Biker Salvation: The Lost Souls MC Book Nine

  “We came to check on you, and good job we did. Have you been drinking since you called me this morning?” Sparky answers her.

  “I…I’m fine,” she states.

  “Can we come in?” I ask, not wanting to hang around on her doorstep.

  Neighbours on this type of street are ones who remember what the bikers look like and write down license plates.

  She leaves the door open and walks back to the couch. Sparky steps in first and I close the door behind me.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” she says, rubbing her head.

  “We wanted to make sure you were doing okay?” Sparky tells her.

  For some reason, Sparky has a closer tie to Oak’s ex old lady and I decide it will be easier on her if he takes the lead.

  “Maybe you did, but you’re here to see what I’m going to say to the officer when he comes back, aren’t you?”

  She’s quick and not stupid. I wish she had stuck around for the old man, I would’ve loved to see how happy Oak would’ve been with her around.

  “What are you going to tell him?” I ask, stepping into the room.

  “Whatever you tell me, I’m sure.”

  She sounds bitter. I have to dig deep to find the subtleness she needs after losing a son.

  “You’re not a stupid woman, Shellie, and you know what happened that night weren’t on us. I want to know where you’re laying blame.”

  There, I’ve asked her. I need to know.

  She hangs her head in her hands and sobs. It isn’t overly dramatic, but I don’t have the patience for it.

  I jerk my chin at Sparks and he moves to sit beside her and soothingly rubs her back.

  “If I hadn’t have come to tell you about Oak, your John would still be here,” he tells her, and I realise he’s holding guilt over the boy. He hasn’t said anything, but I should’ve noticed.

  She looks at him and I turn away from her sadness and the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “I blame myself,” I hear her say, “Tell me what the story is and that’s what I’ll say.”

  I turn around and Sparky is silently pleading with me. He needs me to say it. I cross the room and sit in the armchair.

  “Our story, as you put it, is some of the brothers were messing around and it was an accident.”

  “An accident?” she whispers, “I know it wasn’t a fucking accident, I also know your type of justice will be a lot more fitting than prison, so I’ll stick to your story and never stray from it.”

  I forgot she didn’t know we’ve already punished the man behind Oak’s and John’s deaths.

  “Shellie, we’ve already dealt with the guy responsible. I won’t give you the details, but I give you my word that we made him suffer.”

  More tears fall, and her body is racked with the shakes.

  “He really did suffer, Shell, for Oak and for John,” Sparky reiterates.

  “Thank you,” she says, offering a small smile and pats Sparky’s hand.

  “I’ll talk to Robert, it won’t help him to know the truth.”

  That’s all I need to hear from her. I stand and leave. I need fresh air and I leave Sparky to say goodbye.

  I didn’t connect with Shellie like Sparks did, and I don’t feel the same need to pander around her when she’s the one who left Oak and took his chance to be a father away from him.

  I sit on my bike and wait for him. I send a smile to Oak because I know he would’ve made one hell of a father.

  Chapter Four

  Cas

  It’s been a long ass day and the last place anyone will look for me is my old room at the club. I spent years of my life in this room, escaping the world, fucking woman after woman, hurting Alannah. So many memories.

  I’ve come a long way from the lonely kid who showed up here. I spent half my life feeling utterly alone and the other half, drowning in friendship and family, I didn’t know how to handle them all at first. I take out the photo that basically lives in my back pocket and all I can see is the little boy who had no one, because of Jacqueline. She took everything from me and she thinks she can show up now and be welcome. A lot of the kids in the foster system knew at least who their mother was, they’d be whores or addicts or both who neglected their offspring, but the kid’s moms had a name, and a face to go with the name. I had nothing, and I got so much shit for it off the other kids all the time. I couldn’t work it out at first, we were all in the same situation, none of us were wanted, yet they took great delight in torturing me. Then I worked it out, they picked on me because they were hurting just like I was, so I started getting even. For every remark I heard thrown at me, I threw a punch back with more impact. After a week or two of pummelling people’s faces in, it worked, and I was left alone. Until I was moved to a new home and I had to repeat the process all over again. My childhood was a constant struggle, every single fucking day a drag of lonely hardship and when I climbed into bed each night, no one was there to tuck me in and tell me everything was going to be okay.

  A knock at the door startles me and I quickly shove the photo in my pocket and out of sight. Obviously, I can still be found here.

  “Come in.”

  Slade pops his head in and holds out an envelope. It’s thick with what I hope is all the information I’ll need so I don’t need to speak to that woman again. I can leave her in the past just like she left me.

  He walks in and gives me the envelope when I don’t move. I can’t move, only to take the information on my life that I should already know.

  “Has anyone seen this?”

  He shakes his head and asks, “Who is she, Cas?”

  “No one.”

  “She must be someone,” he pushes.

  Sighing, I tell him to close the door and I wait till there are no ears around to listen in.

  “She claims she’s my mother.”

  “What? There’s nothing on her record about her having a son.”

  I hand him the photo.

  “She gave me this, apparently, it’s me.”

  He takes a long look and gives it back.

  “Only you and Sparky know about this, so keep it to yourself.”

