Chapter 20

You can train a cat to do anything the cat wants to do when the cat wants to do it.

-Fact of Life

Truth

I was at another funeral.

In less than six weeks.

One more family member had died; this was now getting out of hand.

Kenneth hadn’t been anyone special to me, and my old boss, Beckett had known it. He’d done it because he knew I’d know who it was, and he knew I’d be angry—not because Kenneth was someone I cared about, but because Kenneth was mine. He was my blood. And Beckett knew I’d know who did it.

Though it was kind of hard to miss seeing, as Kenneth was executed the exact same way my grandmother and grandfather had been.

Though, this time, Beckett had done him in the middle of a busy intersection. While Kenneth had been in his underwear.

Forty-five people had seen the execution from their cars, and dispatchers had been on the phone with two motorists when the gunshot had sounded.

Though, no one could identify Beckett. He’d been in head to toe black, it’d been dark as fuck outside with only the traffic lights to offer what little illumination there was, and he’d fled the scene on foot, disappearing into a copse of trees.

Why he’d done what he’d done to Kenneth was still a mystery, and one I was determined to figure out. He could’ve taken out any number of people and I’d have been more affected, but he hadn’t…and I wanted to know why.

But the answers would have to wait.

Especially since I now had my father to deal with…again.

It didn’t bode well for me that he’d come.

My father didn’t even have any affiliation with Kenneth. Kenneth was kin to my mother—who hadn’t come. Though I could tell there was something going on there, too.

I hadn’t been able to get a hold of my mother since the funeral, and that meant only one thing. She was ignoring my calls—which she wouldn’t do because, no matter how much my father liked to call me a killer, I was her baby and always would be. The other option would be that she didn’t know that Kenneth had been killed, and she would likely have a conniption when she did find out.

My bet was on door number two.

My father had somehow kept this from my mother.

My father didn’t know how to deal with his wife. It’d been this way since I was a young child.

My mother was not a pushover—at least not to anyone but my father. She wasn’t someone that couldn’t handle what she needed to handle. Yet, my father treated her as if she were a delicate flower that would blow over at the first sign of an impending storm.

My dad had been in the Marines when he’d met my mother, who’d been in the Army.

They’d both been on leave, and had stumbled upon each other at a party that was being thrown by a mutual friend. My mother and father had hit it off, and eventually my mother’s love for my father won out over her desire to be active army, and she retired.

That was about how the rest of her life went. Her bowing down to my father. My father demanding it, and my mother doing it for the good of her marriage or her kids’ happiness.

Which equaled my mother being a doormat for the last thirty-something years that she’d been married to my father, and us kids having to witness the disaster.

Like right now, for instance.

My father was sitting on the outside of the pew, followed by Marnie, Trent, Verity and then me.

Marnie had been told that she had a day and a half max and that she would not be getting any more leave time, no matter who passed away.

Everyone was silent as the preacher said the final prayer and then gestured for the funeral home pallbearers to carry the coffin to the door.

Destiny, wiping tears from her face, followed the pallbearers, and didn’t look at anyone on her way out the door.

Kenneth’s mother, Eugene, and his father walked close behind, expressionless faces telling me nothing.

I got up and offered Verity my hand, and she took it, leaning into me.

I squeezed her hip, admiring the way she filled out her dress, and urged her to walk forward.

Dad stopped halfway in, and halfway out, of the pew and glared at me. I sighed.

Seriously? He was going to do this now with everyone and their brother watching us?

The anger must’ve shown on my face, which was easily read, causing him to turn his back on me and start striding toward the door, not bothering to acknowledge the funeral workers at the door trying to tell us where to go.

Trent, Marnie, Verity and I listened, however, and walked to where he’d directed us—which was to the family limousine.

I noticed Eugene duck into the car, and I resigned myself for a very unpleasant ride.

Verity caught the movement, and held out her hand.

“I’ll get the car and follow directly behind you. Okay?”

Marnie jumped at the chance.

“I’ll go with you!”

Marnie knew, just as well as I did, what would happen the moment I dropped down into that car.

Kenneth’s mother would start in, and to be honest, I’d rather all of that anger be directed at me rather than at Verity.

Verity, although she’d done nothing wrong, would likely be an easy target, and I didn’t want my aunt throwing any bad attitude her way if I could help it.

So yes, I gladly gave her my keys, and pointed at my sister.

“Don’t you leave her.”

Verity snorted and started walking to my car, using the key to open the door and then fall down inside.

She waved once, and I took a step backward, then turned and got into the limo.

“Well, well, well,” my aunt’s taunting voice said the moment I got inside. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

I gritted my teeth and turned my eyes to gaze out the window.

