Page 23 of Protector

“Let’s go, old man.”

I watched as he was led back to his car before closing and locking the door behind me. My body trembled and shook from the adrenaline that had been dumped into my system.

I’d thought that surviving that night was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done. I was wrong. It was going to be getting up, day after day, and fighting.

Fighting to keep my girls.

Fighting to regain their trust and keep them safe.

Fighting to hold on to what little humanity remained.

“Cry,” I whispered to myself, but just like my prayers, my demand went unanswered.

I found the pack of cigarettes hidden behind a bag of frozen peas in the freezer and snagged the flashlight from the junk drawer before going out onto the back porch.

“Looks like you finally kicked ol’ Dick to the curb,” a voice slurred from behind me. “I wondered how long that’d take.”

I yelped, as images of Cobra flooded my mind before swinging the flashlight wildly, managing to connect several times with solid flesh.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Celia! It’s me!” Jamie roared. His hand shot up and pried the weapon from my grasp before tossing it out into the dead grass.

My body twisted away as he came into focus, still convinced there was a threat. Maybe there was and I’d just been too blind to see it.

“Goddammit,” he growled, rubbing at his jaw. “You tryin’ to knock my teeth out?”

The plastic around the pack of cigarettes crinkled loudly as my fingers tightened against it. “You—you just popped up out of nowhere.”

“Pretty sure I’ve popped up like this before, and gotten a much better reaction,” he grumbled.

“That was before—” I stopped, the implication of my words hanging heavy in the air, like an early morning fog. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I here? Fuck, Celia, why do you think I’m here?”

I willed my fingers to stop trembling as I pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit up, remembering with the first drag why I’d taken up smoking, to begin with. I was also reminded of why I’d quit.

Him.

It was all because of him.

“I have no idea, but you can show yourself out like Richard did,” I stated, before slowly lowering myself onto a lawn chair. Judging by the penetrating ache in my chest, my brief stint as Rambo had just set back my recovery.

Jamie grabbed the other chair and dragged it over next to mine. “Ain’t leavin’, princess.”

I exhaled a stream of smoke with a bitter laugh. “No? How ever will the club survive without you?”

“I’m out. Turned it over to Bear and walked away.”

For the first time since that night, I was grateful for the dark as I was sure shock was written all over my face. It was bittersweet; being given the one thing I’d craved for eleven years at a point when it no longer meant anything.

Jamie fidgeted with something on his jeans before plucking the cigarette from my hand and taking a long drag. “Say somethin’.”

“Why now?”

He absently stroked his beard before admitting, “I ain’t done a lot right when it comes to you and the girls. I wanna be here to protect you—”

I abruptly stood up, wrenching the cigarette from his hand before pacing along the edge of the patio. “I think it’s been proven that you can’t protect me. You can’t protect anyone. Showing up a month later doesn’t change that.”

The chair toppled over onto its side as he cut the distance between us. It was only then that I realized he was swaying unsteadily on his feet.

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