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CHAPTER

NINE

Brick

Banshee and I are pacing outside the clubhouse since Murder called to tell me they were on their way back with Rayleigh in tow as well as the four hog-tied fuckers who took her.

“Want a hit?” Ban asks, lighting up a rolled blunt.

“No, no, I’m good,” I reply, my mind steadily racing as I worry about the condition she’s going to be in when they get back.

Murder was surprisingly mute when I asked him about that, so either he didn’t see her, or he’s worried I’ll lose my shit.

“You’re not, brother,” he insists. “Hell, even back when your dad got his initial diagnosis, you were calm, cool, and collected. You worked alongside him to make sure he had shit in place for the time he couldn’t make life-altering decisions, learned everything about running the club, and took it over years ahead of schedule, and did it with no problem. Yet you get an ol’ lady, who happens to be the long-lost and thought to be dead princess of the club, and your almost legendary calm and patience is shot to shit.”

I bark out a laugh at his assessment because he’s not too far off the mark.

“You just wait, Ban, when the woman who controls your soul comes into your life, you’ll see that everything you knew about who you were gets tossed by the wayside. Ever since I laid eyes on her in that fucking ditch, she’s had my attention. Even when I let her go out on her own in a manner of speaking, she was the first and last thing I thought about. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. Add in the fact she’s now carrying our child and yeah, I’m a little bit unhinged. Sue me.”

“Still can’t believe Angel healed your dad,” he murmurs, blowing his smoke upward.

He’s such a health nut, he rarely indulges in anything stronger than a shot or two of whiskey, but much like me, since realizing Rayleigh is his sister, he’s a bit discombobulated as well.

“No kidding,” I huff out. When I went in to check on Pops, he was awake and even though he’s still got a few lingering issues, his mind is nearly perfect. So much so, he remembered turning the club over to me when he got his diagnosis, then was able to detail a lot of shit I had no clue he’d noticed.

“At least he doesn’t want to take the club back over,” he muses with a hint of humor lacing his words.

“I think the guys are gonna miss him calling Church though,” I jest. “Gotta say this too, I’m impressed as hell that no one ever pushed back whenever he would issue orders.”

“You’re kidding right? At the end of the day, he was and is still RiffRaff, and while he might not fuck folks up like he did when we were kids, his reputation precedes him and lives on, brother.”

The laughter that bursts free has me doubling over, the stress from the past several hours pouring out as I think about all the times we witnessed my pops handing someone their ass when they’d do something stupid as fuck.

He never put up with a lot of shit, ran a tight ship actually, much like my grandfather before him did, and despite not really ever having an ol’ lady around, he had a way with the ladies for sure.

“Yeah, I get that, brother, but even still, it’s kind of impressive, y’know what I mean? He had those fuckers out shoveling snow for fuck’s sake.”

Banshee joins in with me as we remember how Pops ordered the men outside to shovel the snow that was coming down so hard in sheets it was pointless. Yet, they didn’t bitch or complain, they just got up, put their winter gear on and got shovels then started working.

“They were frozen half to death when they came back in, and hell, when your pops asked how it looked, Kracken never missed a beat and told him the lot was clear as a baby’s freshly diapered ass.”

“Thank God he didn’t insist on checking it out, he’d have seen it was covered in three feet of snow, brother,” I manage to gasp out through the wheeze from laughing so hard.

I’m about to say something else when I see the gate opening with several trucks preparing to pull through. Taking off at a run, I don’t miss the sly grins from my brothers who are driving as I finally figure out which truck Rayleigh’s seated in based on Rael’s almost maniacal look through the windshield.

Before the truck is in park or shut off, I’m at the rear passenger door and have it opened. She’s sound asleep as I unbuckle her seatbelt then draw her into the crevice of my arms.

“Be careful, brother, think she’s got some cracked ribs,” Shadow warns when I cradle her close. “Not one hundred percent sure, of course, but we all noticed her favoring her side.”

“Hopefully, Angel has a little more healing power in him,” I mutter, already striding toward the clubhouse and our room. “If not, I know she’ll heal, but it’s gonna suck.”

“Brick, I’ll get these fuckers taken down into the wine cellar,” Ban calls out, laughter threaded in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, y’all take care of that and I’ll be down shortly once I have her sorted.”

“Find out what she wants us to call her,” Ban insists. “It’s getting confusing in my head, brother.”

Like what she wants to be called is a top priority right now, for Christ’s sake.

Finally at our door, I somehow manage to open it without dropping her but when I try to close it behind me, I see Angel standing mid center of our room.

“Brother, I know you’re not back to yourself yet,” I tell him, gently placing my woman on our bed. Her kittens immediately gravitate toward her, curling around her head and purring, happy that their mistress is home.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s one of the reasons why I’m here, Brick,” he insists. “Besides, Venom and Voodoo are on their way up and they’ll help me by giving me an energy boost.”

