Birds of Hell MC, page 17
I snort and grab some turkey and cheese to make a sandwich. I could eat cardboard, I’m so hungry. “You had Yara scare me half to death and rush me back here so we could have this heart to heart. I’m so glad you got that off your chest.”
“No. I’ve been staying around here and spending time with my boys. Your father. Yara and her sweet twins. I didn’t bring you back for selfish reasons.”
“What about Olivia and Emma? Where are they? Did you run out on them too?”
“That’s complicated.”
“It always is with you.”
“I’ve also been around to observe Fisher.”
I slap the meat on the rye bread. “What would you know about Fisher?”
“I know that he loves you.”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough. Isn’t that what you taught me?”
“He needs a friend.”
“He’s got friends.”
“The girl he was dating was murdered.”
“What?” I drop the butter knife I’d grabbed to spread the honey mustard on my bread.
“Hillary Combs was found last week with her throat slit. Same as that other girl.”
“Do they know who did it?”
My mother shakes her head. “No and they know it wasn’t Fisher, but he blames himself.”
I slap my sandwich together and the moment I swallow a bite, my stomach rolls. “Oh god.” I cup a palm over my mouth.
“What?”
I run to the trash can and spit. Then I gag.
I hear my mother pilfering with the turkey and giving it sniff. “There’s nothing wrong with this. The date is still good. I was the same way when I was pregnant with you.” She pauses and my blood runs cold.
I can’t be pregnant…can I?
Chapter Fourteen
Freya’s back. I don’t know how or why, but all that matters is that she’s here beautiful as ever. I’ve been waiting to get her alone since she arrived but she’s with her mom. As bad as I want to storm into the kitchen, sling her over my shoulder like a caveman, and never let her go, I know she needs to mend her relationship with Cate.
Every girl needs her mother even if she’s grown.
I’m not so selfish that I can’t wait a little longer. After that scene with Hillary at the theater she disappeared. Had the whole town out looking for her. Last I saw her she had ran to the bathroom at the movies. Her parents said she never came home after I picked her up. Of course, with my reputation that meant I must’ve killed her and buried her in a shallow grave.
Personally, I figured she was hiding out. Afraid of her daddy’s wrath for whatever reason. Everyone has secrets and now I know Hillary’s shame. When she was fifteen, she got pregnant. Went off to stay with an aunt to have an abortion. They told everyone she was gone to a church camp, volunteering as a youth leader. Not many people knew that about her including me until it came up during interrogation. I’ve cooperated with investigators every step of the way.
Her body was discovered last week. Someone had laid her out on the church steps naked with the word murderer carved into her forehead. The public doesn’t know that last bit.
There’s a serial killer in Hell targeting women.
I’m the lucky bastard to have had a relationship with both victims. So far, I’m the only thing they have in common. I haven’t ascertained if it’s a coincidence or on purpose. I gave a DNA sample and offered to take a polygraph against the club’s new lawyer’s wishes.
They executed a search warrant on the apartment I had shared with Freya though I moved out and into the Crow’s Nest. All they found was a little weed and some pills. Petty personal use shit. They didn’t find anything to link me or any of the brothers to either crime.
I know that they put an executive rush on the DNA testing, but the results haven’t come in yet. I never had sex with Hillary. I told them we had barely kissed. Girl was scared of her own shadow. Whoever murdered her and April fucked them both. April was a willing participant. Hillary was not and that guts me for her.
She was a sweet girl, and I’m kicking myself for being such a rotten bastard. Had I went ahead and driven her home she might still be alive.
Deep down, I know what happened to her isn’t on me, and yet I carry the weight of the pain she suffered on my shoulders. I can commiserate with Death in that respect. He carries his son’s tragic end on his as well.
I’ve been through that night at the movies in my head and with the detectives a million times trying to remember who I saw. If anyone was behaving oddly. I can’t come up with one description. One name. It's all a blur.
I came here after. Fucked around playing pool with Pickle. Crow turned over surveillance footage proving I arrived alone. Heard from our lawyer that they spotted Hillary walking out of the movies alone on the drug store camera feed across the street.
No one knows who she met up with. They are still waiting on her cell phone records and other shit.
I think her father finally believes it wasn’t me. Her mother told me I was welcome at the funeral as long as I kept to the back of the church. The service is tomorrow. I haven’t made a decision on whether or not I’ll attend. I want to pay my respects but don’t want to cause a scene. People around here love to have my name in their mouths.
I spy Cate exiting the kitchen. Freya follows after her and I push back my chair. There’s no way she’s leaving without having a conversation with me.
Looks like she’s got the same idea because she’s strutting toward me.
“Can I talk to you? In private.”
I see Death watching us and I shoot him a one finger salute. Asshole.
“Been staying in one of the cabins. We can go there.”
“You moved out of the apartment?”
“Was time. Crow and I took care of the lease so don’t worry about that shit. It won’t show up on your credit report or whatever. We paid the early termination fees.”
“I appreciate that.” She glances at my beer bottle. “Thought you weren’t supposed to drink.”
