Page 92 of Beautifully Reckless

Liam huffs. “Riggs won’t do that. He’ll stall for as long as he can until this shit is resolved. But my old man has every right to be pissed off. He’s worked hard to build our reputation. We haven’t been raided in over eight years, and all of a sudden they get hit with no warning, and it’s got nothing to do with our business.”

“Yeah I fucking know,” I mutter, the exhaustion catching up with me, wrapping around my shoulders like a thousand weighted blankets.

“Right. So get fucking hitched, and let me know if you want to use one of our penthouses for your honeymoon.”

I roll my fucking eyes. “Like fuck I’m taking Abbey to one of your penthouses. You probably have them rigged with cameras.”

“Of course. Why pay for porn when I can watch my brothers’ conquests in high def?”

We chuckle, and JD cuts in. “Any chance you can send me one of your home-made pornos? I’m out here in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere with nothing but my hand for company.”

“Sure. Five grand and you can take your pick.” Liam laughs. “Well Ringo. Good fucking luck with your marriage proposal. Make sure you get down on one knee. I hear chicks dig that shit.”

As Liam laughs at my grunt, the call ends, and I sit at the bar numb as fuck over what I have to do.

JD tries to chat with me for a while but he quickly realises I’m not good fucking company tonight, so he wanders outside to sit around the open fire with my sisters.

I should join them, but I can’t bring myself to look my sisters in the eye yet, after the way they treated my Angel at dinner.

Rounding the bar, I flick the sound system on, needing to drown out my sisters flirting with JD.

I don’t know where Abbey is. Probably back inside after I stormed off and left her under the Jacaranda tree.

With Hope.

Fuck.

Pain slices through my chest just thinking about my little girl. The little girl I never got to meet.

I never got to see what colour her eyes would have turned.

I never got to hear her cry or coo, or speak that gibberish babble babies make.

What I didget was the feel of her light, lifeless body as I scooped her up from the dirt. So tiny. So fragile, her skin almost translucent. Her miniscule fingernails, and how blue they were underneath.

It’s one sight I’ll never forget.

Her little fingers, limp and cold, curled around nothing while I held one with my thumb.

That image is seared into my brain.

Doc said she was likely stillborn. Said Kylie’s shit lifestyle killed her and expelled little Hope before bleeding out.

Some days I wish I didn’t kill that fucking bitch just so I could have made her suffer. But really, that’s just me wanting to punish someone for what I lost.

Getting rid of Kylie was the best thing for everyone, yet still, I wear the anger like a fucking crown. It’s in everything I do.

It built my ruthless reputation and cemented my future with the Southern Sadists, because when my world fell apart, and my fury unleashed, my fucking club brothers were the only ones that stood by me.

They didn’t tell me to calm down.

They didn’t force me to go to a therapist.

They didn’t tell me to take some time away to heal.

Normal society does that shit. But not my club. They handed me the matches and helped me burn it all down.

Some call that fucked up.

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