Seize Me (13 page)

Jesus fucking Christ! I don’t even know what to say with all this shit he’s spewing out.

“Ah yeah, she’s running from a bad past, Doc,” Sniper answers for me.

“Well then. I’ll be back in two weeks with some refills. I’m serious Braxxon; watch her usage with these drugs. If she doesn’t feel like taking all of them, just make sure she takes the antibiotics. The rest is up to her. I’ll do another exam to check out the healing progress when I return with the refills.”

I trust Doc; he was a close friend of my pops. I get up, shake his hand, and pat him on the back before he excuses himself to check on Angel before he and his son leave.

“I’m so sorry, Prez,” ZZ says,
and the rest of the brothers follow.

“So there we have it, yeah? Find PP, I want his damn head! Pyro deal with Lana; I want peace and quiet for Angel.”

I walk over and slam the gavel down before I head out. I need to see my Angel. My need for revenge is off the charts fucking high,
but Angel is at the top of my priority list.

When I open the door to my apartment, Doc and his son are walking to the door to leave.

“Take care of her,” Doc says and I nod as he shuts the door behind them.

Winter is lying on her side, her arm in a sling from the dislocated collarbone. One of her eyes is still swollen,
but the look in her undamaged eye is vacant. I walk slowly to the bed, drop to my knees, and wrap her hands in mine as I let my head drop to the bed. There are two emotions running high inside my chest right now. One I don’t wanna talk about,
and the other is guilt. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt guilty about something. If I had just listened to her, and left her alone, she wouldn’t be like this right now.

“Brax,” she whispers. “Thank you for finding me. I’m gonna go to sleep now.”

I suck in a breath. She’s thanking me when it’s all my fault in the first place, but here she is thanking me. Her breathing goes steady,
and I pick up my head and just stare at her. She’s so beautiful. I unlace my hands from hers and run my fingers across her swollen face. That morphine knocked her out cold. I lean up and press my lips gently to hers before I stand. I turn the fan on for her and walk to my bathroom. I lift the bloody shirt over my head and toss it in the wastebasket. I grip the sink hard, my knuckles turning white as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Today the scar that runs across my chest looks redder,
and that day starts haunting me as it reflects back at me.

“Your father took everything from me,” the stranger hisses at me before pulling out a long knife. “Now… I’m going to take everything from him”

I don’t understand what this stranger is saying. What did my father do to him? Why does he want to hurt me?

“Has your father ever took you hunting boy?”

I gulp trying to figure out what’s about to happen. One minute I’m riding my mini bike and the next I’m inside a truck bed.

“No sir,” I stutter.

“Well that’s a shame, son. I was hoping you knew what it was like to gut something.” The stranger chuckles.

Oh, shit. My eyes widen as he comes at me with the knife. I’m frozen. Paralyzed with fear as the blade inches closer. It digs into my skin and starts slicing through my flesh,
and I scream. Fuck do I scream.

I shake my head out of the past. Fuck! I want to scream; I want to fucking kill something. I look out the doorway and peer at my sleeping Angel. I vow that I’ll make this right for her,
and I mean it this time. I take a quick shower drying off before climbing in bed careful not to wake her or disturb anything that might hurt.

I let the exhaustion take me,
and I fall fast asleep after lightly wrap my feet with hers underneath the sheet. I need to feel her,
and if this is the only way, I’ll take it.

I wake feeling alone,
and I reach over, touch the pillow where Angel’s head was laying, and find it empty. I jump up and scramble putting jeans on almost falling over. I don’t even button them as I jog downstairs. I find her sitting in the community room next to a stunned Lana. Angel is bent over snorting a line. I breathe out relieved I’ve found her,
but I gulp because Angel isn’t a druggie. She’s done a few lines,
but she’s not a drug fiend. I walk over and place my hand on her shoulder, and she flinches,
and I jerk back cursing myself. Shit. When she looks up at me, I’m glad the swelling has gone down on her face, but the look her gold gaze is giving me seizes my entire body. It feels like forever goes by before she releases me, bends down, and snorts another. I look over at Lana and see tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Yeah, I feel you Lana. I feel it. I take a seat next to Angel, and she drops the straw and leans into my side.

“How you feeling, baby?” I ask her as I stroke her uninjured arm.

“Like I’ve been gutted alive,” she murmurs, and that answer causes me to flinch. “I can’t even wear a bra or panties. I’m so going commando.” She tries to make a joke of it.

I don’t find it funny at all,
so I say absolutely nothing. Sniper, ZZ and Pyro walk into the room and nod. I kiss Angel’s head, ease away from her, and stand.

“I’ll be in the Chapel if you need me, baby.”

“I’ll always need you, Braxxon,” she whispers.

Christ! I bend down and place both my hands on her cheeks softly as I stare into those beautiful gold eyes. “I’m glad to hear that, Angel.” Then I press my lips to hers.

