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My brother was lying on the ground, bloody and beat up, moaning loudly as Striker smiled cruelly in my direction.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
HAY WAS YANKING ON my hand, pulling me down the long hall of rooms and into a corridor that led to a locked door. She reached for the keys and unlocked the door, both of us inside as she locked it again in a hurry, “Find the gun Rae, we’ve got to stay safe.”
I snapped into action as I heard the sound of voices raised in anger outside. Sinking onto Pete’s bed I opened the nightstand’s top drawer. There, nestled inside, were five wrapped packages with my name written in Peter’s bold script on top. I pulled each one out as I completely forgot about the gun.
“Found it!” Hay exclaimed. She was by my side instantly, her arms around me in a too tight hug. “Where the hell have you been girl? I’m gonna kill you for staying away so long. Pete was a total wreck without you.”
I sighed, “Witness protection, remember?” My eyes dropped to the packages in my lap, “I didn’t want to leave Hay.”
“I know babe,” she reassured me, “I’m just giving you shit. I can’t believe you’re here!”
I managed a small smile, but I was shaken by the realization that Pete had bought me birthday presents every year we’d been apart, “Hay, have you seen these before?”
Her eyes widened as she gaped at the packages and shook her head, “No luv I haven’t. Isn’t that fucking adorable? He bought birthday gifts for you while you were apart.”
I stood abruptly, dropping the packages as I began to pace. My foot bumped into a small trash can and knocked over the contents. When I bent to retrieve the mess my eyes landed on a small cupcake, uneaten with a pale pink candle stuck in the center at an odd angle. All the blood rushed to my head, and my knees buckled as I fell the last foot to the ground.
How was this possible? He celebrated my birthday every year without me, alone?
I think I was going to hyperventilate. All this time I thought Pete didn’t really care. The years we spent apart I thought my heart was the only one that truly suffered. How could I have doubted? How could I have been so wrong?
How could I ever have thought he didn’t love me?
Chapter 42
Bryce’s eyes were locked on mine, full of resignation and pain. Before this moment I never noticed how they were the exact same color as my own but bluer and how the scar running along the left side of his face had distorted his appearance enough to distract me from the truth. We were nearly the spitting image of one another, a little over a year apart. I can’t believe I was so blind.
Rafe’s gaze met mine and whatever he saw on my face made him turn to Bryce. Dawning realization filled his eyes when he saw that I knew, along with a deviant grin that sent chills along my spine. Quick as a flash, I whipped my gun in his direction certain he was going to try to kill Bryce.
A low rumbling laugh filled the air, but it wasn’t Rafe.
“Stand down Edge, or I’ll make sure your brother dies before you can pull the trigger,” Striker’s words were full of menace and glee. He enjoyed the palpable fear that hung in the air, knowing he held the ace and all the control, “Step away from Rafe and drop the gun.”
Bryce shook his head, but I couldn’t let anything happen to the only blood I had besides Mack. The two of them, Rae, and my MC family were everything to me, and I wasn’t willing to lose any one of them. Dropping the gun slowly and raising my hands I turned to Striker, “Let Bryce go. The bad blood is between you, me, and Rafe.”
“True enough Edge, but I’m afraid you don’t know the entire story.”
“Tell me then,” I spat, moving forward until I could catch Bryce’s eyes. Silent understanding past between us and I smiled, ticking my head in Rafe’s direction. “What does Rafe and the RRMC have to do with you and the Outlaws?”
Striker chuckled, his gun moving from my chest to point directly at my brother. I broke out in a cold sweat, my chest constricting at the realization that Striker hated his own son.
Why?
“Why don’t we all just calm down?” a new voice joined us, one that caused my heart to beat faster.
My father.
Mack assessed the situation with raised hands, moving steadily forward until he stood in front of me, addressing Striker and ignoring Rafe’s snarl of displeasure, “I don’t think all our dirty laundry needs aired out in front of both MCs, do you Striker?”
The thoughtful expression on Striker’s face surprised me.
“You’re right Mack. It’s time you, me, the boys, Rafe, and Rae had a nice long chat.”
“Fuck that!” I yelled, running forward to take this asshole out before he co
uld pull the trigger.