“Only took a few sips. I don’t know why but having the cold bottle in front of me is a form of therapy. Gives me comfort. Pathetic, huh?”
“Whatever gets you through. I’m really sorry to hear about Hillary.”
I shrug. “Is what it is.” I start walking and Freya follows me out.
I take her to my cabin. Was a rebuild and more modern than some of the others. The old one burnt down. Crazy fucking story. One of the brothers before my time murdered his wife there and burnt their cabin down. Burned himself alive. Couldn’t live with her. Couldn’t live without her.
A fucked-up part of me understands how a man could be driven to the brink of insanity by love.
Like Freya and me. I don’t want to be without her and yet I don’t know if there’s been too much damage between us to try again. I love her but at times I question if it will ever be enough.
“You live here?” Freya has this horrified expression on her face.
“What about it?”
“Nothing.” Guilt lurks behind her eyes.
My stomach drops to my fucking feet as I watch the different emotions move over her face.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I…”
“You fucked him here.”
“Fisher.”
“Been laying in the fucking bed you fucked another man in.” I close my eyes as tears burn in the creases. “Fuck. God damn it. Why don’t you just reach into my chest and rip my fucking heart out?” I don’t know why it’s all hitting me now. I thought I’d made my peace with the fact she fucked him but thinking of the two of them here together burns me up.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry we keep hurting each other.” She goes to touch my arm and I jerk from her hand.
“Say whatever it is you need to say then get the fuck out.”
“Fisher, you knew I’ve been with him. Why are you so mad at me?”
“I don’t know but I’m finding it really hard to look at you right now.”
The last thing I expect to hear from her mouth flies out, “I think I could be pregnant.”
I drop to the couch then jump back up. I don’t know where they fucked in here or how many times. Now my space is tainted. “Is it mine or Death’s? Or is it that preppy fuck?”
“I never slept with Justin.”
“Did you fuck anyone else? How many guys, Freya? How many people did you fuck behind my back? While I was laying in a jail cell dreaming of the life I wanted to give you, you were out here fucking Death. Did you fuck him before you left town?”
Freya jerks as though I slapped her with my question. “No. You’re the last person I slept with. I don’t want to lie to you. I slept with Death the night you were released, but not since.”
“You fuck him without a rubber like you did me? What is this bullshit? He wouldn’t leave his wife, so you fuck me to pass his kid off to me. That it? I showed up and was a convenient option to solve your little problem.”
“What? No. I love you, Fisher.”
“This ain’t love. You don’t know how to love anyone but your fucking self. Blaming Mommy for all your problems. Look in the fucking mirror, Freya.”
“That’s cold.”
“Cold as your heart, babe. Had a good girl and I treated her like shit because I was hung up on my Freya. Now she’s dead. I picked a fight with her, so she’d end things. Since I was too much of a coward to tell her the truth. That I’ll never love another woman the way I love you. Then you show up here to tell me that you might be pregnant. Could be mine. Could be your fuck buddy’s. And you have the nerve to stand here, look me straight in the eye and lie to me. You don’t love me. You can’t. You don’t even know how to love.”
Freya drops to her knees on a sob. “I’m sorry.” She stares up at me, filled with remorse, but I don’t give a fuck.
Something inside of me has snapped, and I know I need to reign my temper in. But the thought of any other man’s baby growing inside her makes me want to kill someone.
“Save your tears for Death. If you can get him to pull his dick out of a whore long enough to listen.”
“Fisher, please. Don’t be angry with me.”
I crouch, getting eye level with her. I grip her chin as her tears fall. “I wanted to give you the world. All I wanted was your love. Your devotion. Your loyalty.”
“I fucked up.”
“Yeah, babe. You did.”
“I do love you.” She loops her arms around my neck.
“Stop.” I tug on her arms, but she won’t let go.
“I love you, Fisher. Tell me you love me.”
“I do love you, Freya. But you break my God damn heart.”
Her lips press to mine. The salt of her tears hits my tongue as I return her bittersweet kiss. Her mouth moves against mine, hungry and desperate as she clings to me. I press on her shoulders and close my mouth to her.
One of us has to stop this.
“No,” she whispers. “Fisher.”
“Babe. We can’t go on like this.”
“I’ll do better. I swear. I’ll never speak to Death again. I promise.”
“Wish I could believe that. Wish that was enough.” I tighten my hold on her wrists and use more force than I want to, to remove her from my person. “Cabin is yours. Since I suppose you need a place to stay. I’ll crash in my truck.”
“Don’t leave.”
“If I stay, we’ll only continue this cycle.”
“What if I’m pregnant?”
“Then I’ll be there for the DNA test.”
“That’s it then. You don’t want to be with me?”
“Fuck, Freya. Of course, I want to be with you. I love you and I’ll always love you.”
“Then why? Why are you walking away? I’m here. I’m begging.” She grabs me around the ankles.
“Let go.”
“No.” she shakes her head. “You can’t end us.”
“Look at me and listen.” Her head snaps up. Fat tears rolling down her cheeks as her chest heaves. Violent sobs tear out of her. “I can’t end us because you already did.” I start toward the door, dragging Freya with me as I go. She forces me to stop. I lean down and kiss her forehead. “You’re better than begging.”
