We buried Shelly and Cheese three days later.
I’d asked Mark where he wanted her laid to rest. He told me I should make the choice because she was my sister. Sister in all but name and blood.
I’d squeezed his hand in gratitude.
Though Shelly wasn’t a Blue Angel, Colt had made it possible for my best friend to be buried next to Cheese.
“She’s got family looking out for her,” Colt whispered, his arm around my shoulder while we stood at the graves laden with freshly turned dirt.
Mark’s eyes were wet, but it was the slump of his shoulders that told me of his defeat, of his brokenness.
Flynn, Ramsey, and a few of their Scottish brethren, stood by our sides and mourned with us.
Silas, Cheese’s brother, stared at his brother’s grave, tears streaking down his face. I wanted to go to him, but what was I supposed to say? How could I offer a child any sort of comfort when it felt like I was choking on broken glass?
It was an intimate affair; Shelly hadn’t been close to many people. A few friends from Dive Bar showed up to pay their respects, but they left quickly, clearly uncomfortable with the men in leather and tattoos.
Everyone was piling into cars to head to the clubhouse where we’d have a wake of sorts. We all wanted to get drunk and forget about what had happened for a night, but no one wanted to let their guard down. Not while the Iron Horsemen were at large.
The Garcia cartel hadn’t yet struck out in violence, and when I asked Colt about it while he’d still been in the hospital, he’d explained. The Garcia cartel was not yet wise to the missing shipment and Dev had enough cash to make it look like he was still selling product. It was a stopgap, and it was why he’d escalated the war. He was desperate.
One by one, the cars started to disappear from the lot. Mark took out his car keys and unlocked his black Mercedes. He wasn’t a flashy man by any means, but he enjoyed nice things and had been willing to give Shelly everything she would’ve ever wanted.
“Mark,” I called out softly. His name carried on the breeze.
He turned. His face was somber, but there was no hostility in his gaze so I took a hesitant step toward him.
“Where are you going?” Colt asked, his hand still linked with mine even though he was conversing quietly with Zip.
“I need to talk to Mark,” I said.
Colt squeezed my fingers and then let me go.
I approached Mark cautiously, like I would a feral animal that had been beaten one too many times.
“I’m sorry.” It was a stupid thing to say to him, but it was all I could muster.
He nodded. “I know.”
My apology was all encompassing. For getting Shelly killed. For being the one to determine end of life care. For being the one Mark had to look at over Shelly’s prostrate form when she took her last breath. Mark and I were now eternally linked by death when we should’ve been linked by celebration and marriage.
“I’m leaving Waco,” he said finally.
“Are you?”
He nodded. “I’m gonna go stay with my mom for a bit.” He swallowed. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love Shelly.”
She’d want Mark to be happy, to find love again, to have a family. But he knew all that, so I didn’t have to say it. Because that was Shelly. She loved people fully. Wanted them to be happy, even at her own expense.
“I—be well, Mark,” I said with finality, knowing I’d never talk to him again.
He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he nodded. I took a step back so Mark could open his car door and leave.
I watched as he got in the driver’s seat and started the engine. I knew he’d never be able to put this behind him. Shelly’s death would haunt him forever, casting darkness over every happy moment he managed to find.
My heart was heavy with sorrow and guilt. I turned so I didn’t have to watch Mark drive out of the cemetery parking lot.
I saw Silas, Cheese’s brother, wipe tears from his cheeks with one hand, and reach down to his bike’s handlebars.
“Silas!” I called out.
The eleven-year-old boy didn’t appear to hear me. He gripped his handlebars, but made no move to actually climb onto his bike and pedal away.
Colt caught my eye and I nodded my chin in Silas’s direction. Colt looked over, a frown covering his forehead.
I jogged over to Silas, my low black heels getting stuck in the grass.
“Silas?” I hesitantly placed my hand on his shoulder.
He stiffened, but made no move to get away.
“Did you ride your bike here?” I asked even though it was rhetorical.
He nodded.
“Where’s your Mom? Your Dad?”
“Mom left. After she heard about Chester. Dad is where he always is.”
On the couch. Bottle in hand.
