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With those parting words, he hits me so hard, my vision flashes white, and then it’s lights out.
CHAPTER 10
HEIDI
Sophia is restless when I lay her in her cot. I don’t know if she’s picking up on my morose mood or if she’s just out of sorts, but she’s been like this all day.
She looks up at me with those big eyes, tears making them shiny as her bottom lip wobbles, and my heart wrenches. I wish I could take away whatever she’s feeling.
I place a hand on her belly, trying to soothe her, but she still fusses as she stares up at me.
“Oh, baby girl, try to go to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” I deliver the promise, even though I know it’s bullshit.
Sleep cures nothing.
But then Sophia doesn’t know how cruel and horrible the world is. She has that innocence all babies have, one I intend to keep for her, no matter what it takes.
I rub the pad of my thumb over her eyebrow, and as I do, I hum a song I know she likes.
“Sleep, my angel,” I whisper as her eyes get heavy and she can no longer fight the pull of sleep.
I wait a while after she drops off, just in case she wakes again, and then I head downstairs.
Grabbing my laptop, I load it up and resume my search. I know it’s both dangerous and pointless trying to find out the names of the men who killed my husband, but it has consumed me since my conversation with Blackjack.
I don’t know why it matters so much. They’re gone, and even if I find their names, it won’t change anything.
My hand strays to my stomach, that familiar hollow, gnawing sensation attacking me. Every time I think about that night, it feels as if there is an invisible hand wrapped around my throat, choking the life out of me.
Headlights illuminate the room suddenly, slipping through the gaps in the blinds. It’s not the sound of a bike I hear, but a vehicle.
Closing the laptop, I slide it onto the coffee table and move off the sofa. It’s unusual to hear traffic this late, but with Trick still out, I’m alert. I feel safe with him in the house, but truthfully, we’re never safe.
I pull down the blind just enough to peer out into the soupy darkness. There are streetlights lining the road, but they don’t reach in front of the house, and the headlights are so bright, I can’t make out anything behind them.
Then, I hear a familiar voice.
Hawk.
That stranglehold on my throat vanishes in an instant. I steady my breathing as I rush down the hallway just in time for the front door to swing open, and I stumble to a halt.
Hawk and Brewer are standing in the doorway, holding up a man between them. It’s only the fact I recognise his hair and beard that alerts me to who it is. Trick’s face is swollen beyond recognition, covered in blood and bruises, and his jaw looks twice the size it normally is.
The macabre sight twists my stomach as the fine hairs on my arms stand to attention. I don’t know if Trick can see me through his slitted, puffy eyes, but I wish I couldn’t see him.
“What the fuck…” I murmur under my breath, unable to tear my gaze away as they haul him inside the house between them.
My stomach turns inside out as Hawk kicks shut the front door and Brewer hands me a piece of leather—Trick’s kutte, I realise. The material is soft beneath my fingers, worn from all the years he’s been with the club.
My chest tightens, and bile coats my throat.
It’s not the first time I’ve been handed a kutte like this. They’d given me Theo’s in the hospital after he died.
Memories flash through my mind like the shutter of a camera, and I blink them away, even as fear leaves my hands trembling.
“What… what the hell happened to him?”
Hawk stares at me for a beat before he asks, “Couch or bedroom?”
