“Now, there’s only one problem,” Rebbie adds.
“What’s that?” Dee asks.
“Caleb will be there.”
The silence that follows is heavy. Even through the wire, I can feel it. I expect hesitation. A debate. Something. Hell, anything to show that the mother of my child isn’t eviler than Satan himself would be helpful. All hope dies with her next words.
“We’ll have to kill him too.”
My vision tunnels, my breath stops cold in my fucking chest, and the acid in my stomach boils.
“Damn, Dee,” Mark replies, and even he sounds shocked. “That’s your kid.”
I can hear her exhale and, for some stupid reason, I think she’s going to change her mind—somehow show that she’s human.I’m an idiot.
“I’m too young to be saddled with a child. I only had him to trap Horse into claiming me. After their deaths, I can claim the life insurance on Caleb—plus Horse has a policy on himself and Caleb too. I’m still the beneficiary on those. I’m going to use that money to travel. Maybe eventually, we can do a celebration of life or something. Caleb would like that.”
Something inside me breaks with those words. “Fucking hell,” I choke out, my voice thick. “That’s my kid’s mother.” My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking. Dee is planning our son’s murder like she’s talking about canceling a dinner reservation. I fumble for the handle and then shove the door open—barely making it out in time to throw up onto the pavement below. I’ve never felt like this before in my life. I feel sick all the way to my soul.
Pratt hands me a bottle of water without saying a word. I rinse my mouth, spit, and shut the door, then I force myself to breathe. We listen as they keep talking. They continue to plan and go into detail on exactly how to ignite the gas line so that it kills us all—Gwen. My brothers. My innocent child. They talk about it like they’re discussing the fucking weather.
The motherfucking weather!
When the conversation finally slows, Pratt lifts his radio. “Move in. Grab them outside, away from other patrons. Read each of them their rights. I want this fucking case airtight.”
“Copy that,” the voice on the other side of the two-way radio says.
Pratt looks at Knife and me. “You can watch, but I don’t want you to say anything. You’ll get time in the holding cell while an officer is present if you have shit you want to get off your chest. Fair?”
Knife’s jaw is tight. “I don’t need to say shit. But she’s wearing a cut I gave her. I want it back so I can cut her name off and burn it.”
Pratt nods. “Your child?”
“Back in Connecticut with Rebbie’s parents. Strange enough, they’re good people. This will gut them. I’ll get my daughter once there’s an emergency custody order in place.”
“I’ll push the orders tonight,” Pratt says. “Both of you need to have your lawyers ready.”
We nod. The club’s attorney is already set. That won’t be an issue.
What happens next is all a blur.Handcuffs. Shouting. Dee is constantly screaming until she looks up to see me. Then, she goes silent.I spit in her direction and turn away.Knife follows me.I go straight to my bike, which is parked a short walk away. I mount it and ride out. I don’t watch them haul Dee in. I don’t want to look at her. She’s dead to me.I’ll see her in court.All I want now is home. Gwen. Caleb. Buddy.
My family.
That’s all I need. Gwen will heal me. If anyone can, it’s her. She’s my miracle. I need her now more than ever.
Early Mornings, Heavy Hearts, and Love
GWEN
Iwake before the sun rises. The room is still wrapped in a soft, blue-gray light that exists only in the early morning. Wyatt is asleep against me, his head heavy on my breast, his cheek pressed into my skin like this is where he belongs. One big, callused hand is spread wide over my stomach, possessive without even trying. His breathing is slow, regulated, and deep. This is the first time since last night that he’s looked even remotely peaceful. I wish he could stay that way. Seeing how utterly destroyed he was last night was hard to take. I want him to rest and center himself. I want him to feel nothing but love today. It’s a foolish dream, but it’s what I want most in the world.
Still, I know I should move. Today is Christmas, and there’s a million and one things to do. The turkey needs to go into the oven. Wyatt’s brothers will be here later. My girls will show up soon to help me cook. And after seeing how close Mal and Storm were when we got back from shopping, I fully expect Mal to be ridiculously early.
Even knowing all of that, I don’t move. I just stare down at the man asleep on my chest. A man I love with everything inside of me. I can’t bring myself to wake him up. When Wyatt camehome last night, he was shattered in a way that still makes my chest ache.
Then, he told me—really told me—what Caleb’s mother planned. She didn’t just plan our deaths, but her own child’s. That’s when I lost it too, and we cried together. Caleb is joy, innocence, sweetness, and curiosity all wrapped up in a little boy who just wants to be loved. To know that the woman who brought him into the world—a woman who was supposed to protect and care for him above all others—could calmly plan his murder like he meant nothing destroyed me.
And God, I know it is so much worse for my man.