I’d been encased in a fortress of grief—but Silas’s words were a hammer of anger, cracking through my exterior, finding their way into my heart. My cheeks heated with rage.
When Silas threw his leg over his bike seat, I placed a hand on the bars to stop him. “Come with me.”
He looked up at me with tears in his eyes. “Why?”
I reached out and threaded my fingers through his silky brown hair. “Because I’m going to make it better.”
He swallowed. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
The boy had lost the only family that had ever given a damn about him. A brother who could no longer look out for him, protect him from the cruel world he had grown up in. Like hell I was going to let Silas go home to an alcoholic father and a now absent mother.
Abandonment and death would not be this boy’s life. Cheese had been doing everything possible to ensure that Silas knew he had someone who cared about him, and I would not allow that love to die with Cheese.
Silas wheeled his bike along side of me as we walked to Colt and Zip. Colt’s face was pale and I knew he was dying for some serious painkillers, but he adamantly refused. My first thought was to roll my eyes, but I quickly realized that it wasn’t Colt trying to show off his manly bravado. It was because he didn’t like anything clouding his judgment. It was about control, so all he allowed himself to have was over the counter anti-inflammatories.
“Hey, Silas,” Zip said.
“Colt? Can I talk to you a second?” I asked.
He looked down at me and nodded. Zip stayed with Silas while Colt and I slowly made our way to the crop of trees about fifteen feet away so we could have some privacy.
“He can’t go home,” I told Colt without preamble. “I mean, it’s not really a home. His mother left when she heard about Cheese. And his dad—”
“Yeah.” Colt sighed. “Cheese told me about his old man once. Useless piece of shit.”
“Silas needs a real home. Some place secure. Where he knows he’s got people who won’t leave him. Who won’t bail when shit gets hard.” I took a deep breath. “I think—I think Silas and I might need each other, Colt.”
Colt stared at me for a long moment and then he reached up and cradled my head in his hands, his thumbs skimming across the apples of my cheeks. “You’ve finally got some color in your face. Is this you coming back to me?”
I blinked. “Coming back to you?”
He swallowed. “You shut down. I didn’t know if you’d snap out of it.” He looked away from me to stare at Silas. “I’ll give you whatever you want, babe. Whatever you need.”
“I want Silas,” I said, surprising myself.
“You, who didn’t want kids yet?” His smile was teasing, his eyes creasing at the corners.
“The heart wants what it wants, right?” I tamped down the flood of emotion threatening to overwhelm me. “I want to be better, Colt. I want family. I want to be happy. I choose it. Because if I don’t, then the weight of Shelly’s death—”
He pulled me to him, mindful of his injury. “All right, darlin’.”
I parked Colt’s truck in front of the trailer Silas pointed to. The blue paint was flaking, the tin roof looked like it had seen far too many hailstorms, and the lawn in front was more weeds than grass.
The rumble of Boxer and Reap’s bikes came to halt.
Colt turned off the engine and climbed out of the truck. The two of us followed Silas up the worn dirt path to the steps. Silas showed no hesitation whatsoever about reaching for the door handle, but Colt stopped him by placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“I’ll go first,” Colt stated.
“Why?” Silas asked, brushing hair that was too long out of his eyes.
“Because,” Colt said with a rueful smile.
Silas smiled back and I breathed a sigh of relief. The boy had spent enough time around the Blue Angels not to be afraid of them. For that, I was grateful.
I gently urged Silas back to stand in front of me. Colt went inside first, pushing the door open wide. The smell of stale cigarettes and sweat filled the air, and I instantly breathed through my mouth.
Silas’s father was sitting in a recliner, staring at the television, a bottle of whiskey in his lap. He raised it to his lips as he briefly looked in the direction of the door.
His eyes scanned the three of us in confusion, but he said nothing.
“Silas,” Colt said, his tone soft. “Why don’t you show Mia your room. Pack your things, yeah?”
“Okay,” Silas said, latching onto my hand and dragging me to the back of the trailer, through a kitchen with peeling linoleum and warped, mildew-stained walls.
Silas pushed open a door and waved me inside. I stepped into his room, which was nothing more than a twin mattress on the floor. It was surprisingly tidy and I wondered if that was Silas’s doing, or if Cheese had been the one to clean it.
