Kat
The past seven days have been utter hell. There’s no other way to describe it. None. And I’m not talking the normal kind of hell like when your kids get sick and throw up last night’s macaroni and cheese all over the carpet beside their beds. That happened. True story. The stench and slimy chunkiness was so revolting it’s something I’ll never forget. However, this kind of hell I’m living isn’t the kind an average person’s imagination could conjure on its own. Honestly, I’m not sure where to begin explaining. I mean, how does an average conversation include, “Did you know that when your friend and neighborhood badass, Rosie, slaughters ten plus men in your backyard, there’s a cleaning crew that comes out to…well… clean up the situation?” In other words, wrap bodies in plastic and shove them into the back of a nondescript van. I watched it happen with my own eyes. Didn’t think that was possible outside of the fictional world of John Wick. Apparently, the club subcontracts this type of job. Sheesh, you probably think I’m cray cray. Making this shit up. I wish I were.
A week ago my daughters and I were locked inside a safe room in Asshole’s cabin. It wasn’t until the next morning, after a fitful night of sleep that Rosie returned to give me the A-Okay to unlock the steel door that protected us from those who wished us harm. The girls were still out cold when I met my freshly showered friend wearing her signature black, outside the safe space. The basement was chilly, yet I didn’t miss the light metallic scent of blood that hung in the air, as it tangoed with the even stronger odor of lemon scented chemicals. Instantly, I knew something had happened, and it wasn’t good.
I gulped.
Taking my shaky hand in hers and giving it a tired squeeze, the ensuing mess of words to impart Rosie’s lips knocked my world topsy-turvy… “Car accident…Ryker’s in critical condition… Vanessa’s dead… The baby’s alive… The clubhouse was hit… Two people were shot, but fine… The cabin’s in need of repair... The suburban’s toast... We must go to the clubhouse for protection... There are dead men outside... Someone died in the pantry… Don’t tell the girls... Everything’s going to be okay,” were the broken fragments that soaked down to my marrow. I’m sure there was more she said. I couldn’t tell you what. Concern and this sick feeling of helplessness rotted my gut as I flipped on autopilot to save face.
Ryker couldn’t die on me now. Not after everything we’d been through.
The urge to cry was imminent, so I tamped it down the best I could.
To get the ball rolling, Roxie and Scarlett were woken up with a cheery rise and shine as Rosie got them a change of clothes from the disaster upstairs. Together, we covered their eyes and escorted them through the cabin to the front door, where my dad and Bear sat in a truck waiting for us, at the end of the driveway. Hugs were exchanged, loving words spoken as we met up. In the end, I stayed behind with Rosie to clean up our home, as my girls went off with their grandpas to a safer, less blood-soaked place. Unfortunately, since then, the rest of the week has been one constant nightmare after the next…
To keep from throwing you into a fit of depression, I’m gonna skim over the shit storm that’s brewing. No need for you to be flung into this mess any more than necessary…
Not wanting to stay at the clubhouse more than needed, I forced a construction crew comprised of club brothers to come fix the cabin. It’s our safe haven, and I’ll be damned if a bunch of gun-toting dickheads are gonna scare us away from our temporary home. One night at the clubhouse was enough to convince me it was not a place for my children. The pot smoking, the loud sex noises, and the abundance of alcohol is not the life I want to raise my girls around. Luckily, the cabin’s interior was left pretty much intact thanks to the bulletproof windows. The mudroom will never look the same, that part was gutted. The windows are being replaced. The bullet riddled exterior has been patched to keep the holes from being as noticeable. The new, steel enforced back and front doors should be installed any day now. Until then, we’ve got crap ones that my fat, pregnant ass could kick in without much effort.
Thankfully, we girls are still able to sleep in the cabin full time. Bear and Dad have been taking turns staying with us since Rosie disappeared the day after the accident. No note. No goodbye. Poof and she was gone, her room cleared out, bed neatly made. If I were on speaking terms with Dickcheese, I’d ask if he got a goodbye from her. But we’re not, so he can suck my big toe instead.
I know, I know, I bet you’re gasping right now wondering why Kade and I are fighting. Aren’t they best friends? Kade’s amazing... How could Kat ever be mad at such a beautiful man? He’s so sweet… he sends her adorable purple eggplant emoji’s… blah blah blah… I suppose this is the part I tell you that Kade might be a-m-a-z-i-n-g… ick… yuck… I think I puked in my mouth a little. However, before we get into detail as to why Mr. Dickcheesiness deserves to be melted by a blow torch, you have to know what I’m doing right this second...
Seated on a chair in the hospital waiting room, waiting for Rox and Scarlett to get out of school, and for Dad to drop them off here, I pull back the edge of the gray Moby Wrap secured around my body to peek at the tiny, dark-haired, five pound four ounce bundle sleeping with his cheek on my breast. His teeny fingers are balled into a fist as he attempts to suck that thing into his mouth, failing adorably. My heart beats a little faster, my insides warming as I run a finger through the angel’s downy soft hair. He might have been born in a car, cut from his mother’s womb, but he’s healthy in all ways. Sweet, calm, barely cries and sleeps a good three hours straight before needing to be fed again. He’s the reason I won’t speak to Kade.
