Wrath (16 page)

Aidan

Jim Corbett.  Samuel Dawkins.  Elijah Jackson.  I saw their bodies lying there, their eyes lifeless.  Eyes.  Staring at me.  Bigger and bigger until there was nothing left.  Just eyes, the sound of gunfire and roaring flames overwhelming me as I fought to drag myself out, my body straining. 

But no matter how I fought to get free, I couldn’t escape.   

I had lived
…

My body was weightless.  Flames and screams surrounding me.  The pain of my leg reminded me that I, too, was on fire, being charred alive.  I could smell my own burning flesh

I screamed in agony and the sheer horror of knowing slow death was swallowing me whole. 

I shot up out of bed with a start, screaming as dozens of nerves misfired, mistaking a stump for a full leg.  Her hands were there, reaching around me, her palms massaging the knots in my back, traveling down to the meat of my upper thigh.   There, she pressed her thumb, easing the nerve and rubbing along the straining muscles.  Anchoring me to reality.

I bit down on my cries and clung to the edge of the bed, bracing myself as she steadily and silently massaged away the pain.

Just the sight of her drove my demons to the farthest corners of the room to sulk.

My Emma
.

“Shhh.  It’s okay.  You’re here.  In bed.  With me.  At the club.”  She kept saying it over and over again until I reached out for her and tilted her chin up to look me in the eyes.

“I see you.”

We sat there, breathing in the sudden silence, until I made myself ask.  “How long?”  How long had I been caught up in it?

“Ten, fifteen minutes?”  She kissed me softly.

That long?  I gritted my teeth, hitched myself fully upright.  “Did I hurt you?”  I asked brusquely.

“No.  No.  You thrashed a bit, but you didn’t hurt me.” 

Concern and worry filled her eyes, and a wave of shame washed over me, chill and cruel. 

I pushed her away, but she held on even tighter.

“Don’t shut me out.” 

She wasn’t afraid.  She wasn’t pissed.  She was just stubborn, refusing to let go. 

She got it.

I fought to respond to her, express what we both needed to hear.  “I-I won’t.  I won’t push you away.” 

She was a strong woman.  Tough, and steadfast, and exactly what I needed.

I had never realized that I needed to feel understood.  It never would have occurred to me that anyone could understand me.  But somehow, she did.

I laid back down, needing the way she curled her limbs around me.

Fuck, she was so beautiful, her eyes closed and her breathing slowing as she drifted off to sleep.  I laid there for an hour, watching her as the muscles in her face relaxed, liberating her lashes to flutter with each light breath.  Every twitch of her body left me alert. 

I wrapped her hand in mine and placed it on my chest.  I had to keep this woman safe.  I had to protect her.

It was time to tell Rage about the man stalking Emma.  I worried for her every time she was out of my sight, but I could not be there twenty-four seven.  As much as we might try, life didn’t work like that.

We needed the club’s help.

Emma

“What forms the ankle mor- mortise?”  Layla asked.  Her tongue stumbled over the last word on the flashcard.  Each time she said it, it came out mangled, like her mouth was sure it ought to be saying ‘tortoise’ instead. 

I wanted to giggle, but Layla had been working with me all afternoon, helping me memorize anatomy for my finals.  I needed her help.  And I genuinely didn’t want to insult her.  She was pretty cool.

Layla eyed the notecard with narrow eyes, then smiled at me.  “I’m never going to learn this shit,” she said ruefully.  “But you will.  You know this.”

“Ha, well, I don’t get accounting, so let’s call that even.”   I smiled at her.  She seemed to like that.

“Distal tibia, fibula, and….talus.”   I rattled off the vital bits, visualizing their locations on the human body.  It was vital I understand not only what they were called and where they were in the body, but also how they functioned.  For me, massage was intuitive, but identifying a serious medical issue?  That was what differentiated a back rub from physical therapy.

Layla laughed at the Latin and waved the cards at me.  “Awesome, I assume that is what these words are?”  She pointed to the back of one of the cards and I nodded. 

We were sitting at the bar, so I could clean it up while I studied.  I liked to stay busy anyhow, and doing something with my hands helped me figure things out.

Layla set the cards on the counter and stretched, looking around the room.

“I don’t know why you are so worried.  You haven’t missed a card yet.”

I was worried because I got a ‘C’ on my last test.  The one I didn’t have the study guide for. 

I wasn’t used to getting C’s.  It had frustrated me, woke me up.  Some people didn’t like school, but they still had something that mattered to them, something that, if they didn’t do it right, it bugged them.  We all had our thing.

For me, that ‘thing’ was my grades.  Getting that C had made me determined to get it right next time.

I didn’t know how to explain all of that to Layla though, so I just smiled.

“I can’t get below a B in the class,” I said.  “If I do, I’ll lose my scholarship.” 

