Disarray the hallowed cr.., p.7
Disarray: The Hallowed Crows MC 4, page 7
These officers are throwing questions at me and I can hear the hatred in their voices, see the loathing in their eyes, but what they don’t realize is that nobody can hate me more than I hate myself. I can still remember the look on Connor’s face when he found us in bed with his daughter. I can still see the look in Rebecca’s eyes when we told her it meant nothing, and still feel the breaking in my heart when I thought she betrayed us. Nothing they can say or do is going to change that.
I don’t feel any guilt towards Candice. I wish I did, but the truth is when I saw her lying in the middle of the clubhouse wearing my cut, I wished she was still alive just so I could kill her myself. She betrayed us, she helped Carter, she put Rebecca in danger, and if she would have still been alive when we came home, I would have slit her throat without pause for what she did.
“Why did you do it, huh? Did she know too much? Or were you just tired of fucking her?” The officer slaps his hand over a picture of me with Candice bent over in front of me, my dick plowing into her from behind. I remember the night, barely, but I remember it nonetheless. It was from when Rebecca was gone. I was drunk and Candice was there, it meant nothing, not to me anyway.
Nearly every night without Rebecca I found some nameless cunt to drunkenly sink my cock into, and sadly most of those nights it was the little dead traitor. There was no love or respect, fuck, I didn’t even like her. She knew that just as much as I did, we just both pretended otherwise. I didn’t think about her when I fucked her, no, instead all I thought about was Rebecca and whatever she was doing with the Mayor. I replayed her lips pressing against his over and over until I could barely see anything else, and then just when I needed to come, I would remember the tight wet heat of her cunt, and just for a second I would let it all go.
These pricks here have it all wrong, so much focus on Candice that they can’t see the true wronged woman here. I want to smash their fucking heads into the table and tell them to wake up. To ask them if they realize that the Mayor they worked under and respected so fucking much has done more heinous crimes than our MC could ever commit. Hell, some of them probably already know. I haven’t forgotten their late Chief of Police who the little King took out for his own involvement in all this shit.
They make me sick, all of them, thinking that just because they have a badge that it makes them good. The only difference between them and me, is that they get a fucking pat on the back when they take someone out. They know nothing about true power, or how to really fucking save someone, if they did I wouldn’t be here. None of us would. The thought of Rebecca rotting away in here somewhere makes me fucking sick, and I can’t bare to think what Connor would say if he was alive.
I ruined everything. Ever since that bullet slammed into his body and his title transferred from him to me, all I have done is fuck everything up. Hell, who am I kidding? I have been fucking things up for a lot longer than that. I deserve to be here, I know that, but none of my brothers do, she doesn’t, so maybe the only way out of all this is to confess. Tell these officers exactly what they need to hear and grant the rest of my family freedom. Rebecca would be safe, Ezra and Killian would make sure of that, and they could make each other happy. All I am doing is holding them all back.
“Or maybe it’s not about this whore at all,” the other officer cuts in, eyes flicking down to the picture where I have Rebecca pressed up against the side of the clubhouse. “Maybe it’s your President’s daughter, huh? Or I guess you're the President now since he is dead.”
I grit my teeth to keep myself from lashing out, but he sees it and smiles as he continues to make the connections in his head. “Yes, that’s it, isn’t it?” He looks so fucking proud of himself that I imagine taking a knife and slicing that fucking smile in permanently, see how he laughs then. “You wanted her, I bet you even took her didn’t you? Nice little young pussy for you to break in, huh? Is that how Rebecca O’Sullivan became involved? You fucked her and your whore started to get jealous.”
My eyes stay on his, not wanting to let him get under my skin, but I see the gleam in his eyes, as I’m sure he sees the temper in mine. “Or was it all you, and you just decided to get rid of Candice now that you had a new whore to play with?”
I dive across the table and smash his head into it before he can even finish his sentence, the cuffs not stopping me as much as they should have, as two other officers burst in to restrain me. “Watch your fucking mouth,” I seethe, sweat dripping from my brow at my outburst, the pain of my gunshot wound that they have been too dumb to notice now screaming at me in agony.
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” The injured officer now curses, and I can’t help but laugh at his baseless threat. I bet he’s never killed anyone in his life. He doesn’t have the stomach for it, most people don’t, and I make sure to keep my smirk in place, saying a silent fuck you as another one of his friends pulls him back.
The officers slam me back into my chair and I have to bite back a hiss as a female officer appears in the doorway. It isn’t until she nods at the men to release me and they step back, that I notice her FBI vest. She watches me, her stare assessing me slowly, and I do nothing but stare right back, disdain dripping from my face as I sneer at her. Something passes between us though, and I’m not sure what, but I see her lips tip up into a knowing smile as she clears her throat.
“Give us the room,” she demands, eyes never leaving mine, and when none of the men move, I can tell she has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Give. Us. The. Room.” She sounds the words out again, only slower this time, like everyone here is stupid and she had to break it down for them.
