“Fuck off,” he shouts, but remains motionless on the bed. I rub my hands together. I’ve been waiting so long for this moment, and this arsehole can’t even see it coming. I stand over him.
“Well, look who we have here,” I sing.
He jolts upright, a look of sheer panic crossing his features as he scans the small cell.
“How the fu—” Before he even finishes, my fist crashes into his nose, and blood sprays from his nostrils. His hands come up, grasping his nose as blood pours through his fingers.
“You bastard,” he screams. “You’re going to fucking pay for that.” I flex my knuckles, inspecting the blood coating them. I grin down at him.
“I’d like to see you fucking try.” I laugh as my fist crashes into his face again, his head flicking back and crashing against the wall. He laughs manically, and I see red. The mist descends, and I begin raining blows down on him. I launch myself on top of him, my hands tightly around his throat, his fingers scratch at mine as he desperately claws at my hand. His lips begin to turn blue, and his fight weakens as his eyes roll into the back of his head. The brothers grab at me as I continue to watch the life drain out of him.
“Clay,” Drifter bellows, “get the fuck off him. You don’t wanna do life behind bars for this cunt.” He drags me backwards, and I release the fucker’s neck. Liam sucks at the air, his hands clawing at his throat as if the air is too thick and he still can’t breathe. I struggle against Drifter and Gears, the urge to finish the job overwhelming me. Drifter moves to stand in front of me.
“Get the fuck out,” he growls, and I look past him at the piece of shit in a heap on the bed. “Now.”
“She won’t be able to live until the fucker meets his maker,” I snap as Gears drags me from the cell. The copper stands outside the room, and she looks pissed.
“Get him the fuck outta here before I lose my fucking job,” she snaps. Drifter leaves Liam and hands her an envelope.
“I’ll sort you out a bonus,” he tells her.
“He best still be alive,” she grits.
“He is. He did it to himself—smashed his head against the wall. He couldn’t deal with how he’d let his children down,” Drifter explains.
“He’s really going to go with that?” she asks sarcastically.
“The fucker will if he knows what’s good for him,” Drifter announces, pushing us back out the corridor towards our bikes.
Bella
The bar is a hive of activity. The boys seem to have settled in well, and Noah and Mason are taking great delight in barking their orders at Slider about how they want their room. The whole club has welcomed them as part of the family. They have slotted right into the running of the clubhouse and really seem at peace with everything. Noah took longer to settle, asking where his daddy was, and I couldn’t blame him. He’s known no different for the past six months of his life, so it must be a complete shock for him to understand. He initially thought Daddy had chosen to leave him, but I couldn’t let him think that.
As much as Liam has been a prick to me and caused me so much heartache, I can’t let my boys think they aren’t loved. I can’t bear them having to carry that burden. I sat them both down after their first night and explained that Daddy had been in trouble with the police and, unfortunately, he wouldn’t be around for a long time, but that it wasn’t because he didn’t lovethem, because he did very much so. Noah cried, but I promised that he could write to his dad. As much as it pained me, I needed to be a mature adult, something Liam hadn’t given me the privilege of for all those months. I watch in awe as Clay lifts Noah onto the pool table to take a shot against his brother, his little tongue sticking out as Clay helps him take a shot at the ball.
“Mummy,” he squeals in delight. “Did you see that?”
“I sure did, baby,” I answer, and my heart swells watching the scene unfold in front of me. Red plonks herself beside me on the leather sofa, hanging her arm over her head dramatically.
“Fuck,” she sighs, “I’m getting too old to be drinking at night.”
“I think that’s more to do with having to get up with a toddler,” Rochelle laughs.
I snort. “Yeah, and maybe the three shots you made everyone do before you went up to bed.”
The door opens, and Slayer walks in, followed by a sullen Brandy. Red turns her head and rolls her eyes. “Let’s get the world’s smallest violin out for the club whore,” she snides before sinking back into the sofa. She walks towards us, and I can’t help myself.
“Oh my god,” I gush, knowing full well she can hear me. “I can’t believe everything is finally working out. I have my boys back, and I finally have a man I can trust,” I say smugly, wanting to rub salt in the wounds and show her that the best woman clearly won. Brandy scoffs and stops dead in her tracks. Her smarmy grin gets right under my skin.
“A man you can trust?” she laughs. “Did he tell you he was the one who planted drugs on your ex? Did he tell you he had me do his dirty work?” She shakes her head, her lips curl, and my smugness soon leaves my face. “No, I didn’t fucking think so. A man you can trust? Pah, you can’t trust none of these fuckers.”
“Go get your shit and fuck off,” Rochelle retorts, standing from the sofa. I look across at them both.
“Is that true?” I snap. They don’t have to answer—their faces give them away. “Watch the boys,” I growl, making my way over to Clay. He smiles as I approach, but his face soon drops when he sees I’m pissed. “Word. Now,” I demand through gritted teeth as I push through the door leading to the kitchen. I can’t do this in front of the boys. They have been through more than enough.
“What the fuck is wrong?” he asks, I keep my back to him. I can’t even look at him right now. He knows everything and still doesn’t have the respect to tell me his plan. He grabs my arm, and I spin round, pulling away from his touch as if it burns.
“You didn’t fucking tell me,” I seethe, and he looks at me confused.