I was already in danger of a C in the class, and I knew it.  I couldn’t imagine the semester without Aidan, but he had been a distraction.  I knew I needed to get my head on straight for classes, or I’d resent him later – and myself.  It wasn’t as simple as a failed semester, either.  If I lost my scholarship I’d have to leave the school all together.  That would be a pretty serious bruise on our relationship. 

It would also piss me off like nobody’s business.

What was the point of working all these years in shitty ass bars if I had to drop out of school now when I was so close?  I couldn’t think about that.  My only real goal was to get through school then figure out my next steps.  Working at the bar was a part of that goal.  There was plenty in life that went to hell, but college was something that I actually could control.  Focus on.

Layla’s lips had turned wry and her eyes humored me, as if I was a child asking about the monster in my closet.  “You are going to do fine, why are you so worried?”

My answer was serious.  “This shit, with Samuel, and the bar, and the club.  It is taking up a lot of my time, you know?  I can’t always be there for school if I am always afraid whenever I turn around.  I’m not just being paranoid.  You don’t know Samuel.  He is the definition of a creeper.  He just fixates on a woman and he wears her down.”  I had watched him do it to my mother.  Her disease had made it easier for him to do it, which was why he had picked her.  Once he had her off her meds, he had ground her into the dirt.  He hadn’t been happy unless she was broken at his feet, desperate for that fix. 

He’d have a harder time breaking me, but I was scared of him all the same.  Men like that were sick.  They didn’t care about anyone but themselves, what they could make other people do.

“I have to go everywhere knowing he might be right behind me, ready to grab me.  It’s awful.” 

The man was like a leech.  I couldn’t stand the thought of him actually latching onto me.

“If it is that serious –” Layla started.

I shut her down.  I wanted her to understand, but she couldn’t fix this.  None of them could.

“No, I already told Aidan.  I don’t want any club involvement.  Nothing.  I can handle this on my own.”

“You sure about that?”  Katrina had come over.  She looked annoyed and I realized why as she threw down a postcard on the bar.  “I got this in the mail today.  Funny, how he sent it here now.  Little shit must know you’re working.”

A chill swept through my limbs, but I focused on shining the glasses.  I wasn’t about to show how badly he scared me.

As for Kat, she was concerned, but mostly she was just pissed.

“First the rat.  Now this,” she snapped.  “How long has this been going on?”

I sighed, avoiding the question.  “What does this one say?”

“
Mommy can’t save you
.” 

I frowned.  This shit was getting out of hand.

How in the hell did he know I visited my mom?  Did she tell him?  I wondered if the institute would escort him out if he showed up.  They tended to protect the patients.  If my mother seemed afraid of him…?

But would she be afraid of him?  Or would she shudder, remembering the phantom rush of the old drugs?  Would she tell him what he wanted to know, hoping he’d hook her up again when she got out?

No.  No… I believed her.  I had to.

He had to be following me. 

I had hoped he was just hovering around from time to time.  But he knew what days I was working and when I was going to be at school.  And that I was visiting my mother.

Was he in the bar now?  I searched around, seeing nothing but our familiar early afternoon clientele. 

I let out a sigh of relief.

Kat’s no nonsense tone brought me back to reality.  “I don’t care what you want, Emma.  We are done playing around.  This is a club issue now, you get it?” 

“I don’t want to force this shit on all of you.  Besides who says Rage is even willing to help?” 

Why would Fire and Steel do anything for a girl like me, one they barely knew?

Layla’s eyes were brighter than usual, and determined.  “
I
do.  You’re part of the club.  Because of Katrina.  Because of Aidan.”

I swallowed. 

“Do you really want to put him in danger too?  You know he’ll stand in front of a bullet for you.  Let us help.” 

Layla was so good at reading situations.  It was why were already so close.

I nodded.  She was right.  I needed to be realistic about the situation.  Samuel needed to be dealt with.  And I could use the help.  I just didn’t like the idea of dragging everyone into this.  What if Samuel hung back?  Waited until everyone got impatient with me?  I knew bringing other people in would make things harder later if he got ahold of me…

I looked at Layla.  She was steady and dead serious.  And Kat wasn’t going to back down.  Not for a second.  I could fight them for another hour and give in, or accept their help now and start planning what we were going to do.

“Yes.  Let’s get this done.”

Never let anyone tell you three ladies can’t come up with a great plan.

Aidan

“We need to talk.” 

I hated hearing those words.  I hated them.  When they came from the voice of my MC President I hated them even more. 

What the fuck was it now?

I hadn’t been expecting to find Rage sitting on top of his wife’s desk when I came into the office. 

I had needed to ask about next week’s hours, but he was there, swirling a glass of bourbon in one hand, Thrash and Mick on either side of him.  Layla stood behind them, her hand on the back of the office chair.  She looked more worried than upset, and that made me even more uncomfortable.

