Walking away from a sleeping Imogen to go on a run is not something I want to do. For the first time, in a fuck’ve a long time, I find myself wanting to spend as much time with her as possible. I’ve had moments where I haven’t wanted to leave her, but nothing like I’ve been experiencing since being sober and back together.
There’s something different about her now, a vulnerability that I feel the need and want to protect. Then there’s her smile, fuck me, I want to put it on her face every day and keep it there. It shines so goddamn bright.
Shaking my head of thoughts of Imogen, I load up some guns into my trunk. “This shit isn’t normal, is it?”
“Not typically, but they found themselves in short supply, and it’s their shit,” Grease shrugs.
“So, just deliver it to Kirill?” I ask as I slam my trunk closed.
“Yeah, deliver it to him, and make sure he doesn’t have anything else he needs from you,” he murmurs before he turns and starts to walk away.
“So, you made Serina your Old Lady?” I arch my brow before he gets too far away from me.
I watch as he turns around and a stupid as fuck grin appears on his ugly as shit face.
“Yeah. Not conventional, I know,” he says.
“You look happy. Pleased for you,” I say, lifting my chin.
“Glad to see you worked your shit out with Genny. Must be fun to fuck the bitch outta her ridged ass,” he smiles.
“You have no idea,” I say, laughing before I walk over to my driver’s seat.
“Glad you’re cleaned up, brother,” Grease says in seriousness.
I lift my chin to him in acknowledgement as I slide into my seat and start the engine.
I head out of the clubhouse parking lot, turning my car toward Los Angeles, toward Kirill, to drop off a trunk full of dope and guns. Probably not the smartest shit to do while on parole, but who the fuck cares. It’s only stupid if you get caught, and since I’m stone cold sober, I don’t plan on ever getting caught again.
Waking up alone, showering and dressing for a day of absolutely nothing is… pointless. I do it, but only because I need to. I can’t even think if I’m not showered and dressed. I don’t know how to be that woman who lays around in her pajamas all day with unkempt hair. Sometimes I wish I could be like that. It sounds relaxing as all hell.
I decide to make a batch of brownies, organic and all natural. Tonight, I’m supposed to meet up with a bunch of the Old Ladies for dinner and dessert.
Since they all have kids now, instead of going out to restaurants or bars, they’ve been meeting up at one girls house bi-monthly to just hangout. I’m pretty nervous that I was not only invited but practically begged, by Mary-Anne herself, to join.
My phone rings just as I slip the brownies into the oven.
“You’re coming tonight, right?” Ivy asks in my ear as soon as I answer her call. I make a non-committal noise and Ivy sighs.
“You need to be there. It’s fun, it’s relaxing, and you’ve missed out on a lot of what’s been happening the past three years,” she says.
I’m surprised at how much different she seems from the girl I first met a few years ago. Granted, she’s a married woman now with a baby on the way, but she’s definitely not that shy girl who snuck around behind her brother Grease’s back with her man.
“I think I’ll be there,” I say. She lets out a sigh of obvious frustration.
“Genny, you were a bitch for a long time. We all knew why. We didn’t understand your dynamics with Soar, but we all know now. Nobody will hold your past against you. We’re a family in this club; and believe it or not, you are part of our family.”
“Yeah, okay Ivy,” I mutter.
“If you’re not there, we’re going to come and get you,” she states before she ends the call.
I spend the rest of the day reorganizing the kitchen and moving little things around the house. It’s still clean from a couple days ago, when I got down to business and deep-cleaned it from top to bottom, so there isn’t a whole lot to do. Nevertheless, I still need to feel productive.
A knock on the door surprises me just as I take the brownies out of the oven. I have an hour before I’m supposed to be at Mary-Anne’s, so I was just getting ready to head back to the bedroom to get dressed.
I furrow my eyebrows together, wondering who could be knocking. I answer the door without looking, assuming it’s one of the girls to make sure I’m coming.
“Hello, darling,” Graham’s voice sneers as he pushes his way inside the house, slamming the door behind him before locking it.
“What are you doing here? What do you want?” I ask him with false bravado as I back away.
He doesn’t look the same as he did in that parking lot. He looks much like he did the night he hit me. He appears aloof, but behind his eyes there’s an evil lurking that sends chills down my spine.
I try to back my body toward the sliding glass door, so that I can try to run from him, but Graham is faster than I anticipate. He wraps his hand around my bicep, his grip tight, unwavering, and strong.
