Blackout: Book One (The Leather & Lace Duet 1) Read online

  The Devil be damned.

  Smiling at him, I bring his hands to my belly.

  “I hope so,” I tell him, as his eyes move to my stomach. After a moment he draws out a sigh and shakes his head.

  “The thought of you pregnant blows my mind,” he confesses softly. I know he’s scared, that having a baby is just another worry to add to the long list he carries with him every day. The concerns he voiced last night are all valid. We’re damaged goods. That, we know. But there aren’t two people more deserving of the happiness a child brings.

  “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” I ask, dropping my gaze to his hands. I wonder if he realizes he’s drawing circles on my belly with his thumbs.

  “No,” he replies. Keeping one hand on my stomach, he lifts the other to my chin and forces my eyes back to his. “I don’t think you realize how big this is for me.”

  “It’s a baby, Blackie. A living, breathing thing that we’re going to be responsible for. Trust me, I get it.”

  He’s not the only one scared.

  For a long time, I couldn’t take care of myself. I couldn’t make sense of my feelings or my thoughts. I doubted every single thing in my life and now, here I am, consciously choosing to bring another life into this world.

  “That’s not what I mean,” he says. “Lace, ten years ago, I thought I’d be dead at the age of thirty-five. Now, I’m pushing forty, got a gorgeous wife who is thirteen years younger than me and she wants to give me a baby. Don’t you get it? I wasn’t meant to live this life. I’m not the guy who gets it all and yet here I am. Breathing and basking in the beautiful that’s around me.”

  “Maybe you stepped in shit somewhere,” I joke, desperate to keep that look of contentment on his face. “I hear it’s supposed to be lucky.”

  “You’re a smartass.”

  “A smartass who loves you like crazy,” I tell him, dipping my head to give him a kiss. His hand doesn’t move from my belly and that causes me to smile against his mouth. Fears aside, I can’t wait to make this man a father. He doesn’t know it yet but Blackie’s going to be the best daddy.

  The sound of his phone ringing interrupts the moment and I reluctantly roll off him as he reaches for it on the nightstand.

  “Your old man has the worst fucking timing,” he growls as he presses the phone to his forehead. Raising an eyebrow, I watch as he ignores the call and bites out a curse. “Think if I told him I was about to eat your pussy, he’d stop calling?”

  “I think he’d shoot you.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he grunts, tearing the phone away from his head. I watch as he swipes his thumb across the screen and lifts it to his ear. “Yeah,” he mutters.

  The carefree look flees his face and I tear my eyes away from him. Sighing, I slip out of bed and make my way into the bathroom. Blackie’s right, my father has horrible timing. I suppose we should be grateful he called rather than just show up uninvited.

  Once, after we first got married, he started ringing the bell while we were in the shower. Neither of us heard the bell but even if we had, we wouldn’t have stopped fucking to let him in. Anyway, he helped himself inside by breaking our window. He couldn’t unsee what he saw when he found us and since then he mostly calls.

  Still, I hate that every time he calls, my husband looks like he wants to bury his phone in a ditch somewhere. But I don’t ask questions. Growing up as Jack Parrish’s daughter, I’ve learned some things are better left unknown. Whatever shit the Knights are dealing with is no business of mine. My job is to make a home for my man, a safe place where he can escape whatever hell he’s got on his plate. One day that role will change. One day, my dad won’t be the one calling the shots. Blackie will take his place and I’ll be the First Lady. Together, we’ll carry out my father’s beliefs. All the burdens, every enemy, and the family he’s created will all be ours. It’s a heavy load and another reason I’m sure my husband is scared about having a baby.

  But I refuse to let the sins of my father dictate our life together.

  In fact, I think it’s time for daddy’s little girl to pay him a visit.

  Over the last few weeks, he’s been dumping a lot on Blackie. I don’t know if it’s because the last enemy to threaten my father’s territory, Vladimir Yankovich, has been a phantom and my father feels helpless against his wrath or what but, I want him to lay off my husband and if Jack Parrish listens to anyone in this world, it’s usually me.

