Page 5 of Stone

Smoke was right. My head is way too fucked up to be able to concentrate on the fifteen-hour drive to Billings. The fact that Smoke does it in just under thirteen without even a piss break was a little short of a miracle.

Twenty minutes before we’re due to arrive, I call Officer Wahlberg, and we agree the best place to meet up with her and the child protection services is at Jacob and Savannah’s house.

Smoke pulls the truck onto the paved driveway at the front of the two-storey, white wood-sided, gray slate roofed building. The house is secured by means of a numbered keypad, something Jacob had insisted on installing when I’d got back in touch.

I push open the car door and let my heavy boots hit the ground, before pushing myself out of the truck fully. It only takes a few strides before I’m at the front door, punching in the number to access the home I had been made so welcome in. As I push the door open, a memory of not so long ago comes flooding back into my throbbing head, stopping me from stepping over the threshold.

“Why don’t you just cut me a key dammit? It will be a lot cheaper?” I’d grumbled when he snatched my phone so he could put a reminder of the security number in it.

“Because if I gave you a key, you’d lose it,” he sniggered, throwing the phone back at me, knowing full well that I’d catch it. “Besides, I don’t want you to have an excuse not to come over whenever you want. My home is your home and I want to make sure you understand you’re welcome here anytime.”

I inhale deeply before taking a step inside. Like a knife to my gut, carving through my flesh and stinging like a motherfucker, I’m met with all the things that are familiar to me.

The coats hanging on the hooks. The dark overcoat my brother would wear over his suit in the colder months when making his way into the office. The red waterproof that Savannah would slip on when running errands. The tiny powder pink coat with the hood with pointed cat ears that made Sasha look even cuter than she already was.

The hardwood floor. White, clean, fresh walls of the open plan first floor that leads you into the living, kitchen and dining area. Large floor-to-ceiling glass doors display the wide-open garden decorated with and play swing, slide and all things for Sasha’s entertainment. The barbeque area that I’d helped Jacob build while visiting for the weekend, table, chairs for outdoor dining, which we had tested out as soon as the cement had taken.

Then I’m hit with the smell that is so decidedly them, my throat closes up tight, and I struggle to get air into my lungs quick enough.

“Hey,” Smoke gives me a comforting pat on the back. “Breathe man, I’m here for you. You’re not on your own, brother.”

I can’t help the sharp choking snigger that escapes me. The word brother gives me pain and warmth. On the one hand, it is the utter devastation of losing my sibling. But on the other, I’ve never felt so close to my MC president and brother, Smoke, and I know for a fact I’m going to need him and my other MC buddies more than ever.

“A cop car just pulled up, with another car right behind it. You want me to let them in?”

I walk over to the window and watch the small, dark-haired woman dressed in blue step out of the patrol car. Behind, there’s an old red Prius that looks like it’s seen better days. As soon as the back door opens, and I see a more mature woman shove herself to her feet, I’m on the move.

“I got it,” I blurt, flying for the door and out into the mid-afternoon sun, stalking my way to the stranger that has Sasha, my beautiful three-year-old niece and what has fast become my number one priority, in her arms.

“Shh!” the lady currently holding my whole life whispers as I bound up towards her. “She’s asleep, bless her heart. The little darling has cried herself out.” Sasha’s head is laid on her shoulder, the side of her perfect angel face visible as her tiny body is cradled in her arms. Even in sleep, her hand is tightly clasped around the corner of the cream-colored fluffy blanket with brown-nosed teddy bears embossed into the fabric I had gifted her at birth. Her comfort blanket. “Hi, my name’s Mandy Wilder. I guess you’re Sasha’s Uncle Gabriel.”

In response, I manage a meagre nod, but I can’t take my eyes off Sasha. Ms. Wilder moves closer to me, leaning her body forward so I can take Sasha from her arms. I scoop her up and hold her close against my chest. There’s a succession of rapid breaths along with a heart-breaking whimper from Sasha’s tiny, pink lips at being disturbed, but then her head falls into the crook of my neck, the soft blonde curls of her hair brushing against my stubbled chin, her breathing evens out as she falls back into a deep sleep.