“Only if you’re sure, Angel, because you did more than I would’ve anticipated or expected seeing as I wasn’t planning on any of y’all being here,” I state, appreciation woven in my tone.

He chuckles then replies, “Yeah, had to throw you for a bit of a loop coming back with Murder and his guys to see all of us here, huh?”

“You have no fucking idea. Guess I should get used to it though.”

“Probably so, especially since Madame Laveaux has taken a special interest and liking to your ol’ lady. She’s now spiritually connected to her, so if you thought she was just going to go back to her normal shit, you’d be wrong.”

Voodoo’s mirthless laugh as he enters my suite has the hair at the nape of my neck standing straight out. “Grandmé does what she wants when she wants and trust me, she doesn’t give that first fuck we’re in a motorcycle club with our own shit to do or take care of. If she calls and says ‘go’, we roll out no questions asked.”

“She’s kind of scary.” Rayleigh’s voice permeates the room. “But I really like her a lot. And maybe I can ask her the next time she calls, but she might not know the answer to my question.”

“What’s that, Sprite?” I ask.

“After we watched the home movies, I remembered something from when I was in the ditch waiting to die.”

Growls now reverberate as we all remember the condition she was in the first time we found her. Somehow, I manage to tamp down the outward show of anger because those bastards are dead and burning in Hell as we speak, just like the fuckers who are trussed up in the wine cellar will be soon.

“What did you recall?” Venom’s voice is gentle but firm, far gentler than any of us have ever heard it, but I know it’s in deference to my ol’ lady.

“Just before I passed out, a woman was singing to me. I heard her voice again when we watched the movies with Banshee, Brick. I think… I think it was my mother.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, a look of awe on her face. “How could that be possible?”

“I’m sure my grandmother would know for sure, but if you heard your mother, you were in that in-between place, a realm where you wait when you’re close to death.”

I can’t help the sound that emits from my mouth because I nearly lost her before she was ever truly mine. If not for Voodoo’s grandmother… no, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Really?” Rayleigh queries as she tries to prop herself up on her forearms. I go to help her only to have Angel, Venom, and Voodoo move in front of me and block me. The three of them manage to surround her with each touching a piece of her flesh as well as putting hands on Angel.

I can feel the sheer power now flowing throughout my room; it’s almost like when I was a kid, and we did the static electricity experiment in earth science class. Every hair on my body is standing on end and there’s a frisson of molecules that almost feels like an electrical current pinging and zapping all around us.

The entire space is electrified.

Rayleigh

I know I wasn’t awake the first time Angel healed me, so right now, the sheer psychic energy coursing through me feels a bit strange. Well, that’s the closest word I can think of, anyhow, because jeez, with every breath I inhale, the pain in my side lessens and I can almost feel my ribs healing and fusing back together. The taut skin over my cheekbone which was split, and is probably going to scar, suddenly eases, and the eye that was totally swollen shut is letting light in as the inflammation goes down.

As each man removes his hand from me, I feel lighter and lighter until it dawns on me that I feel as if I’ve been energized. Like, if I was a runner, I’d want to run a marathon or something. My hand drifts down to my abdomen, which is still flat since I’m so newly pregnant, causing Angel to flash a full-blown grin my way.

“The baby is just fine, princess,” he states. Turning to Brick, he continues. “She should be good now, brother. What say we let her clean up while we deal with those fuckers?”

I can tell Brick is torn so I urge, “Handsome, I’m good, I promise. I’ll just grab a shower then go down and find something to eat.”

“I’ll get one of the prospects to bring you some food,” he contends, standing firm.

“No, I want to check on your dad and also see how they’re doing,” I persist.

I can’t let him start bossing me around like this so early on in the pregnancy or I’ll never walk anywhere or do anything and that simply won’t do, not at all.

“Brother, she’s surrounded by Bastards, do you really think anything’s gonna happen?” Voodoo questions.

“Fine, fine,” he relents, leaning in and kissing me.

Then along with the other three, stomps like a herd of elephants out of our room. I can’t help the smile that graces my face because his actions showed me he was beyond torn.

Having never been a first priority in anyone’s life, I know there will be times when the club takes the lead simply because of his position and I’m totally okay with that fact. It’s what I signed up for when I accepted his patch and claim.

But right now, knowing he wanted to stay with me even though he had shit to handle makes me all gooey inside.

Freshly showered, I giggle as the kittens frolic on the bathroom counter while I brush my teeth before moisturizing my face.

“Y’all are so silly,” I murmur when Hobbes swipes his paw underneath the running water. “You have your own fountain, remember?”

His little face tilts toward me as if to ask, ‘And?’ which has me chuckling while I finish getting myself together.

“Come on, babies, let’s get you some fresh water and food.”