There was a tin bucket by the window and half of it was filled with dank water.
“What is this?” I asked, pointing to it.
“The roof leaks,” Silas said.
I inhaled a shaky breath, trying to keep my anger contained. Silas didn’t need that. I looked around for a suitcase or a bag. Silas was tossing action figures and a few comic books onto his bed along with a few clothes.
“No suitcase, huh?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Garbage bag? In the kitchen?”
He nodded. Silas bent down to crawl into his closet and I noticed that his pants lifted to show his ankles. Too small, I realized.
I didn’t tell him not to pack his clothes even though we’d be getting him new ones almost immediately. Even little boys had pride.
I slipped out of his room and headed back into the kitchen. Colt was sitting on the stained brown couch, not even a foot away from Silas’s father, his body turned toward the man who hadn’t even bothered to greet his son.
I couldn’t hear what Colt was saying and I didn’t want to know. All I cared about was getting Silas out of this place.
I rooted around underneath the sink, letting out a startled squeak when my hand brushed something furry.
“Fuck this,” I muttered.
I slammed the cabinet shut and high-tailed it back to Silas’s room. He looked at me with questioning eyes.
“Er—all out of garbage bags.”
He smiled in genuine mirth. “Did you meet Murray?”
“Murray?”
“My rat.”
“Like a pet rat?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. I sort of adopted him though.”
“You won’t be devastated if he stays here, right?”
“No. I never really wanted a rat for a pet.”
I saw the pile of belongings on his bed and used his sheet as a makeshift satchel.
“Mia?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m okay leaving Murray behind, but can I bring Captain?”
“Who’s Captain?” I asked nervously.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Colt said as he slowly moved to the bed and pulled back the covers. He slid between the sheets and groaned in relief.
“You saw Captain. There was no way I could deny Silas.”
Captain, as it turned out, was a medium-sized, black and white speckled mutt with one ear that flopped down and another that stood straight up. And Captain only had one eye. After a bath and a meal, Captain was now conked out with Silas and the other Blue Angels kids in the clubhouse theater room.
By the time Colt and I had made it back to the clubhouse, it was nearly dark. The wake had been going for hours. The mood had been somber—until we’d arrived with a one-eyed dog.
“He needs new clothes,” I said.
“Hmm,” Colt said, his eyes closing, exhausted from an emotional day. “We’ll get it sorted.”
“Did Cheese ever say anything to you about Silas’s living condition?”
“No. I had no idea it was that bad. But Cheese had his pride and I know how much he loved his brother, so I know he was trying to get Silas out of there.”
“I wish he’d said something. It would’ve been so much better if we could’ve helped sooner.”
“Hmm,” he murmured in agreement.
“Silas is going to need his own room at the house.”
“Obviously.”
“I think we should let him pick out his own furniture and paint. Maybe that will help ease his transition.”
“Mia?”
“Yeah?”
“Can’t all that wait?”
I let out a breath. “Yeah, it can.”
“He’s okay for now, right? He’s got his dog. He’s got his friends. He’s sitting downstairs with Cam and Brock. He knows these people. He’s known them for years. I’m willing to bet he’s more comfortable here than he ever was at home. Let it be for right now.”
“All right.” I lifted the covers, wanting to tuck him in. I’d helped him change his bandage and I’d blanched when I saw the angry red wound in his side. He’d griped and cursed, but I’d somehow convinced him to take a pain pill, so at least he could sleep. Sleep would help him heal.
“What did you say to his father?”
Colt’s eyes were half-mast and I knew the potent drug was dragging him into sleep, but he still found the resolve to answer me. “I told him I was taking his son and giving him a better place to live. I told him he had two choices. I’d give him a thousand bucks a month for him to sign the paperwork for guardianship and for the schools, and then he’d keep his mouth shut, or he’d disappear and I’d get Silas’s guardianship in court when he was gone. He chose not to argue.”
“We did the right thing, getting Silas out of there.”
“Yeah, we did.” He paused, his breathing evening out.
I thought he’d fallen asleep and was on my way to the door when his words stopped me.
