Page 49 of Forsaking All Others

“Twice in one day it’s you showing up to deliver me news and not my vice president. Appreciate it, but where the fuck is King?”

“You want me to get into all that while there are two police officers standing ten feet away or you want me to help you round up your woman and your kids, because, brother, we need to get them out of here and bring them back to the clubhouse where we can keep them safe. Where we can keep them fucking breathing.”

On my knees, on my knees.

That last part strikes a chord and I’m suddenly engulfed with the primal need to protect what’s mine. I’ll draw a sword against the whole fucking world if it means keeping Holly and our kids safe from whatever danger lurks. I guess a lot can be said about a man on his knees. He doesn’t lose power, he finds it, and he stands a little taller because everything he loves is at stake.

Rolling my neck from side to side, I glance back at the cruiser and watch as the two cops get out of the car. They glance at me and Ghost for a moment before they turn and start for the house.

“Fuck,” Ghost mutters. “What are we going to do about them?”

I bring my attention back to him.

“Fuck ‘em,” I say. “They’re the least of our worries, besides, Holly can’t give away what she doesn’t know. They get five minutes to ask their questions and then we send them on their fucking way. That gives us time to pack her and the kids a bag. As of now the club is on lockdown. Everyone remains at the clubhouse until I say otherwise.” I pause and look at Theo. “Gonna wake him up now.”

“You want me to carry him in the house?”

I shake my head and continue to stare at the little boy in the backseat.

“Took his father from him, the least I can do is give him my arms.”

On my knees, on my knees.

* * *

I don’t knowif Tara and Shepard overheard the cops tell Holly Colt had been killed or if Holly and Leftie clued them in once they entered the house, but as soon as I crossed the threshold with Theo in my arms, it was clear both kids knew their stepfather was gone. Shep quietly cried in the corner while tears streamed down Tara’s cheeks and she rushed for me. I held Theo with one arm and wrapped the other around my girl, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was for telling a toddler his father was dead, but I decided that grim news could wait and in a hushed voice, I warned Tara not to tell Theo. Then I handed her brother to Ghost and told Tara to pack a bag for her and her brothers. By some grace of God, my girl didn’t give me lip and did as she was told.

Her mother, though, well that’s another story. Even in the midst of tragedy, she has the sense to question me.

Always seeing straight through me.

“Maverick, a word.”

My gaze cuts to her and I watch as she wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands. Straightening her shoulders she looks from me to the two cops sitting in her living room.

“Excuse me,” she says before taking my hand and pulling me toward the kitchen. Once we’re alone she turns to me, combing her fingers through her hair. Her brown eyes find mine and she releases an unsteady breath.

“Ghost called your phone,” she whispers, pausing to close her eyes and gather her thoughts. “I know I shouldn’t have answered it, but when the phone powered on, you had a bunch of voicemails from him. He told me to pull my car over and give you the phone.”

Her eyes spring open and she stares at me for a beat.

“My husband is dead, Maverick,” she continues. “And now Ghost is here and you’re telling our daughter to pack a bag.”

“Holly—”

“No,” she snaps. Closing the distance between us, she slams her hand against my chest. “I don’t know what the hell is going on but you’ve got that look in your eye and I’m telling you—whatever is going on, shut it down, Maverick.”

“Holly, baby—”

“Don’t Holly, baby, me! I never asked you to pick between your club and me. I accepted your choice and went on with my life, but I’m asking you to choose me now because I am not strong enough to do this without you. So, shut it down, Maverick.”

Her lip quivers and her eyes plead with me.

On my knees, on my knees.

“I can’t bury two men,” she cries.

Pulling my hands out of my pockets, I lift them to her cheeks and hold her steady. I stare into those deep brown eyes of hers and guilt consumes every ounce of my being. It’s not just the weight of Colt’s death that sits heavy on my chest, it’s everything. Every promise I didn’t see through. Every dream I stole.

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