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“Fuckin’ useless waste,” he mutters before stepping away from me.
I release the breath I was holding, hoping the worst is over. Before I have a chance to take another breath, something cracks against my face. Sharp pain almost blinds me as I stumble backward, unsure what just happened.
“Shut up and follow your brother to the kitchen. You’re ruining my buzz.”
It takes a second to register the voice as my mother’s. The left side of my face throbs, sending agonizing bursts of pain ricocheting around my skull. It’s not the first time I’ve had a black eye, but it’s the first time I’ve been sucker-punched out of nowhere. Then again, when drugs and aggression are involved, I suppose I should expect violence at all times.
My mother turns and flops down on the broken, stained couch, grabbing a pipe and a lighter before getting settled. I peel myself off the wall, only to sway on my feet and catch myself with one hand on the opposite wall.
“Get yourself cleaned up and meet me in the kitchen,” Randall grunts. He grips the back of my neck and pushes me toward the bathroom.
Once inside, I shut the door and brace myself on the small, rusted-out sink. Staring at my reflection in the cracked mirror, I gape at my swollen eye and cheek. It’s going to be purple by tomorrow. I hope I’ll still be able to see out of my left eye, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it swells shut by morning.
“This is the last time,” I whisper to myself. “I can’t take this anymore. Iwon’t.”
Even as I say the words, my resolve is already fading. Where would I go? What would I do? This is all I know. All I’m good for. This is my life.
CHAPTERTHREE
AXEL
“They’ve found another source,” Officer Jake announces.
I straighten in my chair, as do my MC brothers. We’ve been in church for damn near an hour. I don’t usually mind the long meetings, but I’m filled with restless, anxious energy today.
I can’t stop thinking about Gemma. She’s run away from me twice now, leaving me more unsettled each time. I tossed and turned all night, thinking about her wide, green eyes filled with terror when her phone went off that first day. Images of my princess wringing her hands as she stood in front of the clubhouse flash through my mind, and I clench my fists at my sides when I remember her rushed words.
What did Blade mean about me having the protection of the Savage Saints?
“...thanks to Axel setting up the recording device, we know the new meth lab is in the Orchard Grove trailer park,” Officer Jake continues.
I attempt to shove my thoughts about Gemma and why she needs protection to the back of my mind and focus on my club. The worry is still there, and I have a feeling that part of me will always be concerned about Gemma’s well-being and happiness.
I nod at Jake to show him I’m paying attention. Mostly.
“Anything more specific?” Blade asks from his position next to Officer Jake at the front of the room.
“Not at this time. I’ve asked the interim sheriff to let me know about any special projects coming up. I think I’m getting close to being accepted into the inner circle.”
The Prez nods and uncrosses his arms, clapping his big hand over Jake’s shoulder. “Never thought I’d be saying this to a cop, but good work.”
Officer Jake still looks a little rattled to be in a room filled with armed bikers who have a bad history with law enforcement, but he’s come a long way in the last few weeks. A lot of my MC brothers were wary of working with the police after being betrayed by them again and again, but Jake has proven himself to be loyal so far. That’s not to say I haven’t been keeping tabs on him, too, however.
Blade says a few more words in closing, then dismisses us. Looking at my phone, I see it’s almost four in the afternoon. Like every spare moment of my time over the last several days, my mind wanders to Gemma.
What’s she up to? Is she safe? Where does she live? What is she so afraid of?
I don’t even realize I’m on my bike until I exit the clubhouse parking lot. I didn’t plan on going to the graveyard, but that’s where I’m headed. Hopefully, I’ll find the object of my obsession before I lose my damn mind altogether.
A few minutes later, I pull up at the bottom of the hill where I found Gemma resting. I see her bending to place something on a headstone, and it takes a second to realize it’s a little bundle of wildflowers like she was holding the first day I found her.
So damn sweet.
When Gemma stands and continues walking down the row, I notice her limping slightly on her left side. Every protective urge rises in me, and I scramble up the side of the embankment to get to her.
“Gemma,” I call out, hating myself when she tenses and crouches on the ground.What has happened in her life to give her that instinct?“Sorry, it’s just me. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Oh, hey,” comes her response. She’s trying to play it off like no big deal, but I see her. I see how she holds herself as if everything is a threat.
