Chapter One.
Grace
February 2020
I stared at the leg of lamb sitting on the freezer shelf. The damn thing was still frozen. Disbelievingly, I reached out with a finger and poked it to make sure. Yup, frozen to the bone.
Shit. There wasn’t enough time to run to the shop to buy a fresh one. Plus, he’d know I’d messed up—again. My illness had crept up on me, and by the time I’d realised how bad it had got, I was completely reliant on him.
‘Him’ was my husband Garry, a good man, usually, but my sickness had brought out another side of him that wasn’t so nice.
It began with small things, like forgetting to post a letter or reply to an email, then progressed to not locking the front door or attending a work meeting. I’d made a doctor’s appointment, and they hadn’t found anything wrong. But things got worse. Until, one day, I missed a really big event and ended up signing off sick. That had been three months ago, and I was steadily worsening.
Everything was confusing. Doctors had me undergo numerous tests but found nothing.
Initially, Garry was supportive and covered for me at work. We both worked in finance. Garry also finally ensured I took the time required to recover. I knew Garry had moved into my office and role, and I’d been grateful to him for covering for me. God knows I dealt with some damn big clients, and they needed someone who had all their faculties present.
Today was just another example of how forgetful and dazed I was becoming. I’d got the lamb out while feeding the girls their breakfast; I was sure of it. And then I’d zoned out while cleaning the house and doing the laundry. As usual, I fell asleep around noon and woke up a couple of hours later, even more confused.
This was a disaster.
Garry was having a big client over, and he’d promised a special dinner. A dinner that wouldn’t be ready. Because somehow I’d thought I’d got the leg of lamb out and hadn’t. Shit on a stick. Crap, it wouldn’t defrost in three hours. I was clueless about what to do.
Then I remembered the restaurant I’d used once before in an emergency and dialled through a quick order. Okay, we wouldn’t be having roast lamb, but it would certainly be a great meal.
I paid on my credit card and sat down to wonder what had happened. Deep inside, I was convinced that I’d got the meat out. I recalled doing it. This was a situation where Garry would say I was losing the plot and all sense of reality.
I glanced at the clock again and saw another hour had passed. What the hell was wrong with me? The front door opened, and my neighbour called out to let me know she had dropped the girls off.
“Thanks, Lin,” I replied, hurrying out of the kitchen.
Isla was four, and Harper was five. They stood in the hallway, silent and uncomfortable, and my feet paused in the rush towards them. There was none of the usual running towards me for hugs and kisses. They waited until I came close and remained still. Puzzlement rose.
“What’s wrong?”
“Daddy said we’re not to bother you as you’re ill,” Isla replied.
Anger surged, and my throat felt like it was closing. “Daddy’s being silly,” I murmured, forcing a smile. “I’ve always got time for my babies.”
“Daddy said we’re too loud and need to learn to be quiet,” Harper muttered, and her head ducked low.
A punch smacked me metaphorically in my gut. Shit, what was going on here? Had my illness caused this? Isla and Harper had never been quiet. Yet, their entire demeanour had changed. The question kept running around my mind: how had I missed this?
I felt a wave of dizziness hit and reached out to hold the doorjamb, and I saw guilt cross Harper’s face.
“It’s okay, Mommy, we’ve eaten. Daddy gives Lin money to do our dinner,” Harper said.
“But I’ve been cooking your meals,” I retorted, horrified.
Isla and Harper swapped gazes and then shook their head.
“No, Mommy, you’ve not cooked for a long time,” Harper replied.
That was a bare-faced lie. I cooked every day. Where were their dinners going? I wasn’t that damn crazy yet. A niggle tugged my mind, and I shrugged it off. No, I know I wasn’t that insane or had lost that much touch with reality.
“I made spaghetti yesterday. Where did it go?” I demanded.
Harper and Isla glanced at each other.
“No, Mommy, Lin made that,” Harper said.
Anger rose inside; something was seriously wrong, and for a moment, I had a moment’s clarity. I stormed back to the kitchen and looked through the bin. There was no sign of my previous day’s meal prep or cooking. But I wasn’t giving up. I marched outside and searched the bin there and let out a small cry.
“What’s this if Mommy didn’t cook yesterday?” I asked, showing them the remains of the cooking ingredients.
“Don’t know, Mommy,” Harper responded, looking worried.
“I baked chicken two nights ago. Did you get that?”
“No, Lin gave us chicken,” Isla answered.
I dug a little deeper and hauled out a carcass. “Then why is this in our bin?”