  Oh, who the fuck am I kidding?

  My father doesn’t listen to anyone but himself and sometimes his maker.

  Should be a fun conversation…said no one ever.

  Chapter Four

  BLACKIE

  All I wanted was to disconnect from everything and spend the day with my wife. Love her, fuck her, just lose myself in her. After we spent the entire day being naked, I wanted to take her out and show the world how fucking lucky I was. Maybe we would’ve gone to that dine-in movie theater that she likes so much or that little hole in the wall Mexican restaurant she’s always talking about. I would’ve taken her anywhere, to the ends of the world and back, would’ve done just about anything she asked just so long as we got to pretend like we were a normal fucking couple.

  Just to be able to breathe.

  But my plan was shot to shit when Jack called. I could tell by the tone of his voice, he was flying high on the mania and instantly I forgot my own needs. I forgot I was up all hours of the night struggling not to succumb to my own demons and put Jack and his before mine.

  Like a trained chimp, I followed command and dragged my ass to the safe house we had tucked away in the woods and braced myself for the next blow. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for what the fuck I found.

  Apparently, while we were off reading Yankovich his last rights, Bianci, the former enforcer and son-in-law of the late mobster, Victor Pastore, decided to take care of the paramedic by tying her up and holding her hostage. Now, here I am, trying my hardest to ignore the young woman begging me to shoot her.

  “What the fuck are we going to do with her?” Deuce asks, forcing my attention away from the girl thrashing in the chair.

  “Fuck if I know,” I growl, stepping out of the room. Brushing past him, I make my way into the tiny living room and slice my eyes to Pipe. “Did you know about this?”

  Crossing his leg over his knee, he leans back against the chair and scratches at the scruff lining his jaw. “Not at first,” he replies. “When we got back to Brooklyn, we made our way to the garage and found the place swarming with cops. They were bagging her partner and wanted to take us in for questioning. Jack told them Yankovich came to the garage looking to throw down. He proceeded to tell them Yankovich killed the paramedic before he tied this bitch up and shoved her in the back of the ambulance.”

  “The ambulance Jack drove into the front gate of Yankovich’s house?” Deuce questions.

  “That’s the one.”

  “And they bought that?” Deuce fires back.

  “Forget that,” I hiss, jutting a finger over my shoulder. “What the fuck is he planning on doing with her?”

  “What do you think he’s going to do with her? Keep her as a souvenir?” Pipe retorts, dropping his leg. I watch as he leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees and diverts his eyes towards the bedroom where the girl is crying. “I’m guessing that’s why he called you,” he says, slicing his gaze back to me. “Make the call, Black.”

  “Fuck that,” I sneer. “We’re not killing her.”

  “So, what do you suggest we do?” Pipe growls. “If we let her go, she’s going to run to the cops. You ready for that because they’re going to lock him up, motherfucker, and you’re going to be the one sitting at the head of the table.”

  Reaching behind me, I cup the back of my neck and clench my jaw.

  “We’re not going there,” I tell Pipe.

  “Get your head out of your fucking ass, Black,” Pipe roars. “We’re fucking losing him and it’s t
ime you accept that. The sooner you do, the sooner we stop painting the streets with blood. You need to step up, take a fucking stand and claim what’s yours before we all fucking get killed.”

  “No one’s dying,” I shout.

  “Oh, no? Tell that to the girl inside.”

  “Look, I won’t deny the fact we’re in over our heads, but we just got rid of Yankovich. That’s major. Any ally he’s got is going to be looking to make a move on us and let’s not forget we haven’t gotten to the bottom of this mess with Wolf. That shit has got to be weighing on Jack. Hell, it’s fucking weighing on me.”

