To save her life.
I was about to tear my mouth from hers, to turn around and face the gun pointed at me but a hand reached around my shoulder and shoved a needle into my jugular. I lost feeling throughout my body, starting with my face. My mouth released Reina’s and my hands dropped from her face.
“Blackie?” Reina shouted frantically.
Lace.
It was her face I saw when the life drained from me.
Her.
After my father found me he brought me back to the Dog Pound where apparently everyone who mattered to the men of the Satan’s Knights congregated. There were some new faces, who I learned belong to Victor Pastore. It didn’t matter that my father was Jack Parrish, or that the people he kept in his circle were all the same, I still would’ve known the Pastore name. Victor’s face had been on the front page of every newspaper a couple of months ago when he confessed to all his crimes. I’m not sure why his entire family has become my father’s responsibility nor do I care. They all seem nice enough, bringing me into their circle, and doing what they’ve been trained to do. These woman, old and young, differed from me. While I’ve been at the sidelines of my father’s lifestyle, these women played front and center. To them this lockdown was the norm, they didn’t blink an eye when the men in leather scrambled around the clubhouse trying to form a plan of attack. They stood back, watched them do their thing, having faith they would return alive and in one piece, having done the job. The job being, bringing Blackie and Reina home safe and eliminating the enemy.
They were familiar with the enemy. He once sat at their table on holiday’s, he was Victor’s right hand, his newly appointed underboss. A title he claimed after he had a hand in the murder of his first one, Michael Valente, a man they called Val. Val’s son was here too, strapping on a bullet-proof vest, ready to do whatever my father told him to, ready to get his revenge for his old man’s death. It was so much to take in, so many faces to keep track of, so many lives that intertwined and I’m sure if the circumstances were different I would’ve been fascinated with all this.
I used to harbor resentment against my parents for keeping me away from the MC. It was a part of my father, so in turn it was part of me. These men that wore the reaper on their back have all for the most part, watched me grow up. Wolf and Pipe were there for all my sacraments and they brought me flowers at my dance recitals. When I went on my first date, Wolf sat behind us at the movie theatre. Pipe taught me how to drive and when my father was in jail, it was Blackie who made sure I was okay. He made sure I maintained a relationship with my dad and when I needed a ride, he was the one who dropped everything to make sure I got to wherever it was I needed to go.
They may be men who ran on the wrong side of the law but these men where my family. I’ve heard my dad speak of his brotherhood, but seeing it firsthand, how they banded together, made it clear they were brothers in every way it counts. And though my head worked against me, filling my mind with doom, it was hard not to have faith they would bring Blackie back to them.
Back to me.
I don’t think Blackie knows his worth. His worth to his club, to my father and to me. Does he know that these men are not whole without him? Does he even realize that my father doesn’t function to the best of his ability unless Blackie is there to guide him? Blackie’s presence is a strong aid to the lithium he takes, it’s just as important to my father’s treatment as any prescription drug.
Does he know that the thought of losing him scares the hell out of me? I’m not sure I could live without him in my life. And not because of the crush. Not because of the attraction or the one night we shared but because Blackie is my crutch too, not just my father’s. He’s the only one in this whole world who has the power to see me and accept me.
I’m damaged.
And no one knows.
He looks at me, sees the broken, the demons that come out and play whenever they want, his expression doesn’t change.
He’ll take me anyway I am.
Imperfections and all.
And maybe that’s because he’s full of imperfections himself.
Sometimes perfect can be found in imperfections, just like it’s hidden in the word it’s hidden beneath the flaws. It just takes one person to claim those imperfections and deem them perfect. Blackie is a drug addict, he’s a drunk, a self-loathing man looking for a way out. He’s the definition of imperfect. But you know what his perfect is? The hidden beauty of him? It’s his heart.
His heart.
That’s his perfect.
And I want to be the person who claims it.