Fabio's Remorse (Hell Raiders MC Book 5) (6 page)

10

Justine

As I drove home from work, I took a last minute detour, then parked on a quiet street. For a long time, I sat in the car, trying to keep the tears at bay, without much luck. I only came by one time since the night those men took Caleb from me, and I had no idea why I found myself there now. Before that, even though his folks weren't there anymore, I sometimes drove by and just remembered. It made me feel closer to him, despite the continents between us.

And now, I found myself parked across from the old three-story Victorian once more. A new family had moved in there since the last time. Caleb's parents were gone; his father from a heart attack right before he graduated, and his mom just sort of faded away after that. He got to come home long enough for her funeral, barely.

Unable to help myself, I got out and leaned against the old maple tree, trying to keep the tears from drowning me again, and let the rough bark bite through my blouse. I already knew from experience the thin fabric would be ruined, but I didn't care. The sounds of a neighborhood settling in before dinner seemed so familiar. The place never changed in any big way.

The porch had a fresh coat of paint, and it looked like the swing did, too. Caleb and I held hands for the first time on that porch swing, and the first time he kissed me was there, too. His parents had been just inside, with the TV turned low, probably so they could hear us, but it didn't matter. Looking back, I was sure they knew exactly what we were doing, even if we thought we were getting by with something.

A breeze stirred and the movement of the oak branches in the side yard caught my eye. Caleb used to tell me that tree stood the test of time, and we would, too. We gave each other our virginity under the spreading limbs and vowed to stand strong together. Our lives had been perfect.

All the way up until he decided he had to go to war, like all the men in his family had. There for a while, I actually considered breaking things off with him over it. But I realized that was just part of who Caleb was. He took responsibility and stood up for what was right. I couldn't ask him to be anyone else. So I held back my tears and waved him off when he went to Basic.

Afterward, driving his mom back home, I had to comfort her as she wept for her son. She kept saying she wouldn't live long enough to see him again. No matter how I felt inside, I had to be strong for him. So I told her he would come home before we knew it, and life would be perfect again. I even almost believed it.

Back then, before that night, even after his mom passed away, I could sit in the overgrown grass and read his letters, and for a few moments, have him again. Sometimes it was so real I could practically feel his fingers running through my hair, or his stubble against my neck. The scent of his dad's pipe tobacco always warned us of his presence, and to keep our hands to ourselves. When I sat there reading, a hint of that smell always teased at my senses, almost letting me go back in time.

After that night, I wrote him for the last time, and came here one last time to burn all his cards and notes, everything I'd saved from us. It nearly killed me, but I did it, because I had to, for him. The flames had consumed the paper and pressed flowers, photos, everything, in the stone barbecue pit Caleb built with his dad. It seemed like a fitting end to us, even if the smoke drifting up through the grate did torment me with memories. During the warmer months, after his parents went in for the night, we would always sit there and watch the fire until it went out, and plan our future.

"Hey, lady, you okay?" Bright blue eyes stared up at me out of a tiny face smeared with what I hoped was chocolate.

I wiped my eyes and tried for a laugh. "Yeah, I'm good. Just remembering things."

He stood there a moment, studying me, and scuffed his toe in the grass. "My momma do that, too, when her's 'membering. I don't know why you do that, if 'membering makes you cry. I don't like to cry. You like to cry?"

I couldn't help it. Laughter burst past the tears. "You know what? I think you're a very smart boy."

He flashed a bright grin. "Yep, I am. Momma say so all the time. I'm gonna be four."

"Four, hmmm? That's a very wise age." Time to get going before the
what-ifs
hit and I scared this sweet child. "I have to go now. Thank you for talking me out of remembering."

"You welcomed." He took off, skipping down the sidewalk.

I stood there a few seconds longer, while the scent of cherry pipe tobacco seemed to waft just out of reach. Self-preservation forced me to get in the car and drive away before more memories could engulf me. If I lingered, I would start wondering if Caleb would have started smoking his dad's pipe when he got older, and what our children would have looked like.