“I’ll call the club lawyer in the morning. We’ll make sure we are Silas’s legal guardians as fast as we can, okay?”
My eyes softened and the tears that I felt threatening were in danger of spilling over.
“Okay, honey. Sleep if you can. If you need anything…”
He didn’t reply and I knew he’d passed out.
I closed the door and headed down the hallway to the backyard. The wake for Cheese was still going strong. I planned on having a drink in his honor. And a drink for Shelly. And then I’d find a secluded place and cry. Let out all the bottled up emotions that were still sitting somewhere inside of me.
The girls swarmed me, enveloping me in their arms. They didn’t offer empty platitudes, just their silent comfort and the knowledge that they were there if I needed anything.
“Did you eat today?” Darcy asked, pulling back.
I shook my head. “I haven’t had much of an appetite.”
Rachel handed me a bottle of Irish whiskey. “This’ll do you right.”
“Thanks.” I took a sip, enjoying the warmth of it as it settled in my belly.
“Amazing thing what you’re doing for that boy,” Joni said.
“Anyone would’ve done it.”
Allison raised her eyebrows. “No, not anyone.”
“He was Cheese’s family,” I said with a raw throat. “Cheese was our family. It was the only thing to do.” I raised my bottle in the air and yelled, “To Cheese!”
Echoes of my toast resounded across the yard as people drank to their fallen brother.
“To Shelly,” Boxer called, his eyes meeting mine.
“To Shelly,” everyone chanted.
We continued to drink and then the guys lit a massive bonfire. Flynn and his boys were not at the clubhouse, but out on the streets of Waco, sniffing out all they could about the Iron Horsemen. Knight and the Coeur d’Alene brothers were seeing to our safety, guarding the clubhouse entrances so we could mourn and drink, though no one was getting sloppy.
The club was on total lockdown. No one would harm us tonight.
I wandered over to Boxer who was sitting on a table by himself, his face expressionless. He didn’t bother to crack a joke or try to lighten the atmosphere. Tonight, we’d let the mood be dark. Tomorrow, when the sun rose, we would face it all again, but for now, we kept to the shadows to mourn the spirits that would haunt us.
“Shit day,” Boxer stated.
“The shittiest,” I agreed.
I drank from the bottle of whiskey, no longer feeling the burn of it.
“How’s Colt?” he asked.
“Down for the night.”
He chuckled, but it sounded rusty and forced. “What did you have to promise him to keep him in bed?”
“That’s between me and Colt.”
My comment had the effect I wanted; it caused Boxer to throw his head back and shout with laughter. He draped an arm around my shoulder and dragged me close to him.
I sighed thinking maybe we’d be okay. Maybe we’d all get through this.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever hated someone so much that you wanted to kill him? Actually close your hands around his throat and choke the life out of him?”
“Have another sip of whiskey,” he suggested. “And ask me what you really want to ask.”
I drank and then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I want to kill Dev.”
“I know.”
“I mean, I want to,”—I swallowed—“hurt him. And then I want to be the one to end his life. I’m not joking. I am dead fucking serious.”
Boxer rubbed a thumb across his lips. “Have you talked to Colt about this?”
“Sort of. When he was in the hospital. I want your thoughts, though.”
“Why mine?”
“Because underneath that carefree exterior beats the heart of a savage.” I looked at him and raised an eyebrow, daring him to deny my assessment of him.
“A woman who sees me for what I am, and who’s bloodthirsty for revenge. Damn fucking shame Colt got to you first.”
“Boxer,” I said quietly. “Please.”
He paused for a moment and sobered. “Revenge is a beast that stands alone, Mia. You get it, thinking its gonna make you feel better, thinking it will replace that thing you lost. Sometimes it is that way. You get revenge and it’s all you need to sleep well at night. Feel like you did right. But other times…other times, living with what you’ve had to do to even the score?” He shrugged. “That might haunt you worse than the losses.” He looked at me. “You wanna be the one to put the gun to Dev’s head and pull the trigger? Do you have what it takes to end a man’s life?”
“I took a shot at him in the park,” I said.
“So I heard. Were you actually trying to kill him? Or wound him?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
He scraped a hand across his whiskered jaw in need of a shave. “From what I heard, if Ramsey hadn’t tackled you, you’d have been successful.”