Only when the seat depressed beside me did I look up to find Trent sitting on the seat next to mine, clearly laying down his allegiance with a single-minded focus.

I would like to think that if I’d been in the right frame of mind, I wouldn’t have allowed Verity to ride by herself after all that Beckett had done to the people that were mine. Family. Friends.

Because, had I been in my right mind, I would’ve driven the two women, and risked the chance of pissing off my aunt.

Because anything beat being in a car and watching the woman you love nearly dying.

***

“What is that?”

I turned in my seat. We’d been driving for a while now, but it was at such a slow pace that I felt confident I could keep Truth’s car on the road while I looked.

And my blood turned cold at what I saw.

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

There were bikes riding up beside us, and a lot of them.

They passed us, one by one by one until they were riding alongside us, but not overtaking the lead vehicle that held Kenneth’s body.

I saw Big Papa, Sean, Aaron, Tommy Tom, and Ghost in a sea of black and red—the Dixie Wardens MC colors—as well as a few of our prospects.

“How sweet,” Marnie whispered. “That’s a lot of bikers.”

“I know that this is way more than is in this particular chapter, so the ones that are here with our boys must be some other bikers that I’ve never seen before,” I explained. “That’s just…”

Something hard hit us.

So hard, in fact, that I jerked the wheel.

Luckily, I managed to go right instead of left, or I would’ve taken out several bikers in my attempt to keep the car on the road.

My ears were ringing, and my face was stinging.

Then we impacted with something else, and my head hit the steering wheel.

Someone cursed—maybe Marnie—but my head hurt too badly to put much thought into it.

For a few horrifying seconds, I thought I’d lose my lunch, but I managed to hold it down. Had I lost my lunch, my head would’ve started hurting worse, and that would’ve sucked because it was already pounding so hard that I worried for the state of my eyeballs.

Surely, if I puked, my eyeballs would pop out of my head. And if that happened, Truth would likely be disgusted and have to leave me out of self-preservation.

The car groaned, causing me to open my eyes.

Bikers surrounded me.

They were everywhere.

One was by my window looking in—the one with a Mohawk. Another was staring at me through the windshield—a windshield that had a large hole through the glass.

Had I hit something? Had a rock done that? God, I sure hoped I didn’t wreck Truth’s car over a freakin’ rock!

The door was pried open, and someone groaned.

It was only after I felt the groan vibrate in my chest a second time that I realized that someone was me.

Something hot dripped down my face, and I reached my hand upward to wipe it off my face, but found my hand unable to cooperate.

The door at my side was yanked open by Mohawk guy, and I blinked at him.

“You’re okay,” he said in a deep baritone that under any other situation would’ve sent chills down my spine with how delicious he sounded. This time, though, it only made me smile weakly.

“That’s a good girl,” he grinned for me. “Do you hurt?”

I tried to speak, swallowed, then tried again.

“My head.”

His eyes moved from my own, to something beside my head, and then back to my eyes.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m sure it does. Is your hearing okay?”

I licked my lips and tasted copper.

“I don’t have blood all over my face, do I?” I asked him.

“Nah,” he said. “Not much, anyway.”

“You look like Carrie,” came Marnie’s weak reply. “Oh, hey! I have a sexy man at my door, too!”

I tried to turn, but Mohawk guy’s hands were suddenly on my face. “Don’t move until we know if you have a neck injury.”

“You act like you have medical knowledge or something,” I grumbled, resigning myself to the fate of having another man’s hands on me. “You’re not Truth, you know. You should probably not touch me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mohawk guy ignored me. “Under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t be touching you. I’m a happily married man with two children. My paramedic skills don’t just turn off, though.”

I smiled. “You don’t look like a paramedic.”

“What do I look like?”

Was he just talking to humor me?

“Like a big ol’ teddy bear,” I told him. “With a mohawk,” I felt obligated to add.

Mohawk guy laughed.

The rich sound was interrupted, though, by something I never wanted to hear again.

Truth’s bellow of anger jolted me, and I moved my eyes since Mohawk guy wouldn’t let me move my head, and nearly groaned at the panicked look in his eyes at seeing his car.

“I didn’t mean to!” I cried out. “I swear! I will fix your car!”

“I’m not sure he’s worried about the car, honey. Does your arm hurt?”

I thought about it, then decided that yes, indeed, it did hurt.

Like a mother fucker.

“Yes,” I told him. “Should it hurt?”

He didn’t reply.

Something shook the car, and I jerked, my eyes going wide as my head reminded me that it wasn’t very happy with me.