“What’s wrong?” I demand.
“Maman,” Micah says and I barely understand him.
“What about her?”
“Sh–She’s n–not wa–waking u–up. M–Mar–Marcus is tr–trying b–but th–there’s b–bl–blo–blood ev–everywhere.” My body grows taut as what Micah just stated sinks in.
“Where are you buddy?” By this time my brothers have all grown silent and are listening intently to my side of the conversation.
“H–home. We h–had t–to w–wa–walk h–home c–cau–cause maman w–wasn’t at s–sch–school to g–get us this af–afternoon,” Micah states.
“Alright buddy, did you call 911 yet?” I ask heading for the door.
“Mar–Marcus did,” he murmurs.
“Good, I’ll be there in two minutes, hang tight,” I mutter, disconnecting before he could respond and put the phone in my pocket and at the same time shoving through the door.
“You good Ryder?” Chains calls out as he and the rest of my brothers follow me.
“Nope kid next door just rang. Somethings not right,” I state as I make it to my bike and throw my leg over to straddle her.
Guilt consumes me at not having spoken to the beauty of a mom, I’d let her be since the day they moved in only talking to her boys when they saw me outside. Knew plenty about the boys. How they hated their dad and didn’t want to see him to their love of motorcycles and football. I didn’t know anything about their mom, not even her name. To me she’d only been, mon bijou. Well silently that is.
“We’re coming with you,” Chains declares as he and more of my brothers move toward their bikes.
Nodding, I start my bike, back, her out of the spot, and hit the throttle making my way to my road. I meant what I’d said to Micah when I’d be there in two minutes. I only live five from the clubhouse, but I wasn’t playing around in getting to him, his brother and mom.
No fuckin’ way.
Not when all I heard in his voice was pure terror.
Putting the kickstand down, I barely get off the bike before Micah is plowing into me taking me back a step.
“P–Please Ry–Ryder help maman,” Micah cries.
“Alright buddy, do me a favor and hang back with a few of these guys okay. These are my brothers they’ve got you,” I state, handing him over to my nephew Brake who was looking at the way I’d embraced the kid like I’d done with him, his brother Tyres and cousins Breaker and Chains.
“Okay,” Micah murmurs with a nod.
“Good,” I state and head for the house, hearing sirens in the distance and Marcus yelling at his mom to wake up.
Fuck this can’t be good.
Opening the door, first thing I notice is the blood soaking Marcus.
Shit, this isn’t good fuckin’ one bit.
“I need to get Marcus out of here,” I mutter to Breaker, who was directly behind me.
“Leave it to me, Ryder,” he rasps as he takes in the scene.
“Marcus, bud, need you to step away from your maman and go outside so I can help her, okay.” Gaining Marcus’ attention as he stares up at me with wide eyes and shakes his head.
“I–I ca–can’t le–leave her. Sh–She al–always pro–protects us a–and we d–didn’t pro–protect her Ry–Ryder.” Damn if he does mean every word he just said.
Before I can say anything, Breaker puts a hand on my shoulder and steps forward. “Hey, little man. I’m Breaker. Ryder’s my uncle and this here are my brothers Tyres, Axel, and our Prez, Chains. Can we let Ryder get to your maman? The ambulance is on the way and we don’t want them to think it’s you that’s hurt right?”
Marcus seems to contemplate this as he stares at each of us. “Y–you pro–promise h–he wo–won’t g–get her?” he asks.
“Yeah but can you tell me who I need to protect her from?” I ask in return, moving to kneel next to him.
“M–My d–dad, Ti–Titus Pelletier,” Marcus murmurs, rocking my world as I stare at him in stunned disbelief.
I know that name, very fuckin’ well. Because Louis Pelletier is none other than Tyres and Brakes biological father, making these boys family.
Glancing behind me at Tyres, I sense he’s putting the same information together as he stares at Marcus and nods.
This shit just got fucked further than I even thought it could.
As the ambulance noise grows closer, Marcus finally stands and moves to Breaker who takes him down the hall, I’m guessing to help him clean up some as I move to kneel next to the boy’s mom. Her face so pale, her shirt ripped open and blood soaking her entire front with a knife still stuck in the left side of her stomach.
Motherfucker.
Titus fuckin’ Pelletier is a dead fuckin’ man.
Chapter Three
Brielle
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
What is that insistent noise?
I struggle to open my eyes and when I manage to open them a mere crack, I’m blinded by a bright light causing me to close them tight again.
Jesus why did I leave the light on. I never do that.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Where is that damn beeping noise coming from?
Micah and Marcus must be doing something to cause it.
Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes enough in the hopes to reach over the side of the bed to turn the light off but find I’m not in my bed.
Panic starts to set in as I realize I’m in a hospital and I close my eyes again as I try to think of what happened.
Then it’s as if everything hits me at once, Titus finding us, the knife to my stomach, his promise to torture and torment me. Confused by this all and why he didn’t do his normal routine and force the boys and I to go back with him. That’s what he always did the other times I’d run with the boys.
Oh God. Where are my boys?
“I’m sorry sir but you shouldn’t be in here,” a woman says drawing me out of my thoughts.
“Bullshit, you’re not keeping me away from my fuckin’ wife,” a sexy gruff man’s voice
