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NATASHA KOVAK
My hands refuse to stop shaking. The bright lights of Banta City illuminate the quiet SUV as we inch closer to home. On either side of me sleep the children I’ve claimed as my own. Tonight, I made the decision to kill their father.
That’s probably why my hands won’t stop shaking. I clasp them together and press them against my chest. The flesh hidden under my shirt is bruised from where Andrew Grover’s violent hand shoved me backward.
My thoughts return to how quickly everything flipped upside down for me tonight. I’ve been playing my role as dutiful housewife since the day I met his kids and wanted them to be mine.
Andrew never loved me. I don’t even think he liked me. I never cared for him in the least bit. Like so many couples, we stayed together for the kids.
Tonight wasn’t the first time he hit me. During our two years living in the same house, we managed to avoid each other a lot, but Andrew still lashed out from time to time. Our relationship wasn’t about affection. I loved his kids while he wanted someone to take care of the children dropped off on his doorstep. I was more of a nanny than his girlfriend.
Andrew believed I was a desperate woman with no options. I knew he was scum from the moment I woke up in his bed with no idea how I got there. Logically, I should have run and never looked back.
Yet, I heard those sweet voices and was drawn to their crib. They were still babies, dressed only in diapers. Jacinda saw me first and touched her babbling brother’s face. He looked up and found my gaze. Their eyes were so bright and hypnotic. When they smiled at me, I was done for, even if it meant enduring their loser dad.
Over the last two years, Andrew had other women. As a heavy drinker, he regularly spent many hours and hundreds of dollars a week at local bars. He liked watching the games with his friends and was rarely home.
I often pretended I was a single mom. My name was Natalie Simpson. My children’s father died in a blazing fire, leaving us to struggle alone in a dumpy house far from any nightlife. In my fantasy, my life was simple and good.
When Andrew lashed out, I endured his rage for the kids. I never fought back. I’m not a violent person, despite being the youngest living child in a family empowered by bullets and blood.
Tonight, when Andrew lashed out at me, I ended up on the ground. My lip was split. My eye throbbed. My chest ached. His violence was so sudden. I never had a chance to experience fear. I went from unaware to shocked to enraged.
Andrew wasn’t satisfied with making me bleed. A lifetime of his disappointments fell upon the two children running to me. Three-year-old Jacinda and her slightly younger three-year-old brother, Hector, cradled my face. They weren’t crying. Their father’s volatile behavior was normal to them. They only wanted to fix my boo-boos because they mimic me rather than the monster who gave them life. Andrew’s response to their concern for me was what sealed his fate.
The SUV sits in Banta City traffic, inching closer to the Verge Casino, where my own fate will be decided.
I glance at the kids sleeping in their booster seats next to me. Their blond hair shines from the gambling mecca’s bright lights. The average person would think Jacinda and Hector were mine. We’ve played the happy family since they were a year old, but everything came crashing down tonight.
Now, the cleaning crew sends my problem to the boneyard and erases my presence from his life. I had been surprised to open the door and find Viggo leading the team. He retired months before I ran away from Banta City. I’d gone to his party and hugged the older man who worked at my father’s side as they took Banta City from its former criminal owner.
Banta City has long belonged to the Kovak Syndicate. I should feel safe in this place. However, I’ve been gone without contact for two years. I’m unsure if my family will be particularly happy to welcome me back.
Wiping my wet cheeks, I don’t want to cry. I can’t be certain where the tears come from right now. I’m probably sad over how Jacinda and Hector will eventually know I had their father killed. One day, they’ll look at me and see the same monster I saw in Viktor Kovak.
The rumble of nearby motorcycles steals my breath. Despite the tinted windows, I nearly slide down in my seat as if afraid to be seen. Instead, I peek past Hector’s peaceful face and out the window to the men on their idling motorcycles.
The Backcountry Kings Motorcycle Club acts as muscle for my father’s criminal enterprise. The alliance between the two organizations led to the fall of Sly Dardenne’s empire.
None of the men on the idling motorcycles are Bear O’Malley. Long-dormant pain rises in me, swallowing up tonight’s chaos.
The bikers ride on, swerving around the traffic. I let my mind linger on memories of Bear. The biker owned a part of me long before I ever enjoyed a taste of his lips. He’d been one of many handsome, rough men tied to my family. They were also foster brothers to my best friend, Siobhan O’Malley. I’d grown up around them. Never once did I consider a biker as a husband option.
Until I fell for the dark-haired, blue-eyed Bear and never wanted any other man.
I hate how he still owns my heart. I’ve worked hard to forget him. Though Bear O’Malley might not have meant to kill my friend, he’s still the one who pulled the trigger. He doesn’t deserve my longing.
Despite speaking to Siobhan once a week, I don’t even know if Bear’s still alive. She’s the only person I’ve trusted enough to contact during the last two years. Even our best friend Hunter was bound to rat me out to her mom once she learned of Andrew’s violent behavior.
Siobhan and I never discussed my family or the Backcountry Kings. We didn’t mention how Bear killed Ollie. Our conversations remained light. We discussed children, movies, and what foods tempted us to let our asses get huge. I lived in denial for two years, but that’s over now.
My hands still tremble as I notice Andrew’s blood under my nails. My pacifist heart weeps over what I was forced to do tonight.
My older sister, Petra, used to call me naïve. Siohban claimed I was a bleeding heart. My mother once said I refused to understand how the world worked.
They were right. If the world couldn’t be fair and kind, I wanted to be that way myself. For most of my twenty-six years, I’ve been a do-gooder, using my family’s blood money to help those in need. I helped many people with my charities, but Ollie was more than a project. We were childhood friends. He was even my first boyfriend. I wanted everything for him, but the world refused to show mercy. I really had been naïve to hope for a better outcome.
I was less clueless about Andrew, always understanding how the only way for me to walk away from him and keep Jacinda and Hector was to ask my family for help. Even if Andrew was scum, I couldn’t sign his death warrant by making the call for help.
