Black Sheep (Rawkfist MC Book 1) (22 page)

Justice

C
ourt drops me off at my house and then
leaves on an errand. I beg him to stay even offering him lots of mind-blowing
sex. Somehow, he manages to tell me no. Watching Court drive away, I struggle
against the urge to run after him.

“Probably club
business,” I tell Journey.

My sister nods,
but she isn’t any more convinced than I am. Taking my arm, she tugs me into the
house. I’d fight her, but I can’t win a strength contest with Mistress Butch.
Besides, I ache all over after my eventful day.

We sit on the
couch, and I rest my head on her lap. Journey plays with my hair while we
listen to the soothing sounds of the Fratellis.

“I nearly bled
to death today,” Poppy says, balled up on the floor. “I’d have died without
accomplishing all of my dreams.”

“What dreams?”

“I want blue
hair and a cooch tat.”

“Don’t you
think you might be aiming too high with those goals?” Journey asks.

“Maybe, but I
was born a dreamer.”

Smiling, I want
to reach out and hug Poppy. She’s too far away, and I’m too lazy to get up.
Though Poppy shares my smile, she’s still rattled after what happened. Her wild
hormones aren’t helping the situation.

“If I have a
girl, I want to name her Henrietta,” I mumble with my eyes closed. “Like the
Fratellis song.”

“It’s sad how
you already have a grudge against your future child,” Poppy says.

“I love the not
yet conceived child more than you can ever know.”

“You’re lucky
I’m working through severe cramps, or I’d throw something at your big fat
head.”

“Dreaming big
again, huh?”

Journey tugs at
my hair. “Stop fighting or I’ll put my foot down.” When I smile up at her, she
says, “Henrietta would fit with Felix. They’re both goofy names.”

“Yeah, but some
people… Stupid people, mind you. They’d say our names are goofy, but I think
we’re memorable.”

“That we are.
People do think I’m Justice, and you’re Journey a lot.”

“That’s Mom’s
fault for giving us both ‘J’ names.”

“She wanted to
honor Dad.”

“I’m not doing
that,” Poppy announces, startling me since I thought she’d dozed off. “My kids
will be Mary and John. They will never say anything odd, and I expect them to
wear a lot of plaids.”

“You’ll be such
a shitty mom,” I say, giggling. “Your kids will start a cult and worship
Charles Manson’s forehead.”

Journey laughs
so hard she snorts. “I’ll do interviews talking about how we always knew they
were odd, but never thought they’d attempt to blow up Randy’s Donuts giant
sign.”

Never opening
her eyes, Poppy flips us off. “They’ll be so dull that when they speak people
will doze off.”

“She’s dreaming
big again.”

Journey stops
laughing to turn her head toward the front door. “Someone’s here.”

“Could it be
Court?”

“No, dumb-dumb.
It’s not a Harley.”

Christine
appears from her bedroom and frowns out of the window. “No. I can’t deal with
this,” she groans. “Not today.”

“Want us to get
the gun?” I ask without moving.

“It’s your
grandmother.”

“You didn’t
answer my question.”

Christine gives
me a look, but I’m too chill from Journey’s magical fingers.

“My life has no
meaning until Court returns,” I announce while Christine hurries around the
living room organizing fashion magazines and the DVD disaster near the TV.

“Does he know
you bleed from your cooch?” Poppy asks. “You haven’t been dating that long, so
your leaky vagina might still be a dealer breaker.”

“Stop talking,”
Christine begs. “And stop using the word ‘cooch’ before it catches on with your
sisters.”

Poppy groans
into her pillow. “No.”

“Everyone be
calm,” Christine says, fanning herself.

My relaxed
sisters and I glance at a frantic Christine. “I never got an answer on the
gun.”

“We don’t own a
gun.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Please don’t
start anything with her. Not today.”

Poppy sits up
and frowns at Christine. “We’re the ones who suffered deeply today. If anyone
should get to scream at your horrible mother, it should be us.”

