Walking up to me, she lays the rag down on the counter beside me and picks up the liquor I’ve just poured her. Taking my own glass back into my hand, she raises her own before a befuddled, yet saddened look paints her face. “Oh, Rogue, I’m sorry. That was tacky of me,” she admits, lowering her glass, “what in the world do we have to be celebrating about? I am so terribly sorry, Rogue,” she continues, but I stop her.
“Do not be sorry, Bella. None of us know what to do or what is right anymore at this moment. But what I do know is that Rora’s life and everything she was and did, is damn worthy of clinking our glasses together for. I don’t think she’d disagree one bit.” Hell, I’m not sure if it’s truly the right or wrong thing to do necessarily either, but I feel as though I’m correct in my assessment that my woman would want us to have at least one night of rest and find one moment of peace at least; although I have to admit to myself that I do feel the tiniest bit of guilt creeping in. I want to numb it; I need to numb it.
“Okay, then,” she agrees, as she lifts her glass back into the air. “To Aurora, the best and most loyal friend I’ve ever known or had.” As I raise my glass, I watch as a lone tear slides down her cheek and I feel my own eyes begin to well up.
Chapter Eight
Rogue
Nearly two months have passed since I laid Aurora to rest. Within twenty-four hours of her burial, I issued a church meeting where we all agreed that an immediate club lockdown was necessary, which lasted all of a month. It was during this time that we were able to utilize all of our resources to find our betrayer, and we did… Marx. It made no sense at first and shocked us all to the core. Of course, as our investigation continued, we learned that this was a strategic and methodical power grab on his part and he’s working with some serious scumbags. Street thugs if you will. Sure, his backing and following are known and have some street credibility, but he failed at taking me out and that was a fatal mistake on his part. And while it momentarily crippled this club as a whole, his ultimate plan failed and now he’s on the run; but not without the occasional torment that he throws our way via untraceable taunting voice messages. We’re keeping the pressure on him and his cronies, which only has them constantly running. I will find him, and I will have his head on a pike for not only taking my woman away from me, but also from the lives of my brothers and the unborn children.
The days and nights are seamless as they mostly run together when I’m not drowning myself and efforts into finding Marx. Bella is still around helping me with Harmony who has gradually started showing signs of coming around somewhat. We decided after a month of lockdown and finding out who we were up against that while we needed to be cautious at all times, we also needed to get back to some sort of normalcy and schedule; especially those of us with families. We got knocked down, but we must not show our enemy that we can’t get back up even as hard as it is; and as this club's leader, my brothers look to me for guidance and security. Although I teeter between feeling like a failure to them some days, Bella is there reminding and encouraging that this happens to the strongest of leaders and the successful ones always keep going while outwardly appearing unbothered. I am strong during the days and while we execute club plans and business, and break at night after my daughter is fast asleep. I drown the heaviness and weight of the world on my shoulders with booze and drugs.
As I pull into my driveway, I park my bike next to Sledge’s. Engine still running, I look up and notice Harmony’s face peeking through the open blinds, plastered with a grin, smiling back at me through the front window. She looks so much like her mother some days it’s hard for me to hold back my tears when I look at her. And on those nights I hold my baby girl as she cries for her momma, it only serves to keep my anger and vengeance freshly fueled.
Twisting the key, I turn off the engine to my bike before dismounting it. As I approach the door, I can hear it being unlocked from the inside as my little Outlaw opens it and leaps into my waiting arms. “Daddy, we have a surprise for you,” she announces through an excited tone.
One look at her face and hearing the happiness in her tone pulls a smile from me. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes! But, you have to close your eyes,” she explains as she plants her tiny hands over my eyes.
I can hear a slight snicker from Bella before Sledge’s voice breaks free, “Don’t worry, Pres, I’ll hold your hand and guide you.”
“With this rugrat still attached to me?” I tease my little girl as I tickle the sides of her ribcage, evoking laughter from her and nothing I can think of recently has sounded sweeter.
“Stop it, Daddy,” she begs through her giggles and I comply. Sledge ushers me into my house from behind, holding and directing me from my biceps. When we stop, I can sense by knowing the layout of my house that we’re in the kitchen. The strong aroma of something freshly baked floods my senses. “Now, open them,” Harmony instructs, removing her palms from my eyes. “Look down. Do you like it?”
As I open my eyes, I see what appears to be either a cake or a giant cookie, which exactly, I can’t quite make out. But what I can tell, is that my little Outlaw is both the baker and creator of this. As my brain tries to decipher exactly what this is, I don’t want to get the answer wrong nor hurt her feelings, but I need to answer quickly. Mentally flipping a coin in my head, I pray I don’t get this wrong. “Aww, you made me a cake,” I answer with confidence in my voice as I’ve got a plan to get myself out of this if I get it wrong.
“It’s a cookie cake,” she answers, looking down at her masterpiece as she slides down and out of my arms. I hastily wipe my brow as I neither got it necessarily wrong or right and I know she’s happy with my answer. “Do you like my drawing on it with the icing?”
As I scan the cookie cake, I can see that she has attempted to draw a face. Judging by what is supposed to be the hair, I can tell it’s of her mother. “I love it, Outlaw. You have drawn a beautiful portrait of your mother with icing; even the blue backpack you have her wearing.” I throw out an extra detail I observed in hopes for some more points as I shift my gaze to her, a grin covering my face.
She begins to giggle as she looks up at Bella and then back over to me. “That’s not a backpack, Daddy. Those are her angel wings. Remember how you said that she was now an angel who would always be watching over us?” I nod at the sweet gesture while finding myself grateful that I haven’t upset her with my misinterpretation. “Auntie Bella let me make it from scratch!”
Looking to Bella, she gives me a hesitant grin before replying, “It’s true. Flour, eggs, chocolate chips, pancake mix, and syrup. Then bake at three-hundred and fifty degrees for fifteen minutes.” She offers me a reluctant smile.
“Yup,” Harmony states, agreeing with Bella’s list of ingredients and directions. “I wanted to eat it so bad, but I wanted you to have it. You deserve it, Daddy.” Her tiny teeth along with a light I haven’t seen in her eyes beam back at me with such pride.
“Yeah, Pres. All for you,” Sledge announces a bit too excited for my liking.