Sarge: Book 8 in the Vengeance MC series Page 3

  It breaks my heart that Jump felt he needed to surrender his patch after years of brotherhood and sacrifice, but in the end, it was for the best. He wasn’t as invested in Vengeance as he should have been any more. Jump didn’t trust his decisions, that he could have his brothers backs the way he should, so ultimately, he did the right thing and left. With his brothers, club and blood’s, unanimous support, I’ll add.

  Nudging my foot with his boot, Jump grins widely.

  “I heard half the story, now I want to know the rest. Seriously, old man, this is like the best fairy tale ever,” he says with exaggerated glee.

  “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that right?” Cash groans. “Anyone would think you’re still five.”

  “Fuck me,” Boss mutters. “It’s like running a kindergarten around here sometimes.”

  “Welcome to the club, it’s good to see you’re learning, Son,” I laugh.

  I’ve known for years that running an MC is more akin to wrangling feral cats in heat than leading a bunch of grown-ass men. Nice to see Boss is finally on the same page.

  “Look,” Jump sighs, “I’ve got a sexy as fuck wife, and hot as hell husband waiting for me that I’d like to get home to sometime tonight, so if you could just move story time along, that’d be awesome.”

  “Where’s Fury? He should be here for this,” Cash asks, popping the cap off his beer.

  “You called?” Fury answers, appearing beside Boss. “Saw the whole family was here, and I was feeling left out, so I thought I’d join you.”

  “The more, the merrier, brother,” Jump grins, handing him a beer.

  Resigned to my fate, I warn,

  “This isn’t a story I can leave parts out of, boys, so if you’re serious about hearing it, you might want to settle in for the long haul.”

  “Take as long as you need. I’ll text Avery and get her to activate the phone tree,” Fury says, referring to his wife and the group of women I have come to view as some of my closest family.

  Motioning for him to go ahead, I let out a heavy breath and steel myself because this isn’t a story for the faint-hearted.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ~ Emily ~

  “I know I’m a handful, but that’s why you’ve got two hands.”

  – Emily to Sarge

  At the same time at Sarge and Emily’s house…

  “As you can hear, I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart. You don’t need to be leaving your little ones or Kevin to come over and check on me,” I repeat for the third time in less than as many minutes.

  Beth sighs into the phone which is a sign she’s gearing up to try again, but I cut her off before she can start this time.

  “Honestly, Beth, I just want to have a nice, long soak in a hot bath and go to bed. I’m sure Jackson will be home soon, but until then, why don’t you go and spend some time with Kevin. He has been planning this trip for months, and it would be a shame to waste the little time he was able to get off worrying about me.”

  If there’s one thing Beth excels at is being able to see reason, making her the perfect match for my, at times,

  highly unreasonable honorary son, Jackson.

  “If you’re absolutely sure you’re okay, then, at least,

  promise me you’ll have lunch with us here tomorrow. The kids miss you, and Kevin was just saying that he’d love to catch up with you,” she murmurs over the line, not for a second buying my lie.

  “I’m absolutely okay, and I’d love to come for lunch tomorrow, sweetheart,” I lie again smoothly. Especially, since I don’t plan on still being here tomorrow.

  “You know I love you, right Emily? If you ever need to talk that I’m here for you. I know these past few months have to have been hard on you,” Beth murmurs, talking about Gemma without mentioning her name. “And regardless of how much I love my overbearing husband, I would never betray your confidence,” she says, trying to draw out our conversation, all too aware something isn’t quite right.

  “I know that too, and I appreciate it, darling. Now, you go and have a nice rest of the night with Kevin, and give those beautiful children of yours a kiss from me,” I smile, thinking of the children that may not share my blood but will always have a place in my heart.

  Just the thought of leaving Boss and Beth’s five-year-old twins, Jamie and Heather, their three-year-old son, Micha, and their twelve-month-old, Charlotte puts a dent in my resolve. But not even they – as much of a draw card to stay and watch them grow up is – can change my mind now.

  I should have left months ago because staying has only made things worse. Not for me; I deserve everything I got and is still to come after what I did. But for, Atlas, I should have disappeared and never come back.

  My sweet, caring, forgiving husband. The man I promised to love, honor, and cherish above all others. It’s him I care about, and I’m slowly destroying him. I already obliterated any trust we had managed to rebuild after he found out about our son, Diesel. And now that Gemma is here, alive, happy, and desperate to be a part of his life, I fear that it is only a matter of time before any love he has left for me is erased and forgotten.

  Every day that I have to watch him fight back the anger

  and disgust he feels toward me proves what I should have known all along; I was and never will be good enough for him. Each time that I see his eyes harden and his jaw clench when he talks about my betrayal is another nail in the coffin of the inevitable end to what should have been our forever. And every morning and night that I go to bed without him beside me is all the evidence I need that there is nothing I can do to win back the love I’ve spent most of my life praying like hell I would find again.

