I was happy to bring that motherfucker to justice and watch the acid eat away at his fucking insides. No one deserved to be tortured more than that cocksucker. Not only had he been the one responsible for blowing up our clubhouse, but he had kidnapped Cobra’s sister, Ally, at the age of fourteen. Ripping her away from her perfect life and promising future. Abused her, raped her and then sold her to the highest bidder. For fourteen years that girl was tormented. Her parents died trying to find her and Cobra would’ve probably suffered the same fate if we hadn’t found her.
While we were able to rescue Ally, we failed at apprehending Yankovich. The man was a fucking phantom and before he hurt anyone else, Jack made it the clubs mission to bring that fucker to his knees. Call it vigilante justice or whatever you will but, for us, it was pure vengeance. Fucking payback for all the years of torture Ally endured and the death of Pipe’s wife, Oksana, who had been killed in the explosion. We didn’t know he wasn’t done with us or that he had been planning to take us down for years. We had no fucking idea he was working with Jack’s predecessor, Cain. Well, that’s not entirely true. Wolf knew that bit of information and he decided to withhold it from the club. Along with the fact that Cain had a son.
I was still reeling from the revelation that Linc, another nomad we thought Wolf recruited, was, in fact, the spawn of Cain. The kid sat at our table for years without so much as a mention of his father. Had we known, we might’ve been able to pinpoint Yankovich’s motive sooner. We may have realized the cunt was looking to wipe us off the grid and regain the territory he had while working with Cain. Instead, all we had was carnage and Jack spinning one theory after another. It was like we were chasing a ghost.
I still don’t know the whole story. There was never any time to uncover it because as soon as Wolf and Linc came clean, all hell broke loose. Wolf’s house was ambushed by Yankovich’s brother, Igor. He took Wolf’s niece who also happened to be Linc’s old lady and shot Wolf’s son, Nico. If it wasn’t for Wolf’s other two sons, Enzo and Frankie, Nico would’ve bled out and died but instead, they brought his bloody body to Pipe’s Garage where we were holding church.
Jack lost his shit, tied up Wolf and Linc and had me douse them in gasoline. I don’t remember who called 9-1-1, but the paramedics arrived at the scene. Jack shot and killed one of them before demanding the other one save Nico’s life. The next thing I knew, we were riding to Yankovich’s home in Purchase, New York, Jack leading in the fucking ambulance he hi-jacked.
Things got worse after that. Jack ordered Pipe to light Yankovich’s house up like the fourth of July with the man’s kids inside. I don’t know if he was hoping to smoke the motherfucker out of hiding or if he truly lost his mind. He could’ve killed those kids, not to mention Wolf’s niece, Kelly. Then again, he almost ordered me to kill Wolf so I shouldn’t be surprised.
But those kids.
I can still hear them calling for their father.
They didn’t know he was an animal. To them, he was just their dad…their papa.
Those kids watched their father suffer and die at our hands. Our faces will forever be branded to their innocent minds. To them, we’re nothing but a bunch of ruthless monsters who took their daddy away from them. We’re no better than their father.
No better at all.
Looking over my shoulder, my eyes connect with Lacey. Fast asleep with her hands tucked under her head, she’s a fucking angel. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said I wanted to give her the world. Just like I wasn’t lying about wanting to start a family with her. But what we want and what we deserve aren’t always the same. A baby is a blessing but having me as a father is a goddamn curse.
Drawing in a deep breath, I swipe my phone from the nightstand and lift off the bed. I make my way towards the basket of clean clothes and grab the first pair of gray sweatpants I see. Pulling them up my legs, I let the elastic band snap against my abs before making my way towards the door. Pausing, I take one more look at my wife before walking out of the room.
Downstairs, I toss my phone on the counter and glance at the clock. At five o’clock in the morning, I tell myself it’s too early to call my sobriety coach. The poor bastard doesn’t need me waking him up with my bullshit. I’m a grown fucking man who needs to start taking care of himself. I don’t need no goddamn babysitter or someone to hold my hand until the urge to get high passes.
If only that was true.
If only I didn’t need to escape.
If only I didn’t want to drown.
If only I wasn’t clenching the edge of the counter wondering if Lacey still has that prescription of Motrin 800 in the drawer of her night stand.
Fucking Motrin.
If only I wasn’t dreaming of grinding those pills to dust.
If only I wasn’t imagining the feel of those particles in my nose.
If only I wasn’t the monster those kids think I am.
Pushing off the counter, I slide my fingers through my hair. My eyes dart around the aqua blue kitchen, desperate to find something to focus on. Something to occupy my mind and rid me of my demons. Falling short, I think about waking Lacey and burying my sorrows in her body again but that’s just another temporary high.
The clock ticks, another minute passes and then another. The urge doesn’t diminish, and I start to pace. My bare feet wear against the tiles as my fists curl at my sides. I glance towards the dining room and recall the last gathering we had here. It was a holiday of some sort. Christmas, maybe. There was alcohol. Vodka, whiskey, you name it; we had it. Lacey is real good about getting rid of everything the minute the last guest leaves but maybe she tripped up.
Maybe she missed a bottle.
My mind set on raiding the liquor cabinet, I walk into the dining room and pause when I spot the massive photo of us that hangs on the wall above the buffet. It was taken on our wedding day, right after the priest pronounced us husband and wife. After, I swore to honor her all the days of my life.
I made a lot of promises to her that day.
I made a lot of promises to myself too.
Hell, I made a promise to her not two hours ago when I came inside her.
That alone makes me sick to my stomach and I find myself walking backward into the kitchen.
The struggle is real.
It’s fucking lethal.
Swiping a hand over my face, I spread my fingers and peer back at the clock.
Ten minutes.
Ten fucking minutes is all that’s passed.
Defeated, I reach for the phone and damn the early hour to hell as I pull up my sobriety coach’s number. I don’t hesitate as I hit send and quickly lift the ringing phone to my ear. Billy answers on the third ring and I swear I breathe a sigh of relief the moment the sound of his groggy voice hits my ear.
“Blackie,” he greets. “What’s wrong?”
Pulling out a chair, I fold myself into it and drop my head as shame engulfs me. When I finally find my voice, it sounds nothing like my own.
“I want to get high,” I confess. “I want to fucking forget I exist, Billy.”
“Where’s Lacey?”
My hair falls in front of my eyes as I lift my head and glance over at the stairs.
“She’s sleeping,” I rasp. The last thing I want is for her to wake and see me like this. She’ll get the wrong impression and automatically assume I’m doubting her and the life we’re meant to have which couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s never her I doubt. It’s always me. Always my choices, my past, my sins.