Page 22 of Tripp

The sight was something out of a fuckin’ horror movie. It looked like Jason Voorhees had destroyed Psych with a machete. His stab wounds were so extensive I couldn’t tell where one ended and the next started. Most of the skin was completely shredded, half of the damage coming from being burned off, the rest from Marek’s uncontrollable rage. Some of Psych’s organs were exposed and hanging from his still form, the image regrettably burned into my memory forever.

“It can’t be true,” Marek whispered. The room was eerily silent, allowing me to hear every disbelieving word he uttered. “He was lyin’,” he continued, speaking to himself more than to me. But I needed to answer and try to bring him back to reality, whatever that might look like now.

“Fuck, Prez,” I comforted, squatting down so we were closer to eye level. “He could have definitely been lying.” What I failed to say was,“And he could have been telling the truth. Sully could really be your sister.”

Dropping onto my ass, I braced myself against the wall and mirrored the leader of the Knights. And that’s how we stayed for at least an hour, both of us trying to come to grips with what Psych had said. Whether or not Marek wanted to admit it or not, the Reaper could have very well been telling the truth, saving his final blow of retaliation for the end.

“It ain’t good, brother,” I exhaled into the phone. I’d called Stone when I didn’t know what else to do. “He’s completely lost it. You need to grab a couple of the men and get over here.” A few choice words from the VP of our club and he fell silent. “Oh, and make sure to bring the cage ’cause Prez is in no shape to ride back on his own.” Finishing the conversation, I hung up and paced in the kitchen, looking inside the fridge a few times, hoping that some alcohol would magically appear each time the light went on.

I tried to persuade Marek to come upstairs, but he refused to budge from the spot he’d glued himself to on the floor. Every now and then he’d glance over at Psych, vehemently curse, and then drop his head again, mumbling incoherently and sounding like a certified crazy person. Maybe he was. Maybe he’d gone off the deep end and split from reality. Looking at him, anyone would agree. Parts of his hair stuck up, his hands gripping the strands in delirium. His eyes were bloodshot. His month-old beard was unkempt, and blood covered his hands and clothes.

He looked like a deranged killer.

Well . . . truth wrapped its ugly hands around that new reality.

I jumped to my feet two hours later when I saw headlights pull up the driveway, the squeak of the garage door solidifying that reinforcements were there. Rushing to meet them, I rounded the van to the driver’s side. “Stone, thank God!” I wasn’t normally one for such exclamations, but the situation I was in surely called for one.

“Where is he?” Ryder patted me on the shoulder as he passed, Trigger and Jagger hot on his heels. Their only priority was getting to their president, but I needed to fill them in on just what they would walk into once they breached the basement door.

“Hold up,” I shouted, following them through the kitchen. Trigger grabbed the handle and just as he tried to yank the door open, I slammed my palm on the wood to make sure I had my say before they went down there. “I’ve seen some nasty shit in my life. I’vedonesome nasty shit, but what’s down there is somethin’ else.” The seriousness of my tone left no room for doubt. Only when I had all of their attention did I continue. “Marek lost his shit. For real, and Psych paid the price.”

“Good,” Jagger sneered, his jaw clenching while he waited for something more to come out of my mouth.

“I’m not sayin’ he didn’t deserve every bit of our leader’s fury, but something was said down there that pushed Marek over the edge. And I’m not sure if he can come back from it, especially if it’s fuckin’ true.” I mumbled the end of my statement but I knew damn well every man standing in front of me heard me.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Stone rushed forward, grabbing the handle and trying to pull the door open. But I kept it closed, even when our VP gave me a stern, disapproving look.

“I think I should let Marek tell you.” Yeah, I wasn’t about to tell them that our president may have married his own half-sister.

“Then back the hell up and let us down there, nomad,” Trigger gritted out, mirroring everyone else’s look of anger.

“Just be warned that it’s quite the sight,” I cautioned before removing my hand from the door. Trigger pulled it open and one by one they hurried down the steps. I debated whether or not I should go back down into the basement, and after several minutes of contemplating, I finally gave in and joined my brothers.

Reece

Again I asked myself what the hell I was thinking going home with a complete stranger. The same stranger who left me all alone in his house, who took off in the middle of the night, explaining that he’d be back sometime the next day. And to add to the already odd scenario, he never told me the code for the alarm system, essentially locking me inside until he returned.

Having no idea what else to do, I grabbed my phone and dialed the number for Indulge, hoping and praying that Carla was still working. I desperately needed someone to talk to, and I feared if she’d already gone home that I’d sit and stew all night. I cursed Tripp, angry with him for firing me, or whatever he called it, all while still remaining thankful he’d come to my aid earlier. The situation was complicated to say the very least.

The phone rang three times before someone finally answered. “Indulge” was the only greeting that came through the line.

“Hi. Is Carla still working?”

“Who’s this?” I knew without asking it was Arianna, and if she knew it was me she’d probably hang up. I couldn’t risk it so I lied.

“Her sister.” I tried to change the tone of my voice when I answered, still fearful she’d end the call.

“Hang on,” she responded, shouting over her shoulder and away from the phone. Breathing a sigh of relief, I counted the seconds until Carla came on the line.

“Heather? Is everything okay?” she asked in a small panic. “Why are you calling so late?”

“Carla, it’s me. Reece. Sorry about that, but if I told Arianna it was me I think she probably would’ve hung up on me.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” She chuckled. “That one is a bit touched in the head, if you know what I mean. Why couldn’t it have been her who Tripp kicked out tonight?” A brief silence ensued. “Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. Sort of.” Slouching back against the couch, I tried to get as comfortable as I could.

“Hold on a sec. Let me take this in the office. Too noisy out here.” I waited until I heard the background noise of the club diminish, taking that extra time to figure out why exactly I’d called Carla in the first place. “Okay, all good.” I didn’t have to be standing next to her to know she was smiling, that she was exuding her support through the phone. “What’s up?”

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