Blood of Cupids (20 page)

J,

No. By the date on your last letter, I can only assume
that I have missed my window to stop you from this act of stupidity. Why did
you not deliver it earlier? Why did you allow me to wait so long to read it?
Why would you ever think that patching into a club would be the answer for us?

I cannot wake up every morning and worry about you. The
things they’ll make you do…it’s too much for me to endure. J, please get out.
Believe me when I say I do not need the fear, the danger in my life. Yes, there
was a time when I was lost. My parents were taken from me and the club gave me
attention that I thought I’d never know again. I’ve made mistakes, but please
don’t let my issues become your cross to bear.

Any pulling away I’ve done has only been to protect you
from this life. I have never wanted this for you, for us. Please, J, you must
believe me. I can only pray to God that your letter was simply a cruel attempt
to scare me into realizing I can’t live without you.

But the truth is, I already know that. I’ve never been
able to live without you. So please don’t put yourself in this danger for me,
because I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve the love you have given me, but I
will treasure it today, tomorrow, and past the light.

You are my only,

E

I felt the blade enter my body, searing my skin at its
contact. The ground met my head and my gaze caught a frightened pair of blue
eyes. Grace. Even covered in blood and bandages, she was the most beautiful
thing I had ever seen. I couldn’t stop staring at her. If her face was the
final image I was given on this earth, I would make it last as long as
possible. Don’t close your eyes, Ryan: stay with her.

“Oh no, you’re not dying yet.”  Brennan said.

I was lifted to my knees again by the blade partially
plunged into my chest.

“Ryan!” Grace again. Everything was spinning, but I knew her
voice.

The pressure from the knife had faded, and I saw Patrick
“Bowie” Brennan standing over me. Blood dripped onto my face. It was my own
blood, from the knife that was just inside of me. He propelled his arm back,
and I braced for another shock.

I screamed. How could I not? There were now two knife holes
perforating my chest, but he must have made sure to stay clear of my organs. He
knew what he was doing: he was making me suffer as long as possible for my
relationship with his daughter.

I found Grace, and tried to smile. My lips refused to rise
at my command, and she mirrored my expression. I was doing a pretty lousy job
of protecting her, but I couldn’t fight back, not even with the gun still
holding strong in my jacket. It was her father. If one of us lived through this
battle, it should be him.

Brennan pulled the knife from me again, laughing at the
blood spilling from my chest. His arm retracted, and I was ready, ready to
finally die.

“Leave the kids out of this.”

Pops? It took all my might to raise my head, but the reward
was worth it. My brothers were standing behind Pops, ready for this fight. I
wasn’t alone. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend Jimmy Cassidy.
Brothers,” Brennan looked to his men, all but the three still atop their bikes,
“have you all met my wife’s former lover?”

Shock froze my body, even in my crippled state. Was what he
said true? As I pieced the puzzle together, it all started to make sense. My
mother left because of Pop’s affair. Pops knew who Grace was just by looking at
her. His warnings about her family were based on his own experiences. Pops told
me that Patrick Brennan killed his wife because she was fooling around with a
Cupid
newbie. Pops must have been the newbie. The dates all lined up. Pops was
J.

“This is between you and me, Brennan. Let the kids go.”

He gestured to Grace’s body, still pinned to the ground. “Do
you see my daughter right now? All of my daughter? She’s made herself a part of
this, and I intend to let her learn the lesson she brought upon herself.”

In the midst of Brennan’s discourse, Pops knelt down beside
me. “You okay, Ry?”

“Sure,” I stuttered. “I’ll be fine.” I didn’t know if that
was the truth, but I could breathe, and that was good enough for me.

He whispered. “Get Grace, and get out of here.”

I nodded, but didn’t know how he expected me to do that.
Three
Shadows
were still holding her down.

“Stop talking to your kid, and fight me.”

Pops pulled out an Intratec 9mm and aimed it at his chest.
“Okay Brennan, let’s do this.”