Away from the past, I could force myself to wonder, instead, how many women he made love to, or if he'd found someone special yet. Of course he had. Caleb was a good man. Any woman would immediately realize her luck in finding him and latch on tight. I took comfort in the familiar patterns of my grief, and managed to calm myself.

At home, I used the remote to open and close the garage door, like always, and waited inside my locked car until Sam and Hudson came through from the kitchen to let me know everything was okay. Yes, in some ways, fear kept me prisoner far more effectively than any walls or bars could. But fear kept me safe, too.

The dogs greeted me with their usual quiet enthusiasm, eager for the treats they knew waited on the shelf by the car door. I tried not to spoil them, but I needed to make sure they always came to me as soon as the garage door closed, so they got the treats every single time. For other training, rewards came only occasionally once they had the behavior down pat. This one thing, though, was too important for them to be unsure of the benefit.

Inside, after I checked to be sure everything stayed secure in my absence, I sat on the couch for a few minutes, then turned the TV on to try and find some distraction. If I didn't get my mind off the past, and my fears, and soon, I would go to pieces.

Several times since that night, I had nearly killed myself. It would be so easy to give up, let the terror and bitterness all go, and finally find some peace. Some stubborn streak, or maybe sado-masochism, forced me to continue on, though. For the billionth time, I wondered what kept me going, and how much more I would have to endure.

The phone call Saturday caused me to question everything. The man had called me 'Teach'. That meant he knew where I worked. The stupid Board of Education website would give him anything he needed to find me. My photo was there, my school, my work email, and my first and last names. With that information, anyone with a brain could find me.

And I had no doubts as to my assailant's intelligence. He possessed the cunning of a predator, and the ability to terrorize his prey. Now that he had my phone number, he wouldn't stop. Men like him got off on the fear they generated in others, and he knew exactly how much he terrified me.

The local news came on, and a headline scrolling at the bottom of the screen caught my attention. I turned the volume up. The anchor came on, wearing her serious expression, the one they reserved for the worst news.

"In a press conference today, Pike County Sheriff George Gormann advised the public to be especially alert. Four women have been beaten and raped during home invasion robberies in the past eleven days."

The male co-anchor took over. "According the Sheriff Gormann, the suspects struck as lone females entered their homes after dark. He says all women should be especially careful when approaching their door at all times." The woman started speaking again, giving phone numbers people should call if they saw anything suspicious.

I sat there, numb. I wasn't the only one. They were doing it again, hurting other women the same way they did me, and now they were killing them. My stomach churned suddenly, and I bolted for the bathroom just in time. I vomited until my chest ached and my stomach felt as if it had turned inside out. I felt sorry for those other women, and jealous at the same time. At least they didn't have to live, cowering in fear all the time.

The blessed numbness subsided, and I felt their hands all over me again, felt them inside me, felt them tearing my heart out all over again. Shivering, I stripped and climbed into the shower and turned the water as hot as it would go. I stayed there, sobbing in the corner, until the water ran cold and the shivers returned.

By the time I climbed into my bed, guilt hit. If I reported when they hurt me, would they have been caught? Would it have prevented them from hurting those other women? Could I have saved them?

Sleep refused to come that night, and when my alarm went off, I climbed out of bed, stiff and sore, and exhausted. Until now, work had been my only solace, my only safe place, because I didn't think they could find me there. I'd been a fool to think I might have a haven where they couldn't reach me.

11

Fabio

The time as a Hell Raiders Prospect passed fairly quickly for me. Kellen stayed true to his word that I wouldn't get the kind of hazing some did. For the most part, bringing up the rear on runs was about the worst of it. A couple of the newer members gave me shit at first, but the others set it right. They were only treating me the way they had been, so I didn't make a big deal out of it.

When Kellen and Crank told me they were bringing my status as a Prospect to a vote, my heart sank right through the floor. Asking all the other Hell Raiders to consider me a brother seemed like a cross between salvation and damnation. They could either save me by agreeing to place that kind of trust in me, or damn me by refusing.

The bastards left me to cool my heels in the living room while they decided my fate. I felt about like a prisoner on death row waiting for an eleventh hour phone call from some suit in an office to let me live a little longer. At that point, all I could do was pray, and try to remember if any of them had anything to really hold against me.