“I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss,” Ms. Wilder says, a clear note of sincerity within it. “Can we go inside, so we can discuss where we go from here?”

I walk up the short path to where Smoke stands in the doorway, his emotionally void expression giving nothing away. But I can tell by the way his eyes keep flicking behind me that the woman who could quickly become my enemy was right behind me, along with the cop that had been at the start of this living nightmare that was unfolding.

Once we are all inside, I flick my head towards the kitchen and watch while they follow my direction. Not wanting to let Sasha out of my sight, I lay her down on the couch where I can see her when I join them. I cover her the best I can with her comfort blanket without pulling the corner from her hand, tucking it in around her. I take a moment to gaze upon her delicate, precious face before walking to where Smoke is standing, the coffee machine already switched on and a selection of cups sitting on the counter.

“What the fuck, Smoke? This isn’t some bullshit coffee morning,” I hiss at him under my breath so he’s the only one that can hear my jibe.

“Maybe not, but in the circumstances, a bit of civility might go a long way.” Smoke growls back at me. “So, suck it up asshole, because if you want to prove you’re fit to be that little girl’s guardian, then you need to be on your best behavior.” I give him a quick nod in agreement, realizing quickly that he’s right. This might be the hardest fight I’ve ever had to undertake, and the last thing I need is to give them any additional ammunition to shoot back at me.

“Ms. Wilder, Officer Wahlberg, thank you for agreeing to meet me here and bringing Sasha with you.” I glance over to check that she’s still sleeping soundly. My instincts are to shout and rage to get my point across, but I force myself to keep my voice at a reasonable level so as not to disturb her or make myself look like a total dick shit.

“I know that you are probably looking at me and thinking what sort of care can this rough as f…,” I check myself before continuing, “Ex-marine, who’s daily life revolves around a Motorcycle club give to this young child?” I clench my fists. My short, jagged fingernails dig deep into my palms as I fight to control my frustration. The only reason there’s no blood is because the skin is thick and callused from all the years of hard graft. “What do I need to do to convince you that nothing is more important to me than Sasha? I’m willing to move heaven and earth to protect her and give her a stable and secure life that her loving parents are no longer able to give.”

“Like I said on the phone, Mr. Parish, it’s not that simple,” Officer Wahlberg sighs. Her eyebrows fall low, her mouth slightly downturn, telling me that despite her negative comment, she is sympathetic to my position. “There are procedures…”

“Gabriel,” Ms. Wilder interrupts, “Are you in the position to stay in Billings for a few days?” she asks softly, yet still holds an air of authority.

“I’m not leaving Sasha,” I growl, unable to keep myself in check. The thought of walking away from her now, leaving her with a stranger when I’m here willing to care for her, cuts deep. My ears prick up at a barely audible noise from the living room. My eyes immediately fall to where the little girl lies, and I can see that my booming voice has caused her to stir. “Wherever she goes, I go too,” I affirm as I make my way over to Sasha.

“Mr. Parish,” the cop barks, determined to mark her attendance. “That simply isn’t possible. What are you intending to do?” she sniggers. “Camp outside the building of her placement?”

“If that’s what I need to do, then yes,” I fire back as I crouch down at the edge of the couch just as Sasha pushes herself up into a seated position. She blinks away the sleep out of her eyes before focusing on my face. “Hey, baby girl,” I say, using the name I’ve called her from the first day I’d held her. I skim her rosy cheek gently with my knuckles. Her arms come out, her little hands grabbing for my leather cut as she rocks her body forward until I catch her in my arms. I brush a kiss across her forehead, to which she responds by pressing her tiny, closed lips against my cheek.

“Uncle Gabe,” she squeals, squeezing her arms around my neck tightly as I push up to my full height. She tilts her head and gives me one of her breath-taking toothy smiles.

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