Chapter Twenty-ThreeAinsleyReese
Before tonight, only three other times had my connection to the Bloody Scorpions affected me so profoundly and reminded me of the danger and darkness: my parents’ deaths, Roman’s capture and loss of his hands, and Boom Boom’s violence toward Nova and me. I’d always mourn my parents, but I believed I’d managed to go on with my life with my brother’s help. Maybe, if the Roman and Boom Boom situations hadn’t happened just weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been so devastated now.
I knew who Roman was. He’d made Trinity disappear and the woman who’d punched me when I was a child. Death surrounded us, stalked us, and caught up to us. It just never sank in the way it had when Proctor, Missile, and Visor broke into Roman’s house and planned to kill me.
When I insisted they drop their guns, I hadn’t had a plan of escape. I was playing it by ear and trying to find a solution to save myself and the baby. It was a longshot, but it was the only one I had.
I never got the chance to see if my plan worked. Reese shot them all, then carried me away from the carnage and enveloped me in his arms, whispering sweet words as I clung to him.
The sound of motorcycles seeped into my brain and I began to cry, knowing we had no chance of escape. Even when Reese tightened his hold on me and rushed toward Roman’s bedroom, I didn’t think we’d survive. My emotions were a never ending loop of fear, anger, shock, resignation, and hysteria. He shoved me into the room and closed my fingers around one of his guns.
“Stay here,” he ordered, hovering in the doorway.
I latched onto his wrist. “No, don’t go!”
Irritation crossed his face. “Stay strong, Ainsley. Don’t turn into a woman and fall into hysterics right now. And, for fuck’s sake, stay in this fucking room or escape through that window. Don’t risk yourself and the baby.”
Before I pulled myself together, he jerked from my hold and hurried away. As much as I wanted to follow him, I couldn’t. Not for me, but for our child. Locking the door, I slid to the floor and drew in deep breaths, forcing myself to remember what Roman taught me. He expected me to use my brain and assess my surroundings. It wouldn’t make sense to climb out of the window and right into the hands of the Bloody Scorpions.
Disbelief and fear buzzed through my veins, and I wondered if there was any way out for us. Tears slid down my cheeks. Neither could I believe how emotional I’d been. I cried at the drop of a hat nowadays. Crawling to Roman’s bed, I slid under the covers and laid my head on his pillow.
The faint scent of his cologne both comforted me and reminded me I needed to change his bed before he returned home. A little sob escaped me. No, he wouldn’t want me to do that.
“Ainsley, open the door,” Reese ordered. He sounded fine, but I wasn’t sure if I should trust that. The Bloody Scorpions might’ve forced him to call me. “Sweetheart, it’s fine. Bolt and Razor…several of my brothers are here.”
Shuddering, I closed my eyes, the warmth of my tears burning my cheeks.
“It’s fine, Ainsley,” Mom whispered. “It’s just Wizard and several of your Dad’s brothers with some of their acquaintances.”
She reached her hand around the seat and my fingers touched her palm. Gunfire erupted and I flew forward.
My eyes snapped open and my breath sawed in and out of my lungs. Wizard? Had the Bloody Scorpions been involved in Mom and Dad’s deaths? Or was I just panicked knowing Boom Boom put the hit out on Roman?
“Ainsley, move away from the door,” Reese said again. “I’m shooting the fucking lock away.”
“N-no!” I called, stumbling out of bed. At the door, I unlocked it and swung it open. “I’m fine.”
He nodded, but didn’t dispute me, instead sweeping me into his arms and carrying me away.
I hated cars. It was a holdover from my trauma at my family trapped in a burning house. In my head, automobiles were even more of a death trap, leaving survival chances slim-to-none. Logically, I knew people walked away every day, but it didn’t matter. I preferred my bike any day.
Yet, I sat Ainsley in the passenger seat of her car, jumped into the driver’s seat, and headed to Ma Siller’s. Bolt offered to bring Ainsley so I could stay behind and help with the clean-up and disposal of those three fuckheads, but there was no fucking way I’d allow anyone other than me to see to Ainsley. Maybe I was cocky, but I didn’t think she’d want anyone else but me.
She only knew Louisiana, and he wasn’t around, so it had to be me. I wasn’t sure what she wanted, so I decided to play music at a reasonable volume in case she needed to talk.