Lin was feeding the girls the meals I cooked, but how was she taking them? Was I completely unaware of what was happening?
I heard Garry’s car pull up, and Harper and Isla stared at me in fear. Jeez, I must look like a crazy person.
“Go wash up,” I said. “I’ll be up soon to read your stories.”
The girls scarpered, and Garry came around the house.
“Grace, what the hell are you doing?” he exclaimed.
“Proving I’m not insane. The girls say that you’ve been paying Lin because I’ve not been feeding them?” I snapped.
Guilt crossed Garry’s face.
“Babe, it’s your illness,” he soothed, his hands reaching out for me.
I sidestepped him, my gut telling me everything I believed was wrong.
“Bullshit,” I spat, and Garry looked shocked.
“Grace!”
“Fuck that, Garry. I cooked spaghetti yesterday, and Lin gave it to the girls. I made their favourite chicken two nights ago, and Lin served it,” I screeched.
Garry gazed at me with such concern I almost broke, but I knew what was in that bin.
“Grace, honey—”
“No! If I’m insane, then what’s this Garry?” I yelled, throwing the remains of the two meals at his feet. “If I dig deeper, am I going to find the remainder of the Mexican from three nights ago, the Chinese from four nights ago? But I bet if I ask the girls, they’ll say Lin made them that!”
Garry looked completely confused as he took in the waste in front of him.
“Who’s fucking crazy, Garry? Why is Lin sabotaging me?” I wailed.
“I don’t know, baby. Come inside, get cleaned up. Let’s get this meal over and done with, and then we’ll talk.”
“That’s something else. I got the lamb out this morning. The girls saw me, and yet it was returned to the freezer,” I snapped.
Garry’s face turned black.
“Are you telling me we’ve nothing to serve to my client?”
“No, Garry, because I managed to put together a meal. After dinner, fetch that bitch, and I want answers!” I growled out and stormed off to clean up.
◆◆◆
I sat in my window seat, wondering what else I’d discover. The wind blew through the open window, moving the curtains a little. I’d not been able to shower straight away because I was so angry even while remaining tired and dazed. My phone lay in my lap, but I didn’t know who to call. Most of my friends had dropped off as my illness progressed.
“Lin, what fucking idiot are you that you dumped the rubbish in our bin?” Garry’s voice drifted up.
I sat up straight, not believing that I’d heard right.
“The drugs you’re feeding her mean Grace should be down for the count most days,” Lin replied.
Stunned, I opened my phone and hit record. All at once, it appeared that answers were imminent to my strange ‘illness.’
“Those drugs will keep Grace dazed and confused. A little longer, and then I’ll be able to have her admitted. Once she is, and her blood is tested, Grace will be known as a drug addict and a nutcase,” Garry spat.
“So add some extra shit tonight to Grace’s meal. She’ll go all drooly in front of your client and phase out, and he’ll report back to your bosses how bad she is. Then you’ll get her job permanently. That’s why you’re doing this, right?” Lin retorted.
My job? This was over that?
“If Grace had known how close she was to being offered partner… fuck. I need her certifiably insane so I can divorce her and not pay alimony or child support,” Garry bitched.
Somehow, I kept my mouth shut. And a small part of me wasn’t surprised, but the rest of me reeled in horror. I continued listening as Garry and Lin discussed their plans, moving forward and what they intended to do. Then I showered and dressed, making a plan in my mind. I read the girls their story and walked downstairs to greet Garry’s guest, who was a former client of mine.
It was then my eyes rested on the frozen leg of lamb.
Savage
June 2022
The weather was too damn hot to do anything but swing in my hammock under the shade of the trees, something I loved to do since buying my own home. I’d shared a house with a few others before moving out. It seemed to be something the prospects did. But I’d sunk my savings into this nice, detached house down a quiet cul-de-sac, which appeared to be primarily families and a few older couples. It had caused a stir when I’d moved in, a single man on a bike wearing a prospect cut.
The street was mostly wary of me. Not even the blind could miss the disdainful looks and judgement hung in the air. But when the riotous parties and fights never happened, a couple of them began to relax and give me a nod in the morning. The few times my brothers had been over, we’d quit at a decent hour and not caused any trouble. The Harleys were loud, but nobody over-revved, and my brothers left as quietly as possible.
Even so, I kept myself to myself. Shit, I didn’t want well-meaning neighbours or nosey fuckers interfering in my business. I had my family and friends and didn’t need anyone else. And the truth was, we had a war coming, and I wanted a bit of peace before it started.