  “Sure. Do you need anything else?” he asks.

  “No…yes, I don’t want to be disturbed tonight.”

  When he leaves, I swear he takes all the air with him. It’s stuffy and humid in here.

  I flip the envelope around in my hands and my heart picks up rapidly. I burn to find out what’s inside. However, it’s time I tell Alannah what’s going on and I want to share this with her. I need to go home.

  I slip out and down the back stairs, unseen by my brothers. The house is lit up when I arrive, and I have the same sense of belonging I always have when I come home. It’s late and Leo is already in bed and Alannah is in the kitchen.

  “Come and sit with me,” I say, sliding a chair out for her.

  She stops chopping and puts down the knife, frowning at me. She joins me at the table and I slide the envelope across to her.

  “A couple of days ago, a woman showed up at the club claiming she’s my…” I can barely say the word out loud to her, but I have too, “Mother.”

  I’ve shocked her, her mouth opens and closes yet she doesn’t say a word. I sit by and watch her turn from surprised to angry. Her neck reddens, and her eyes narrow into slits.

  “How dare she turn up now, what could she possibly want after all these years?”

  “I didn’t give her the chance to explain, I left and had Sparky get rid of her.”

  Alannah moves her chair closer to mine and she squeezes my thigh.

  “Slade dug up everything he could find on her…I can’t open it, but I want to know what’s inside. I need you to do it.”

  “You should read it first, Cas.”

  Shaking my head, I lean forward and raise her hand to my mouth. My lips linger on her skin before my plea escapes me.

  “You have stayed by my side after everything I put you through in the begi
nning, you’re the only person on this earth who knows every inch of my soul because you never gave up on me. We promised to be there for each other, I need you to be here for me now and read me everything that’s inside.”

  I release her hand and she scoops up the envelope. Her fingers tremble as she rips it open and a wad of papers appear.

  Time ceases to exist, her lips part and she takes a breath, it feels like my heart stops.

  “Her name is Jacqueline Morris, she is fifty-one years old…”

  I quickly work out the math.

  “So, she was sixteen when she had me and fifteen when she fell pregnant?”

  “Looks like it, babe.”

  She was so young. Essentially, a child having a child.

  “Go on.”

  “Um…she got married at eighteen and remained married until her husband died last year from liver failure.”

  “What was his name?”

  She reads down the page.

  “Matthew Morris.”

  That was the name she gave when she knocked at the house last week. Could he be my father?

  “Her medical history isn’t nice to read. Broken bones, fractures, concussions, it goes on for four pages,” she says, scanning through the papers.

  I take them from her and read for myself. She’s suffered a broken jaw, broken arms, a fractured skull, broken cheekbones, and numerous black eyes.

  It sounds like she’s a victim of domestic abuse, no one is that clumsy. I should be consumed with rage, but I feel nothing.

  “She never had any other children, she worked as a secretary for thirty-one years in a dental surgery. She hasn’t had much of a life.”

  I need another drink. I throw the papers down and scoot Alannah away. I get up and reach on top of the cupboard for the full bottle of tequila. I grab two glasses from the side unit and sit down, pulling Alannah close to me again.

  “What are you going to do with this information?” she asks, as I pour us a drink.

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  I pull out the photo and she takes it from me.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s me, as a baby.”

  She scrutinizes it as hard as I have been and looks back to me.

  “You look like Leo when he was born,” she says.

  “You reckon?”

  “Definitely.”

  She puts the photograph down and moves from her chair onto my lap.

  “Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there right by your side. However, I think you should talk to her, if only to find the answers you’ve wanted your whole life.”

  It was only a matter of time before she hit me with the talk-to-her speech. I expected her to, and maybe, it’s what I need from her. She isn’t going to stop until I’ve had some sort of interaction with the woman. I reckon if I’m not pushed, I won’t speak to her at all.

  Chapter Five

  Cas

  “I haven’t had to fight for myself for a long time, and that’s because of you, old man. You saved me.”

  Oak’s grave looks darker and darker each time I visit him. I’m not sure why I make the trip out here, it leaves me feeling worse than when I arrived. But, it’s good to offload the shit on my mind.

  “I’m good at fighting for everyone I care about, but it’s made me weak fighting against the one woman who give me a shit load of insecurities. I’m tired of fighting, Oak.”

  “I know how that feels.”

  I spin around and find Jacqueline standing ten feet away from me. Her scarf slips from her shoulder showing her bony collarbone, making me shudder. She’s not a healthy slim, she’s the kind of slim that screams she’s ill, severely ill. Her hair holds no vibrancy, and her eyes show no joy. Like a shell, she seems empty on the inside.

  “Are you following me?” I growl, not giving two fucks about her frailness.

  “I wanted to catch you alone.”

  “You shouldn’t be here, this is a special place for my family.”

  She walks closer and stands beside me. I don’t like her being this close, she makes me feel itchy, but I can’t move.

  “There are a lot of headstones with Lost Souls etched into them, did you know them all?”

  Hearing her talk of Lost Souls, bearing in mind she doesn’t have a fucking clue what it means, is alien to me.