  “It’s weighing on all of us, brother,” Pipe seethes. “We went to the hospital after the cops let us loose. Jack and Wolf spoke but he wouldn’t tell me what the fuck happened.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Who the fuck knows. I’m tired of figuring out that son of a bitch, but whatever excuse Wolf gave him for keeping Linc a secret, Jack seemed to accept. I’m gathering he’ll share when he calls church. In the meantime, we hold our dicks and wait.”

  “Where’s Wolf?”

  “Where the fuck do you think he is?” Pipe fires back, pulling a cigarette from his ear. He shoves it between his lips and lights the end. Taking a long pull, he exhales a ring of smoke and lifts his eyes to mine. “The man is sitting vigil, praying to whatever God might be listening that he spares his boy.”

  “Does anyone else know about this?” I ask, referencing the fucking paramedic in the bedroom.

  Pipe takes another drag of his cigarette before shrugging his shoulders.

  “Maybe Riggs,” he says, looking over my shoulder at Deuce. “You would know better than me since I’ve been on paramedic duty for the last twenty-four hours.”

  “Stryker and Cobra don’t know and I gotta tell you after everything Ally went through, I wish I didn’t know either.”

  “What about Bas and Needles?”

  The last I heard, Bas stayed in Purchase to see what happened with Yankovich’s wife and kids. Being his daughter’s sole caregiver, I doubt Needles stayed behind too.

  “Bas left early this morning for Kentucky,” Pipe reveals. “Some kind of family emergency,” he adds.

  “Needles is home with his daughter,” Deuce supplies. “He gave Ally off the next few days so I’m guessing he’s planning on spending some time with her.”

  “Must be nice,” Pipe mutters.

  Sensing he’s at his breaking point, I cross my arms against my chest and jut my chin towards the front door. I know the pain that comes with losing your wife. I also know when you get a second chance, you hold on tight. Pipe’s waited a long time to have something good to go home to. Now, he’s got it all. A woman to keep him in check and three beautiful kids to keep him on his toes.

  “Go home to your family, Pipe,” I order. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Crushing his cigarette in an ashtray, he peers back at me. I turn my head and meet Deuce’s gaze.

  “You too,” I tell him. After everything his girl endured, he doesn’t need to hear that girl in there crying. He doesn’t need to hear her beg for death. Not when Ally begged for fourteen years. Not when she still wakes at night reliving the days she was held against her will.

  “What are you going to do with her?” Deuce questions.

  “I’m not going to hurt her if that’s what you’re asking,” I assure him. If Jack wants to kill this girl, he’s going to have to do it himself.

  “You want me to send someone to relieve you?” Pipe asks. “We got the prospect Leo who does nothing but jerk his cock.”

  “I don’t want a prospect on this,” I tell him.

  “Alright, brother,” Pipe says. “I’ll be back tonight. We’ll take shifts until Jack figures out what the fuck we’re going to do with her.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, dropping my ass on the worn couch. Settling in, I run my fingers through my hair and silently will the girl to shut the fuck up.

  “And Black?” Pipe calls.

  Lifting my head, I meet his gaze.

  “Don’t get soft,” he warns. “We don’t know her, ain’t got no ties to her. She’s just space.”

  “She’s a fucking innocent bystander,” Deuce argues. “All she did was go to work. She didn’t ask for any of this.”

  Shoving Deuce towards the door, Pipe clenches his jaw and turns back to me.

  “She’s nothing, Black,” he reiterates. “Remember that.”

  I don’t respond. I don’t even nod my head. Instead, I close my eyes and wait for them to leave. When I hear the rumble of their bikes sound, I open my eyes and stare at the wall. The girls muffled cries fill my ears and I clench my fists.

  Pipe couldn’t be more wrong.

  That girl is somebody.

  She’s somebody’s daughter.

  Somebody’s sister.

  Somebody’s love.

  For Christ’s sake, she could be somebody’s mother.

  Shaking the possibility from my head, I rise from the couch and walk into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, I slide it under the tap and fill it with water. My phone rings and I set the glass down on the counter before reaching inside my kutte to retrieve it. I stare at Billy’s name on the screen and decline the call.

