~Bladen~
Tangled.
Twisted.
Torn.
For twenty-four hours, I have sat in this spot, not answering a single call and not moving. The stench is awful, and the mess is beyond anything I have encountered before, even with all the shit we have done with Devil’s Due. This, however, I did on my own.
I close my eyes and it all comes back.
He admitted it.
The rage builds readily like lava boiling in a volcano. Even with his dead body feet away from me, I want nothing more than to kill him all over again.
I am a mess inside, thinking of the years she had to endure more than I ever could imagine. Yes, I knew it was him. I fucking knew he had put his hands on her, but never did I put it together that things went that far.
Dry heaving while I sit on the couch, I hear the rumble outside.
Harley Davidson’s, a group of them.
Devil’s Due Motorcycle Club.
There is no doubt in my mind that my brothers are outside. I should have answered a call. They gave me all the time on my own they are going to give.
Yet, I make no moves as the emotions wage war inside me.
I failed her.
My God, I failed her unforgivably.
The door opens and is met with resistance from the remains of Caleb Andrews.
“Really, fucker? You get to have all the fun and we’re, like, the cleanup crew?” Trapper says loudly, pushing the door open. He steps to the side then enters the living room. “Judge, jury, and executioner, while badass, this could’ve been hella fun for the group,” Trapper continues as the rest of the group make their way inside.
Collector stands beside him. “Really, Trapper? Is everything always about your brand of fun?” He looks to me. “How ya doin’, brother?”
Trapper rolls back on his heels then onto the balls of his feet like an anxious child. “Ya know blood gets my dick hard. So, we bleachin’ shit or torchin’ it?”
I shake my head, not knowing what to do. “Things didn’t go like I planned.”
“What’d you actually think would happen when you came here?” Rowdy asks, going to the living room window and pulling the cheap plastic blinds closed.
“Didn’t expect my mother to tell me to leave. Didn’t expect my dad to shoot me and my mom take the hit, so he shot himself.” Pausing, I let the men take in the scene.
“So, you didn’t have the fun? Pops took it all from you. Suicide is selfish. Damn, can we at least kick him in the balls?” Trapper asks before looking back to the door. “Wait, Ma and Pops are in the kitchen, so who’s the headless horseman at the door?”
“The Devil himself,” I growl, my eyes meeting Collector’s as I silently tell him what Caleb did to his own daughter, or at least, I hope he can read it.
I dry heave again.
Deacon comes to stand beside me, gripping my shoulder. “Gonna make a call. Gotta buddy and a marker; this will all go away.”
I raise my hand, stopping him. “Call the police. I deserve the time.”
Trapper rushes to me then shakes me. “You get hit in the head or some shit? You don’t deserve a life sentence for takin’ out this kind of child beatin’ scum.”
“I did it. I’ll take the punishment for not doin’ it sooner.”
Trapper throws his hands up in the air. “I did it! I did it! I’ll be screamin’ it at the station beside ya, brother. No way, no how you’re goin’ down for this shit.”
I look at my hands where the blood is died on. Parts of it have cracked and fallen off, but I couldn’t bring myself to move or do anything but sit and wait. I can see hints of the tanned tones beneath the damage done. Like the boy who is somewhere inside me, wishing the right thing could have been done before any of this started, the layers of tragedy continue to cover any hope of what once was under it all.
Deacon, having ignored me completely, is outside making his call and handling shit, while Rowdy goes to my father and mother to check for a pulse.
“Anything we need to get from next door for Tamalyn? Don’t know what’ll happen, but can’t promise this house or the one beside it are gonna be standing much longer.” Collector asks while X stands at the ready. I haven’t seen Hadley or Sonnie so I’m assuming they stayed at the hotel in Florence.
“Call Tempest,” I instruct. “She will know if there is anything of importance to Tamalyn.”
“Thinkin’ that call should come from you, brother,” Collector says, knowing my history and how I’m tied to Tempest Adams, Haven’s Harbor, and the relationship she and I share.
Instead, Trapper pulls out his phone and dials someone. “Tempest, my seductress, mistress, and madame, T-money, Trapper here, love.” The man rambles like there aren’t three bodies just feet from us in the open floor plan of my childhood home. “You know I got a thing with Tamalyn. Well, don’t tell, but we’re gonna run off to Vegas, baby. She’s gonna take my name and shit. First, though, I wanna stop by and get her dad’s permission, that southern shit y’all swoon over.” He pauses, to which I’m sure Tempest is cussing him out.
“Easy, baby,” he says with his best Alabama drawl. “Legit, gonna have a chat with our girl’s pop. Need to know if there is anything she would want. Tryin’ to do the right thing here, darlin’. Just wanna pick up pictures or her momma’s favorite blanket. You know, that girl shit.”
Having enough of his mouth, I stand and yank the phone from him. Feeling the room spin, I then quickly sit back down.
“Tempest, it’s Bladen. Look, if you hear from her, there is nothing for her to fear again. Shit’s handled. But if there is anything from home she wants, tell me now so I can make it happen.”
“You killed him?” she asks on a whisper.
“Not gonna answer that.”
“Good!”
Tempest knows, I can feel it. She knows more than I ever knew.
The loss washes over me again. I failed Tamalyn.
“House, memories; what would she want?”
There is a sigh. “Bladen Jacob Jones, the only thing Tamalyn Mary Andrews wants and has ever wanted is the one thing you won’t give her.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Only one thing that would ever make her life right, and that’s you. Only you wanna be a stubborn ass and push her away. Bladen, either man up and claim your woman or cut her loose. It’s the least you can do after all these years.”
With those words, she clicks off, and I’m left feeling more shaken than I was when I took her father’s life with my own hands.
Cut her loose? Impossible.