My jaw tensed. I pulled back, staring into her eyes, wondering if I'd ever see that warmth again in her soft, green pools.
“Don't bother thinking about it. The fucker holding him, he's gonna die, same with all his brothers. I'll do shit that'll turn your stomach. They'll pay, with every drop of blood they got, baby.”
“So, what, then? You came for a goodbye kiss? A medal? To see me drop down, hugging your knees, begging you not to go? Thanking you?”
What the fuck is she trying to say? I looked at her, rage and confusion whirling in my skull.
“Get the fuck out, Jackson!” she snarled, pushing hard against my chest. “You won't bring him back. It's all my fault. I should've taken Alex and ran at the first chance, taken him far, far away from all this, before you pulled me back in and ruined my life. You took the only fucking thing I ever cared about!”
No, no, and fuck no.
I stood there like a statue, taking all her shit. The regrets, the abuse, the ugly fuckin' crying. Didn't even flinch when she started screaming at me to go, go, and never come back. I didn't move when she dumped out her tea, looked at me with more hate than a woman's eyes should hold, and whipped the mug past my head.
Shit glanced my ear, flew behind me, and smashed against the wall. She crumpled over on the bed, bawling her eyes out, losing her fuckin' mind.
It was brutal. Wrong. Volcanic.
Never barked back at her, not once. Because I knew what it felt like to lose my damned mind.
I fucking understood.
All the shit I'd gone through with Piece was eating her now. Worse, because it ate me too, knowing they had our kid.
She sank her claws and teeth into me because there was nobody else she could.
Killing Hatch, destroying the Deads, and bringing our kid home – that was up to me. I'd do it, or I'd die. Alone.
Didn't need her approval, or the goddamned club's.
Before I walked the fuck away, I hovered over her, throwing my arms around her one more time. She was too lost in her hot, painful tears to fight me anymore.
“You rest. You can think twice about some of the bullshit you just said if I come back alive.” Releasing her, I walked, stopping by the door for one more confession. “Bye, Summer. Go ahead and hate me all you want. I loved you, I love you now, and I always fuckin' will – love you as much as I do that kid, the second I laid eyes on him.”
She stared quietly, tears running down her cheeks.
Time to go. I headed into the clubhouse, where I could still hear the brothers screaming at each other in the meeting room.
Several big men in Grizzlies cuts were milling around near the bar. Two or three full patch brothers, plus a gaggle of prospects, one with a glass eye. There were crates of weapons they'd brought in stacked around their feet. The men held their beers while they all eyed the scrum going on behind the wall.
“VP? Shit, you're the only man we've seen in charge,” a tall, powerful looking man with a crew cut said, lightning bolts on his head. “What the fuck's going on in there? Sounds like they're gonna kill each other!”
“Asphalt, no. Not our damned business,” another one said, a massive bastard named Roman, wearing their Enforcer patch. He could've given Firefly a run for his money in size and strength. “Hey, Joker, where the fuck you going?”
I walked right past, not even stopping, 'til I was at the other end of the bar. Then I reached up, caught the loose stitch on my V. PRESIDENT patch, and tore. Hard.
“Talk to somebody else if you wanna know. I ain't in charge of shit here anymore.” I let it drop to the floor while they all stared at me, trying to figure out what the fuck they'd stepped in. “They'll be done soon in there, one way or another.”
I left it at that. A couple of the men called after me, but I was gone, this time for real.
The numbness took over. The evil, killer darkness I'd caged since that kid came into my life, since I'd come within a couple inches of making Summertime mine.
God willing, I still fuckin' would. I wasn't giving up, no matter how shitty the odds.
I fit every gun, grenade, and bayonet I could in my saddlebag before I took off. Then it was nothing except me and the Harley, the road beneath us, its sweet vibrations pouring more rough grief through my bones so I didn't have to.
The mission counted. Nothing else did.
Had to focus. Had to get the fuck outta town, blow down to Seddon, and figure out where the hell they'd set up camp, waiting for our demands.
I got about a hundred miles south of Knoxville, deep in the wilderness, before the motherfuckers came crawling outta the woodwork.
They must've had a prospect tailing me when I passed through one of those little mountain towns, with barely a soul in sight. It was night, and the visibility was shit, thick fog rolling across the road when I passed through the dips in every valley.