  I side glance at her and take in how small she is. The hospital records come back to me, she doesn’t look strong enough to swat a fly. I don’t feel sorry for her, but I do decide to give her five minutes. It will definitely make my Alannah happy and keep her off my back.

  “I knew most of them, some of them were before my time here,” I tell her.

  Silence surrounds us as I wait for her to speak.

  “I wasn’t surprised to find out the sisters named you Castiel. If I could’ve kept you, I was going to name you Gregory.”

  I snort. What a fucking terrible name. I may hate my name because it wasn’t from my mother but if that’s the shit she had planned for me, I’m fucking glad.

  “If we’re going to do tit for tat on the past, then I hated my name because you weren’t the one who gave it to me, but it’s sure as shit better than Gregory.”

  “I suppose you’re right, I was never good at making the right decisions.”

  Her self-doubt brings me to ask her, “How did you find me?”

  “I went back to the church where I left you and started my search from there.”

  Back to the scene of the original crime. I turn towards her and she mirrors me.

  “Why now?”

  “For the first time in thirty-five years, I’m free to find you, to speak to you and see the man you’ve become.”

  This sparks a lot more questions, but I refrain from asking them all and think of one.

  “Who are you now free from?”

  “My husband.”

  Okay, one more question and I’m leaving.

  “Was he my father?”

  She becomes fidgety and looks away. It’s the only answer I need. However, I faintly hear her say, “Yes.”

  I don’t feel any better having it confirmed and I walk towards my bike.

  “Can we talk again?” she calls out.

  I stop and take a deep breath.

  “I’ll be here at the same time tomorrow.”

  I don’t turn to face her. I can’t look at her. I keep walking and keep my back to her.

  I thought I’d feel something if I spoke with her, yet, by the time I get back to the club, I still feel nothing. I feel more about drinking Oak’s favourite brand of whiskey and relish the burn as it soaks my throat.

  “Cas,” Slade hollers from the door.

  The concern in his voice manages to seep through the drink haze, and I slide off the stool and go to see what has him calling me outside.

  I don’t need to ask what’s going on when I step out the door, Dex is stumbling about the place, drunk off his ass, worse than me.

  “I want my fucking keys,” he shouts and swigs from a bottle of tequila.

  “Where is he wanting to go?” I ask Slade.

  “I haven’t got a clue.”

  “Okay, who has his keys?”

  He chuckles and points over to Pope. The kid has no chance of retrieving them from our brother.

  I walk over to Dex and the stench of booze is heavy on him.

  “Talk to me, what’s going on?” I ask him.

  “She’s always there when I shut my eyes, I can’t get her out of my head.”

  Melissa.

  I thought he was stronger than this, or at least, able to deal better.

  “The drink isn’t helping you, pass it over,” I order, and it tears him in two.

  “Give it to me, Dex,” I urge and hold my hand out.

  Reluctantly, he hands it over and I pass it behind me and it disappears from my grip. I move forward and pull Dex against me.

  “Pull yourself together, brother. She’s gone, she’s not real.”

  His bod
y slouches and it takes a lot to keep him on his feet. He’s heavier than he looks and the whiskey I’ve been sinking isn’t helping me.

  “What I did was real,” he groans.

  I freeze. Why can’t people own the shit they do? He made a decision and he needs to fucking own it.

  “Let’s go for a walk.”

  I don’t have to repeat myself. He keeps it together and doesn’t question me when we walk out of the gates and keep walking up the main road.

  “We’re going to keep walking until you’ve dealt with this shit.”

  He falls behind me and stops.

  “Deal with it?” he spits, “Like it’s that easy?”

  I move so fast he doesn’t have time to dodge me. I yank him forward by his cut and he sobers up very quickly. I have no tolerance for his weakness today.

  “Yes,” I grunt, “It’s that fuckin’ easy. You had a choice and you chose the club, which you swore to protect till you took your final breath. I’ve got enough to deal with without you breaking down over a woman you barely knew. She wasn’t the one for you, she was a cunt who didn’t know how to shut her fuckin’ mouth.”

  My rant comes to an end and I shove him back so hard, he falls on his ass. My body is shaking, anger is taking over and no amount of deep breathing is helping.

  “It would never have worked between you and her, if you really loved her, there’s no way in hell you could’ve killed her. So, cut the fuckin’ dramatics and sober the fuck up.”

  I can’t think or see past the rage. Kicking at the dust by the edge of the road doesn’t help and I turn back to Dex.

  “I’ve put blood, sweat, tears, fuckin’ everything into this patch. If you can’t do the same, tell me now and I’ll rip yours right off you.”

  I turn away from him, no longer able to stand the sight of him. I struggle to regain a steady breath. I’m losing control and I don’t like it. I’ve spent years fighting against this and it’s taking seconds to unravel.

  “Don’t come back to the club till you’ve found your fuckin’ balls and you remember why you were given the patch. I know why I was given mine and I don’t cry over it, I suggest you do the same.”

  I leave him on the side of the road and walk back to the club. Slade is hovering by the gates and he follows closely as I storm into the bar. Yet again, he looks concerned, but this time it’s for me.