Over an hour later, Crank came out scowling. "Kellen says get your ass in there."

Fuck. The vote must have gone against me. My heart pounded in my ears as I stood and headed for the big conference room where the Raiders held church. They were going to make me turn in my Prospect patch and get the hell out. An empty future and a barren highway loomed ahead, ready to swallow me alive.

Kellen and all the other Hell Raiders sat around the big table, all just as solemn as Crank. Kellen lifted a hand. "Give me your cut, man."

I clenched my jaw hard to keep from arguing, and shrugged out of it, tossing it over. He caught the leather easily and slid the tip of his knife blade under the edge of the patch. Fuck this shit. I was not going to stand there and watch him strip it and hand it back empty. I turned on my heel and started to stalk from the room.

Badger stepped in front of me as I rounded the table and made for the door. "Not so fast, son. Ain't nobody walkin' out 'til it's done."

I swallowed hard, despite my dry mouth, and turned back to face the room. Every man at the table wore a huge grin. What the fuck?

"Here, Brother. You better hurry up and get one of the girls to sew this shit on for you, before you go stompin' off pissed." Kellen handed my cut to Crank, along with a set of new patches.

The room erupted in a round of cheers and laughter, even though I felt like puking with the relief and excitement. Every man in the room congratulated me, happy to have had a good laugh at my expense. Hell, I didn't mind, either. I was just fucking happy they'd voted to accept me.

The celebration spilled out of the meeting room to the bar, where every single Brother seemed to feel the need to buy me a drink. Getting shit-faced in my first hour as a full member seemed like a dumbass move, so I got the Prospect behind the bar to hold most for later.

"Congrats, Fabio. I'm glad you listened to me." The laughing voice behind me belonged to Cherry, the ol' lady who filled me in on being a biker that first morning at the clubhouse.

I turned and let her hug me. "Yeah, I am, too. This feels right."

Cherry acted as sort of a mother to the whole club. Her ol' man had been killed on a run several years back, and the Raiders took care of her. Rather than find a new man, or leave the life, she moved into a camper parked not far from the clubhouse, and took care of the Raiders. "I know it does, honey. Now you just keep your head on straight, and you'll be good." She patted my cheek and raised hand to the Prospect to bring her a beer. "I'll send Marissa over. She's good at putting patches on." With a wink, she moved on, probably to check on the rest of 'her boys'.

Marissa, one of the club girls, caught up with me a few minutes later. "Cherry said you might need some help with a patch?" She smiled up at me, making no secret of the fact she'd like to help with more.

"Yeah, I could use some help, I guess." I held up my cut and new patches. "Think you can do anything with this?"

"Course I can, baby. You give me an hour, and I'll have it all fixed up for you." She gave me her best seductive smile and walked away with an exaggerated sway to her hips.

I ignored the invitation. All these months later, and I still couldn't bring myself to fuck another woman. Sure, I'd tried. But when it came down to it, all I could think of was how hurt Justine would have been before. Of all the stupid shit to care about, that had to be the fucking worst. Bitch dropped me for another man, so why the fuck was I still worried about her?

I should just get the fuck over it, and take Crank's advice about the fastest way to get over one bitch was to get another bitch under me. The rest of my beer went down fast, as I looked around the bar and living room area, trying to decide which of the club girls might catch my interest long enough. Or maybe I should take a serious look at the other talent that showed up for our next open party.

Fuck it. Marissa all but asked, and she was sexy as hell. She would do. I stalked off after her. Better do it before I could talk myself out of it. Otherwise, I'd end up right where I always did, listening to Justine's favorite songs and drinking myself into a stupor while I remembered every single fucking detail.

Marissa made herself easy to find by leaving the door open. She sat on the bed in one of the rooms the club girls often crashed in, when they weren't warming a Brother's bed. She had my cut spread out, and the new patches laid on it while she readied her needles and thread.

"Hey, Marissa, thought I meet keep you company while you're doing that." I couldn't think of a damn thing to say that didn't sound weird as fuck.

