It feels like forever ago that Grady told me about the men he’s killed. Every one of them must tear at his soul. He says he remembers them all, and I know that, given half the chance, he’ll kill this man, too. That’s just another burden for him to bear.
Seven men he’s killed, but none of them just because he could. They all died for a reason, but it doesn’t matter. It weighs on him. My man does what he has to do to protect his brothers, the mother of his child, and me. I want to be good for him. I want to show him how much I love him and that I can handle this world. I want to be strong enough to take care of myself and to take care of my man. That means not letting him shoulder anymore burdens than he has to.
I won’t let this man be number eight.
The brick is heavy in my hands as I grip it with all my might and bring it down onto the guy’s face. I pound the brick in so hard and so many times that his bones crack from the impact and his features cave in. Blood coats my arms and clothes in a way that would have made me sick to my stomach just yesterday. The pungent smell of iron is everywhere, but I don’t stop until Grady crosses the room and pulls me off of the guy. The brick drops onto the man’s chest and it’s only now that I really look at what’s left of his face. There’s little more left than a swollen eyeball that’s been forced out of its socket and the opening of his mouth, though I can’t see any teeth through the blood and torn flesh.
“Stop looking, baby,” Grady says and shoves my face onto his chest. I wrap my arms around his neck and lose myself in a sea of tears and screams. I did what I had to do to protect my man, but the sight of what used to be a man’s face eats me alive. I killed him. I took a man’s life, and, even though I can’t say I’m sorry I did it, the sight of all of the blood and destroyed facial features won’t stop assaulting my brain.
His number is seven.
My number is one.
Chapter 28
Grady
EVERYTHING IS SILENT here. Nobody is speaking. Even Tyler, who normally comes out and chats with me, has been distant. As the owner-bartender at The 101 Club, he’s a staple around here. He’s gruff at first, but once you get to know him, he’s good people. But today he’s barely come out to check on us, even though we’ve been here for over an hour.
Granted, he’s probably not used to having such a large crowd of respectable looking individuals in his establishment mixing with the outlaws. I grab a French fry from Chey’s plate and dare her to say anything about it. Her eyes widen as she stares at me from across the table, but with a quick glance to Holly, she calms down. My right arm is stretched out over the back of Holly’s chair. My fingers lightly rub her shoulder blade, which seems to help keep her calm. On her other side is Ian, who, unlike most of my brothers, is only too happy to help my woman get over her shit. The rest of them show up and eat their food.
They’re kind to her and they treat her like she’s one of us—because she is. But Ian’s the one who makes sure they stay quiet as they eat. He’s the one who demands they respect her wishes. My woman wants quiet, and I try to give it to her, but when I get tense, she starts to panic. So Ian has my back when my brothers are around. I don’t really get it, but when things get noisy, she whispers twisted shit like the number one and the number seven until things quiet down. But Ian gets it. If anyone knows about being fucked in the head, it’s him.
On my opposite side is my mother, Ruby, Jim, Ryan, and Alex. Alex won’t meet my eyes when I look her way, but I wish she would. So much has been destroyed in the past six months. I don’t have the energy to worry about her and Ryan, nor do I think it’s worth it anymore. She’s sent Ryan over with homemade soup and pasta so Holly could have a home-cooked meal without us having to cook it. Normally my mom does that stuff, but with Holly being so skittish, we’ve resorted to eating take out almost exclusively. Certain noises just set her off sometimes. She’ll be fine and then something happens—it could be anything—and she retreats. I fucking hate it.