Hell, I’d saved Rosie from her attackers and the clinic burning down and helped Wild get justice for Lynda. Oh yeah, and taken two bullets in the leg in a shootout with Venomous Fangs.
Now we were in a lull, waiting for the next move.
On top of all that, I worked at the funeral parlour Rage owned between ten at night and seven in the morning. I’d also been working in the garage for a few days but had stopped because something had to give, and Drake had noticed.
I was close to getting full brother now. Drake had mentioned a vote was imminent. It had taken longer than usual, and Drake had upped our money—for those of us who’d done more than our fair share of time—to make up for it.
It would be fuckin’ fantastic to finally get that brother cut. Drake had already amended the hours for those prospects who’d served their time. Which meant lately I’d received two days off work a week.
I wasn’t worried about failing the vote; I got on with everyone. If someone had an issue with me, it would be an enormous shock.
So, for now, I had a rare afternoon off. It was sunny, and I was making the most of it, swinging in my hammock. Until I was disturbed by a ball bouncing over my fence.
“What should we do?” a little girl’s voice asked.
“Don’t know.”
“Harper, she’s going to yell if we tell her the ball went over.”
“Shhh, Isla. Let me see if I can see through the fence. There’s a hole over there.”
“Harper, don’t get caught by the wicked man!”
Annoyed, I sat up. What a load of crap; I wasn’t a bad man, and anyone telling their kids that was out of fuckin’ line. I’d never hurt any kid, or woman, for that matter.
“Harper, be careful!” the girl called Isla hissed.
“Either we get that ball back, Isla, or she’s going to get us into trouble again. Look, I can see the ball. It’s near his swimming pool.”
“Do you see him?” Isla whispered, and I looked at my fence.
With all the shrubbery against it and me between the trees, I doubted they’d see me. I could easily kick the ball back over. But something in my gut was warning me that this wasn’t a normal situation.
“Harper, she’s already stopped our breakfast, and lunch is late, too. All because we made a noise when she was talking to her boyfriend. Don’t get caught.”
Jesus, the kids hadn’t eaten? This wasn’t my business, but no kid should go hungry. Idly, I contemplated calling Phoe; she’d know what to do.
“Isla, keep an eye out. I’m going over,” Harper said, and I heard Isla squeak.
A dark curly head popped up, followed by a cute little girl, around six years old.
“Isla, put your hands on my butt and push,” Harper called down quietly, and I hid a snigger. I should, by rights, stop this kid now before she got hurt, but I was curious. Who was this terrifying person Harper and Isla were clearly so worried about? And why were they that scared they were willing to risk confronting the ‘bad man’ aka myself?
Harper dropped and landed quietly.
“Are you okay?” Isla called.
“Yeah, just getting the ball. Be ready to catch it,” Harper replied.
“Hurry, Harper, or we won’t get lunch,” Isla urged, and anger rose in me. Hidden by the trees, I watched as Harper grabbed the ball and hurled it back over before scrambling up the fence like a little monkey. The girl never once caught sight of me watching.
“What the fuck are you doing?” a voice screeched, just as Harper dropped.
“Playing!” Harper replied quickly.
Harper’s tone alerted me, and I got to my feet and remained behind the trees. However, my yard rose slightly, and I had a rockery I could stand on a rock and watch. A blonde woman, late teens, early twenties, was standing at the back door of the house next door. She wore skimpy shorts and a halter top, and her face was currently screwed up as she faced the two little girls.
“Liar! I saw you climbing the fence!” the woman spat.
“We’re not lying! We were playing ball, and it bounced over. Harper went and got it, and now we’re playing again,” Isla defended.
My spine prickled at the venomous glare the woman sent the kids. Without realising, I withdrew my phone from my jean cut-offs.
“There a fuckin’ problem?” I demanded, and the bitch jumped, gazing around.
As I emerged from the trees, the woman exclaimed, “Oh, hi! Who are you?”
I ain’t fuckin’ vain, not one of those fancy prancy men who manicure and get their beard trimmed and shit. I’m all man, which meant I was only wearing my jean cut-offs, and I was sweaty and wore a bandana to keep my hair out of my eyes. Which this cunt clearly liked the look of.
The skank’s gaze sharpened, and her resting bitch expression changed as she took me in.
“Asked, is there a fuckin’ problem?” I demanded, completely unbothered by the flirtatious glances she was now sending.
“No, not at all. In fact, I’m sorry the girls troubled you and trespassed,” she replied.
