Page 38 of Massacre
“I know, Amber. And as soon as it’s safe, you can leave.”
“Go get Kytten. She will tell me what’s going on.”
Haizley shook her head. “I can’t do that. Cash locked down Kytten after he learned she was the reason Massacre got out of the cell.”
“Val ordered her!”
Haizley nodded. “Yeah, she did, but apparently, that doesn’t matter. King’s closed to the clubhouse to brothers only until the guests leave. He even sent Sam, Charlie, and the club girls to stay with Beck. I’m only here because I’m your therapist and I know more than most. There is stuff going on here, and King is following some rule book. I’m serious, Amber. No one can sneeze down there without permission.”
“What guests?”
Sighing, Haizley shook her head. “King ordered me to say nothing. I’m sorry, Amber, but I can’t tell you. What I will tell you is that early this morning, guests arrived.”
This was nuts.
I was a grown ass woman, and I was getting really fucking tired of being told what I could and could not do. I was more than capable of making my own damn decisions.
I stood at the window, watching as rain streaked down the glass, the world beyond blurred when a knock startled me. Haizley and I turned as my door opened and a heavily pregnant woman and a man I never met before stepped in, their smiles hesitant, her hands full with a tray of breakfast and a folded note. Haizley and I rushed to help her, as I took the tray from her and placed it on the small desk in the room. Haizley helped her toward my bed.
“Thanks.” She smiled at the both of us. “My name is Remi,” she said nicely as she handed me a note. “From Massacre. This tall drink of water next to me is Player.”
My heart thudded as I opened it, his words scrawled in a hurried hand:I am so sorry, my little firecracker. I’ll explain everything soon.
Frowning, I looked at the woman, holding the note up. “What the hell is this?”
The pretty woman smirked as she sat on my bed and let out a deep breath. “That would be Massacre. A man of many words, but not a single one makes a lick of sense.”
“Who are you?”
“My full name is Ruslana Ekaterina Mariya Ivenok, but everyone calls me Remi. It’s easier. But I don’t think you were asking that specifically. My husband is Maxwell Doherty, also known as Reaper. He’s the President of the—”
“Golden Skulls Motorcycle Club,” I gasped, taking a step back from the woman, shaking my head as memories of my time in Louisiana came flooding back. All the pain, the anguish, the torment I endured and survived at the hands of that motherfucking club.
“Amber,” Haizley cautiously said, holding her hands up as she approached. “Breathe, honey. I need you to take a deep breath.”
Shaking my head, I cried as I slid to the floor. “They’re here for me!”
“No, baby,” Haizley softly said. “No one is taking you without your permission. Remember what King said? What Massacre said?”
“Massacre,” I gasped. My eyes darted to hers as my body shook.
“That’s right, Amber. Massacre won’t let anyone take you.”
“Where is he?” I asked as Haizley kneeled before me. “He’s been gone for so long. He said he would be back soon.”
Haizley turned toward Remi, who looked heartbroken, close to tears as the man called Player walked over and sat on the floor next to me. “I’m Player,” he said, introducing himself to me again. “But you can call me Reggie.”
“You’re Massacre’s little brother?”
The handsome man nodded. “Yea, sweetheart, I am. I know my brother would give anything to be here with you right now, but he’s downstairs with King and Reaper. He asked me to stand in his place until the meeting was over. Are you okay with that?”
Looking at the man who looked so much like Massacre, I treaded carefully and asked, “You’re married?”
He nodded, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. Opening it, he pulled out a picture and handed it to me. “That’s my Cat.”
“Catalina Demarco,” I whispered, looking at the beautiful Italian woman smiling as she held a baby in her arms, a small boy standing next to her. Behind them were Reggie and Massacre, both smiling for the camera.
“Well, it’s Buchanon now.” Reggie smiled, leaning close and pointing at the little boy. “That’s my son Colin. He’s a lot like Dwayne. The little girl is Victoria, my youngest. She’s almost two now.”