“It’s time for you to come back, Imogen. You’ve had your fun, you’ve gained your closure, and now we’re getting married,” he announces with a grin.
“Graham, we’re not getting married. I’m already married to Sloane, and I’m staying married to him,” I say gently, afraid to speak too loud.
“No,” he barks. “This is not how I planned things,” he rambles as he runs his hand through his hair.
He shakes me and then his hand comes out and lands across my face in a hard blow. My entire body moves to the side, but he doesn’t let me fall to the ground, his grip on my arm still, too tight. I don’t get a chance to say anything before he starts rambling.
“Your father promised me. He fucking swore I’d have you. He promised I’d have control over your money, and I had it all planned out. It was a perfect fucking plan, and Sloane fucked me over, again.”
“What did you have planned out?” I ask, trying not to let my tears from the pain fall, or my bottom lip tremble in fear.
“Everything,” he hisses before he throws me across the room.
My entire body crashes into the hard wall, and his fist smashes against my head before I can even blink.
I fall to the floor, and his foot connects with my ribs, taking all of the air out of my lungs. “I was going to have control of your trusts, all of them. I was going to knock you up and then,” he sneers, “I was going to leave you penniless. My final fuck-you to Sloane,” he laughs. “None of that works if I don’t get you.”
“Sloane?” I ask, trying to push myself up. Graham’s shoe connects with my ribs again.
“Yeah, Sloane. You didn’t think that I actually wanted you, did you?” He laughs and shakes his head before he crouches down to my level on the floor. “This was all so that I could win. Sloane has always won, always. He always got the pussy, he always got the attention, and he was always better at everything. I fucking tried, and he was still better. Since we were kids,” he cries.
“Every guy wanted in your cunt when we were in school. Perfect little Imogen. Blonde hair, light brown eyes, and sweet as sugar. We all wanted that tight snatch, but only Sloane got in there. Fucking asshole had already fucked the entire school, and then he got you, too,” he screams.
“Well, let’s see if he wants you after I fuck up that pretty little face,” he laughs demonically.
I open my mouth to scream, but then pain radiates from my face as his fist lands on my cheekbone.
Everything goes black.
“I knew she wouldn’t come,” Mary-Anne murmurs as she takes the casserole out of the oven.
“I talked to her, she seemed like she was coming,” I say.
I want to be confident that she’ll be here, but she’s almost an hour late, and she still sounded hesitant when I ended the call. I shake my head. “I’m going to go get her,” I announce.
Standing up from her seat, Colleen calls out, “I’ll go with you.”
Once we’re in my jeep, we drive toward Genny’s house. When we turn down her street, I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. I press my hand against my belly, thinking maybe the baby is moving around and making me feel nauseous, which she does do some days; but that’s not what this feels like.
“Do you feel that?” Colleen asks me. I nod. “It’s foreboding. Something is wrong,” she whispers.
We pull up to Genny and Soar’s house, and the feeling seeps into my bones, it’s so bad.
“Maybe we should call one of the guys?” I ask as I chew on the corner of my lip.
“C’mon, I’m sure we’re just overreacting,” she laughs as she opens the door and hops out onto the ground.
I follow suit, not quite hopping, but definitely sliding down until my feet gently touch the ground. Walking behind Colleen, I slowly make my way up the dark walkway and onto the porch.
There’s a light on inside, but as I press my ear to the door, I don’t hear anything. Colleen rings the bell and still—nothing. We both call out her name while I knock, and still—nothing. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and call her, but the phone just rings and goes to voicemail.
Colleen tries the door, and the handle turns. When she opens the door, peaking her head inside, she lets out a cry before she slams it closed.
“Call Camo and MadDog, now. Do not come inside,” she warns. I blink a few times, my mouth opening and closing. “Now, Ivy,” she barks, shaking me from my stupor.
I watch as she goes back inside, carefully closing the door behind her. Then I pull out my phone and I do as she asks. I call Camo.
“What’s up?” he asks, sounding distracted.
“I’m at Genny’s and somethings wrong. Colleen won’t let me in the house, but when she peeked inside she screamed. I think something happened to Genny,” I whisper.
“Genny’s dramatic, you sure?” he asks.
“West, I’m serious. This isn’t a joke. Something is wrong,” I state firmly.