At the mention of food, they jump down, which always gives me a bit of a heart attack since they’re still rather on the small side, but they sprint over to their placemat and wait for me to open up two cans of wet food. As they start eating, I place my dirty clothes in the hamper, rehang my damp towel so it’ll dry, then head into the closet to find something to wear.

Today is all about comfort.

Fresh underclothes now in place, I sort through my sweatpants until I find my favorite color then slip them on, along with a matching T-shirt and some fuzzy socks and my slippers. Glancing around the room, I pick up a few odds and ends to straighten it back to its normal, pristine appearance then head out to find some sustenance to feed my growling belly.

As I rummage in the kitchen’s massive refrigerator, I hear the whirring of RiffRaff’s wheelchair. Spinning around, I can’t help the smile that crosses my face when I see him motoring toward me.

“There’s my girl,” he says, stopping once he’s next to me. He pulls me down onto his lap and gives me a huge, fatherly hug. “Now, let’s talk, little missy. You will never again put yourself in danger for me or any other man in this club. That’s our job, you understand?”

“RiffRaff, you shot them with a gun that had no bullets!” I exclaim.

“And who’s fault was that, missy? Not mine, as far as I knew I had slugs in my pistol,” Riffraff vehemently spits. “I should tan Brick’s ass for that stunt.” He harrumphs which has me placing the palm of my hand over my mouth to keep in the chuckle.

“Your son was concerned about you and didn’t want you acting without thinking about the ramifications,” I placate.

“My mind may have been a bit skewed, but I know who needs to be put down and who doesn’t,” he rants, crossing his arms across his chest and shooting lasers from his eyes, acting as if he could melt the floor with his angry stare. “And maybe if I’d have had bullets, I could’ve handled those pussies without you getting taken and hurt.”

“Who says I got hurt?” I question, since I know I look whole and hearty.

“Before I passed completely out, I saw them hit you, Rayleigh,” he informs me, his voice quiet yet firm. “They’re the kind of man who will hurt those of the weaker sex, as well as animals, without a fucking care in the world.”

“You’re right, they did,” I admit. “But guess what, RiffRaff? I got in a few of my own hits too!” I wiggle in excitement causing him to burst into laughter.

“Used some combat moves on them, huh?”

“Well, I made sure I had some of their DNA under my nails just in case things didn’t end up well for me,” I tease. “But I also ensured one would likely never reproduce again, and it’s possible the other one’s eye is permanently damaged. It’s a good thing I watch all of those true crime documentaries, they’ve taught me a thing or two about evidence and what's needed to convict someone in a court of law.”

He snickers at how bloodthirsty I sound right now. “I see you’re fitting in well with our merry band of miscreants.”

“Was there ever any doubt? I mean, you knew my parents and Brick says you helped raise Ban once our parents died. So even if I wasn’t around, it’s kind of in my blood, right?” I ask.

“Not sure it works like that,” he replies, helping me up. “Now, can you fix an old man some of that soup I think Layce made a few days ago?”

I sigh in happiness at being needed, even for something so trivial and minor.

“That sounds good and since I was trying to find something to eat, I’m going to warm a bowl of soup up for me too.”

“Don’t forget the bread,” he advises. I can’t stop my giggle because I’ve noticed the man does love his carbs. “She always puts it in the breadbox in the pantry behind the cereal. Otherwise, those other assholes eat it all.”

“But you know her secret hiding spot?” I tease, pulling out the huge pot and placing it on the counter before I spoon up two heaping bowls. Once I have them in the microwave heating, I head into the pantry and come out with a loaf of Leathyr’s homemade bread.

His sly look then wink has me laughing outright as I state, “Ah, I see, you didn’t let on you were paying attention.”

“It pays for everyone to think you’ve lost most of your marbles. They forget to hold their thoughts and tongue around you because their thinking is you won’t remember what they said anyhow and not only that, if you do repeat it to someone, the likelihood of them believing it is next to none,” he sagely states, rolling over to the fridge and pulling out the butter. “We need one of those butter hut things.”

“What?”

“You know, they allow you to put butter in and keep it out on the counter so it’s not all cold and stiff. My nurse can tell you what they’re called because she’s always talking about how nice it is to be able to smoothly butter a piece of toast and have it soak in or some shit.”

“I’ll have to look for one of those,” I muse to myself.

The list of things I need to look for when Cassie and I can finally go out and shop is growing by leaps and bounds, that’s for sure.

“She used to watch all those fucking infomercials when we were still in that death house.”

“You mean the assisted living facility?”

“Yep, death house. People go there to die, Rayleigh.”

“Well, you’re not in danger of that any time soon, I hope,” I retort, placing a steaming bowl of soup in front of him, along with two thick slices of baked bread, before I grab my own. “Now, let’s eat and you can tell me some stories of how Brick was when he was growing up in case I need ammunition against him.”