There are a few grunts and a couple of under the breath comments, but none of them outwardly challenge her, and I am guessing she has authority over them, which only makes me smile. She still watches me as they leave the room, and it’s only when the door is closed behind her that she moves forward and takes a seat, not caring that her colleague’s blood is still smeared on the metal in front of her.
“I’m Special Agent Sasha Jones,” she starts, not beating around the bush, as she drags each of the photos towards her and appraises them without reaction. Then she flicks her eyes back to mine and watches me, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a pack of smokes that just so happen to be the brand I prefer. I almost roll my eyes as I can see the good cop bad cop routine bullshit about to come into play.
She offers me one, just like I knew she would, and I take one, reaching my cuffed hands out and plucking one straight from the pack. I keep it held in her direction as she pulls out a box of matches and lights it for me, and our eyes remain locked as I bring the smooth white stick up to my lips and inhale. The smoke fills my lungs and for the first time since I watched them drag Rebecca away from me, I feel as if I can breathe a little easier.
“I had an interesting chat with Miss O’Sullivan earlier,” she muses, and I laugh, a hoarse cough getting caught in my throat as I shake my head at her words. I’m not sure what shit she thinks she can pull here, but trying to make me think Rebecca turned on us is fucking laughable.
I don’t know why I even bothered warning her not to say a word. I know deep in my soul she would never betray us. She has taught herself to do nothing but protect us, it’s engraved in her bones, and bound in her blood. She walked through fucking hell and back for us, so I know without a shadow of a doubt that Rebecca wouldn’t have told them anything that could be used against us.
My smirk doesn’t falter as I respond, “She is a very interesting woman.”
Special Agent Jones nods, lighting up a cigarette of her own as if we are in some type of fucking bonding situation, as she uses her free hand to pick up the photograph of me and Rebecca. “I imagine any woman would have to be extremely interesting, for someone like you to fall in love with them.”
“Or extremely stupid,” I offer in return, and she laughs, placing the photo back on the table in front of me.
“That’s what love is, isn’t it?” She asks, taking a deep drag of her smoke, before leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “Being stupid. Stupid enough to give them your heart, stupid enough to expect them not to break it, stupid enough to want to die for them, stupid enough to want to kill for them.” Her words are so casual, you would think we were in a bar exchanging stories, not a fucking interrogation room being questioned for murder.
“Then I guess there are many stupid people in the world.” Including me, is what I don’t add aloud, and I force myself to lean up in my chair slowly, not wanting to show any hint of weakness, as I look down at the picture she placed back in front of me.
My whole body nearly covers Rebecca’s in a way that makes me feel both powerful and vulnerable. Her eyes are locked on mine, and even pressed against the wall she is leaning into me begging for more. That’s something she has always done, always asked for more. More than I had, more than I could possibly ever give. Yet now all I want to do is hand it all over to her. Just everything, she owns it all, and now it might be too late to ever make her realize it. The thought of sharing her with my brothers used to make me sick, she was supposed to be just mine, but now, sitting here with the odds stacked against me, all I want is for them to make it work without me.
Rebecca O’Sullivan has loved me since she was fourteen years old, and now I am just realizing that in my own way, I have loved her since then too.
“And how stupid would you say Carter Fitzgerald is?” The question cuts through my thoughts, and my eyes snap back to hers before I can manage my reaction. Why the fuck would she be asking about the Mayor? Does she know something?
I look at her now and assess her in the same way she has been assessing me since the second she breached the doorway. She doesn’t look angry like her colleagues, more like she is intrigued, like she is looking at a puzzle but doesn’t have all the missing pieces. Like she thinks I might be the one to give them to her, and I wish I could. I wish I could open my mouth and purge all of the sordid things the Mayor has done. I could pull up my shirt right now and show her the bullet wound he left in me, but all that would do is bring more questions.
Questions that she has to find the answers to herself, otherwise we will all go down. So all I can do right now is try to not let any hope show on my face as I reply, “I’d say he is the stupidest man I have ever met.”
Eleven simple words that somehow form the most complicated sentence I have ever spoken aloud. Carter Fitzgerald is ruthless and smart, cunning and cold, but he has a weakness. I know this because it’s the same weakness I have, and I know exactly how to exploit it, I just need to get out of here to do so.
Something jolts me awake, and when I open my eyes I flick them around in the dark. One of the curtains is still slightly open, and the slither of moonlight it lets in allows me to scan the room. Ezra is passed out beside me, no doubt exhausted from everything, and I feel the ache in my chest at his still, sleeping form. I know he is okay, I can see the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he snores softly, head buried into his pillow as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Yet still I watch him, my eyes trailing over the two bullet holes in his chest, as I feel the pain of that night all over again. Even with him here beside me I don’t think I will ever let go of that moment.
A bang sounds out from the living area and it’s only then I realize that something woke me up. I hear footsteps walking across the floors, and panic floods my insides as I reach out blindly to find the gun I stuck in between the mattress and the headboard. My eyes stay fixed on the dark open doorway. It wasn’t something that woke me up, but someone. The sound of them walking stops, and I don’t hear anything else, but still I check the gun is loaded before silently sliding out of bed and bending down to pick up one of Ezra’s shirts from the bag Angel brought.