She stared out the window the entire drive. Every now and again, a sniffle escaped her. I’d reach over and cover her hand with mine, squeezing gently. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t look at me either. I wanted to get into her head and erase the bad. Whatever it might’ve been. I wanted to know, but I refused to ask her right now.
I turned into the Siller driveway and allowed the car to idle, waiting for Ainsley to speak. Ask questions. Say something . She remained silent.
Sighing, I got out of the car and went around to her side. When I helped her out, she laid her head on my chest and wrapped her arms around my waist. It was all the encouragement I needed to take her into my arms, tip her head back, and slant my mouth over hers. For the first time since I received the call that Ainsley wasn’t at the motel, I relaxed. She was soft and sweet, safe in my arms.
I’d never disrespected Bolt and his woman’s place with even a make-out session with a chick, but I needed to feel Ainsley trembling around my cock to calm my fear and anger. Bracing her against the car, I lifted her and grunted when her legs automatically circled my waist. She moaned into my mouth, rocking against my hard dick.
I didn’t want to let her go. Not to pull my cock out or deal with her jeans. The saltiness of her tears invaded my senses, and my heart fucking broke. I wanted to return to that house, reanimate those fuckheads, and kill them slowly and brutally.
She pulled away, leaned her head against my chest, and sobbed. “I th-thought the baby was dead and I-I’d never see you again.” Her fingers gripped my cut, but I didn’t care. “I-I th- thought…” Her voice trailed off and another sob escaped her. “R-Roman,” she finished as if that explained everything.
I kissed her again, needing a moment to regain my equilibrium. Suppose I had been too late or they’d gotten the jump on me? Suppose they’d killed her in front of me? My desire faded. Memories of my devastation over losing my family crept in. Tearing my mouth away from hers, I set her on her feet and dropped my arms from around her. She didn’t notice my withdrawal.
“Reese?” a voice called from behind me.
Five minutes ago, I wouldn’t have appreciated Ma Siller’s interruption. More than likely, I would’ve been mortified. Now, I welcomed it and seized the excuse to push away from Ainsley and turn around.
“Hey, Ma,” I greeted.
She stood on the porch, right under the light, allowing me to see the kindness of her brown eyes, which had soothed me all those years ago. Short and plump, she had short graying hair with bangs. I don’t know where I would’ve ended up without her. Now, she drew herself up and beckoned me forward.
I started toward her. One lift of her eyebrow halted me and I heaved in a breath, turned to Ainsley, and took her hand in mine. At the porch, I dropped her hand and looked up at Ma Siller.
“Well, are you introducing me or what, Reese?”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Ma Siller, this is Ainsley Valois. Ainsley, this is Bolt’s old lady.”
Ainsley didn’t notice the slight. Ma Siller did and lifted her eyebrows almost to her hairline, offering a putrid look that had me feeling like an asshole. She glared at me, sniffed, then smiled at Ainsley’s bowed head.
“Ainsley’s such a pretty name. I’m Glinda Dorothy Siller. Mother was a fan of L. Frank Baum.”
It was my turn to lift my brows. I wasn’t sure if she was shitting Ainsley or not.
Ma Siller waved, but Ainsley didn’t see because she hadn’t lifted her head. “You can call me Ma Siller,” she continued, then glared at me again. “Everybody does.”
“Ainsley—”
Ma Siller shook her head.
We stood in silence for several minutes, until Ainsley heaved in a breath and lifted her bruised face. I clenched my jaw.
“I like the Wizard of Oz ,” she said finally. “Roman and me were supposed to see Wicked .”
“Haven’t seen it yet myself, but I can’t help but thank heaven that it wasn’t around when Mother was carrying me.” She indicated herself with her hand. “Don’t see myself as an Elphaba or a Theodora.”
“But you’re named after the Good Witch and the heroine. That wouldn’t have changed.”
“Mother had quite the imagination, dear. Elphaba has much more flair than Glinda or Dorothy.” Smiling, she waved to Ainsley. “Come on in, hon. You’ve been through quite the ordeal.”
Ainsley looked at me, but I remained stoic. Her shoulders slumping, she walked up the three steps to where Ma Siller stood. The moment Ainsley reached her, she pulled her into her embrace.
“I got you, Ainsley,” she swore. “From here on out, if anyone wants to get to you, they have to go through me first.” She offered me one last glare, clutched Ainsley’s arm, and guided her into the house.