  It doesn’t matter that he wouldn’t hear me out – that he didn’t want the context around my lies or the truth hidden in the shadows of deception. It doesn’t matter that he wouldn’t let me explain why I did what I did and would do it again given a choice. His grief, his loss, and the duplicity of my sins is overwhelming as far as he’s

  concerned.

  I don’t blame my husband for how he feels; I can completely understand the hatred and scorn he has for me. After all, I am the cause of it. Everything he feels is entirely justified, and if I were him, I’d never forgive me for stealing his chance at being a father to the two precious children we created together out of love.

  “Em,” I startle when I hear Avery call out from the doorway. “Please tell me you’re not naked watching porn again. I don’t think my eyes have recovered from the last time yet,” she jokes, making her way into the bedroom I won’t share with Atlas for much longer.

  “Sorry, Em, but I had to,” Beth apologizes then hangs up before I have a chance to get another word in.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Avery all but screams when she sees the mountain of clothes on the bed. “Put that suitcase down right now, young lady, and for Christ’s sake talk to me” she demands, propping one hand on her hip.

  Fury, the current Vice President of Vengeance’s wife, Avery is as sweet as she is feisty, and for the most part, that’s one of the things I love most about her. Tonight, not so much. The fiery red-head has one hell of a temper; one that I simply don’t have time to placate, not when there is so much to do before I leave.

  “Seriously, Em, stop. Stop and talk to me for a minute,” she pleads with a thread of desperation lacing her tone.

  Turning to face her, I note the worry etched all over her beautiful face and internally curse myself again. I’m hurting everyone I love, and I just can’t seem to stop, no matter how desperately I want to. However, even though I can acknowledge that, I still ignore her request to stop and continue folding my clothes before stacking them in one of the three duffle bags laid out on the bed.

  “It’s for the best, sweetheart,” I finally manage to murmur softly. All the while, crossing my fingers that she doesn’t call her husband, or worse, mine.

  “How? How is you packing for the best? Unless you and Sarge are taking a trip that none of us know about,
that is. Is that what you’re doing, going on vacation?” She asks snidely. “God, Fury just text me and told me to let everyone know the men will be busy for a while and to let all the old ladies know. Does you packing have something to do with that?”

  I think deep down Avery knows this has nothing to do with whatever the men are up to. Avery is a brilliant young woman and a tremendously insightful one at that. She can see this for exactly what she is, and by the sounds of it, she likes it just as much as I like having to do it.

  Trying a different tact, I question,

  “Do you remember all those years ago when you asked me to give you time and space, and trust you to do what you needed to, regardless of how badly I wanted to help you?”

  What I’m asking Avery isn’t meant to dredge up all the

  painful memories from her past, of which there are many, but I need her to understand the gravity of my situation, and this is the only way I know how to do that.

  Six years ago, Avery was beaten and raped by men involved with a sadistic bastard who was obsessed with, Beth. These men had no morals, no conscience, and didn’t blink twice at brutalizing an innocent woman. What they did by kidnapping Beth, Avery, and Beth’s best friend, Bec, raping Avery, and torturing all three women before causing, Bec’s death was nothing but a job to them. Something that was expected of them for part of being in a notorious drug cartel.

  Avery was a shell of herself when she was eventually rescued by the MC, and although, she recovered, it was a long and horrifically painful road. However, before that journey begun, at a time when Avery was barely able to move without flinching in agony, she begged me to do something I would never have considered doing for a moment if it were anyone but her asking. Something she pleaded for me to keep between us.

  “I remember,” her soft voice sounds from beside me. Taking my hand in hers, Avery looks at me with tears clinging to her lashes. “And I love you forever for what you did for me. But will you at least tell me why before I have to tell you goodbye? Because I can already see I’m not going to be able to change your mind, am I?”

  Part of me wants to say, no. But the other part of me –

  the part that loves her like she is one my own – bleeds for forcing her to endure the pain of losing someone else close to her.

  So of course, with no other recourse, and because underneath all of the pain I’ve caused recently, and years ago I do have a heart, I relent and answer her.

  “No you won’t be able to, sweetheart, but I appreciate you loving me enough to try. As for an explanation, I’ll try my best to explain what I can, but I can’t promise you will understand. Or for that matter, like why I’m doing this, even after you hear what I have to say.”

  “You’d be surprised what I’m capable of understanding, Em. Try me,” she murmurs, pulling me down to sit next to her on the bench at the end of the bed.

  Giving her what I hope is a comforting smile, I ask,

  “How much do you know about my life before I came to live in Furnace permanently?”

  “I know that you spent half the year here with your mom, and half the year with your dad in Arkansas until you were a junior in high school, and I know that this is where you met your first husband, Scott. Honestly, that’s about it, though.”