Grace’s dad roared with laughter and gestured to his gun in
the grass. “Not today, Jimmy. Today we fight with the blade.”

He held his Bowie up for his opponent to see, “I’d give you
this one, but your son’s blood is all over it.” With wicked laughter, he
revealed another still in his belt. Pulling it free, he tossed it to Pops. The
guys from both sides all took steps forward, producing knives of their own. I
was torn. Should I help? Should I back Pops up? Or should I do as he said and
get Grace the hell out of there?

“Everyone fights!” Brennan commanded.

His men followed their orders and hopped off their bikes,
forming clumps behind their leaders. They left Grace and me alone on the
ground. As soon as she was freed, she rushed to my side, pulling my shirt open
and gaping at the wounds.

“Ryan…” She looked as though she could not believe what was
happening to us. I’m sure our expressions matched, because I knew I couldn’t
believe it either.

“It doesn’t hurt.” I quietly replied. “But we need to get
out of here.” Pops was good with a blade, so my worries were not focused on
him. Grace, on the other hand, I didn’t want her to see this fight.

We helped each other to our feet and prepared to make our
escape. I turned, losing sight of Grace for a brief second, when I felt her
hand grasp at my shoulder. I swung around, but Brennan had his arm already
around her ribs and his knife at her throat.

E,

I know it’s been awhile since I’ve written, but I knew
any correspondence with you would have made me doubt my actions. I couldn’t let
you talk me out of this; I made this decision for us.

But I’ve survived. The only way I could live through the
torment, the torture, was by assuring myself that you were at the end of my
battle. It took me six months of absolute shit and pain and embarrassment to get
my top rocker, but I am now an official patched in member of The Blood of
Cupids MC. Next week I’ll get my tattoo. One of the guys does all of them. It’s
actually really beautiful, and he’s very talented.

While my writing might reflect the euphoria I feel now
that my prospecting days are forever behind me, I need you to know that this
life still isn’t my first choice. Every day of my plight I imagined what our
life could be together. I thought of the two of us, living somewhere in the
middle of nowhere. We would have two dogs, and they would love to drink out of
the pond in our front yard. We’d cringe at each other, because sometimes the
fish would go missing.

I pictured Ryan and Gracie running around, fighting as
children often do. They would pull each other’s hair and scratch at each
other’s faces. We’d laugh, because we knew they could never truly hurt each
other. I saw us sitting on the porch as we waved them off to school. I think
Ryan would love Gracie. He would protect her. And he would absolutely beat up
any guy who would hurt her. He would call her ‘my Grace’ and they would be best
friends. They would be family. 

You and I would spend our days taking walks and laughing
about how different our lives would have been if we hadn’t left Pennsylvania. You’d
be the best teacher in the area, and all the kids would fight to be in your
class. I would run a wood working shop out of our garage, and you would yell at
me for always being covered in sawdust.

This is the life I would build for us, and this is the
life we would share. We would be so happy.

I get my tattoo next Friday. That will seal my fate. Next
Friday I will forever be a Cupid.

But Cupid or not, I will love you today, tomorrow, and
past the light.

To our life, whichever it may be,

J

“How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from my
fucking daughter? I’d rather her be dead than with you.”

He whispered in my ear not to worry, that he would never
hurt me. But after the day I’d just had—that I was still having—I couldn’t
trust anything he said.

And I was still coming to terms with the fact that the man
standing in front of me, the man Ryan called his father, had loved my mother.
Because of their relationship, she was taken from me. I hated him so much.

Ryan threw his hands up in submission. “Don’t. Look, I won’t
touch her. I’m just trying to get her away from this; keep her safe. That’s
all.”

“She’s not yours to keep safe, Cassidy. She’s mine. She’s
been mine and she’ll be mine until I decide to give her to someone else. Can
you get that through your thick skull?”