  Breathe.

  Just fucking breathe.

  Pocketing the phone, I take the glass and dump the water in the sink. Eying the bottle of scotch on the counter, I move to the refrigerator and fill my glass with ice.

  The phone rings again.

  The girl continues to cry.

  And me?

  I reach for the bottle. Filling my glass, I give myself a pass. It’s just one drink. It's not like I’m shooting heroin or snorting blow.

  Just one drink.

  Something to take the edge off.

  To dull the sound of that innocent girls cries.

  The first swig goes down easy and before I realize it, one drink turns to two.

  I forget to breathe.

  My head goes under and I drown.

  I just fucking drown.

  Chapter Five

  Lacey

  Pausing in front of my father’s house, I turn and stare at the street. Instantly, my mind wanders back to that fateful day when I was five years old. I remember the horror I felt as I stood paralyzed and watched my baby brother get struck by the car that took his precious life. It doesn’t matter how many years go by, the image of Junior’s lifeless body is forever ingrained to my memory and every time I visit my dad, I feel the guilt of being his surviving child. Every time I ring that bell and he opens the door, I still look at him and see him kneeling in the street, holding his son. I still hear the sound of his heartbreaking screams and his raspy voice as he begged for God to spare him.

  Closing my eyes, I shake the memory from my head and recite the same words over and over.

  It’s not your fault.

  You were just a kid yourself.

  No one blames you.

  Especially not your father.

  Blowing out a breath, I open my eyes and start for the stoop. I fix my mask to my face, planting that fake as shit smile everyone’s come to love to my lips, and ring the doorbell. After a few moments pass, I ring it again and glance back at the driveway. Both his bike and Reina’s car are parked in the driveway. Weighing my options, I bite my lip. No daughter, no matter how old she is, wants to walk in on her father as he goes to town on her stepmother—even if said father is deserving of the interruption.

  The door swings open before I can fully decide, and I’m greeted with Reina’s grief-stricken face. Instantly, I ditch the false pretenses and narrow my eyes in concern. My father doesn’t dub her Sunshine for nothing. The woman is always so put together and I don’t just mean appearance wise. She rolls with the punches and never lets anything drag her down. Whatever situation my father finds himself in, she’s right there facing it with him. Nothing rattles her and if it does, well she’s got one fuck of a mask too.

  “What’
s wrong?” I ask hoarsely, watching as she wipes away her tears.

  “Now isn’t a good time, Lace,” she cries. “You need to go.”

  “Not a good way to get me to leave, Reina,” I reply as I slice my eyes over her shoulder. “What’s going on? Where’s my father?”

  “Lace, please,” she snaps. “Just go home. We’ll call you later.”

  At the abrupt tone of her voice, my gaze shoots back to her and I swallow the lump in my throat. I have enough experience in life to know a lot can change in a short while, but it’s only been two hours since my dad called Blackie and while he was quick to leave the house after he hung up with him, he didn’t let on that my father was in any kind of trouble. He pulled his clothes on, shoved his arms into his kutte and kissed me goodbye, promising to pick up where we left off when he got home. If something was wrong, I’d like to think he’d tell me.

  “I’m not leaving, and I really don’t want to push you out of my way, so—”

  My words die on my tongue as she steps forward and narrows her swollen eyes in my direction.

  “You were never here; do you understand me? If your father finds out I let you see him like this, he will never forgive me.”

  “See him like what?” I whisper.

  “Your word, Lacey. Now,” she demands.

  Swallowing, I nod my head.

  “I was never here.”

  Satisfied, she steps to the side and allows me room to enter. I don’t move right away and for a moment I feel like that five-year-old little girl again. The girl who tried to tell her dad that her little brother was outside by himself, but he was too consumed by the mania in his head to notice she even existed. With my heart in my throat, I find the courage to push that little girl aside and step foot inside the house.