  I confirm her limited knowledge with a nod, going on to add,

  “Then what you don’t know that after high school, I planned on going to college in New York and that I was going to study design. I wanted nothing more than to

  become a fashion designer and travel and watch as my creations graced the runways of the world. It was all I had dreamed of since I was a little girl when I began sewing clothes for my dolls out of scraps of fabric my mom gave me. I loved everything about it. The bright colors. The textures of silk and satin as they slipped through my fingertips. The way the material evolved from a swatch of fabric to something that almost had a life of its own. So at seventeen, when I started applying to colleges, my mind was made up, I was going to New York, whether my parents liked it or not.”

  It’s relatively obvious I didn’t live my dream; I’m here, aren’t I? And in hindsight, even after all of the events that followed – the heartbreak, the desolation, the hurt, and the anger – I still could have, but by then, I had made my bed, and I had to stay and lie in it. I chose to wither away and pay decades’ worth of penance for the mistakes of a stupid, young, naïve girl, instead of owning up to my shortcoming and moving on like everyone else had. And that too is my fault.

  “What happened? Why didn’t you go if that was your dream?” Avery enquires gently.

  “Before I told my mom what I was planning, I told, Scott. I wasn’t stupid enough to keep something that big from my dad, so I bit the bullet and told him the week before.”

  Shaking my head ruefully, I go on to say,

  “I knew Scott wouldn’t be happy about my decision,

  but to say he understood and supported me couldn’t be further from the truth. Scott was furious that I was considering leaving, not only him but Furnace. He was all set to prospect for Vengeance when he graduated, and he wanted to do that with me at his side. Don’t get me wrong, for the most part, Scott was a good, kind man, at least to me, but he was also very good at getting what he wanted. And back then what he wanted was us together. So when I told him I was leaving for New York the week after graduation, he was shocked and then he got angry. Little did I know, Scott practically had our lives mapped out for us. As long as, Scott got to join the MC and become a patch-wearing member, we got married and eventually had a houseful of babies, and lived happily ever after, nothing else mattered. What I wanted didn’t factor into it. He was bound and determined to live the life he had planned out in his head, my thoughts and feelings on the matter be damned.”

  I can recall the argument we had like it was yesterday when in reality it occurred forty-five years ago. That may have been a lifetime to some, but to me to was only moments as the words screamed in anger impacted my future so dramatically.

  *****

  Scott had picked me up at the bus station after I had just spent a week with my dad in Arkansas, and I as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t put the conversation I needed to have with my boyfriend off any longer.

  “We need to talk, Scott,” I say, pulling him toward the couch in my mother’s living room.

  While I hadn’t told my mom about my plans for after I graduate, I had talked to dad. At length, and often.

  One of the requirements, when my dad agreed to mom splitting my time between living with him in Torment and her in Furnace, was that I called him regularly. Even though I was young and didn’t have much to say, he tried to push for twice daily phone calls but in the end, begrudgingly settled once a day as long as I promised to talk to him. As in, really talk to him. No, school’s fine, life is fine, mom is fine, I had to actually share what was going on with me. And in hindsight, I’m glad dad is a stubborn, immovable bastard when he sets his mind to something because it changed our relationship for the better.

  Honestly, dad is my best friend and confidant. He doesn’t judge; he listens. He doesn’t lecture; he gives advice. Good advice at that. Dad doesn’t tell me what I should do, either. He reminds me that my choices are my own as long as I’m willing and ready to bear the consequences of them. The only thing he does ask of me is that I don’t do anything to put myself in harms’ way.

  So naturally, when he found out that I wanted to go on a road trip, more than a thousand miles from home with girls he didn’t know, his first reaction was to say, hell no. But like I said, dad listens, and because I had spent weeks rehearsing what I would say to him, I was eventually able to convince him to let me go.

  Don’t get me wrong, dad wasn’t happy about it. Far

  from it, actually. He put so many conditions on me going that for a moment there I almost gave in and stayed home. I had to check in every day, twice a day. I was to take his credit card and use it in case of emergencies. And there was no negotiating on
the length of time I was allowed to be gone for. Six weeks, and no more. Dad still wanted to see me before I left for Florida for a few weeks before I went away to college, so six weeks gave me enough time to have my little getaway, spend time with my mom and him too.

  Truthfully, I was happy with the compromise and probably would have agreed to just about anything if it meant escaping my overbearing boyfriend for a while, but I wasn’t looking forward to spending the first three weeks of my summer vacation at home with mom. Not because I don’t love my mom dearly, but because Furnace is almost unbearably hot during the summer months.

  As per their agreement – I was only four when they divorced, so it wasn’t like I had any say in the matter – I lived with mom in Furnace from the beginning of March until the end of August, and with dad the other half of the year.

  The spring and summer months in Furnace were brutal as the temperatures soared into the low hundreds. There was often little to no relief until the rain bucketed down, flooding the nearby streams and rivers. However, that only lasted as long as the downpour did, because as soon as the sun came out, the suffocating humidity ratcheted up a notch or ten.