“Huh. That’s an interesting piece I didn’t know.” I paused. “ I’m consumed with rage and I’ve never felt like this in my life.”
“People are complex, Mia, and the world is gray. Our actions are sometimes dark and sometimes light. What you did for that boy? That’s all good. It’s the light in you that makes you a good person. Will killing a man take that away from you and make you dark? No, but thinking about murder and committing murder are two very different things. I’m guessing you already know how I know that. One thing I will say though, I won’t be the one to take the choice away from you.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Do you think I could end a man’s life?”
“Yeah, I do. There’s strength in you, Mia. But Colt would never let you pull the trigger.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s his right as president to execute the man that killed one of our brothers. Plus—well—he would never want you to have to live with the weight of that decision. That is his cross to bear.”
“He’ll take away the choice from me so I don’t have to worry about it? That doesn’t work for me.”
He shrugged. “That’s between you two. Though, I’m not gonna lie, I kinda wanna be there when you give it to him.”
I took a sip from the bottle. “Can I change the subject?”
“Really wanting to bend my ear tonight, aren’t ya?” he asked with a wink.
“I haven’t cried yet.”
“No?” he asked.
“No.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I thought it was because I was numb. Just a cold block of ice.” I absently rubbed the spot on my chest over my heart. “But I got angry today. Over Silas. I got protective and sad, and I wanted to bawl my eyes out thinking about that little boy without his brother, wearing jeans too short for him, living in a trailer with a father who couldn’t give two shits about him. I just—it was like all the ice around me melted. But when I think of Shelly, I can’t—there’s no sadness there. No well of emotion to feel from. Just blackness and hate.”
“I’m sure you’ve got a theory about that.” He reached for my bottle of booze and drank from it. He didn’t offer it back and I didn’t take it from him.
“When my grandmother died…it sent me into this…I don’t know—not a depression—I wouldn’t let myself be depressed. I worked all the time, I barely slept. I’m afraid that,” I swallowed, “if I break down and grieve for Shelly, I’ll be grieving everyone I’ve lost in my life. Does that make sense?”
“Makes sense,” he said softly. “But I gotta tell ya, if you don’t find a way to process, to mourn, you’ll think you’re fine and then one day something will come along and break you apart. And there will be no coming back from that. You took in Silas, a little boy who needs boundaries and parents, and someone to tuck him in at night. What will happen if you fall apart on him too? He’s already learned that his parents are shit and his brother is dead. Don’t be someone else who fails him.”
I looked up at the stars, wondering if they would give me answers.
“Grieve, Mia. We’ll be here waiting for you.”
I crept into the silent and dark clubhouse. I checked in on Colt, who was still sound asleep. I then went down to the basement to look in on the kids and to see if Silas needed anything.
A nightlight lit the way.
Darcy had told me that her children had had nightmares the past three nights and crawled into bed with her and Gray. Tonight was the first night that they’d wanted to sleep with their friends in the basement. Not wanting to smother them, she stayed upstairs in Gray’s clubhouse room.
I didn’t know if Silas had nightmares since he’d been at the trailer with his father. Silas and I hadn’t yet talked about his brother and the day at the park. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of getting to know a long-lost father as well as getting to know a boy who’d I claimed as mine.
Silas was sleeping in a pile with Brock and Cam, with Captain sprawled across his legs. The dog lifted his head to stare at me and the snuggled back down when he realized I was a friend. I gently scratched his ears and he let out a noise as he yawned and stretched. It made me smile.
I took a moment to study Silas and then brushed his hair from his face. He stirred, cracking one eye open. He didn’t look surprised to see me and even let out a little sigh before closing his eyes and falling back asleep.
I moved to the couch, careful not to step on any pockets of sleeping children. After I got settled, I pulled a blanket from the back of the couch over me, including my head. Closing my eyes, I focused on breathing, but the more I sank into it, the more shaky it became. Before I knew what was happening, I was crying silent tears not three feet away from a group of children who’d been traumatized by a psychopath.
I cried until there were no more tears, and then I fell asleep, dreaming of revenge.