She let’s go and I walk out the door without looking back.
I can’t. If I do, I’ll give in, and we’ll be back where we started.
If Freya wants to be with me, it needs to be because she loves me, not because she feels cornered and scared by the possibility of a pregnancy.
Chapter Fifteen
Yara yanks the covers off me. “Get up. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Go away.”
“Nope. You aren’t going to lay and wallow in your own misery.”
“Why not?” I sniff and tug on the blanket, entering into a game of war with my sister.
“Because I said so that’s why and you need to take a damn shower. I see flies circling your head.”
“What?” I jump up, waving my arms around.
Yara smirks at me. “Now that you’re up, you might as well get a shower and get dressed. Mom wants to take us to lunch with Emma and Olivia.”
“Pass.”
“You can’t avoid her forever.”
“Says you.”
“Come on. Don’t be petty.”
“I’m not ready to be all chummy with her. Call me Petty Betty.”
“She worries about you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m so sure.”
“Well, if you won’t come to lunch with us, at least take this.” She hands me a drug store bag.
“What is it?”
“Sis, come on. You aren’t fooling anyone with this stomach bug bullshit. Mom told me how you reacted to the turkey sandwich. I was the same way with the twins. And Fisher told Whiskey and my husband tells me everything because he wants me to continue to fuck him.”
“Ugh. I don’t want to.”
“You’ve got to. Bathroom. Now.” She’s using her mom voice on me, and I hate it.
I tuck the bag under my arm and grab some clean clothes from my bag. I’ve been crashing on Yara and Whiskey’s couch for the past two weeks. I know I need to figure my shit out. I can’t stay with them forever. They have their own life. Jill’s been calling and asking when I’m coming back. I completely blew Justin off. He told Jill to tell me to lose his number. I can’t blame him. I’m a hot ass mess.
“Take the test,” my sister snaps at me.
“I’m going. Geez. So pushy.” I stick my tongue out at her. Truth is I’m terrified. I haven’t spoken to Death. He has no idea that I suspect I’m pregnant. Best scenario would be that the baby is Fisher’s, and we work things out. No one else would ever have to know that I slept with the VP of my father’s club. Considering all things, I don’t know if I want to inform Death at all. If I can keep the pregnancy a secret till after I know if the child is Fisher’s or not, he may never have to know that I thought he could potentially be the father of my child.
Fisher would say it’s a selfish choice on my part. I also haven’t told him that I want to keep it a secret. Since he obviously told Whiskey, it’s bound to come out sooner rather than later. After how things went down between Fisher and me, I’m not exactly geared up to have the conversation with Death.
Yara narrows her eyes on me as I stomp to the bathroom. I stack my clothes on the closed toilet seat and turn on the water. I’ll take the test after I wash my hair.
The bathroom door opens, and I twist around to see Yara with her arms folded over her chest.
“Excuse you.”
“Take the test.”
“What were you doing, standing outside of the door listening to hear if I was peeing on the stick or not? That’s creepy. You need to get help for that.”
“I love you. You’re my little sister. I want to know the results damn it. Whiskey made me swear I wouldn’t open my mouth because he told Fisher he’d keep it to himself, but then Mom told me sooooo,” she drags the word out, waving her hand toward me in a ‘get it over with already motion.’
“Okay, but you can’t just barge in on me like this. What if I was taking a shit or something?”
“Would you piss on the stick already,” she screeches.
“Yeah. After my shower, crazy pants. Now get out.”
“Ugh.” She stomps her foot but leaves.
I should get it over with, I suppose. I turn the shower back off, so I don’t run all the hot water out. I mean it’s not a big deal. It’s only a plastic stick. A stick that can change my entire life depending on the test results. I gulp and move my clothes to the sink, then I open the package.
“Well. Don’t keep me waiting. Mom will be here any minute.”
“You can’t tell her.”
“Oh shit. You’re pregnant,” Yara yells so loud I’m sure Whiskey’s grandparents who live next door can hear her.
“What the hell am I going to do?” Tears well up in the corners of my eyes, spilling over the brims as I clutch the plastic stick bearing two pink lines. I’m pregnant and have no clue if this baby belongs to Death or Fisher. My father will kill them both.
“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
My heart beats wildly in my chest. “I want to call Fisher.” I miss him. I need him. I need him to tell me it's going to be okay.
“Then call him.”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t want to speak to me.”
“He was mad.”
“You didn’t hear him. Fisher has never spoken to me in that manner before. He hates me.”
“We both know that isn’t true. The man is so crazy about you he can’t see straight.”
“Then why hasn’t he called or tried to apologize? And you hate Fisher.”
“Maybe its not him who should be saying that they are sorry.”
“Should I call him?”
Before she can answer, a knock sounds at the front door.
“That’s probably Mom.”
“I’m not here,” I hiss, darting into the kitchen to hide.
“Where’s your sister,” a deep, gravelly voice says.
I peer around the corner to see Death. He looks good. He’s trimmed his beard and got a haircut.