“Who said they bothered me? Harper and Isla are welcome anytime. They have an invitation,” I stated pointedly.
“Good for them,” she sneered and snapped her fingers at the kids like they were dogs. “Get in here, lunch is ready.”
The two little girls, who were aged about six and seven on a second look, were exchanging worried glances. Unsure of what to do, I ended up nodding at them. They scurried away, and I noted their posture. Fuck, I hated that hunched-over position; I’d seen it too many times in the past.
My fingers hit my contact list, and I punched in Phoe’s number. Wandering back to my hammock, my peace of mind ruined, I explained to Phoe what I’d witnessed and listened to her advice.
◆◆◆
“Harper, I’m hungry. And she’s in a bad mood.”
“I know, Isla, but I tried sneaking some food, and she caught me. And now we’re in serious trouble,” Harper replied.
“My stomach hurts,” Isla whined.
“Probably because we’ve not eaten since yesterday morning,” Harper whispered sadly.
I nearly fell out of the hammock at those words. What the fuck?
“She’s mad because the man wouldn’t speak to her,” Isla continued.
That bitch was taking her bad mood out on the kids? Because I’d not flirted with her? Was she fuckin’ serious? Temper kicking in, I stomped towards the fence and peered over.
Harper and Isla both released a startled cry.
“Shh, you hungry?” I asked.
“Yes,” Isla replied, her bottle lip trembling.
Oh shit, that got me when Eddie and Davy did it, or Amelia and Aria. This little girl put them to shame.
“Don’t speak,” Harper hissed.
“Harper, my name is Jesse, and I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m worried someone is hurting you,” I said calmly.
Phoe’s advice rang in my ears.
“We’re not allowed to say,” Harper replied.
“Is that your mom?” I asked, trying to find some common ground so the kids would trust me.
“No!” Isla exclaimed. “Angela’s the mean lady who looks after us while Mommy works.”
Well, that was one weight off my shoulders. At least it wasn’t the parent abusing them. Why hadn’t the mother noticed? I guessed she was too involved in her career to worry about who had her kids.
“Does Mommy know what Angela is doing?” I pressed.
Both little girls shook their heads.
“Mommy thinks Angela is feeding us, but Angela takes the food home if we don’t eat it and makes it seem like we’re being greedy,” Harper explained.
A muscle twitched in my jaw. That was another thing I hated: deceit.
“Well, I’ve got food, too much, and I don’t want to waste it,” I mused, laying the foundation to feed these kids.
“At school, they talk about too much waste. My teacher says it’s wrong to throw things away that can be eaten,” Harper said, and I nodded.
Whatever it took to get Isla and Harper over my side of the fence and safely away from that cunt. Viciously starving kids because a guy wouldn’t flirt with her. Fuckin’ bitch. Anger was welling up, but something inside me told me to bite it back hard. A wariness in their eyes gave me an inkling of how they’d react to my fury, and it wouldn’t be positively.
“Well, come on over. Here, I’ll reach over. You little monkeys grab hold of my arm, and I’ll lift you over,” I suggested.
Isla and Harper exchanged glances again. Then Isla’s stomach grumbled, and she winced, and that made up Harper’s mind. She shoved her younger sister forward, and Isla reached up, and I grabbed her and lifted her over.
I repeated the action with Harper and then led them both towards my kitchen. Aware of having kids in my house without a parent and the connotations of a single man, I sat them on the patio in front of my security camera.
I got them drinks and then hauled my ass inside to make sandwiches and raid my refrigerator for other snacks. I discovered some packets of finger food and decided they’d do; they were in date, and Harper and Isla could eat them easy enough. Carrying them back out with a gigantic bag of chips, I found the girls sitting quietly at my table.
Shit, this wasn’t natural. If they’d been Hellions, they’d have been tearing the place up. Kids of these girls’ age did not sit so still. I was starting to get the sense there was more happening than what was obvious. Especially when Harper freaked out when I put her plate down first, and she instantly shoved it at Isla. My gut told me these girls had known hunger at some point and not just from the bitch over the fence. I was out of my comfort zone here and needed help.
Quietly, as I chewed my own sandwich, I sent Drake a message, knowing Phoe would have already contacted him. I updated him on everything and put the phone down.
Uneasiness settled in my gut as I watched how neatly and slowly the girls ate as if they were savouring every bite. That merely confirmed my feeling. They’d been starved in the past—something I was familiar with myself.
I shook myself quickly; I wasn’t going to dwell on memories today.