“Pauline.”

“Ooh, busted,”
I say to a glaring Poppy.

The house goes
quiet as soon as Coretta walks through the front door. Even Hal stops snoring.

Christine gives
her mother a hug and offers every food in our fridge. I look up at Journey, who
is staring into space. My gaze finds Poppy’s next, and we silently judge our
grandmother.

“I thought you
were fine,” Coretta says to me after shoving a cat off the chair and sitting
down.

“I am,” I
mutter and then add, “Is this where I ask how you are because I don’t see that
happening?”

Poppy gives me
a thumbs up while Journey smiles. Christine though does an excellent impression
of a pissed, meth-addled hummingbird.

“Mom, do you
need a Valium?” I ask.

Christine stands
behind her mother and gives me a lecture using only her eyes. I lower my head
and feel properly scolded.

“This house
seems small for four people,” Coretta announces.

Poppy opens her
mouth to respond until Christine snaps her fingers and points menacingly at her
youngest child.

“This is fun,”
I whisper.

“Why are you
here?” Journey asks Coretta.

Christine tries
to give Journey a silent lecture, but my sister lives in a world where parents
are passé and following rules is what children do.

“I wanted to see
what kind of mess the snitch got into.”

When Journey
narrows her eyes, I imagine a mud wrestling battle between Coretta and her. My
fantasy is quite entertaining, but no fight breaks out in real life.

“Serves you
right,” Coretta says to me. “Everyone knows no one calls the law around here.
You’re making the whole family look bad.”

“Will you
please shut the fuck up?” Christine hollers, making me flinch.

Coretta stands
up faster than an old woman should be able. Facing her daughter, my grumpy
grandma presses her hands on her slender hips.

“What did you
say?”

“Don’t pull the
deaf elderly crap with me. I know you hear just fine.”

“Well, I didn’t
come here to be insulted.”

“No, you came
here to be insulting.”

“That big city
living sure gave you a big mouth.”

“Well living in
a small town sure hasn’t taught you any manners.”

“You’re just
like your father. He’s a loud-mouthed know-it-all too.”

“Get out!”
Christine yells, sending Hal into a barking fit.

“I’m not going
anywhere. I drove all the way over here, and I need to rest.” Coretta sits back
down. “You can bring me a glass of water.”

“You live five
minutes away.”

“Get me a glass
of water, Christine Bay Earlham.”

Hal barks
again, and I realize he’s at the door. Rolling off the couch, I walk to the
window and find a strange car parked next to Coretta’s.

“What now?” I
mutter, opening the door.

Journey joins
me on the porch where we frown at Jared climbing out of an ancient sedan.

“Nice car,
Pops,” I say as he opens the back door.

Felix appears
from the front passenger side. Jared moves aside after a minute, and Matilda
slides out of the car.

“Hi, Journey,”
Otto yells from next to his brother.

“Your fan club
president has arrived,” I tell my sister as we watch the approaching children.

Based on
Felix’s expression, he has no idea what happened earlier. I hug him to me and
inhale his pre-teen smell. Smiling, I realize he wears the same cologne as
Court.

“Is Dad here?”
Felix asks, and I nearly start bawling.

Shaking my
head, I say nothing because crying isn’t acceptable in front of happy children.
Besides, Coretta would probably love to see me miserable.

“Grandma’s
here,” Journey announces.

Jared nods
until his brain catches up to how we’re not talking about his dead mother.
Frowning, he sighs and looks back at the car as if planning his escape.

“Don’t even
think about it,” I growl, taking him by the arm. “After my long day, I need
people to be nice to me.”

“I don’t know
if you heard,” Journey tells him, “but Justice had to run really fast.”

“It was awful,”
I whine.

Jared smiles
and runs a hand through his thick hair. “If things turn sour, we’ll use one of
these kiddos as a shield.”

Coretta endures
the full house for a total of ten minutes before deciding torturing Christine
isn’t worth dealing with the noise. I watch her drive away and catch my mom
doing the same at another window. Our gazes meet, and she walks over to me for
a hug.