“I’m glad to hear that, Angel,” he whispers before pressing his lips to mine. I wish I had both arms because I would wrap them around his neck and never let go. I should hate him for everything that happened, but I can’t. It’s not his fault. He didn’t tell Snake, PP and the stranger to hurt me. I’ll cope and deal with things in my own way. It’s all I can do. Yeah, I’m even more screwed up in the head, but that’s okay because I survived. He found me and life goes on.

“I’m gonna party with the muffler bunnies,” I say seriously as he pulls away. “I need to get fucked up.”

I look at him hoping he understands my need to do this to myself. I need an outlet. I need moments where everything disappears,
and my mind is too foggy to remember.

“No morphine then.”

“No morphine.” I agree. He’s worried about me mixing things.

Braxxon walks towards the Chapel,
and I look over at Lana who has tears dripping out of her eyes.

“Lana, I’ll be okay. I swear it.” I try to reassure her.

“I know. I’m just gonna go to bed; it’s getting late. You had a rough day,
and you need more rest too; promise you’ll get more?”

“I will.”

“I’ll be in that stupid slam room if you need me,” she whispers standing up slowly. She’s still healing from being shot.

“Not Pyro’s room?”

“No,” she yells. “Look I’m sorry. It’s just this is all my fault and all because I wanted him. If I didn’t ask you to do that stupid gig. This wouldn’t have happened to you.”

“No Lana, this isn’t your fault. Please don’t think that way,” I cry.

Oh god.

“I’m just gonna go to bed.”

That’s it. When Lana makes up her mind, it’s made up for good. She’s gonna blame herself for this forever,
and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“I love you,” I say as she walks away.

“I love you too.” And she’s gone.

Moments later an older woman comes and sits next to me. I’ve seen her around cooking and cleaning and never introduced myself. Now that I think about it, I haven’t introduced myself to anyone.

“How you doin’, dear?” she asks, handing me a cup of tea.

Obviously she’s an ol’ lady,
so I need to be polite.

“Not great,” I say taking a sip of the tea. It tastes remarkably delicious. Nice and sweet just how I like my tea. I usually drink tea when I’m sad. So the fact she brought me hot tea immediately draws me into conversation comfortably with her.

“By the way, I’m Berry. I’m Phil’s wife or ol’ lady,” she chuckles.

“Berry?”

“Long story short, I’m old as dirt hunny,
and when berry lip gloss came out, I was addicted. So the guys started calling me Berry; sometimes I forget my given name is Gertha. So please, call me Berry. Gertha is just hideous.”

Oh my god. Gertha, really?

“That is horrible.” I laugh and cough as my skin pulls at my chest.

“Not telling me anything. Those kids I grew up with were awful.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize and mean it.

“Think nothing of it dear.” She pats my leg.

“I had a question maybe you could answer for me?”

“Ask away.” She smiles.

“The club’s on lockdown and I know the families are here, but I barely see the kids.”

“The basement is like a family center. It’s got a kitchen, bathroom, and game room, even bunk beds. Everything you need to entertain children. It keeps them out of club business and away from harm. Pop built that years ago,
and as the years pass, it gets upgraded. We just usually keep the grandbabies; the only one that followed club footsteps is my son ZZ. The rest of the guys had all girls and well, they moved on and married and now we have eight grandbabies. We just like to keep them safe; it gives our daughters peace of mind while the club is going through mayhem.”

“That’s nice. Who’s Pop?” I can’t help it. I’m intrigued with all the information she’s giving me.

“Pop is Braxxon and Snipers father,” she sighs clearly sad. “He was a good man.”

“He’s sounds like he was,” I say. The cocaine is starting to do its job. I’m feeling all kinds of antsy.

“Can you point out the ol’ ladies for me?”

Anything to calm me down, making more conversation will do for now.

“Sure sweetie, that woman over there is my best friend. Her name is Rockette; she used to be a Rockette dancer. Nicknames are based on a lot of your personality around here. She’s Walter’s wife,” she says as I look at the lady. She’s pretty and probably around her early sixties.

“That woman next to her,” she points to a strawberry blond, “is Louise, no nickname for her. She’s Max’s wife. The lady pulling out the sweeper trying to clean and do the prospects job is Nancy, also known as Nan. She is Samuels’s ol’ lady. They aren’t married, they should be. Hell they’ve been together for twenty-two years, but Sam is a stubborn fool. Rob’s wife is downstairs with the grandbabies and the teenagers; her name is Josie. You’ll be able to spot her because she keeps her hair cropped and bright red. She needs a fierce look to keep the teenagers in check. You’ll meet them later. The rest are free agents,” she chuckles and then sighs again. “Well James isn’t free. He’s still mourning his wife. She was such a beautiful woman. She passed away from ovarian cancer. Her name was Georgia. One day when you’re healed up, I’ll show you the club albums. But as for the other two women here, they’re part of the pussy clan.”

I look at her when she says pussy and smile.

“They are on their best behavior because the families are here. We’re usually not here because well, it’s no place for the family to be, but we’re on lockdown. There are usually more of them,
but Pyro sent them home. The two other prospects escorted them. You probably already know who Creamy is?”