Blood of Cupids (19 page)

E,

I cannot claim to be shocked by your last letter. I have
asked you countless times to run away with me, vowing to protect you, but you
fear to do anything that might cause your husband to lash out at you. And now
he has. You have put yourself and your child in danger just by being in this
life. I have offered to take you out of it, and you constantly deny my
invitations.

I can only assume that you need, you love the fear in
your life. I thought I understood you. I thought you had been lost at a young
age, finding a family with the club, but I never thought you would fully
succumb to their power.

I was wrong. This is the life you want. But, know this, I
am not letting you out of my sight. I will not let you do this alone.

I have an in. My brother rides with a new club. We’re not
close, but he’s family, and he’s offered to help me get patched in quickly.

Much rather would I have run away with you, found a home
with a silly white picket fence, and raised our children as family. But you
chose otherwise, and I cannot fight my heart. I must follow your lead. When the
prospecting phase is over, I will find you, and I will give you the criminal
life to which you are so attached.

Today, tomorrow, and past the light, I would do anything
for you.

J

“Grace, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Are you deaf? I watched him!” She was screaming and crying
at the same time. I was overwhelmed. Could this be true?

She was covered in blood, I assumed both hers and Sean’s. I
ran my fingers through her hair, trying desperately to calm her down.

My attention was solely on her, and I completely missed Sean
rising to his feet. He grabbed her from behind, pulling the knife from her
hands and holding it at her throat.

Dangled in front of me, I could see what Sean had done to
her. There was a deepening bruise on her right cheek; her shirt was torn down
the middle revealing not only her bra, but also a clear slice down the center
of her body. It didn’t seem deep, but blood was pooling at the cut. Her pants
had been undone and were hanging low on her hips. It was obvious my uncle was
attempting to rape her before killing her. My blood boiled at the thought. I
reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the tucked away pistol.

“Put her down, Sean.”

“Do you see what this bitch did to me? No, she deserves
what’s coming to her.”

“I said ‘put her down’!” I cocked the gun, prepared to
shoot.

He shook his blood-dried face at me. “You’re a pussy. You’ve
never shot anyone in your life. I’d be thrilled to honor your cut with a skull
and crossbones patch.”

He was testing me. He was certain I wouldn’t pull the
trigger, but this was Grace, and there was little I wouldn’t do to ensure her
safety. “Let her go!”

“You can threaten me all you want. She’s mine now.” He
pulled her tighter to him, and she cried out in pain as he nicked her throat
with his knife.

“Stop it!”

“You’re going to have to kill me, kid.”

I aimed the gun at him, but my hand wouldn’t stop shaking. I
tried to steady my fingers, but my nerves were unrelenting. Why now? When it
was all on the line, how could I not save her? I looked into his eyes and
wished death upon him, but I couldn’t kill him. I wasn’t cut out to be a
murderer. I looked to Grace, whose now lifeless eyes bore into me. “I’m so
sorry.” I mouthed.

She nodded in understood reply, never asking me to kill for
her. She was much stronger than I had known before this moment. I was not.

But maybe I didn’t have to kill Sean. As I lowered my aim
from his head, my hand steadied. Without a second look, I pulled the trigger,
shooting my .22 into his knee. He fell to the floor with cursed pain, and I
grabbed Grace from his grip, fleeing the scene.

With Grace in my arms, I ran the two of us across the field,
to the boxing ring. I knew there was a first aid kit in the back. I laid her
down, begging her to keep still and quiet while I found the supplies. I was
back at her side within seconds, and found her curled into a ball.

“Grace, Grace, look at me.” She was shaking, refusing to
turn her head. I tried to flip her over, needing to see just how deep the knife
wounds were, but she held tight in the fetal position, crying at each touch of
my hands.

“Grace, babe, you need to show me.” I pushed her hair from
her face and lowered my mouth to her ear. I wanted her to feel my warmth, to
know I was not going to hurt her, but I feared she was in shock. Her whimpering
finally slowed, and she looked deep into my eyes. Something was different.
Something had changed in her. I barely recognized the woman who was staring
back at me.

But no lifeless look could change how I felt about her. I
was determined to make her feel safe again.

I poured hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball and began to
work, starting with her face. As the liquid cleaned her up, I was able to see
where Sean’s blood ended and hers began. He had surely done a number on her.
The gash in her neck had yet to clot, and I pressed down, praying for the blood
to stop. I unwrapped a bandage and secured it into place, but within an
instant, the white dressing had become red. Although fairly certain he hadn’t
hit an artery, I would need to make sure her neck was stitched up, and soon.

She allowed me to push her shoulders back, revealing her
slashed chest. Tears clouded my vision as I looked at her beautiful body. I
lowered my lips and lightly kissed her. It was the only way I knew to heal, but
she cried out, pushing my face away.

“Grace, I’m not going to hurt you.”

She had risen to a seated position and curled her knees up
to her chest. I inched closer.

“No!” She yelled.

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

Her shoulders lowered their tension, and she tilted her head
to the side. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.” Her hand came to her mouth as her tears
began their flow.

