Chapter Five
Chasm
She was crying.
She sat in her car and cried.
I rubbed at my chest. At the scars that covered me, because being in an explosion, followed by months of healing from burns, didn’t hurt as much as watching her cry.
I knew what today was.
I’d been following Morgan around Rosewood for three days. Three days of watching her go to work, watching her have lunch with her mom, and watching her talk to men who had no business being anywhere near my wife.
She’s not your wife anymore.
She would always be mine; I just couldn’t have her anymore. She deserved better. She deserved a life that didn’t put her in danger. A life where she wouldn’t be always looking over her shoulder.
She deserved happiness.
I couldn’t give her that anymore.
All I’d ever given her was pain.
And that pain resurfaced every fucking year on this day.
No one knew I was here but my club. I’d asked King not to notify the Sons of Hell. I wouldn’t wear my colors here. I wasn’t a biker right now. I was a husband looking out for his wife. Making sure she was safe, happy.
Only, she wasn’t.
Because she was sitting in her car in front of a lake, sobbing on the anniversary of our son’s death.
Alone.
I wanted to walk over to her car and pull her out. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and grieve with her. But I didn’t have the right to grieve. Nor did I have the right to hold her anymore.
She wasn’t mine.
Not anymore.
I’d made sure of that when I didn’t come back. When I let everyone believe I was dead. When I let her believe I was dead. I was doing it for her; that’s what I told myself. That was how I alleviated the guilt of abandoning my wife.
Of letting her grieve our child alone.
It was time we’d never get back.
The only balm was that I’d been in no shape to go to her. For weeks I was sedated; for months I was hospitalized. For years I was healing from my own shit.
I couldn’t take on hers.
I understood it made me an asshole, but she was better off without me.
Only, watching her now, she wasn’t.
She was hurting.
She would always hurt. The same way I hurt. The pain from losing a child, a child you so desperately wanted, never healed.
Her car door opened, and she stepped out and looked around as she swiped her cheeks. She stared in my direction, but she didn’t see me. I’d become a chameleon. In the years I’d been gone, I’d learned to hide in plain sight.
I was just another person visiting the lake.
Her attention on me quickly faded, and she walked to the water’s edge. She sat on the bank and wrapped her arms around her legs and pressed her cheek against her knees.
Morgan had told me about this lake. We’d lain in bed together after making love, and she’d talked about her hometown.
Seven years ago...
“It’s beautiful, Jude. Like a Norman Rockwell painting. Or Mayberry.” She giggled, and I felt my dick waking up. Fuck, this woman. Every sound she made, whether she was laughing in joy or screaming in anger, made me want her.
“Mayberry, huh? You have your own Barney Fife?”
“Definitely not. The sheriff is no Andy Griffith. In fact, more times than I can count, the club’s had to take matters into its own hands to fix things.”
She was talking about the Sons of Hell. I knew who Callum Montclair was. Knew who his father had been. His sister had disappeared in college, and they never stopped looking for her. Her whereabouts had only been discovered a few years ago, along with her daughter.
I ran my hand over Morgan’s flat belly. A futile attempt to protect the child growing there. This life wasn’t meant for kids. It wasn’t meant for women like Morgan.
She wasn’t soft exactly, more like pure. Untainted by violence and betrayal. She didn’t know the danger that came with this life. Didn’t understand what I had dragged her into.
I never should have touched her, but from the moment we met, she was mine. I would do everything in my power to keep her from being hurt by this life.
“Tell me about Rosewood,” I said.
“There’s this lake. It’s so beautiful and peaceful. The perfect place for family picnics.” She smiled at me over her shoulder. Her hand covered mine, and she whispered, “We can take the baby when he’s older.”
“He?”
“Or she.” She shrugged. “I don’t like calling our baby ‘it,’ so I alternate between he and she.”
“Have you thought about names?” I asked her.
“Some. It’s hard to decide. Names are so important.” She snuggled back against my chest, and my arms tightened around her. I wanted to keep her right here, always. Away from my life outside these walls, away from the danger and the threats.
“Like Jude, for instance. It means praised one or let him be praised.”
I bent down and kissed her neck. “You were certainly praising me a few minutes ago.”
She squirmed for a moment before letting out a moan as I sucked at a spot near her shoulder.
“Jude is a bible name,” she continued. “He was one of the twelve apostles.”
I stiffened without thought.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, turning in my arms. “We can talk about names later.”
“No, it’s not your fault. Besides, pretty sure my mother named me after a Beatles song.”
That wasn’t true. The one thing my father had insisted on was giving us biblical names. My brother’s birth name was Justus. He changed it to Justin when he turned eighteen.
“Maybe we steer clear of the Bible names, though.”
She smiled and nodded, the moment now tainted by my hangups when it came to my father. The man was a bastard; I wanted nothing to do with him.
“Tell me more about the lake,” I said, trying to lighten the now heavy mood. “Can I go fishing?”
Morgan laughed. “Have you ever fished a day in your life?”