“Court will be
back soon,” Christine says, stroking my head.

“Promise?”

“He just will.
No need to promise. Things work out for us. Look at how your grandma showed up
and then the cavalry arrived. Everything works out, so Court will be back
soon.”

Hugging her
tighter, I force lots of happy thoughts into my brain. I imagine Court
returning to find his son safe with me. He’ll kiss me and hold me and keep me
safe. Tonight, we’ll roll around and create a little girl who I’ll give a
horrible name. Or we’ll have a son and name him something equally horrible.
Either way, Court and I will be together and have a future and nothing bad will
ever happen again.

Court

B
randon and Bryce are two of Becca’s high
school fuck buddies. She cheated on them with me, though she claims it was the
other way around. Whatever the truth, they always watch her back. Becca is a
fun lay and used to hook them up with easy jobs. I wonder what she offered them
to grab Justice.

The brothers
live in an abandoned house off of the highway where Justice ditched them. I
park my Harley some distance away and walk the rest of the way to their place.

I reach their
house before dusk and peer through the window to find them stoned. The TV is
on, but the reception is so bad I can’t tell what they’re watching. I’m not
even sure how they have power out here, but they’re likely hooked up to the
closest neighbor’s lines.

Walking around
the back of the house, I expect a trap or two, but the brothers don’t seem
worried about retaliation. It’s possible they don’t know enough about Justice
to understand her connection to the club and me. Does gossip not find them out
here?

Whatever the reason,
I quickly walk into the house using the back door. I brought a few weapons but
notice a tool box resting on a filthy kitchen counter. The name on the side of
the box reads “Horace Beckman.” I remember the old man mentioning someone
snagged his tools when he was on a lunch break.

I take two
screwdrivers from the box and stuff one in my pocket. Walking soundless through
the kitchen to the decaying living room, I stand behind Bryce’s chair. He
barely notices my hand around his jaw before I lean back his head and jam the
screwdriver through his left eye. His right eye stares at me long after he’s
gone. I study him and feel nothing. Not a damn thing. Not even relief at
knowing he’s dead.

Brandon sits
two feet from his dead brother without noticing. Stroking his goatee, he’s also
playing with his limp dick. I yank down the chair, and he grunts as the seat
back hits the floor.

“Hey, Court,”
he says as clueless as the day he was born.

I remain silent
before shoving the second screwdriver up through his jaw until only the handle
remains visible. Brandon never looks shocked or pained. He’s dead before he
even notices.

Removing the
weapons, I take them to the sink where I wash them with bleach from my bag. I
pour more of the liquid on the men’s faces. Though I consider burning the house
to the ground, these woods are dense, and the growth is dry. A fire would
likely spread to the neighboring houses.

Rather than
burying their bodies, I decide to leave them to rot in their current positions.
I doubt anyone will report them missing for weeks. Hell, I’d forgotten they’d
existed until Justice described her attackers. The only person who might notice
their absence was Becca sitting in her jail cell, and she was in no position to
open her mouth.

Their deaths
prove unsatisfying, but I probably should have expected as much. Something
turns off inside me when I’m violent. I can never muster up pity or fear. I’m a
shell when I kill, and that part scares me when I’m not killing. How can I be a
good father and treat Justice right when I have a dead part inside me?

I drop off
Beckman’s tools near his house and destroy my gloves in a small fire in an
empty parking lot. With nothing left to clean up, I return to Justice. My mind
is still on whether I can truly love her when I’m capable of killing so
effortlessly.

Arriving at Justice’s
house, I feel emptied out and afraid I might be this way forever. Until now,
I’d never considered whether the dead part might turn one on one day and never
turn back off.

I hear voices
coming from the back of the house. Walking around the side, I catch sight of
Poppy and Felix throwing a Frisbee. Nearby, Journey talks with Otto in her
garage gym. At the porch, Justice squats down next to Matilda while they shoot
flowers with a water pistol.