“That’s fine,” Even in his weakened state, Ryan was trying
to reason with him, calm him down, “but can you take the knife away from her
throat?”

He pulled me in tighter, the Bowie blade now pressing against
my oozing bandage. I had enough.

“Do it!” I shouted. It may have been pathetic, but at that
point, I had no reason to keep living. My father was holding a knife to my
throat, the man I loved was stabbed, and my nightmares were sure to only get
worse. “Please,” I cried, “just kill me.”

Ryan stared at me, shaking his head. When he had my full
attention, he mouthed to me, barely allowing breath to escape his lips. “You’re
stronger than this.
We’re
stronger than this.” He was pleading, begging
me to keep holding on.

What was wrong with me? Patrick Brennan didn’t own me. He
couldn’t tell me what to do forever. No matter how terrible my situation had
become, I would be able to change it. I had that power. Allowing myself to die
wouldn’t be the answer.

I pulled together the strength that I had found in Ryan’s
words and elbowed my father in the stomach. His resounding grunt started the
war, and I fell to the ground, unnoticed.

I crawled to Ryan, fighting not to be buried under a sea of
charging legs. While weak, he still was able to throw his arms around me. We
kept moving, finding safety from the fight just a few feet away. We sat silent,
holding each other. We were just two kids, watching our families fight to the
death.

“Ryan, did we do this?” I cracked, my throat soar from be
strangled.

“No Grace, this isn’t about us.”

We watched our brothers battle their enemies, everyone
certain their cause was stronger than the opposing. I wanted to scream. I
wanted it all to stop. I wanted to close my eyes and wake up tomorrow.

But the dream world wasn’t my reality. This standoff, this
knife fight, these men; they were my truth. This man with his arm around me,
suddenly struggling to breathe, he was my existence.

I gasped as I watched a knife make contact. Then another.
How was I sitting there, not doing anything? Where had we gone wrong? Ryan held
me tighter as we witnessed our brothers’ bloody struggle.

“Grace,” Ryan turned to me, “I can’t sit back anymore. That
is my family up there.”

“No, no, no. Not you. No, we’re leaving. Ryan, this isn’t
our life anymore.” I threw words into the air. I didn’t know what I was saying,
but I knew he couldn’t fight.

He pushed my hair from my eyes, studying my face. “If this
was all I had, it was more than I could ever have asked for.”

Ryan took a stunted breath and kissed me. Neither of us let
go, knowing that it could be the last time our bodies, our souls touched. I
wanted more of him, but every movement reminded me of the physical pain I was
suffering. I had no idea how Ryan was still alive, let alone willing to join
his brothers in combat. He stood, our lips still refusing to separate. Finally
he pulled away, looking in my eyes one last time. Neither of us said anything.
We simply stared at each other. It was enough.

Ryan ran into the crowd, toward his father. How was I
supposed to watch this?

I tried to turn away, but my father’s voice drew me back. He
was holding Jimmy Cassidy down, completely ready to jam his knife into his
chest.

I screamed, but the roaring fight muted my muffled cries.
Just as I thought Ryan’s father had taken his last breath, I watched as the
feared “Bowie” Brennan dropped his knife. The two men stared at each other.

“Why Cassidy?” Dad whispered. “Why?”

“Why did I love Emily? Is that what you’re asking me?”

He shook his head. “No. I know why you loved her. Everyone
loved her. I’m asking you why you killed her.”

Their speech quieted as their conversation deepened.

“
You
killed her.”

“I would never. She was my wife, Grace’s mother.”

“She was the love of my life. When she died, my world
stopped.”

“You didn’t…”

“No.”

“If you didn’t…” He couldn’t finish his thought, “Who?”

“I did.” Sean said. It was as if he had been waiting for
that perfect moment. And then, not willing to waste another perfect moment, he
picked up my father’s knife and jammed it into his lower back. Dad buckled to
the ground, as he twisted my father’s own weapon further into his spine. The
entire fight stopped.