“There’s a first time for everything, babe.”
I still hadn’t been fishing, but as I looked across to the other side of the lake, I saw a big man standing with a little boy. Callum Montclair, known as King, was fishing with his son. Word spread quickly when King adopted Cameron Hobbs, the son of his army buddy.
King was busy trying to talk to Cameron, but the kid was staring at me. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if he thought it would intimidate me, and I smiled, a small chuckle slipping between my lips.
As soon as King noticed Cameron’s stance, he looked up and I disappeared. I didn’t need the club knowing I was here. I wasn’t looking to make waves; I just wanted to watch over my wife and make sure she was safe.
Opening the door to the coffee shop in town, I stepped up to the counter. I’d been here a week and needed to get back. Zombie was handling the club. He moaned and groaned each time I spoke with him, begging me to come back.
They all knew why I was here.
A week ago...
I sat in the president’s chair in church, still unsure I deserved to sit here, and waited while the men filed in.
“Church already, Chasm?” Smokey grumbled. The old bastard was almost sixty now, but he’d never retire. He kept in shape and was one of the few men I trusted completely.
“Sorry, Smoke, duty calls.” I smiled at his grumbling.
“What’s going on?” Eagle asked.
I didn’t know Eagle. He and his brothers joined the club after I’d left. B said they were solid, but I was wary of them.
Eagle sat down, his brothers Falcon and Hawk on either side of him. They were triplets. At least that’s what they told everyone; except they looked nothing alike.
Eagle was six foot tall and lean. His dark blond hair hung loose to his wide shoulders. Falcon was at least four inches taller than Eagle and had black hair shaved short on the sides and long and messy on the top. Then there was Hawk.
Hawk was African American. He stood somewhere between Eagle and Falcon in height, but he shaved his head every day.
I didn’t answer Eagle’s question, choosing to keep my mouth shut until everyone was seated. I looked around the table and sighed.
“There is one more confession I need to make.”
I looked over at Romeo and immediately wanted to smack the shit-eating grin off his face. I wouldn’t, though; I’d learned my lesson the hard way. Romeo might be the fun-loving Cajun but piss him off and you’d see just how un-fun he could be.
“Jesus Christ, Chasm.”
I ignored Smokey and stood. I tossed the empty file folders I found on the table.
“I was going through the office and found these files. Whatever was in them is gone, but each file has the name of a woman on it. One of them is Kaitlyn Ward. Angel’s daughter.”
The men cursed and grumbled; I watched them all, except the men from Nebraska who had ridden down here with me.
Romeo, Ace, and Big Ben were originally part of the club here.
Shotgun and Archie were new to the Silver Shadows, but despite my strained relationship with King, having him vouch for them meant I could trust them both.
“So what’s your confession?” Venom asked, staring at the name on one of the files.
“His wife’s name is also on one of those files.”
My gaze cut to Omen. “You fucking know?” I growled.
Omen leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Of course I fucking know. I’ve done regular checks on every member of this club since I joined. Especially the ones who die mysteriously.”
“Did you tell Steele?” I asked, my voice getting lower and angrier. Omen was one brother I thought I could trust.
“Fuck you, Chasm,” he snapped back. “No, I didn’t fucking tell Steele. There’s a lot of shit I know that I never told that motherfucker.”
“You’re married?” B asked, cutting off Omen, his voice filled with hurt.
“No, not anymore.”
“Asshole.” Romeo and Ace both coughed out the word behind their fists.
“I was declared dead,” I reminded them with a glare. “Morgan is a widow. We are no longer married.”
“But you’re not dead,” Scorpion said. He was another man I didn’t know well. He was Spider’s cousin, and I’d met him a few times when he was a teenager, but he’d joined the club after I left.
“My death was registered with the state. Our marriage was dissolved. That being said, her name on one of those files could mean she’s in danger. With Stone out there somewhere, I have to check on her. Make sure she’s okay.”
“Where is she?” Crater asked.
“Rosewood, Virginia.”
“That’s Sons of Hell territory,” Ambush said, as if I didn’t already know. “You gonna let them know you’re coming?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not sticking around. I just want to check on her for a few days, make sure there is no threat. Then I’ll be home.”
“Krypto or Venom goes with you,” Ambush ordered. When I shook my head again, he added, “Or I fucking go.”
“No,” I hissed. “I won’t be wearing my cut. I can’t blend in if one of you comes with me.”
“Chasm, you can’t just go off on your own,” B warned. “Not anymore.”
I closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I counted to ten.
“I’m going alone. If that means I take this patch off my chest, then so be it. I don’t want anyone to know I’m there. Especially Morgan.”
“You are a fucking asshole,” Smokey said, shaking his head at me.
I had no choice but to agree.
I ordered a coffee and a bear claw and sat at a table by the window so I could watch the street. I needed to get back, but I wasn’t ready to leave yet. I wasn’t ready to walk away from Morgan again.
Just as I lifted my coffee to take a sip, an angry voice barked, “Who the hell are you?”