Shadow: Cerberus MC Book 3 (16 page)

“We think this is part of the same group that got ahold of the girl in Costa Rica a few months ago,” Kincaid adds.

“Damn it. They nearly killed that girl. She’ll never be the same,” I mumble not at all prepared to see again what we saw during the rescue in Costa Rica.

This one feels different somehow. Missions to rescue abducted women have become more difficult since Griffin came along. I can’t even imagine what these parents are going through. Guatemala is not a country to fuck with. I’m not talking the normal pickpockets and armed robberies that are common in just about any large city. This country has one of the highest crime rates in Central America. Just because they make a ransom call doesn’t mean that your loved one isn’t already dead and dumped off somewhere; it happens that way more times than not.

“Wheels up in two hours,” Kincaid says before leaving the room. I was so stuck in my own head I forgot he was in here.

I stay sitting on the end of my bed until I hear Misty through the baby monitor singing to Griffin. Her voice is distant, which means she’s in the bathroom with him. I climb off the bed and turn the monitor off.

Guatemala is full of rebels, cartels, and people who would consider us enemies even though they’re not involved in the mission we’re sent there on. Central America is one of the most dangerous places to conduct business. I need a clear head, and the sweet voice and cooing of my son isn’t going to get me to the right mindset I need to stay safe on this mission.

I pack but stay in my room until damn near time to leave. I’m avoiding Misty. I can admit it’s an incredibly shitty thing to do, but I just don’t want to get into another argument with her. Even worse, I don’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes.

I carry my bags to the living room. Misty is nowhere to be seen, but Emmalyn is on the couch holding Griffin. I walk to them and place a soft kiss on the crown of his tiny head, taking in the scent of his baby wash.

“Be good for your momma,” I say softly. He smiles at me and my heart calms. There’s no other love than the love for a child.

My smile fades when I look across the room and see Misty standing in the doorway to the hall that leads to the bedrooms. I swallow roughly and suddenly have the urge to walk to her, apologize for last night. The sadness in her eyes is acute, the pain clear as day. I give her a slight nod of my head, grab my bags, and leave. I should swallow my pride, but I don’t know how to forgive her.

Even worse is I don’t know how to forgive myself. I prayed for hours, begged God for the baby that showed up with her not to be mine. I didn’t need the hassle that came along with an unplanned child. I never really imagined my life going in a fatherly direction, and I certainly didn’t see being a father yet not a husband. I regret every whispered prayer and wouldn’t trade being Griffin’s dad for anything in the world.

***

“Damn it, Bri. I don’t have time for this shit,” I snarl into the phone.

Her laughter on the other end of the line grates on my nerves, which are already shot from dodging bullets and traffickers who are pissed my team is interfering with their Drug Super Highway. We’ve been here for eight days and still haven’t found the girls we were sent here for. I’ve seen more powder than what covers the tips of the Alps in the winter, but we’re not here to bust the coke dealers.

“Griffin is fine, Morrison. If you want to know about Misty, then you’ll need to call her yourself. She has a phone you know. She had one the last time you went on a job,” she says brightly, clearly enjoying the opportunity to fuck with me.

“I already have you on the phone. I don’t see what the big deal is to tell me how she’s doing.” I close my eyes and attempt to reel in my anger. Brighton has always been obstinate, but it seems to have grown exponentially since she’s been in the clubhouse.

I hear her sigh. “She’s quiet, okay? Keeping to herself a lot. She’s been that way since you left, and I know you did something to upset her, so if you want to know anything else you can call her yourself.”

I can’t deny it. I can still see the pain in her eyes when I left for this trip.

“We won’t be here much longer,” I tell her.

“I’ve told you this before, but you need to reconsider your line of work. Before it was your family worrying about you, but you have a child now. You need to think about him before risking your life doing shit like this. I know there are things you can do domestically that won’t require you to be gone for weeks at a time putting your life on the line.” I can hear the sincerity in her voice.

We say our goodbyes, and I can’t decide if I want to be there to ease Misty’s pain or stay away forever.

I used to love this job, wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world, but things are different now. I don’t want my son to grow up without a father. Every little boy thinks his father is a hero, but I want to be a living, breathing one, not a flag on the mantel and only stories to ease his heart.

I have to get my head in the right place. As much as I regret what happened a little over a week ago, I can’t focus on that. Making a mistake in such a heavily-armed population could be fatal; I’d never be able to right my wrongs then.

Shadow has been gone nearly two weeks. It’s not the first time he’s gone out on a job, but this time, it seems as if time is standing still. People are starting to notice my mood. I keep to myself as much as possible to avoid the inquisition I know will come if the girls get wind of what happened the night before he left.

I’m saddened by the outcome, but I know in my heart I wouldn’t have denied him even knowing how it would end. I shouldn’t have expected anything different from him. He was less vocal than he’d been in the past, but the night ended just like all the others. He fucks; then he leaves. Same old Shadow. I don’t even know why I’d hoped that since we have Griffin together that things would be different.

He’s texted a couple of times since he left. Nothing in the first week or so, but then I got one from him asking how Griffin was doing. I responded, short and to the point. Since then he’s texted daily but only asks about the baby, all business and nothing personal. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about what happened before he left. Honestly, I don’t want to either. Being rejected again isn’t something I can handle. It’s been two weeks, and I can still feel the sting of him just getting up and leaving the room, and then the next day he left on a job without so much as a goodbye.