“All right,” he grumbles. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Annoyed with my husband, I decide to call MadDog next. He sounds much more concerned than Camo did and swears he’ll be here as soon as he can. I don’t walk inside of the house, too afraid to see what’s on the other side of the door. I hope Genny is okay, but I also know that based off of Colleen’s immediate reaction, she isn’t.
West shows up first and looks irritated as shit that I’ve dragged him away from whatever it was he was up to. I’m surprised when he walks up to me and wraps his hand around my back, lowering his head to press his lips to mine.
“Sorry I was short on the phone, baby,” he murmurs against my lips, his beard tickling me. “You feelin’ okay?”
He presses his hand to my belly, and I get shivers, just like I always do when he’s anywhere near me.
“I’m okay, just worried about Genny,” I admit.
“Let me go inside. You stay here,” he rumbles and lowers his hand to squeeze my ass before he releases me and walks inside.
I watch his ass, encased in his perfectly fit jeans, and I sigh like a teenager, still unbelieving that this man is mine. I don’t care that we’re married and he’s mine forever, I’m still in complete shock that it’s all real. He’s real. We’re real. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully believe it, either.
“Do you know anything?” MadDog asks, taking me out of my thoughts.
I hadn’t even heard his bike pull up. I turn to face him, shaking my head as my answer.
“Colleen and West are in there. I was told to stay outside,” I shrug.
Fucking shit.
Looking down at the bloodied body of Genny makes my stomach turn. Colleen already checked for a pulse, and it’s there. She says it’s weak, but it’s there. So I guess there’s that.
MadDog walks in, and I hear his boots freeze just as Colleen and I are discussing whether to take her into the emergency room, or if we should call an ambulance.
“What the fuck?” he whispers.
“No clue. She’s got a pulse,” I state.
He points to me, “Call an ambulance,” he orders.
I don’t say anything in response. Pulling out my phone, I call 911 and tell them about my emergency.
“Christ,” MadDog hisses as he crouches down.
“Who could have done this to her?” Colleen asks on a whisper.
“The guy she was dating. He hit her hard enough to leave a mark when she broke it off,” MadDog announces as I hang up with the emergency dispatch.
“This is more than a slap across the face, prez,” I mutter as I look down at the blood that’s started to dry all over her face. I don’t let my eyes travel down further, noticing her clothes are ripped and torn all to shit. “Could it be the Aryan’s? Devil’s took another woman and kid and moved them to Canada just the other day.”
“Could be, but I don’t think so. This shit is personal looking,” he mutters.
The EMTs burst through the door, and we all take a step back from Genny. I decide to join Ivy outside, knowing she’s probably a ball of panicked nerves at seeing the ambulance pull up.
“West,” Ivy cries out from beside the front door.
I walk over to her and quickly pull her, as far as she can go, into my chest. Her belly is growing bigger day-by-day, so she can’t be flush against me anymore, but I need to shield her from Genny right now.
“Is she dead?” she whispers. I look down into her worried eyes, shaking my head once.
“She’s alive. There’s a heartbeat,” I murmur.
“But she’s hurt,” she whispers. I close my eyes with a nod.
“Why? Why? Who would hurt Genny?” she practically screams.
I hold her a little tighter and run my hand up and down her back.
“Let’s get to the hospital and make phone calls, yeah?”
She nods, and I turn her away from the front door just as the EMT’s start to run with the gurney to the ambulance. MadDog calls out that Colleen is going to ride with Genny. He’s going to his place, where the rest of the Old Ladies are, to tell them and round them up to meet us at the hospital.
“I knew something was wrong,” Ivy whispers as I help her into the passenger side of the car.
“Baby, if you hadn’t come down here when you did, no telling when someone would have found her. You probably saved her life,” I murmur as I press my lips to her forehead before I close the door.
I curse myself for what I was doing when all this happened. I wasn’t doing anything good, and I sure as fuck wasn’t thinking about stopping the bad I was doing.
Goddammit, I’m a fucking asshole. My pregnant wife is over here helping our friend, a woman who was lying on the floor in a mass of blood and flesh, and I was fucking around, almost fucking up completely.
Starting the engine, I take Ivy’s hand in mine and squeeze it tightly. I love her. My wife. She’s real and she’s mine, and she’s so goddamn beautiful. I need to keep reminding myself how much I love her, and how I would feel if she was taken from me. I almost ruined everything tonight.
“I love you,” she whispers, wrapping her other hand around my forearm.
“Love you so much, baby,” I murmur.
She’ll never know what almost happened. It doesn’t matter, because it’s never going to almost happen again.