Page 82 of Hostile Saint

I dipped my chin. “Point taken.”

“Good.” Then Dagger asked, “Could you find your way back to where this happened?”

Thumbing over my shoulder to Vice, in headphones, I stared at the man who was one of the best I’d ever know. “I take it you don’t need to compare my story to hers?”

Observing me intently, he shook his head slowly. “Kid, we are bullshit detectors and gut followers. I’d bet my life what you’re spillin’ is real.”

In some sort of surrender or deep understanding, I calmly nodded. “Yeah, it happened.”

Lynx asked me, “Do you know what the chase was about? What happened to the kids once caught?”

Again, I serenely nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Just then, Vice’s chair abruptly skidded backward. I didn’t even have to look over my shoulder to see him leap out of his chair. In the reflection of the sliding glass door, I saw him rip off his earphones, throw them to the table, then back away from the laptop until his back was plastered against a wall, almost on the balls of his feet like a scared cat.

Dagger sunk his face into his palms. “God help us.”

Muscles in Lynx’s jaw twitched as he stared at his brave and formidable Enforcer, now spooked and positively horrified. Then Lynx swallowed before letting out a very long breath of sorrow. He quietly said to Vice, “Tell me that’s being recorded.”

Eyeing the laptop like it were a newfound enemy, Vice sneered, “It is, but I ain’t ever listening to it again. And you can’t fucking make me.”

When these men first learned of incidents that had happened to me by the brothers, it was Lynx who lost control, damaging the rental car. Now, it was Vice’s turn to wave the flag of mercy.

In the reflection of the glass, I watched him approach me from behind the couch. This huge and burly man grabbed my face and held it firmly as he leaned his forehead to the top of my hair.

I held his wrists. “She’ll be okay, Vice. She’ll be okay.”

Holding tight, he jostled my head. “And you?”

Now that I was remembering all the revulsion that had him so disturbed, it was amazing how calm I was. But there was peace in finally knowing my past. It was made of maddening nightmares, but at least there were no more secrets. There were things to learn and endure, but my past was all mine now. What I chose to do with it, how I chose to handle it, was completely up to me.

That was empowering.

Those sick men, my fake brothers, my pretend mom, may have all taken from me, but they lacked the power to prevent me from giving to myself. I was going to own my healing process. When I chose to be strong, I would be. If I chose to have a bad day, well, that was my fucking choice.

I kept a hold of Vice’s wrists. “I can honestly say that I’m okay. It’s not going to always be easy, but I believe I can do this.”

Not lifting his head from mine, Vice nodded. He held us there for a few moments before saying, “I don’t have pity for you. I have admiration for your strength.” I was just about to comment on the unexpected soft side he was exposing, but then he exhaled. “It will be an honor to be by your side when we kill these fuckers.”

Maybe it is twisted to find comfort in a plan to murder, but his wanting to be there meant so much to me that I couldn’t speak.

Yeah, I guess Lynx was right when saying bikers are a different breed.

As if my silence was totally readable, Vice nodded his head against mine. “Good.” Then he added, “I feel the need to go watch over your wife.”

Those words felt like God was empowering me even more. This time, through another deadly biker. I was grateful for the blessing, so I whispered, “Then I know she will be safe.”

Affectionately, he knocked his forehead to the top of my head and left.

In the garage, his dragon roared to life… and faded away.

Dagger leaned back in his chair. “I have never seen that man like that.”

Lynx eyed the laptop behind me. “We’ve seen wicked shit, kid. We’ve dealt with some of the vilest of men.” He exhaled, long and hard. “Men like I’m describing had my sister.” He peered to the ground. “They had children, too.” His eyes slid shut. “Chained… Doghouses…” His grey eyes opened, haunted from memories I couldn’t see but could sure feel and sympathize with. “But… those twisted fucks were driven by money. Did they rape their victims?” He nodded. “Yeah, but… pleasure in the ‘hunt’ of their victims?” He bit his bottom lip. “Nah. The drive behind what you’re describing is making my skin crawl.”

He didn’t push for answers, but I knew this Prez wanted them. It was in his nature to know and study what he was up against. So, I told him, “My past in those woods now feels like I’ve finally finished rereading a whole book. But please understand, the first time I read it I was terribly young.”

His chest expanded then relaxed. “And now? Seeing those pages with older eyes?”