Chapter Twelve #2
“Would it help if you asked a question first?” Terro implores him.
“That should be okay,” he nods, locking eyes with me. “Are you my father?”
The vulnerability in his eyes makes him look like a scared kid and not the half-grown man sitting in front of me.
“That’s what here trying to figure out. There are missing pieces in this puzzle. I’m hoping you can help us with,” I tell him.
“You’ve said several times that Anastasia isn’t your mother,” Terro notes, sipping from his beer. “Can you tell us who your mother is?”
“Shea,” Rusher says, sounding disappointed.
The room explodes in unison. “Fuck!” “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “That fucking bitch!”
Rusher stands slowly, backing toward the door Blitz just vacated to pace the room.
I take a deep breath trying to rein in the growing anger and frustration at the fact this has been going on for longer than anyone could have ever considered.
Which tells me it’s not going to be so easy for us to take them down.
“Remedy, has the woman from the hotel woken up or said anything?” I ask him.
He looks up at me with a guarded look in his eyes I’ve never seen. “She’s still out of it, and every time she comes to, they have to sedate her because she loses it. I don’t know when or if she’ll ever be able to tell us anything.”
“Rusher, come and sit,” I tell the boy. “Sorry if we’ve scared you. Like I said before, the goal is for you to help with puzzle pieces, and that is exactly what you just did. I know we’re loud, brash, and tend to speak without thinking.”
“I don’t know what else I can tell you,” he answers, still standing at the door.
“Everyone out,” I call out.
Everyone gives me a quick nod before standing to leave.
Terro starts to leave, but I motion for him to stay put.
One by one, the others file out without a word, patting Rusher on the back as they go.
When the room is finally empty, I stand walking over to him.
On impulse, before I fully think about it, I pull him into a hug.
He stands stiff at first, every muscle locked tight, slowly without a word he melts into my hold. Gripping onto me tightly as if it’s the only thing holding him together.
With my arms wrapped around him, it finally sinks in. I’ve got a fucking son. Nothing before this moment matters—not how he came to be and not the years lost. All that matters now is that he’s here. The adults who failed him can answer for that later. Not him, though. Not ever.
“It’s going to be okay.” I whisper against his shoulder. “We’re going to figure it out. No one and nothing will ever harm you as long as my heart beats in my chest.”
Rusher sniffs, his breathing sounding shaky and small.
Then, as if something deep inside him shatters, he starts sobbing.
He clings to me, holding on as if I’m the only thing keeping him from falling, and my hold on him is just as tight.
I stand there just letting him break until he is able to pull himself together.
“What we have to ask next is going to be quick.” I place my hands on his shoulders, shifting him away from, “Are you up for it?”
He just nods, refusing to meet my eyes. I guide him into a chair, taking the one beside him as Terro comes to lean on the edge of my desk.
“Why don’t you just tell us about Shea and your Ma? What’s the dynamic like or why you’re with your Ma instead of your mother.”
He takes a deep breath. “All I know is what my Ma has been willing to tell me.”
“What is that?” Terro wonders quietly.
“She would tell me that my mother came to her right after she found out she was pregnant. Shea was scared and told Ma that she needed to get away because she was in danger. Ma asked her who the father of the baby was, and all Shea would say is, at this point it isn’t important because he doesn’t want me anyway,” he says sadly.
“Anastasia told you I didn’t want you?” I demand, rage building in my chest.
“Oh, no, no. She would never. Shea told me my father didn’t want me, and that I ruined her life.
Ma would just say that you didn’t know about me, and if you did, you would be prouder of me than anyone.
Ma always tried to make it sound like I was wanted and loved while Shea was just a bitch.
Anyway, Shea and my Ma ran, and Shea was around until the day I was born.
She took off shortly after that, only showing up off and on when she was checking in,” he tells us.
“Why didn’t Anastasia just come back to Auntie Lynn’s with you?” Terro asks him.
“To be honest, all she ever said was that when it was safe, she would. She doesn’t know I heard her on the phone often telling Auntie Lynn that hell would have to freeze over before she would come back because she didn’t lose anything in this hellhole.
Until then, all we needed was each other,” he tells us.
“Well, as far as I know, hell hasn’t frozen over, so why did she bring you back?” I snap, the anger at her words getting the better of me.
“Auntie Lynn,” his tone implied it should be obvious.
“Thank you, Rusher.” I pat him on the back. “Can you find your way back out to the pool?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” He nods, standing. “Tomorrow is Monday, and I have practice.”
“Okay, that’s not a problem. We’ll get you there,” I tell him.
He watches me as if he needs to ask a question and is scared to ask it.
“What is it, Rusher? Don’t be afraid to ask me anything,” I tell him.
“All of my ball gear, phone, and clothes were in the house,” he finally tells me.
“Oh, shit. Okay. I’ll get one of the Ol’ Ladies to take you to get what you need.” I shrug because that is something I can do.
