyatt… you have bruises on your arms.”

Looking down at the bruises, he pulled away from our embrace and said, “It’s not that bad, Momma.”

“I’m a little worried about it. Can I take a picture of them? I just want to make sure it doesn’t get any worse,” I asked, as I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone.

“Okay,” he answered, holding out his arms for me. As soon as I took a couple of pictures, he jumped out of the car and ran towards the front door. I looked down at my phone to make sure the pictures were clear, knowing I’d need the evidence if I wanted to keep Michael away from Wyatt. Once we were inside, Wyatt spent a half an hour playing his game, then he informed me that it was time for his shower. After I got him situated, I decided to call Mrs. Daniels. I wanted to see how her husband was doing and let her know what had happened with Michael.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hi. It’s Wren. I just wanted to call and see how your husband was doing.”

“He’s going to be fine, dear. He had one of his spells with his blood sugar, but they were able to stabilize him.”

“I’m glad he’s going to be okay. Do the doctors know why it happened?”

“His diet. The man is so damn stubborn. I’ve been telling him to watch what he’s been eating for weeks, but he just wouldn’t listen to me. Always sneaking little treats behind my back. Now, he won’t have a choice,” she explained.

“Well, hopefully he learned his lesson today,” I said teasingly.

“Doubt it. He’ll never learn,” she laughed. “I’m just sorry that I had to leave Wyatt like I did. I was just getting ready to call you. Was everything okay with Wyatt when you got there?”

“
No
… it wasn’t. I’m still not exactly sure what happened, but Wyatt ended up running away from Michael’s house.”

“What do you mean he ran away?” she shrilled.

“Something happened with Michael. I can’t get Wyatt to tell me what happened, but it was bad enough to make him run away. I found him at the diner a few blocks away from Michael’s house. He seemed okay, but he has some pretty big bruises on his arm,” I told her.

“What kind of bruises?” she asked.

“It looks like Michael may have grabbed him, but I’m only guessing. I hate that he won’t tell me what happened.”

“Wyatt’s a smart boy. I’m sure he’s just scared, but he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. Just give it a little time,” she said, trying to reassure me.

“It’s just so hard. I feel so guilty… like this whole thing is all my fault,” I started. After wiping the tears from my eyes, I continued, “I’m his mother! It’s my job to protect him from things like this,” I sobbed.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Wren. None of this is your fault. It’s an awful situation, but you’ve managed to make the best of it.”

“I just hate that Wyatt has to go over there at all. I’ve got to do something.”

“One thing at a time, Wren. First, you’ve got to get Wyatt to talk about what happened there tonight.”

“I’m not sure how to do that. He tends to keep everything bottled up inside, especially when he thinks it’s something that will upset me.”

“Is there someone else he could talk to? Someone that he trusts?” she questioned.

“He might talk to Jenny, his behavioral therapist. She’s been amazing with him. She’s the only person I can think of that might be able to get him to open up. I’ll tell her what happened and see what she can do.”

“Good, I think that’s a great idea. I’ll go into the office tomorrow and file an incident report on what happened tonight. The judge won’t be happy about this at all. Hopefully, we can get the visitation suspended or, at the very least, reduced,” she explained.

“And I took pictures in case you need them.”

“Good. Absolutely, send them to me as soon as you can.”

“I’ll do it now. Thank you for everything. You’ve been a godsend to me and to Wyatt.”

“Oh, Wren… try not to worry, OK? You’re a wonderful mother, and Wyatt’s so lucky to have you as his mom.”

Just as I was hanging up the phone, Wyatt darted out of the bathroom, running across the hall as he held a towel around his waist. Once he made it to his bedroom, I gave him a few minutes to get dressed before I went to his room to tuck him in. He was already under the covers when I walked in.

“Did you brush your teeth?” I asked.

“Yep, and I hung up my towel,” he proudly responded.

“Well, look at you being all grown up.”

“When I get older, I’m going to get a Dive tattoo, and I’m gonna have a beard. A big one.”

“Is that right?” I smiled. His eyes sparkled with wonder, and I knew that he was thinking about the biker from the diner. I couldn’t believe after everything he’d been through tonight, he ended up at a table eating with a guy from some motorcycle gang. He was the toughest looking guy I’d ever seen, and he was looking after my child! Surprisingly enough, he didn’t frighten me or Wyatt. I thought back to the moment his hand met mine, and I gently brushed the tips of my fingers over my palm, trying to hold onto the memory of his touch. There was something comforting about his presence that I didn’t understand. I should’ve been scared that he might do something to hurt Wyatt or me, but I just didn’t feel that way at all. After my experience with Michael, I’d learned what danger directed at me felt like, and I didn’t get those feelings from Griffin.

“And I want a leather jacket like Griffin’s.”

“Yeah, his jacket was pretty cool. So how exactly did you end up meeting Griffin?” I asked curiously.

“I was waiting for you outside the diner. He saw me when he drove up, so he came over and waited with me. Then he got hungry and asked if I wanted a cheeseburger. I told him no. Then he said they had chicken nuggets,” he explained.

“Chicken nuggets are your favorite.” I couldn’t believe that this complete stranger went out of his way to make sure Wyatt was safe. I couldn’t imagine what he must have been thinking, waiting out there with such a young child at night.

“Yeah. And they were really good. We should go eat there again tomorrow night,” he said with a bright smile.

“We’ll definitely go back.”

“Maybe Griffin will be there,” he said optimistically.

“Yeah, you never know. Either way, it was really nice of him to stay there with you. I wish there was something I could do to thank him.”

