Halligan To My Axe (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 2) (17 page)

I’d done it without Rosalie’s knowledge and paid for it.

The whole situation became a cluster-fuck after that.

Rosalie had agreed to be my wife, and we stayed with friends since neither set of parents allowed us back home. Within a months’ time, I was at boot camp, and then six weeks after that, deployed to Afghanistan to help fight in the War on Terror for a year.

In that time, my fiancé gave birth to our daughter, and then found another man, who’d beaten my child to death when he found out it wasn’t his. All the while, I was halfway across the world in the middle of a firefight.

When I’d gotten home on emergency leave, my father wanted to make friends like nothing had ever happened.

I’d refused, and we hadn’t spoken to each other since.

“Rosalie’s been calling us non-stop trying to get a hold of you. She says she has some things to say and that she really wants to talk to you. I’ve agreed to give you this letter by hand if she stops calling me. So here it is.” My father said as he shoved a letter into my hand and left just as quickly as he came.

I stared at the piece of paper as if it was a live grenade and had to physically restrain myself from ripping it to pieces and burning them to ashes.

When I walked into the apartment, I was glad to see that Adeline wasn’t there. I needed some time to process; I didn’t want to take my demons out on Adeline. She didn’t deserve that, but I also didn’t think I could hold on to my temper much longer, which was why I did what I did next.

“It’s time to go visit the brother.” I said to Silas when he answered the phone.

“Meet you at the clubhouse in ten,” Silas confirmed before hanging up the phone.

I picked up my cut and shrugged it on over my sweats, grabbed my keys off the hook, and left without another word.

I forgot the letter and all the shit that went with it on the counter next to my key hanger, not realizing it until much, much later in the day.

We arrived at a tiny little house, in the middle of a cookie cutter neighborhood, in Shreveport an hour later.

Silas pulled his bike up to the curb first, followed shortly by Loki, and then me.

I kicked the stand down and stood, stretching my joints out one by one before taking a step up on the sidewalk.

“Jesus, couldn’t you have worn a shirt or something? It’s cold as hell out.” I eyed Loki.

Loki smiled. “Somebody’s gotta look like the crazy one. I figure all my tattoos will help. That and my scars make me look manly.”

“Silas, why’d you sponsor this joker again?” I quipped as we walked up to the front door.

“Because he can break a man’s arm in five places in less than three seconds.” Silas said instantly, making us both chuckle.

My eyes went from the front door to the house beside Mr. Jefferson Samuel Sheffield’s to see an old lady nearly falling out of her wheel chair as she got a load of us.

“We’ve got company,” I whispered.

“Already taken care of.” Silas said in his authoritative way that only dared them to question him.

We didn’t.

Silas grunted as he knocked sedately on the door, and the man that answered the door moments later was well and truly...disturbing.

He looked like a douchebag, pure and simple.

Dressed in a pair of creased jeans and a polo shirt with the collar cocked like a real winner, he had the same dark hair as his sisters’ but his skin was craggy, and he twitched like he was coming down from a high.

“Can I help you guys?” Jefferson asked warily.

Good, he knew who we were. Now to tell him who belonged to us.

“Yes, you sure can.” Silas said as we pushed our way through the door.

I arrived home a couple hours later to find Adeline in bed, her hands wrapped closely around her knees.

“Oh, Kettle,” she whimpered brokenly as she raised a hand up to her cheek and dashed away the falling tears. “Oh, God. Kettle, I’m so sorry.”

I looked over at her in confusion.

“What?” I asked.

She held up the letter for me to see, and I suddenly became furious.

“Did I tell you to read my personal letters?” I bellowed.

She’d been in the process of crawling out of bed, but abruptly sat back down on her ass hard and looked at me in surprise.

“No,” she said hesitantly. “But I found it next to the keys. I was going to go buy some Christmas presents, but then I remembered you told me I couldn’t leave without someone with
me. So I hung the keys back up and saw that. I thought it was a letter from you, so I opened it and I just...”

I suddenly didn’t care.

I didn’t want her to know that ugly part of my life. Didn’t want her to know my greatest shame. And she’d stolen that option from me by butting into my business.