“What the fuck?”  I asked, my blood running cold.  I wasn’t about to hold on to my patience when they were all standing there, staring at me. 

My blood ran cold.

It had to be about the screams in the night.  I’d been staying at the club for a couple of days now, and they all ended up the same.  With me shooting straight up in bed, screaming.  That shit seemed fucking crazy to anyone who didn’t get it. 

That had to be what it was about.

I’d been a mess ever since I got here.  Except the night Emma was there.  She calmed me down quickly.  There was no fog, no haze, when she was around.

No ghosts to choke me.

“Look, if it’s about the noise, there’s –”

Mick held up his hand.  “It ain’t about that son.  We get it.”

I stumbled over my words, trying to understand.  “Then… what?  What is it?” 

I sat down in one of the steel chairs across from Emma’s desk.  Layla set a postcard carefully on the desk.  It read:

Your mommy can’t save you.

“The fuck is this?”  I asked as I turned it over.  The picture on the front was of Warren, PA.  It was a postcard from their historical society.

Thrash crossed his arms.  “According to Kat, your girlfriend’s got an admirer.  One that’s been sending her dead rats and shit.”  He looked me over.  “You know anything about that?”

“Just what she told me.  It’s a fucking shit show.  Her momma’s old pimp or some shit.”  I didn’t realize he was still bothering her.  I mean I knew it could get ugly, but… this was bad.  She’d been ignoring him.  I’d hoped that would help, but luck wasn’t in our favor on this one.

The fucker wasn’t backing off.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, we need to do something about it,” Rage said, his voice even.

“You’re willing to help?”

“Of course.  She’s your girl, ain’t she?” 

I nodded.  I hadn’t exactly claimed her, but no one else touched her either.  We all knew the rule.  A woman was claimed, you let her be.  There was also the one about leaving the lady along if she pulled a gun on you, but that wasn’t relevant anymore.  Emma had chosen me.  And I was going to protect her.

“And she’s Kat’s family,” Layla added quietly.  “So she’s family to us.  Who is this guy?” 

I knew she could have a mouth on her when she felt like it, but seriously, the woman didn’t even have to curse to hold the room’s attention. 

I sat up straighter and explained everything I knew.  “Some asshole named Samuel.  I don’t know much about him, except he used to deal heroin and pimped her mother out.”  Emma told me enough to know that the situation had been ugly.

Thrash looked disappointed.  “We need a little more to go on.  A name, a description.  Something.” 

“And we have more shit coming down the pipes,” Rage added, eyeing me steadily.  “We have to honor our word.  That means we will be distracted during runs.  If this guy is watching us, your girl will be vulnerable during those times.”

“More shit…” I muttered.  I’d known there was stuff going on with the Irish Mob for a while, but I hadn’t realized it might monopolize my time that badly.  I needed more details.

Rage’s eyes were grim.  “We’re going to be up to our necks in shit for a good long time, Wrath.  You sure you want in?” 

I shook my head and said, “I’m sure.”  I still wasn’t wearing a patch, but I was here and I was willing.

“You motherfuckers are the only real thing I’ve come across since I’ve been home.  I ain’t going to go on and on about how you are my brothers and shit, but you honor your word and you don’t back out when things get hard.  I got your back.”

Thrash nodded.  “Then here it is. We’ve got a fucking raid to deal with.”

“Of the club?  When?”  I asked.  I didn’t like the idea that we were under attack.

“Not our club, man.  Some motherfuckers are messing with one of our… sponsors.  Strike and his crew found some of  the bastards who were stealing his stash.  Came to me about it last night.  We’ll be going in on a raid of the place, probably within the week.”

“When?”

“Not sure.  When Strike gives the word.  Soon.”  Rage’s face was grim.

Mick coughed, a faint grin on his weathered face.  “You motherfuckers get all the fun.”

“Today?”  I asked, already determined to go pick Emma up.  We’d figure something out, but I needed to see her, know she was all right. I needed to bring her back to the clubhouse where she would be safe.

“Might be.  Might be tomorrow or next week.  We don’t know yet.”  Thrash answered.  “You in?”

“You don’t even need to ask.”

“Good, you get more information on Emma’s ‘admirer.’ We’ll let you know when shit is coming down.”  “We’ll need you to check the bikes during spare time.  Make sure we’re in peak condition,” said Rage.  “You’ll be back to do that?”

I nodded.

My blood pumped harder and my brain cleared. 

Chaos brought out the calm in me.

“Emma can stay here,” Layla said as she led me out. 

I glanced down at her and nodded absently.  I’d already intended to bring her back, but it was good to
know
I wouldn’t have to fight the MC to keep her here.  They got it that she was important to me, but having Rage’s ol’ lady’s welcome on the matter made everything a sure thing.

Now I just had to convince Emma.