“It’s really expensive, and I don’t know if Ma has the money to get it all. Maybe I can just have someone take me Monday so I can work something out with the coach.” Rusher’s tone is frantic and stressed.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get you what you need, and then when your Ma gets back, I’ll square up with her. Now, have some fun by the pool. We’ve got another meeting to get to.” I pull Rusher into a quick hug before guiding him to the door.
I watch him until he gets to the end of the hall before closing my office door, leaning back on it. Terro stands with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at his feet deep in thought.
“Fuck me, man. What the actual fuck did Shea and Relic drag us into?” The anger I’d been fighting finally erupts.
Turning, I start laying punches into the door, hit after hit until the door is split, and my knuckles are bloody and raw. The anger is still not satiated, so I turn and grab the chair, throwing it against the wall. After that, it’s a matter of if it’s not anchored down, I attempt to destroy it.
“Feel better?” Terro chuckles, looking around at the destruction.
“No,” I grind out. “Let’s get this shit done.”
“After you, Prez.” Terro waves his hand out towards the door.
I flip him the bird, shaking my head. I reach out, attempting to pull the door open, and find it jammed due to my attack on it.
The door itself is already split, so with a shrug I step back and prepare to plant my foot through it.
It takes only one solid kick, and it splits open, allowing us to wedge our large bodies through the fractured door.
“I guess it’s a good thing we own a construction company by the way y’all keep busting through the doors.” Blitz shakes his head, stepping over the shattered pieces on the floor and making his way to the conference room.
We follow him in there, mentally preparing myself for the shitshow that’s about to go down. Because if what my gut knows to be true is in fact true, the psycho brothers will be on a warpath.
I close the door behind me, looking around the room to make sure that everyone is here. “Alright, brothers, let’s get this done. Twitch your up.”
Just as he goes to stand, Anvil reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. When he sees the number, a look of concern and then shock crosses he’s face.
“Not supposed to have phones in church there, brother,” Blitz grumbles.
Anvil looks up. “We’re not in church, brother.”
Without another word, he answers the call. I nearly lose it because what the fuck is this man thinking taking a call in the middle of a fucking meeting? I stand ready to finish tearing my knuckles up on his ass when he puts it on speaker and the man’s words stop me cold.
“The sandbox is awfully lonely without you, brother,” the man’s tone holds a touch of a Spanish accent.
“Must be pretty damn lonely if you’re reaching out to me. We both know I don’t play in the sand anymore.” The rigidity of his shoulders betrays Anvil’s nonchalant tone.
“Well, to be honest, I was wondering if you were still missing that shirt of yours,” he drawls sounding board.
“I don’t know what shit you’re talking about. I mean, damn, brother, I’ve lost several over the years, months, and days. You’re going to have to be more specific here.” Anvil slides a laugh into his words.
The man on the other side laughs. “You were always a forgetful bastard. Hell, we did always wonder how you could pull that long, dark-haired beauty during our trip to the sandbox when you slept with that shirt tucked under your chin.”
“Hey what can I say? A woman digs a man with a sensitive side. Now that you mention it, it’s been about four days since I last saw that shirt,” Anvil says thoughtfully, looking at me.
I am watching this man have the weirdest fucking conversation about a goddamn shirt, and yet I can tell his brain is spinning. Deciding to let this play out, I lean back in my chair and listen to them.
“Right, well, it seems I’ve found one like it, and since I’ll be down your way in let’s say about two hours, I thought I would grab it and bring it to you.” His words hang heavy in the air.
Anvil doesn’t say anything for a long moment before reaching over and muting the call. “Prez, I have two questions.”
“They better help make sense of whatever the fuck is going on because if they don’t, we’re taking this to the fucking ring,” I snap.
“They do, and it will. First the shirt that you gave Anastasia—it was black, yes?” he asks, and I nod yes.
“Second, is the slaughterhouse a good place for a trade at this time of day?” His second question doesn’t clarify shit for me.
Looking down at my watch, I realize it’s just barely after five thirty in the evening. “What time are we talking?”
“Twoish hours from now,” he answers me.
“Should be fine,” I nod.
“I want to make sure it’s the right one. You’re talking about the black shirt, right?” Anvil asks him.
“Hell yeah, it’s the right one. Send me the address and I’ll meet you there.” The man cuts the call before anyone can say anything.
Anvil makes sure the call is ended, taps on the screen for a second before standing and grinning at me. I glare at him and I’m about to explode.
“Do you want to fill the rest of the class in on whatever the fuck that just was?” Terro snaps.
“Well, it seems my call to an old sandbox buddy has turned up our missing Momma,” Anvil states with a shrug.
With those words, my world tilts up just a little. The brothers start planning the pickup and meeting with this guy, and within the hour we’re on the move and headed for the Slaughterhouse.
We’re coming for you, Anastasia.
You’ve haunted my every breath, every goddamn heartbeat since the day you vanished fifteen years ago. I buried the man I was when I lost you. For that short time when I had you back, I could finally breathe again. Then you were gone again, and I’ve been clawing to stay above water ever since.
There won’t be a fucking third time. I don’t care what it takes, who I have to bleed, or how dark I have to become to make sure she never slips away again.
You’re mine, and I’m motherfucking done living in a world where you’re not in it.