“Hey, hey.” I slowly inched toward her with open arms. I
wanted to tell her it would be okay, but in reality, I didn’t know. In that
moment I knew nothing. But she found her trust in me. She nodded in acceptance
and fell into my embrace, allowing her tears to fully overcome her.

For the first time in my life, I knew love.

But then we heard the engines.

No matter how brave I pretended to be, nothing could have
prepared me for that night. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought myself
capable of taking another life, but had Ryan not pulled me off of him, my
mother’s murderer would not have moved from that unfinished floor.

I had no reason to fear Ryan, but his calloused hands were
reminiscent of my attacker’s. Each delicate touch of his brought me back to the
man who killed me mother, who almost killed me. I felt so bad, Ryan was only
trying to heal my injuries, but I couldn’t help the reactions. His touch
frightened me. Any touch would have frightened me.

But I had to overcome my fears. This man had saved my life
and was only trying to bid me comfort. He offered me his arms, and I took them,
folding my broken body into his embrace. It was then that I knew where I
belonged. The tension melted and I believed I could make it through this
ordeal. It was with this man that I could find a home. Despite his violent
upbringing, he knew how to treat a woman, how to love a woman. I had to admit
that in his arms, I was falling for him.

“Your family or mine?” He questioned as he pulled away from
our embrace.

I listened to the roar of the bikes, trying to gage the
specific number of engines, but my guess wasn’t needed. I was sure the
Shadows
were here. They were ready for war.

“It’s mine. I’ll go.” I managed.

“No, we’ll do this together.”

“Ryan…”

“Grace, let me be a man.” His words were deliberate, and I
could not argue. He had proven himself, and now I needed to let him take his
place in our relationship. I needed to allow him to protect me.

We walked out into the field, hand in hand, facing a sea of
headlights. My shirt was still in tatters, and we had yet to bandage the knife wound
that begged to split me in half. I was fully exposed, but at that point, it
didn’t matter. I couldn’t hide anymore.

My father stepped off his bike and approached us, aiming his
Colt .45 directly at Ryan’s forehead. His aim was unwavering, but his eyes were
on me.

“What did you do to her?” He roared.

I stepped in, “Dad, it wasn’t him.”

But I had spoken out of turn, and my father was not in the
mood. For the third time today, I was backhanded across my face.

Ryan let go of my hand. “You do not lay another fucking hand
on her.” He threatened.

My father dropped his gun to his side and stepped up to
Ryan, both matching each other’s size. “She’s my daughter; I’ll do what I like
to her.”

“Not while I’m around.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

Ryan didn’t cower, but turned back to me. “Grace, get out of
here.”

Before I could debate, my father reached out and pulled me
into his side. “No. I promised her she would watch as I stuck a knife in your
chest.”

For someone who didn’t make promises, he was pretty content
on keeping this one. I searched for a way to stop him. There was only one thing
I could think to do. “Dad, no, please, just let him go. I’ll do anything you
say. I’ll come home. I’ll never see him again.”

Ryan rebutted, “Fuck that!”

“Ryan, shut up, it’s the only way.”

“No. I won’t let you do that.”

Yesterday that might have worked, but today, with my shirt
ripped open revealing a knife trail down my body, my father was not leaving
without another hash mark tattoo for his right arm. He pushed me to my knees.
“Good try, Gracie, but he needs to atone for his sins.”

“He didn’t do anything!”

“Shut the fuck up, child!”

Although I felt like a child begging for the life of a
friend to be spared, no child should ever have been in this situation. The
worst part was knowing that no one would ever take me seriously enough to
listen to the truth.

“I’m not going to shut the fuck up, Dad. Ryan didn’t do
anything!”

He grabbed Ryan by the collar and brought their faces
together. “So Gracie says you didn’t do anything,” he sighed, “so I want you to
look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t stick your dirty
Cupid
cock
into my little girl.”

In that moment, I knew we had lost. Ryan said nothing,
allowing my father to know the truth. He threw him to the ground, landing in
his knees next to me. “Someone hold Gracie back.”

“No!” I shouted, but my pleas meant nothing once the
President made his demand. Three of the men that helped to raise me were now
holding my face to the ground and my hands and feet behind my back.

Dad dropped his pistol to the grass and pulled a Bowie knife
from his belt. From what I understood, every kill of his was with that knife.
That was how he got his road name. And now he was holding it to Ryan. His
intentions were clear.

He released the blade from its sheath and turned it over in
his hand, admiring its curves.

Unless Ryan had some sort of plan of escape, this was it.

“Ryan, I love you.” I whispered. I needed him to know that
all of it was real for me.

My words brought a smile to his face, even though he had to
know his death was imminent. “I love you too, Grace.”

I saw the movement out of the corner of my eye, but had no
ability to impede it. Time stopped as I watched my father plunge his knife into
Ryan’s chest.

“No!”

Ryan’s scream matched my own, but neither had the force to
stop the impact. He fell to his side, the handle still sticking out from his
chest, and his eyes locked on mine.

He didn’t blink.