“When I leave, I expect you to get your shit and go. I’ll call Trance to come pick you up. Leave the key on the table.”

Without saying another word, I left. Snatched my keys from the hook and left.

I knew I was being unfair. Completely and utterly unfair, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around that. That moment that was most likely described in that letter was the lowest point in my life. It changed the course of my life, and left me with such a bitter taste in my mouth that I could barely function for the next year. My brain went back to those dark times, and I couldn’t claw my way back out.

“Sayo-fuckin’-nara.”I said before starting my bike with a roar and spinning gravel in my haste to get out of there.

It didn’t take long for my temper to cool down. Not even a ten-minute drive down the road, and I realized I’d fucked up. Really fucked up.

I realized my mistake and was at the apartment within an hour, but she was already gone. Realizing too late that, in my haste to leave, I’d never called Trance to make sure she was safe.

Don’t make me mad and tell me to calm down. That’s like placing food in front of a starving man and expecting him not to eat it. Fuck you.

-Text from Adeline to Kettle

Kettle

“Where’s she at?” I asked Trance over the phone.

Trance sighed, and I knew I wasn’t going to be too happy with the news.

“She ditched the phone somewhere in Alabama. Took a huge chunk of change out of her 401K in Southern Louisiana, and hasn’t used her cards since.” He said frustrated.

“Alright, give me a minute. I think I know someone that could help. Don’t know where the fuck Silas has been for the past three days, but he sure as fuck’s pissing me off.” I growled before hanging up and dialing a number that Sebastian had handed me earlier.

It rang three times before a rough male’s voice answered. “Hello?”

“This is Tiago Spada. I got your number from...” I started to say before the man interrupted me

“Know who you are, man. What can I help you with?” Jack said with no bullshitting.

Jack was a member of Free.

I’d met him only a few times before, due to Sebastian’s sister being married to one of the men that worked at Free.

Jack and his wife, Winter, were the computer whizzes of the Free foundation, and could find anybody, anywhere, at any time; or so I’d heard. Most of the time faster than Silas’ contacts could. From what I could gather, Jack and Winter were computer hackers.

Although they were the ‘good guys’ they still did illegal shit. But I didn’t give one flying fuck at that moment; all I wanted was my woman. Now.

“I need the whereabouts of someone.”

Twenty minutes later, I was printing out directions off Google Earth of Adeline’s coordinates, and walking to my bike when Trance stopped me.

“If you’ll give us an hour, we’ll ride with you. Wouldn’t mind a short ride, if you know what I mean.”

I turned and eyed Trance. “Got some groveling to do, man. Not sure I want you to be witness to the shit I’m going to have to do to get her back.”

Trance waved a hand in the air as if to clear it. “We’ll wait outside until you got that shit squared away. With luck, we can be back tomorrow morning, at the latest.

Adeline

“How long are you going to lay around and eat like that?” Viddy asked me over the phone.

I looked down at the caramel covered popcorn in my hand and shrugged. “As long as I fucking want.”

“You shouldn’t curse like that on Christmas Eve-Eve. It’s not very nice.” Viddy said as I heard fumbling and shuffling while she moved around in the background.

Viddy was a klutz. When her other senses were focused elsewhere, she forgot to pay attention to her surroundings.

“How’d you get there?” I asked, turning my attention back to the Sons of Anarchy TV show I was watching.

I didn’t know why I was watching it. It just somehow made me feel closer to Kettle. That, and maybe I was torturing myself.

I shouldn’t have read the letter after realizing what it was. I knew within the first three lines that I shouldn’t be reading it, but I was so horrified that I kept reading until the end of the page, not stopping to think until I’d finished it.

Paul had invited Viddy to his parents’ house for Christmas Eve-Eve, and accepted, even though he’d refused to let me come. Not that I would’ve gone anyway. I was too deep in my wallowing to think of anybody but myself right then. Oh, and I was in Florida, nearly ten hours away.

“Called a cab,” she murmured.

I rolled my eyes. Of course she called a cab. Paul was a world-class prick. What else did I expect? He wouldn’t come pick her up. It was Christmas Eve-Eve, and Paul was busy. Why would anybody expect him to go pick up his blind girlfriend for their first Christmas with his parents?

