“I’m not going to like what you’re about to tell me, am I?” Colt sighed, like he knew what was coming.
“I have to help get rid of him, Colt. I have to.”
“The truth, Mia. I want the entire truth.”
“That is the truth.”
“Is it? You just feel obligated to help get rid of him, or is there more to it than that?” he murmured.
I paused and then said, “He’s trying to take everything from me, Colt. My family, my freedom, my life. I have to… I want to…”
“Say it,” he growled. “Say it to me now. Tell me what it is you know you have to do or you’ll never be able to look at yourself in the mirror.”
“I have to see him die.”
The words slithered out of me like a snake hiding in the brush.
Foul, angry words.
Truthful words.
“It won’t bring Shelly back,” he said.
“No,” I agreed.
“I’m not sure it will make you feel any better, either.” He leaned his head back against the pillow and his eyes were glazed with pain. “But I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
I slid into an empty pew and breathed in the silence of the chapel.
Boxer stood by the doors, guarding me without interfering with my private time. I’d waited until Colt had fallen asleep before leaving his room. I’d gone and sat with Shelly, despite Mark’s hostile glare pinging me from across her hospital bed.
Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t hear the chapel doors open.
A large body sat down next to me and stretched out long legs in worn jeans. The smell of cigar tobacco permeated Knight’s clothes, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
“I didn’t take you for the religious type,” Knight said.
“I’m not. But it’s quiet here.” I looked at him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Saving my life.”
He nodded slowly, but said nothing.
“How’s your shoulder?” I asked him.
“I’ll live.”
We fell silent for a moment and then he said, “I heard about your friend. I’m sorry, kid.”
The word kid slipped out of his mouth. Like it was normal, natural.
With a sigh, I leaned my head against his uninjured shoulder. I felt his muscles tighten for a moment and then relax.
“What happens now?” I asked. “It feels like we’re scrambling.”
“Gotta ask Colt. He’s the one leading all of this.”
“Colt is passed out in a hospital bed. Zip is president for the time being.”
“You should go back to the clubhouse and get some sleep.”
“Will you sleep tonight?” I asked, lifting my head so I could stare at him.
“Point taken,” he said darkly.
“Besides, I won’t leave while Colt is here. While Shelly is here.”
“I saw what you did. Firing a shot at Dev, wanting to avenge your man. You’re true Old Lady material, Mia. And I’m proud of you.”
His words washed over me, but they weren’t a balm to my battered soul.
I looked up at the ceiling. The chapel was serviceable, a place one could sit and ponder, pray, curse, but it wasn’t a spot of beauty. The room was built for function, not frivolity. It didn’t have the elegance and craftsmanship like those gothic cathedrals with huge stained glass windows. In a hospital that wasn’t what was needed.
“I didn’t think I’d be doing this again,” I whispered.
“Doing what?”
“Saying goodbye to someone else I loved. I feel powerless. Useless.” I threaded my fingers through my hair, wanting to reach out and strangle something just to combat my feelings of impotence. To kill my inability to change the circumstances.
Knight didn’t offer any platitudes, not that I expected him to. He was a rough man, made rougher by the life he’d chosen to live. But his presence was a comfort anyway, and maybe, words were stupid and useless.
Maybe all we had were the people we chose to be our family. Maybe they’d be our strength when we were ready to fall.
Chapter 27
We buried Shelly and Cheese three days later.
I’d asked Mark where he wanted her laid to rest. He told me I should make the choice because she was my sister. Sister in all but name and blood.
I’d squeezed his hand in gratitude.
Though Shelly wasn’t a Blue Angel, Colt had made it possible for my best friend to be buried next to Cheese.
“She’s got family looking out for her,” Colt whispered, his arm around my shoulder while we stood at the graves laden with freshly turned dirt.
Mark’s eyes were wet, but it was the slump of his shoulders that told me of his defeat, of his brokenness.
Flynn, Ramsey, and a few of their Scottish brethren, stood by our sides and mourned with us.
Silas, Cheese’s brother, stared at his brother’s grave, tears streaking down his face. I wanted to go to him, but what was I supposed to say? How could I offer a child any sort of comfort when it felt like I was choking on broken glass?
It was an intimate affair; Shelly hadn’t been close to many people. A few friends from Dive Bar showed up to pay their respects, but they left quickly, clearly uncomfortable with the men in leather and tattoos.
Everyone was piling into cars to head to the clubhouse where we’d have a wake of sorts. We all wanted to get drunk and forget about what had happened for a night, but no one wanted to let their guard down. Not while the Iron Horsemen were at large.
The Garcia cartel hadn’t yet struck out in violence, and when I asked Colt about it while he’d still been in the hospital, he’d explained. The Garcia cartel was not yet wise to the missing shipment and Dev had enough cash to make it look like he was still selling product. It was a stopgap, and it was why he’d escalated the war. He was desperate.
One by one, the cars started to disappear from the lot. Mark took out his car keys and unlocked his black Mercedes. He wasn’t a flashy man by any means, but he enjoyed nice things and had been willing to give Shelly everything she would’ve ever wanted.
“Mark,” I called out softly. His name carried on the breeze.
He turned. His face was somber, but there was no hostility in his gaze so I took a hesitant step toward him.
“Where are you going?” Colt asked, his hand still linked with mine even though he was conversing quietly with Zip.
“I need to talk to Mark,” I said.
Colt squeezed my fingers and then let me go.
I approached Mark cautiously, like I would a feral animal that had been beaten one too many times.
“I’m sorry.” It was a stupid thing to say to him, but it was all I could muster.
He nodded. “I know.”
My apology was all encompassing. For getting Shelly killed. For being the one to determine end of life care. For being the one Mark had to look at over Shelly’s prostrate form when she took her last breath. Mark and I were now eternally linked by death when we should’ve been linked by celebration and marriage.
“I’m leaving Waco,” he said finally.
“Are you?”
He nodded. “I’m gonna go stay with my mom for a bit.” He swallowed. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love Shelly.”