Epilogue

Sara

California

Four years later

Some say history repeats itself. That life is already mapped out for us and we keep being reborn, repeating the same cycle until we get it right. I wonder if that’s true.

When I was twelve years old my brother gave me a diary. It belonged to my grandmother. Her name was Gypsy Red. It’s strange to have never met someone and yet I know all of her deepest and darkest thoughts. I feel so close to her and yet so far away. My parents don’t know I have it, even though the truth finally came out. My family was in the witness protection program. They were already in it when I was born. It did one hell of a number on Cole. He’s okay now. It’s been four years. He lives in Kentucky, carrying on our family’s legacy. He’s part of a motorcycle club.  The Black Rebel Riders’ MC. My parents say that they left that life behind and we returned to California after Morgan, my brother’s wife was found safe. I don’t get to see Cole as often as I would like to, but we are going back today. There’s a funeral.

Thinking about death and going to Drag Creek is what made me remember I even had the diary. I keep having this strange feeling, like someone stepped on my grave. Like a bad omen has been served onto my soul, and I don’t even know why.

I am excited to see my brother of course, but I can’t wait to see my cousin, Harley. We’ve kept in touch since we met through social media and text messaging.

My mom is nervous about going back, says there is too much bad crap from the past that she thinks about that is tied to her former life.

I was named after her sister, Sarah, who was brutally murdered.

For my sake, I sure as hell hope I don’t carry on her legacy.

 

 

 

 

Danny

Drag Creek, Kentucky

“You owe me a rebel daughter. You owe me!” Marek roars in my face. “Get in the truck. Drive to the local high school. There is a basketball game, she will be cheering.” He flashes a photograph in my face. “Grab her and bring her to me. I don’t care what you must do to get her. We clear?”

Flexing my prosthetic hand, I still haven’t grown accustomed to it. I stare at the photo. Fuck, she’s young. I can tell she still has baby fat in her cheeks. Crumpling the photograph, I toss it in the trash.

I get in the truck, hating what I have become and what I must do. If I don’t comply, Marek will kill Harper, not that she probably doesn’t deserve it after all the terrible shit she has done, but she’s my sister. I can’t let him hurt her more than he already has. Besides that, she’s pregnant.

Her child deserves a mother, even if it will be her, as sadistic as she is.

I get to the school and buy a ticket for the game, attempting to blend in, avoiding making eye contact with anyone.

I take my seat in the stands and scan the cheerleaders, looking for my target. I spot her easy enough. She’s beautiful and stands out so much more than the rest of the girls, appearing mature for her age. That is until I see the girl who brings her a water. Her red hair flames next to the bleach blonde hair of her friend.

I watch as they talk briefly and then she starts toward the bleachers, coming up and sitting in my section; I can’t take my eyes off her. I shouldn’t be checking her out. I’m at a high school basketball game for Christ sake.

She sits three seats away from me. Perched on the edge as though she’s nervous. I can’t help but wonder why.

Her eyes meet mine and they are so striking. I can’t look away. I feel damn near entranced. Her lips lift into a smile.

I can’t stop myself from asking, “What’s your name?”

“Sara.”

“That’s real pretty. Pretty like you.”

“Thanks,” she says, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your name?”

“Danny,” I tell her my real name knowing that I shouldn’t. “You go to school here?”

“No, just visiting my cousin, Harley.” She points to the blonde as she shouts a cheer. “I’m here for a funeral and to see my brother, Cole.”

Fuck. I’ve just hit the jackpot. Cole is the fucker who put us all in this mess. If Harper hadn’t been so hung up on him…I never would have had to choose. I never would have lost my hand. If I deliver the sister of that fuck to Marek, maybe he will consider my debt paid, and maybe he will let my sister go. He sure as hell isn’t interested in the baby in her womb.

“How long are you here for?”

“A few days.” She shrugs.

“I’d love to show you around while you’re here,” I tell her.

“Thanks, but my folks would never go for it.”

“Who says they have to know.” I wink, then I glance at the scoreboard. “There’s over thirty minutes left. Plenty of time to take you on the grand tour of Drag Creek,” I lie.

“I don’t know…”

“I don’t bite, unless you ask me to,” I say with a laugh.

“You’ll bring me straight back?” She pulls her purse up on her shoulder.

“Of course.” I smile and stand. She holds out her hand to mine, and I help her up, loving the way her hand feels in my good one. I don’t think she has noticed my prostatic. It doesn’t matter. I don’t plan on spending enough time with her for it to matter.

 

To Be Continued…