By the time Ma Siller helped to settle Ainsley in my old bedroom and came to chew my ass out, I’d seated myself at the kitchen table, heard from Bolt that Roman’s house was secured and all cleaned up, and had drunk two beers. I’d just popped the top on my third one when Ma Siller stormed in, slapped the side of my fucking head, and yanked away my goddamn beer.
She set it near the sink, then took a seat at the table. “She doesn’t need your bullshit, Reese Sinclair.”
“You know what’s bullshit? Having a girl I didn’t want carrying my kid.”
“If you didn’t want that possibility, you should’ve covered yourself. You’re the idiot, so you can’t make her suffer.”
“I’m not making her suffer,” I argued. “I’m safeguarding myself. The twain shall never meet, Ma. She’s Roman Mac’s sister. Someone will always be gunning for her. Either from the Scorpions or the Bastards. Suppose I do fall in love with a dead woman walking? Then what?”
Narrowing her eyes, she tapped her fingers on the table. “You’re a goddamn travesty to that patch.”
I stiffened.
“Hush, or I’ll call Bolt to kick your ass before I get my Colt and shoot it off.” She pointed at me. “I’ll do you one better. You’re a disgrace to men if you can’t protect a slip of a girl. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost your entire fucking family.”
“I’m about to lose a son,” she snapped. “Keep talking to me with that disrespect and I’ll just have to explain to Bolt why I put a bullet in you.”
I glowered at her. “Ainsley has been nothing but trouble since we met,” I complained.
“Trouble is as trouble does,” she retorted. “You’re quite a troublemaker yourself.”
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I tried to control my emotions and return to the place I’d been before Ainsley leaned her head against me and sobbed as if her heart had broken into a million pieces. I glanced away.
“Fuck her. Her safety shouldn’t matter to me,” I said with resentment. “She’s just having my kid. I don’t even know if we can make a relationship work.”
Sighing, Ma leaned back and folded her arms. “Knew you to be traumatized, not a deadbeat with a load of excuses.”
I still wouldn’t look at her. “Ainsley could’ve been killed in front of my fucking eyes. She made some fucked up, stupid decisions. She doesn’t use her motherfucking brain sometimes.”
When I searched my soul, I realized part of my withdrawal was remembering how Ainsley refused to put me down even to save her own fucking life. On top of that, she talked them into lowering their guns and then attacked as if she had a fucking chance of a fuckhead in hell to survive.
“Well, she gave you the shot you needed, Reese,” Ma Siller rationalized when I explained myself. “More than likely, she was good as dead anyway.”
“She should’ve said I was the worst motherfucker alive!” I pounded my fist on the table, ignoring the sting. “What the fuck is wrong with her? She has no fucking self-preservation. Do you think I can handle her for the rest of my fucking life without going insane?”
“Already there, boyo,” she said with laughter.
Clenching my jaw, I finally looked at her again. Usually, I found her comebacks amusing, but I don’t think I’d recovered from all the emotions running through me. Death was so fucking easy. Kill motherfuckers and it was over. My adrenaline spiked at the power it gave me. Either I calmed myself with bud, booze, or pussy.
Life was hard, caring was brutal, and love was torture.
Ma Siller leaned across the table and covered my hands with her own. They were warm and comforting. More than any other time, my heart cracked open and all my long-buried grief and survivor’s guilt almost overwhelmed me. It was the type of pain I never wanted to experience again, the kind of heartache I never thought I could feel again, even during my months of sorrow over Trinity’s death.
“I don’t love Ainsley,” I said, scorn dripping from my words. My little sister would be about Ainsley’s age now. Probably just as much of a handful. Tears stung my eyes at the thought. “She’s a good fuck who I knocked up. That’s why I haven’t stopped thinking about her.” And because of motherfucking Louisiana. “Love is for pathetic motherfuckers.”
“I know, dear,” Ma Siller said quietly, patting my hand. “Get it out. Ainsley’s alive, son. Battered, bruised, and broken-hearted because of her brother’s treatment and how his friends wanted to kill her. She’s all alone right now. Except for a woman named Tess, who she wants me to call.” She leaned back. “Go, Reese. Ainsley will be fine with us. You don’t want her? Then, fine and mighty. I’ll make sure Bolt doesn’t tell you about the smallest detail from here on out.”
I blinked. “But—”
She nodded at the door. “Go,” she repeated. “I can handle it from here.”