“You could make him one of your pecan pies like you made for the neighbor when she watered your plants.”

“Maybe so,” I told him, even as I knew there was very little chance of that happening. I didn’t know anything about the man, and I knew it was unlikely that I would ever see him again.

“Night momma,” Wyatt whispered as he turned to his side.

“Night sweetheart.” I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss before heading back to my room. With my mind still racing over everything that had happened tonight, I slipped into my bed. Just as I was turning off my bedside light, I heard the sound of a motorcycle engine roar to life outside my window. I almost got up to check, but decided my mind had to be playing tricks on me.

Stitch

‡

I
was late.
Cotton was expecting me hours ago, but my little detour set me back. My mind should’ve been focused on the club and everything that I’d found out from Victor, but I couldn’t get them out of my head, either of them. That worried look on Wren’s face was burned into my memory, making it impossible for me to forget her. It reminded me of Emerson and my grandmother when I was being dragged to the barn.

I thought if I just followed them home and made sure they were safe, that I’d be able to let it go. Unfortunately, being there only fueled my need to know more about them. I watched them walk into that little house, half the size of my own, and I found myself wondering what they were doing inside those walls. I’m not sure what compelled me to stay as long as I did, but I couldn’t leave until all the lights were off, and I knew they were safely tucked away in their beds.

When I finally made it back to the clubhouse, Cotton was drinking a beer at the bar. He spotted me coming in the front door and roared, “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Had something I needed to take care of.” I had no intention of explaining where I’d been or what I’d been doing. He’d have all kinds of shit to say if he knew I’d been sitting outside some woman’s house for the past hour, and I didn’t want to hear it.

“From now on, take care of your shit on your own time. The club comes first, and I hate fucking waiting,” he scolded.

“Let’s talk in the office,” he ordered as he stood up to leave. I reached into the cooler, grabbed myself a beer and followed him down the hall.

After shutting the door behind us, he went over to his desk and sat down, pulling his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. As soon as my ass hit the seat, Cotton snapped, “Tell me.”

“There’s more of them holed up at one of the warehouses at Port Angeles Mill.”

“How many?” he asked while lighting his cigarette.

“Three or four. Maybe more. He said they’d been gathering intel on us for weeks, could be longer,” I clarified. “Everything’s on some computer in the warehouse.”

“Gonna need to see what they’ve got.”

“Absolutely. Victor’s disappearance is going to have ramifications, as well. They’ll know something’s up.”

“We’ll need to make a move before they have a chance to get back up. Plan to head out before daybreak. I’ll call in Guardrail and Maverick.”

“Won’t need ’em,” I clipped.

“Maybe not, but they’re going with you along with a couple of the prospects,” he said. Even though I knew it would be easier to go in alone, I also knew better than to try to argue that point with him.

“Ready to bring these motherfuckers down, Prez. No dicking around. They’re already making plans to start distribution.”

“Yeah, well… they’ll have to get through the club and you first,” he snickered. He was right about that. Cotton knew that I would do whatever it took to protect the club and my brothers, and I intended to do just that.

“I need some shut eye before we leave. I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” I told him.

When I left his office, I went straight to Big Mike’s room. It was late, but I knew he’d be up. He was always working on something. Hacking, rerouting, I don’t even know what the hell he does in that room, but he’s a genius with a keyboard. Big Mike just had a way with computers that I couldn’t even begin to understand, so I knew he’d be able to help me without drawing any unnecessary attention.

My knuckles had barely made contact with the door, when he shouted, “Yeah?”

When I opened the door, he was sitting at his computer, feverously typing away. His fingers froze as he watched me walk into the room. “Need you to do something for me.”

“Whatcha got?” he asked, turning his chair from his computer to face me.

“Not much for you to go on. Just an address and two first names. I’d say the woman’s in her late-twenties. She goes by Wren, and she’s got a young boy that’s probably seven or eight named Wyatt.” I told him as I handed him the scrap of paper. “Need everything you can find on them.”

“You need it now?” he asked, rubbing his red eyes.

“Next few days will do.”

I didn’t wait for a response as I turned to leave. I got on my bike, and even though I only had a few hours till I had to meet back up with my brothers, I took the long way home. I needed some time to clear my head. It was one of those times that I needed all my focus to be on my club. But seeing the bruises on that kid’s arms brought back an onslaught of memories that I just couldn’t ignore. I remembered how it felt to be afraid all the time, living in a constant state of dread and the pain. God, I’d never forget the pain. There were times when I wondered what my life would’ve been like if someone had been there to put a stop to it, to end the hell that I was living through, but there was no one. Nobody had ever come to my rescue.

I laid down on my sofa in an attempt to catch a few hours of sleep, but it was utterly useless. Every time I closed my eyes, they were there – my grandfather’s cold, glaring eyes. The kid with the red tennis shoes, arms all bruised up and his mother’s pretty but worried face. And that damn leather strap. The memories all ran together. I couldn’t get away from it, so after a restless few hours of tossing and turning, I gave up and checked the clock. Seeing that it was just before dawn, I pulled myself out of bed and headed to the clubhouse. When I drove through the gate, just like Cotton had ordered, Maverick and Guardrail were waiting for me with two prospects. Guardrail had chosen to take Two Bit and Q’ with us. He’d chosen well. Not only were they were loyal to the club, they were close to being patched in. They could be trusted, and it didn’t hurt that they both could make a clean shot. We’d need them if things got heated, and it would be a good opportunity to see if they really had what it took to become a brother.

Without turning off my bike, I told them, “Let’s get this thing done.”