Page 51 of Blackout

Chapter Sixteen

BLACKIE

The dictionary defines the domino effect as a cumulative consequence produced when one event initiates a succession of similar events. In theory, it’s not much different than a house of cards; pull one and the whole structure comes toppling down.

Three days ago, Jack called church and sent my house of cards tumbling down. There was a break in the cartel situation. Mac had seen some guy with the same ink as the men who killed Bas’ brother and Needles, being a tattoo connoisseur was able to identify the assailants as members of the Sinaloa Cartel, a global organization made up of ruthless cocksuckers.

With the help of Cobra’s trusty bounty hunter, we were able to pull more intel—none of it fucking good and soon, Jack was toying with the idea of going head to head with the fucking cartel. The only problem was, even though I was an addict, the club wasn’t in the business of dealing drugs. Guns were our thing and Jack thought if we cut a deal with one of the lower ranking members of the cartel, Javier Santos, we’d be able to draw out the head honcho, Sergio Garcia.

His plan was to supply Javier with guns and in exchange, Jack wanted a meeting with Garcia. Once he was face to face with the head of the cartel, he’d offer the cunt a piece of our territory. A chance to flood our streets with drugs as long as he agreed not to harm Bas’s woman and the kid.

I was all for keeping Bas’ family safe. If these motherfuckers came hunting for them, I’d stand in front of a loaded gun, but offering the Sinaloa cartel a piece of the streets was fucking suicide and everyone at the table knew it. We were no match for an organization like them and we worked too fucking hard through the years to turn Brooklyn and Staten Island into a fucking drug infested war zone. But Jack didn’t give a fuck. He was going to risk it all, our fucking morals and our beliefs, every man with a patch and the consciences attached and there was nothing any of us could do.

We were on death row waiting for the call to come that the meeting was set when Pipe pulled me aside and revealed he had been talking to Wolf, trying to sway him back into the fold. He used the excuse that Jack was losing his mind. Even went as far as to tell him about the fucking paramedic we still had stashed in the woods, hoping Wolf would be able to talk sense into our fucking lunatic of a leader since he ignored every one of my warnings.

That’s when Wolf dropped another bomb. After turning in his patch, he decided to live it up and got involved with Maria Bianci. Yeah, you heard me correctly. Wolf was banging Lauren’s mother on the down low. Now, I was all for Wolf getting laid. The man was starting to scare the fuck out of me with his obsession for vegetables, but his newfound romance couldn’t come at a worse time for the club. Always being the levelheaded brother, Wolf had a way of talking Jack off the ledge which made him an asset to us. The thing was, Maria was diagnosed with breast cancer and needed him more. Having lost three failed marriages to his patch, he wasn’t about to repeat the mistakes of his past and no one could blame him either.

One by one the cards continued to fall and this morning, before the doctor’s appointment, Pipe summoned me to the safe house. Apparently, Wolf had taken matters into his own hands and ordered Anthony Bianci, to release the paramedic. I’m not sure what he was planning on doing with her or how letting her go made any sense and I never will…because the poor girl hung herself.

With Anthony’s help, I lowered her lifeless body from the ceiling fan and unwound the rope from her neck. It was hard to look at her and the sound of her cries rang in my ears. She was just an innocent girl who woke up and went to work. Saving lives was her job, and we were the reason she took her own.

The realization stuck with me and when it came time to dispose of her body, I couldn’t do it. Call me a pussy, but I couldn’t wrap her in a tarp and bury her in a shallow grave. Instead, I left the task in Anthony’s capable hands and hightailed it back to the city. I would’ve gotten high if Lacey hadn’t called, reminding me of the doctor’s appointment.

Learning our baby might be born with a heart defect if Lacey remains on her medication was the final card to fall. Now, all that’s left is a mountain of debris and I don’t know how to drudge through any of it.

“Just go,” Lacey says, keeping her back to me as she fills a water glass. It’s the third time she’s poured herself a refill and I wonder if she’s wishing it was something harder. God knows I’m fixing for something.

Scotch.

Whiskey.

Tequila.

I’d fucking drink turpentine right now.

“I’m not going anywhere, Lace, that’s not how this works,” I tell her, bracing my hands on the kitchen island. We both know what happens if I leave. The problem is, she’s too wrapped up in her grief to realize she’s sending me straight to hell because if I do as she says, I’ll either go to a bar or drive out to Queens and score some drugs.

“Stop pretending like either of us know how anything works,” she hisses, dropping her glass into the sink. There’s truth to her words. A truth we’ve both been too fucking naïve to accept.

She turns to me, crossing her arms over her chest and gives me her dark eyes.

“Every time we take a step forward, we take three back. We’re a fucking joke, Blackie. Two lost souls who will never get it right and now, we’re bringing a baby into the world. If that’s not fucking selfish, I don’t know what is.”

“You didn’t think it was selfish the first night I came in you,” I fire back, slamming my fist against the counter. My anger gets the best of me and I lose my patience. Everything, all the shit with the club, Jack’s failing mind, my addictions, and her fucking illness, it all comes crashing to the surface.

“I told you that night, I was worried about getting you pregnant and not because I thought we didn’t deserve to be parents or because I didn’t want to have a baby. I was concerned for you, for your fucking mental health but you told me there were people like you all over the world having kids.”

“People like me,” she repeats.

Ignoring the hurt in her eyes, I continue my rant.

“You fucking promised me you’d get in touch with your shrink. You swore you’d tell her we were trying for

a baby—”“I didn’t know I’d get pregnant so quickly,” she spats.

“You pissed on your fucking word,” I shout over her.

As soon as the words leave my lips, I regret them, but there’s no taking them back.

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