I need to move on. I need to accept that there’s nothing between us other than co-parenting Griffin. He’s an honorable man. Griffin is lucky to have him as a father, even if that means we aren’t together as a couple. I need to let go of the idea that we can be one big family.

After an hour of trying, I was finally able to get Griffin down for his morning nap. My stomach grumbling is the only reason I thought it was a good idea to leave my room.

I make my way down the back hallway and into the kitchen to grab something to eat. Hindsight is always 20/20, and I knew when I walked in, and Gypsy and Snapper were in a heated discussion, I should’ve turned around and left.

“Speak of the devil,” Snapper sneers from one of the tables on the far side of the room.

I do my best to ignore her as I set to making a quick sandwich. I have no intentions of staying in here with them. The atmosphere in the room is heavy and filled with hate. I’ve never really interacted with any of the girls here other than Bri, Em, and Khloe, but for some reason these two hate me.

They haven’t said as much. They usually keep their distance from me like I do with them, but today feels different. I can already tell that today is when everything they’ve been feeling comes to a head. My pride keeps me in the kitchen. I’m not some little girl that can be run off by bullies. I won’t cower away and run from them. I know I won’t be here much longer, but Kincaid has also ensured me that as long as I’m here, this is my home.

I have my back to them, spreading Miracle Whip on my bread when I feel them surround me, one on either side. I feel caged, and that’s one thing that will make my blood boil.

“Can I help you?” I ask Snapper, who’s standing on my left. I barely look over at her. All the while, I’m trying to calm my emotions that for some reason are urging me to stab her in the throat with my butter knife just to get her away from me.

“Yeah actually you can,” she says a little too close to my face for comfort. I can smell alcohol on her breath, which is outrageous considering it’s only eleven in the morning. They party pretty hard, so there’s no telling if it’s residual from last night or if she’s already started drinking today.

“You can pack your shit, take your damn baby, and get the fuck out of the clubhouse,” Snapper says with enough rage in her voice to make me take a step away from the counter.

I’m not a violent person. Most would call me non-confrontational, but for some reason I still have the knife in my hand gripped and ready to hurt her with it.

I look over at Gypsy, who is beginning to grow more and more uncomfortable by the second. I can tell by the look on her face that she’s probably been bullied in some fashion to even be standing here with Snapper.

“What have I ever done to you?” I can tell I’m getting emotional. I’m not scared but rather so pissed my eyes are starting to water. Unfortunately, I’m one of those people who cry when they get angry. Some people read it the wrong way and take it as a weakness, and I hate looking weak in front of Snapper.

She laughs maniacally, throwing her head back as if I’d told some dark, twisted joke.

“What have you done to me? You show up, with a fucking kid no less, and all of a sudden there’s another man in the clubhouse who doesn’t want to keep the status quo. Things were perfect before all you bitches showed up and started taking our men.”

I stand there stunned for many reasons. The first being that she actually used ‘status quo’ correctly in a sentence, but also the fact that she’s not only pissed at me, but she's mad at Khloe and Em as well. Thirdly, she’s under some impression that Shadow and I are together in some form or fashion, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Girls are leaving because of it. If you just disappeared, then we’d get Shadow back.”

I cringe at the idea that Shadow messed around with these girls. The thought of living under the same roof as women he’d slept with makes my stomach turn. I could’ve lived several lifetimes without being privileged to that information. I don’t know why I never considered it before now. I see both of these women wrapped around every other club member that’s here.

“No one’s left,” I argue. At least none have left that I’m aware of since I got here.

“Darby’s gone,” Gypsy says, speaking for the first time.

I shake my head. I know Darby left, but I’m almost certain that has nothing to do with me, Em, or Khloe. I had assumed she left because something went down with either Snatch or Itchy.

“Some of the guys are just as pissed,” she continues. “They don’t want all the perma-pussy to run any more of us off. We all liked the way it was before you bitches showed up.”

“Please, tell me Snapper,” says a deep voice from the doorway. I sigh in relief glancing over to see Kincaid standing on the other side of the kitchen. “Please tell me which one of my men have said that Misty,” he says nodding his head at me, “Emmalyn or Khloe need to leave.”

Snapper takes a step back from me, and the small action sends a wave of relief over my entire body. I step forward and place the knife on the counter, finally feeling safe enough with Kincaid here to not stab someone.

I watch as she shakes her head and looks over at Gypsy, who holds her hands up like she’s not going to defend her after taking things so far.

“You,” Kincaid says taking another step further into the room, never taking his eyes off of Snapper, “have been more trouble than you’re worth for quite some time. First, that bullshit with Kid; now I come in here and find you talking to Misty this way.” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe what he’s heard. “Implying that Em shouldn’t be here,” he says lowering his voice, his tone turning almost evil. “Implying that if they left, I, Kid, or Shadow would want to touch you again.” He shakes his head and laughs with no lightness in the sound. “You’re beginning to remind me of Bunny. Do you want to be like Bunny?”

She shakes her head violently. “Kincaid, no. Please.”

She makes it sound as if he’s threatened her life. Em told me about Bunny, and the shit she pulled. Kincaid exiled her from the clubhouse; clearly, it’s almost like a death sentence for these women, which I find extremely disgusting, but I feel the same way about being so flippant about sex and giving it up at the snap of a club member’s finger. To each their own I guess.

“I’m tired of you whores,” he pauses looking over at Gypsy for the first time, including her in his classification. “Tired of you thinking you are running anything here. You’re here because I allow it. You’re here because a well-fucked man works harder than one who stays out late chasing pussy at the bar.”

“We want to be here, Kincaid,” Snapper interrupts.