“Daddy don’t leave,” Danny begs.
“I promise I won’t be gone long,” he says, setting him on his feet. Anger rolls through me as he tousles my brother’s hair like everything is fine…like he wasn’t just traumatized again. “I’m just going to get your mommy and bring her home,” he continues before turning to Nico and ordering him to take Danny out to the truck. Nico doesn’t move, though. He remains glued to my side.
“Come, Lacey, show me where the suitcases are, and we’ll get your stuff,” Wolf coaxes but I don’t move. I watch as he and my father exchange a look. It’s one I’ve seen passed between my father and husband a thousand times. It’s the look they get when the shit is about to hit the fan and they don’t know what the fuck to do about it.
“No,” I defy. “Not until one of you tell me if my husband is okay.”
Again, Wolf looks towards my father but when he doesn’t reply, he takes the opportunity to inform me no one has heard from Blackie. I decide in that moment that I’ve remained quiet for too long. If it’s not my father, it’s my husband calling the shots. Everyone has a say but me. Well, I’m done. My husband may have given up on us, but I won’t give up on him. I took vows and while our love may be damaged beyond repair, he will always be my baby’s father and I will always fight for him.
“These people came into our home while I was asleep. They could’ve killed me, but they didn’t. They left me and Danny alone. They didn’t want us,” I tell them.
“We don’t know what they want,” my father replies, dismissively. “Now, go pack those bags.”
“Fuck that,” I shout. “I wasn’t born yesterday. What if they’re after him?”
My father isn’t used to me having a voice, and he shows it by clenching his jaw and balling his fists angrily. Heaven forbid someone calls him on his shit.
“Nico, take Danny,” he barks. “Now.”
“Come on kid, I brought Twizzlers this time,” Nico hesitates before reaching out to take Danny’s hand. He leans into me and whispers, “Give them hell.”
Lifting my eyes to him, he winks at me before leading my crying brother out of the house. The door closes and my father stares at me with a guarded expression on his face.
“I thought you were done with him. Isn’t that what you said? You were tired of the drugs and all that came with him.”
Leave it to him to throw my words in my face.
“Don’t twist my fucking words,” I spat. “If something happens to my husband, I will never forgive you,” I hiss, poking a finger against his chest.
“Okay, look, nothing is going to happen to anyone,” Wolf interjects. “I’m going to make sure of that.”
Dropping my hand away from my father, I spin around and face Wolf.
This poor bastard.
He actually believes he’s the one in charge.
Still, I let him lead me upstairs because as much as I hate to admit it, they’re right about one thing, sitting here arguing won’t make anything right. Upstairs, I throw some of my things in a suitcase. A sense of déjà vu washes over me, and I think about the last time I packed a bag and left my house in a hurry. I’d give anything to go back to that cabin with Blackie. It may not have been the perfect scenario but for a little, we were closed off from this wretched world.
Instead of whisking me away to the woods, Nico takes me and Danny to Kate’s. Wolf puts the club on lockdown and soon the bar fills with everyone’s loved ones. My father wasn’t kidding about springing Reina out of the hospital and hours later my role as Danny’s caregiver is stripped from me as she walks into the bar. I learn the reason my father sent Nico to the airport so early that day was to pick up four men from another club. With the help of the Charon MC, the Satan’s Knights piece together information and come to conclusion the Sinaloa Cartel is responsible for the break-in and they devise a plan of action.
Hours go by, day turns to night and while everyone else hunkers down for the night, I pace the floors wondering what any of this means for my husband. The club doesn’t return until the next morning and they only stay long enough to kiss their loved ones goodbye. When they roll out, they’re locked and loaded. A sign of war.
I think about all the times Blackie and I have done this dance.
All the times he’s kissed me goodbye and promised to return to me.
My heart breaks a little more at the realization he didn’t promise to come back the day they locked him up and I wonder if that’s a sign.
I eventually lose track of time and the will to wait around. Excusing myself from the rest of the club, I make my way upstairs and find one of the empty bedrooms. Exhausted, I lay down and close my eyes. I dream beautiful dreams, ones that include my husband.
He’s there in my bed, loving me.
He’s there beside me at the doctor’s office, smiling as we watch our baby grow from month to month.
He holds my hand and kisses my forehead as I bring our angel into the world and he cradles her in his arms.
Beautiful.
So much beautiful.
My dreams are interrupted when I feel a hand gently shake my shoulders.
I open my eyes and foolishly expect to peer into my husband’s soulful eyes. Instead, disappointment hangs over me as I stare at the solemn expression on my father’s face.
He doesn’t have to say a word.
It’s there in his eyes and the more I stare at him the more it begins to register.
My greatest fear has become my new truth.
Swallowing, I place a hand over my stomach and close my eyes.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Chapter Forty-Five
Blackie
I should be dead instead I’m fucking chained to a bed in the infirmary. Tugging on the handcuffs that bind me, I turn to the nurse at my side. I try to open my eyes, but it feels like a cinderblock is weighing on my left eye. A curse flies from my lips as pain tears through my whole body.
“Calm down, Mr. Petra,” the nurse croons. “I’m going to give you something for the pain.”
Violently, I shake my head.
“No,” I growl as she turns my arm and tries to poke my IV with a needle. I don’t deserve to be numb; I don’t want whatever the fuck she’s trying to give me. I want to feel every ounce of pain and for someone to tell me Lacey is okay, that those cocksuckers didn’t get to her. I need someone to tell me it was a fucking dream. A terrible nightmare those Mexican cunts fed me while they beat the living shit out of me.
“Where is she? I need to see my wife. Tell me they didn’t get to her,” I demand, struggling against her.
“Mr. Petra, why don’t I go get your lawyer. He’s right outside,” she offers.
“Fuck my lawyer,” I shout, wrapping my fingers roughly around her wrist. “I need my wife.”
“I’m sorry,” she stammers. “That’s not possible.” Her eyes dart to the other side of the room and she calls for a guard. I tighten my hold on her wrist and watch as she grimaces.
“Please, just tell me she’s okay. Tell me they didn’t hurt her or the baby.”