The day of the baby boy’s birth, after I’d heard of his existence, I helped Rosie clean up the cabin for an hour or two as we awaited word about Ryker’s condition. He was in surgery for a long while. There was nothing I could do at the hospital but worry, so I focused my attention on something useful—putting shit back together. Time ticked by, so when Rosie got a call from Kade that the boy had been cleared with a clean bill of health, and Ryker was still not doing well, I decided to go to the hospital to see the child for the first time. Part of me expected to be angry or jealous that my ex had a son in the world. Something I could never give him. But the first time I saw the sleeping angel inside his plastic bassinet with a blue knitted hat on his head, I swear my insides filled with so much joy I thought I might burst.
Tapping on the glass window of the nursery to get the nurse’s attention as Rosie stood beside me, I pointed to the Knox bundle. The nurse gave me a once over, frowned, then spent the next however long contacting someone on the phone before exiting the nursery sans baby. I wasn’t pleased.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you cannot hold that baby unless you’re family and have permission from his parents.” I could tell by the nurse's foot to foot shifting that she was well aware of Vanessa’s death and Ryker’s unstable condition. Though she couldn’t disclose that with HIPAA laws preventing her.
Beside me, Rosie grumbled something under breath, arms folded defiantly across her chest, stance combative, as I turned on the charm. “I understand why you’re protective of him considering all that’s going on right now in our family. But that little boy is my children’s baby broth—”
“You don’t know that, Kat,” Kade boomed as he walked toward us in a pair of blue scrubs. He looked like hell and probably felt worse than he appeared. For a split second, I stepped forward, ready to throw my arms around his neck. To feel his warmth surround me. To know that he was okay and everything was gonna be alright. That we had each other no matter what. Dickcheese and Watermelon Tits against the world. Only, the next words to leave his lips severed every ounce of warmth and need I felt for him in an instant. “She’s not allowed to hold the baby,” he explained to the nurse coming to a stop a few feet away. “She ain’t his family. We don’t even know if that baby is my brother’s or not. Take care of him. Keep him alive. Sort shit out. But nobody’s allowed to hold him ‘til we know if he’s blood or not.”
Kade turned to me, eyes filled with unshed tears. “You’re not allowed to hold him. You’ll get too attached. He ain’t yours, Kat. The nurses will take care of him just fine. If Ryker dies, we’ll still get the paternity test, and if he’s blood, I’ll raise him myself. But if he ain’t, we gotta ship him off.”
I’m pretty sure my jaw hit the floor at the same time steam billowed from my ears, and an argument to rival all arguments arose. A light switch flipped inside my brain, and I lost my shit. Screaming at the top of my lungs, I laid him out for being an insensitive prick. Pretty sure I punched him a time or two. Denounced our friendship, and told him he was dead to me. Can’t say it was my finest moment. There were way too many emotions to deal with, and his assholishness merely broke the dam. Kade got a firsthand taste of Katrina Remington’s wrath.
Am I proud of myself? No. Did I make him cry? Maybe. Was I a jerk? Without a doubt. But he was just as bad. Just as vile. Just as insufferable. Saying the kid didn’t deserve the Knox name. That Vanessa, God rest her soul, was a slutbag, a whore, a disgusting piece of trash. That there needed to be a paternity test to prove to everyone he was right. That he’d always been right. That Ryker was stupid and shouldn’t have married that bitch to begin with. As I said, it was a knock-down, drag-out, fight. In the end, security was called, and we were escorted from the building to cool down. Which only added fuel to our out of control fire. We carried on and on, shouting in each other’s faces, spittle flying. I’d never been so wound up in my entire life. All I saw was red, red, and more red. What did Kade do? He wound me up tighter. Talked more shit. Told me he wished Rosie would’ve let the baby die. Do I regret standing up for that poor defenseless child? Nope. I don’t. Not one bit. How in the hell do you think I got my hands on the tiny bundle in the first place? It was all Bear’s doing. Twenty-four hours after our epic fight, the hospital signed the baby’s release papers and boom, he’s been in my care ever since. Yep, Kade, you can go eat a big bag of wrinkly dicks. I still won. That’s the beauty of next of kin. Since Vanessa had passed, Bear was the next in line to control his son’s medical decisions, including what happened with his newborn son. Damn, just thinking about that day has my blood pressure spiking. Fuck Kade and the purple dildo he rode in on. Needless to say, I haven’t spoken to that jerk since our fight. Nor do I plan to anytime soon. The only reason I’m sitting here in the hospital, to begin with, is because Ryker’s awake. Bear informed me this morning.
Let’s just hope another throw down doesn’t occur in Ryker’s room, because I’m gonna murder Kade with my bare hands if it does.