“Did you know I
knew your mom in high school?” Christine asks, coming up behind me.

I shake my head
as my mind floods with memories of my mom. Usually, her worn down face and sad
eyes force me to push away thoughts of her.

“We weren’t
friends or anything,” Christine says, throwing a ball for Hal. “Even in a small
school, people had their little groups, and I was a lame freshman when your mom
was already a senior. I did see her in passing most days, and that chick sure
knew how to rock out a pair of skinny jeans.”

Smiling, I let
myself remember Mom even with all of the unhappiness in her later years.

“She never got
lucky in her life,” I admit. “I’m sometimes relieved Felix never got to know
her. He already has one miserable grandmother. I don’t want him thinking life
has to end up so fucked.”

“I’m sorry,”
she says, patting my arm. “I know how it can feel like your family’s fate is
genetic and you can’t break free of it. My parents were poor and rude. Their
parents were the same way. My grandmother once punched a church pastor for
admitting he didn’t like her pie. They think if they don’t scream their
opinions in people’s faces that they’re selling out. I grew up wanting to be
different, but everyone is the same when you’re stuck in a small town. That’s
why I’m glad the girls lived in a bigger city and saw how different people can
be.”

“I can’t take
Felix somewhere else.”

“You don’t need
to because you aren’t your parents. Felix won’t be like you because he has a
father willing to support his big dreams. Just help him know it’s okay to be
different. That’s what I wish my mom and dad did for me. They didn’t have to
change, but I wanted to know it was okay for me to change. Women like your mom
never had anyone in their corners, but Felix has you. He has Justice now too.”

“Justice isn’t like
anyone I’ve ever met,” I say, sounding too damn young and tired.

“She isn’t like
anyone I’ve ever met either. Every time I thought I had a handle on my mouthy
daughters, I’d make another one, and she’d have an even bigger mouth.”

“Felix is a sweet
kid,” I say, watching my smiling son. “I don’t know how he survives in this
world being a nice guy.”

“You’re nice.”

“No, I’m really
not. I just don’t wear my asshole on my sleeve.”

“You’re nice
enough,” she says, nudging me. “Justice wouldn’t put up with a man pushing her
around. She doesn’t want weakness either. You’ve got the right amount of
asshole to make her happy.”

Sharing a smile
with Christine, I notice Justice hurrying toward me. She’s nervous, and anxiety
is an odd look on her beautiful face.

“Are you okay?”
she instantly asks.

“I’ll take
Matilda,” Christine says, though I sense the little girl would rather stay with
Justice.

Once we’re
alone, I hold Justice’s hands and stare into her worried eyes.

“I love you,” I
say when I can’t think of any other words.

“Does that mean
you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.
Don’t I look okay?”

Justice sizes
me up and shrugs. “You’ve looked better.”

Pressing her
against my chest, I caress her head with my lips. “I don’t know if I can be
everything you need, Justice, but I’m in this for the long haul. You and I make
sense, and I need you to be my old lady.”

Justice wiggles
free and stares at me. “Are you saying this because you’re in a freaky mood or
because you know I’m the best chick you’ll ever have?”

“Both.”

“I love you too,
and I know you have your secrets. While I’ll probably give you grief about them
occasionally, I just need you to be with me.”

“So yes?”

“Of course,
yes. I’m too savvy to say no to such a catch.”

“That you are,”
I say, cupping her face and kissing her inappropriately long considering we
have an audience.

Justice licks
her lips and studies me. She knows where I’ve been and what I’ve done. Her
smile tells me she’ll pretend to be okay with it even if she isn’t.

“That’s how
love works,” she explains later without me asking.

Love never felt
like enough before. Love didn’t heal my mother. Even with Felix, I couldn’t
give him everything he needed. With my hands tied with Becca, I felt like a
shitty father most days.

Meeting Justice
has been like finding a four-leaf clover. My luck just keeps getting better,
and now she’s agreed to make our love official.