I couldn’t stop the snort of amusement. “Your boys a real winner.”

“Yeah?” Viddy asked. “Well yours is a real winner, too. Who kicks his girlfriend out of his house in the middle of the night when he knows she has nowhere else to go?”

“He was upset.” I said lamely.

“Whatever,” she said. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I’m here. Wish me luck.”

“I love you, Viddy. Merry Christmas. Good luck.” I said before hanging up, and then curling up on my side for a good cry.

I told myself I was crying so much because of my period. In reality, I was feeling sorry for myself.

He’d tried to call me within an hour of me leaving and to apologize, and I’d sent him a reply text to fuck off. He’d then told me to calm down, and it went downhill from there.

Now I was in a hotel room in Florida, spending Christmas by myself, eating three different flavors of popcorn and watching my new favorite show.

Oh, and ignoring Kettle’s calls.

I was doing that very well.

In fact, I’d left my phone charger, and had nothing left but the room phone, which had worked out well in my favor since my sister told me that he’d attempted to track my phone, but had come to a dead end somewhere in Alabama where my phone had died.

Once withdrawing three grand from my 401K, I took it and drove to Florida, paying in cash for a weeks’ worth of groceries and a hotel room that overlooked the beach.

Lucky for me it was the holiday season and it was discounted greatly. Otherwise, I would’ve had to settle for the crappy place across the street that didn’t have an ocean front view and no cable internet.

My room phone rang, and I picked it up with annoyance.

“What do you want? Jesus, I told you I’m fine!” I growled to my sister.

The same sister who’d called me five times in the past four hours to make sure I wasn’t hanging myself from the hotel shower stall or trying weed for the first time.

“Really? Well I’m not. Let me in.” Kettle growled from the other end of the line.

I slammed the phone down in the cradle and glared at it before deciding the best course of action was to take a shower and ignore him until he went the hell away.

Glancing at the lock to ensure it was properly placed, I started stripping out of the short shorts and tank top I’d bought at Wal-Mart earlier that morning on my popcorn run.

I smiled when I saw the bathroom, thinking that when I finally had enough money, I was definitely going to be buying a showerhead like this one.

After I paid back my 401K loan, and got a new apartment. And new clothes. And shoes. And food.

Damn, but I was broke. I still had student loan debt to pay off, and I really shouldn’t have come to Florida. I was mad though; that’s my only excuse.

Yanking my hair out of the messy bun on the top of my head, I stepped into the shower and directly under the heated spray.

The water felt divine as it flowed over my face and head, before cascading down my body in rivulets.

Reaching my arms up, I started to lather the water through my thick hair, sighing in pleasure.

Then two arms slithered around my body, and I was eased backwards into a smooth, hard body. Laying my head back, I let myself be held by Kettle, letting my dreams flair to life, and then I viciously smothered them right before I turned in Kettle’s arms, reared my fist back and let it fly.

I hit him in the eye.

The bastard didn’t even flinch. Not even a single inch of movement.

“I hate you,” I said before the tears started flowing.

Kettle’s eyes closed as if in pain, finally, but not from my fist.

He opened his eyes and watched the tears flow from my cheeks, trying in vain to wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs.

“Please,” he said hoarsely. “Please stop.”

I shook my head quickly. “I can’t. You really hurt me.”

Then I disconnected from his strong arms and exited the shower. Grabbing the only towel off the rack, I briskly dried off before tossing it at him where he stood, dripping on the mat.

He caught it with a forlorn expression and watched from the bathroom as I roughly started shoving my legs into a pair of sleep pants and shrugging on one of Kettle’s sweatshirts.

Then I thought better of it, took the sweatshirt off, and threw it to the floor before going to the bag of new clothes I’d bought and pulled a tank top on instead.

His eyes, watching the whole show, took in the act but didn’t say anything until I was fully clothed. Then he went about pulling a pair of jeans up over his naked, wet legs. Then proceeded to zip, but not button them, totally ignoring the underwear, t-shirt, socks, and shoes.