Each person was fixated on a fallen Patrick Brennan. I
couldn’t move. No matter the monster he had turned into, that man was my
father. “No!” I shouted above the silence. I picked up my withering body and
ran, as fast as I could, to the spot where my father lay.

“Dad, Dad, look at me.”

“I’m so sorry, Gracie. I should’ve been better.”

“You’re going to be okay. I promise, you’ll be okay.” I
found my voice. “Someone call an ambulance now!”

 
The Walking Shadows
all simultaneously pulled
out their phones and began to dial. I held my father’s hand, willing him to
survive this attack.

“This is it Baby, and that’s a good thing.”

“Dad stop!” I cried.

“No,” he took my hand, “you’re going to be better off
without me. I know that.” His stare suddenly turned from serenity to fear.
“Grace, look out.”

I quickly turned to see Ryan’s uncle holding up my father’s
Colt .45. “Hello, Grace, it’s time to finish what I started.”

I saw the gun cock and the pressure move to his trigger
finger. This was it. After twenty-three years, it was all about to end. I
closed my eyes, knowing that I would not be able to outrun the bullet.

The gun fired. My eyes shot open. I was still alive. But…

“Pops!” Ryan called. Ryan’s father had tackled his uncle
just as he shot off the gun. He had saved my life, taking a bullet for me. His
shooter had already disappeared, leaving his brother to die.

Ryan raced past me, picking his dad off the ground.

“Pops. Pops. Look at me, goddamnit.”

I felt a brush on my arm, and my father weakly handed me a
piece of paper, gesturing toward Jimmy’s failing body. I took the parchment
from his hand, and held on, not willing to let him go. “You’re so beautiful,
Gracie: just like your mother.” He smiled at me and closed his eyes.

“Dad? Dad?” I shook him. I just kept shaking him. Those
couldn’t have been the last words I would ever say to my father.

I took a deep breath, cautiously unfolding the crumpled
piece of loose-leaf he had handed me. It was a letter.

My forever J,

I skipped to the bottom.

Today, tomorrow, and past the light,

E

Of course: it was a letter from my mother, Emily Brennan, to
her lover, Jimmy Cassidy. My father was asking me to know the truth. He was
offering for everyone to know the truth. Following his final request, I left my
father’s body and crawled to Ryan’s side. Through my tears, I began reading to
his fading father.

 April 16
^th
, 1995

My forever J,

I cried as I read your letter over and over again. You
have planted a seed for a perfect life, and somehow I was lucky enough to be
your other half.

I am so sorry that you had to go through a time of
torture, I never wanted that for you, but I swear it’s all over now. I will
spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, I will run
away with you, and I will never look back. Grace and Ryan and you and me: we
will be a family. I can’t believe it has taken me this long to say it, to
finally have the power to stand up for a life I want, a partner I want.

We will be happy, but most of all, we will finally know
only love. Ryan and Grace will know the love they deserve.

We’ll be there, you know where: Monday at 8:00 p.m. At
8:01, our life together will finally begin.

I love you.

Today, tomorrow, and past the light,

E

Through tear-soaked eyes, I lowered the paper. Ryan’s father
was smiling. “Thank you, Grace.” He whispered.

He was so happy. And it was his happiness that took him
away.

“Pops.” Ryan shook him. “No. No, Pops stay with me.”

We heard the ambulances in the distance. I placed my hand on
Ryan’s, but a force picked me up from behind. We all knew the drill. We needed
to clear out of there before the authorities arrived. My family dragged me in
one direction, as Ryan’s dragged him the other. We called for each other, but
neither of us had the strength to fight the families to which we belonged. This
was to be it between us; our love had seen its last day. We held on as long as
we could, not breaking eye contact until the night’s darkness took over our
sight. Then it was over.

The sounds of the engines filled the sky, and everyone was
gone. All that were left were the bodies of Patrick Brennan and Jimmy Cassidy:
lifelong enemies.

But friends in death.