Slipping it on quickly, I take one last look at Ezra sleeping and then silently move towards the door, flicking the safety off the gun, and raising it in my hands so I am ready. I will never let myself be vulnerable again, I won’t be taken again without a fight, and I won’t let anyone hurt the men I love. Elle was right, I do have power, and it’s time I start remembering that.
I force my steps out one after the other, careful not to make a sound as I leave the safety of the bedroom, and head out into the rest of the apartment. I am still not familiar enough with it yet to know my way around, especially in the dark, but thankfully the large floor to ceiling windows offer enough light for me to look around. It spills down the hallway as I pass a bathroom, and another room, before coming out into the open plan kitchen, dining and living area.
Fear grapples with me as my hands begin to shake, and just as I bypass one of the pillars, my eyes land on a large frame sitting on the sofa. I take a deep breath as I focus the gun on them, my finger squeezing the trigger gently ready to strike as they ask, “Are you trying to kill me or turn me on?”
Killian.
His familiar voice flows through me, the panic and fear being replaced with relief and love, as he leans forward and turns on the lamp beside him. Once illuminated, our eyes scan one another, both of us desperately trying to see if the other is okay before I smile and answer his question. “Both, always both.” I throw back the words he once said to me, and a smile curves his mouth, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.
I move towards him quickly, placing the gun on the table and climbing into his lap making him almost drop the bottle of whiskey in his hand. Clearly he didn’t expect the affection but I don’t care, right now I need it, and only a second ticks by before his arms curl around me to keep me in place. “You’re back,” I whisper into his chest, breathing him in, just so grateful to have another one of them here with me that I have to fight back the tears now pooling in my eyes.
“I’m back,” he repeats softly, and so unlike him, as he begins rubbing one of his hands up and down my back gently. I’m not sure how long we stay like that for, but we both remain silently clinging to one another before I feel him shift and I lean back. He is looking up at me as I sit straddled above him, and when he opens his mouth to speak I know I am now dealing with Killer. “I should have made sure he was dead.”
I blanch back a little confused, before I realize what he is talking about. “You mean the Mayor?” I ask, not wanting to say his name, not now, and Killian nods slowly.
“Yes,” he breathes, huffing out slightly, and bringing the bottle up to his mouth to tip a little inside. “This is my fault. I am the enforcer of the club and I didn’t do my job.”
I’m already shaking my head in disagreement. “There’s no way you could have known, Kill, we all thought he was dead.” I try not to picture the last time I saw him as we fled the warehouse in the woods, ignoring the phantom feel of his hands as he tried to force me down and rape me. I have to shake my head again to rid those thoughts from my mind and focus back on my crow.
Killian reaches out and places the bottle on the table and sits up, pushing us to the edge of the sofa as his hands land on my hips. “No, Rebecca, I could have. I should have. It’s what I do. What I’ve done for years until my judgment became too clouded.”
Realization of what he is saying slams into me and I feel the lump in the back of my throat as I reply, “Until I clouded it you mean.”
“Yes,” he snaps without hesitation, and guilt slams into me as I try to slip out of his lap, but all he does is hold me tighter.
“When I started things with Ezra it was as easy as breathing,” he whispers, almost like a confession just for me. “It didn’t matter about the secrets or the hiding, it was like I could feel a piece of me was missing and he completed it, but with you,” he trails off, and the first tear splashes from my lashes to my cheek.
“I don’t fit,” I whisper back, as his thumb comes up to swipe away my emotions as if they are that easy to erase.
“No, you don’t,” he sighs, shaking his head as if trying to work out where we go from here. I swear I can feel my heart breaking inside of my chest, but instead of letting me pull away and fall apart, he drags me in even closer. “Everything about my relationship with you is complicated, Rebecca. You were my President's daughter, you were too young, you loved too big, yet despite all that I fell for you anyway. And it isn’t easy, simple, it didn’t just complete another missing piece of me. You consumed me, all of us,” he laughs, almost like he can’t believe we are finally here together. “You consumed us until I couldn’t breathe without you, even when I had E, and I didn’t know that was love, not until you were taken. Not until you came back.”
He shakes his head again as if remembering the night I came home, and all I can think about is the shocked look on his face when he stared at me. “God, when you stepped out of Elle King's car that night it’s like my lungs woke up for the first time in two years, and I tried to fight it, but it was you, and it was us, and it was completely fucking impossible. So yeah I should have checked he was dead.”
My tears are spilling freely now as I lean forward and place my forehead against his. “Killian, I love you, my silent and deadly soldier. I love you more than you can even imagine, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, or them. So no matter what happens next, we will face it together.”
Before I can even take another breath he stands, taking me in his arms, and then the next thing I know my back hits the sofa and he pushes in between my legs as his mouth crashes into mine. He is already hard beneath his jeans, as I feel the thickness of his cock roll against me until I am gasping into his mouth. I try to move my hips and grind against him to relieve some of the tension now building in my core, but it’s not enough. He keeps me pinned beneath him as he fucks my mouth with his tongue, until I sink my teeth into his bottom lip and pull.