She looked up with a sweet smile. "Hey, Fabio, I'm glad you came. It's a little quiet back here, with the party going on." She made the first jab with her needle, then quickly inserted a second needle through the same holes. "You going to get some new ink to celebrate? Or maybe get something else pierced?"

"I don't know. Probably, though. You think I should?" I had several tattoos already, and a couple piercings. The pain of the tattooing process had become kind of therapeutic for me, so when shit got bad, I usually talked Skates into giving me another one.

"I do." Her needles flashed with her quick movements. "Most of the guys have the Skulls n Gears somewhere on their skin. Maybe it's time you got one for something good."

My hackles rose. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged and kept sewing. "Just the girls have all noticed you usually only get a new one after you get all broody and listen to sad old music."

That came as a shock. I hadn't figured anyone really noticed my moods that closely. No one ever made any comments, at least. Of course, if they did, I would probably take their head off. I just nodded in reply.

Her fingers paused and she gave me a cautious under her lashes. "Some girl do that to you, or you manage it all by yourself."

Anger shot through me. No one, other than Crank, had ever asked for a single detail of my past, especially not that part.

She must have seen how much it pissed me off, because she stopped working again, and fully looked at me. "Just so you know, I'm not prying. You just seem so sad sometimes, and talking can really help when the time's right. So if you ever decide you're ready, I'm around, and I don't spread nobody's shit around."

The anger drained out of me. She just wanted to help. "Thanks, I'll remember that."

The sweet smile, not the seductive one she normally gave, came again. "Good." She went back to sewing.

The dam suddenly broke. "Yeah, it was a girl. We were together all through high school, and planned to get married. When I graduated, I enlisted, because it was family tradition. Right before my enlistment was up, she wrote to tell me she'd found someone else." Fucking tears made my vision all blurry.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry! You never had any hint?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. The letter before that, she counted down how long until I came home, and talked about wedding plans. Then that bombshell came. I knew my being gone was hard for her, but I never imagined she might leave me over it."

Marissa scowled a little and kept working. "How long between her writing about wedding plans and that letter?"

I shrugged. "What difference does it make? It came four days after I got one about fucking bridesmaids and flowers."

"Honey, that don't make sense." She shook her head, but continued sewing. "A woman who's looking at another man don't get all excited about that kind of thing."

"Well, she fucking lied then. Every letter she sent was probably a lie. No doubt, she started fucking around the minute I left." My bitterness came out in anger. Restless, I stood to pace the small room.

Marissa said nothing more, probably worried I would fucking explode on her. Thoughts similar to those she expressed had tormented me since I opened that fucking letter. Two years, three months, and sixteen days. My muscles vibrated with the need for violence.

"Here you go, baby, all done." She rose and showed me the cut with its full set of patches. I had to admit, it looked really good. When I went to take it from her, she shook her head and moved behind me. "Here, let me help."

It felt awkward as hell, having someone help me put my cut on, but I didn't argue. She settled the leather over my shoulders and smoothed it, then her fingers brushed against my neck. Her gentle touch soothed the knotted tension there, and when she pressed my shoulders for me to turn, I obeyed.

"Sit with me a little while? You don't have to do anything. I could just really use some company right now." Her soft voice sounded nothing like the flirtatious club girl I was accustomed to, and her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

She'd listened to me, without judging. The least I could do was return the favor. I nodded. "Okay."

She took my hand and tugged me over to the bed, so I kicked my boots off and joined her, stretching out on my back. Marissa pressed close to my side, and I wrapped my arm around her, giving her a little comfort from whatever demons chased her.

"You want to talk about it?"

She nodded, and tears spilled over. "Today is my son's third birthday."

"I didn't know you had a kid." I guess I shouldn't be shocked. Several of the girls had kids, and some even brought them around the clubhouse from time to time. But no one had ever mentioned Marissa having one.

"I don't have him. I had a hard time after he was born. I had just left my boyfriend at the time, and I guess that didn't help things. My mother was always a controlling bitch, and when she didn't think I was taking good enough care of him, she took him away from me." Her shoulders shook with some emotion.

"You get to see him?"

"No. I haven't seen him since he was four weeks old."

"Oh, shit, baby, I'm sorry." I turned and pulled her close, and let her cry.