《River's Keeper》


 Life as I, we know it

    ¡°She was forgettable, why couldn¡¯t I stay away.¡±


    <img>


    Prelude


    Growing up life was good, simple. I took it for granted.


    Why not right? I had a stay at home mom and two older brothers. I was the baby and my family treated me as one.


    My dad was an electrician for a machine repair company, 10 miles from Laurelhurst, our suburban homestay.


    We were never rich, neither were we hurting for cash. I never wore thrift store clothing. Nor did I have to eat the same food two days in a row. Overall life was good.


    I know it now, but then I didn''t have a clue. Then, life was normal. I never knew things any other way. I was young like that. Na?ve.


    I attended a public school like most kids in Laurelhurst. Graduating top of my class, I was the first in my family to get accepted into Harvard University. Yes, I was going to do my first-year pre-med. I wanted to be a neurosurgeon. I was ambitious, filled with goals and dreams.


    It''s amazing how life seems to be going so great, those sleepless nights finally paying off. Because I can tell you, that when you''re flying high you feel invincible. I did, and it was the best feeling I ever had.


    My brothers attended Washington State, not far from home. Ridge finished his degree in accounting, and Freddy was already a hard-working electrical engineer for a local company. Both my brothers married young. Freddy divorced Celeste a year after they¡¯d tied the knot. He kept insisting she was insane and mom agreed. Freddy had never been happier than the day he signed those papers.


    My eldest brother Ridge was six years into his marriage and a proud father of twin girls, Alison and Stacy. Add in a wife that practically took out his socks when he got home from work, Ridge felt like he was king.


    He hardly ever came home but mom and dad didn''t mind. They believed that no news meant good news. I think they were just tired of having such a noisy house and wanted peace. My parents liked their quiet time.


    And me? I was soon to be a student at Harvard. Life was looking up for me. And with my parents who considered the possibility and two brothers who were thrilled I got accepted, I had enough money to pay for the books I needed. It was the only part my scholarship wasn¡¯t going to cover.


    The world felt touchable and mine for the taking. I was ready to spread my wings and leave my mark on my country. And before I knew it, I was in Cambridge, Massachusetts attending Harvard University.


    The first year went on by faster than I thought. I didn''t make it home until Christmas. My short breaks were spent studying for extra credits and working at the Sleeve, an upper-class five-star restaurant in the City. I was too exhausted to do anything else.


    My personal life was zero to negative one. I was a nineteen-year-old Harvard student with no boyfriend and one friend if I counted my teddy-bear I won at the fair last fall. I wasn''t refined enough for the rich kids, not smart enough for the geeks and not serious enough to hang with the other scholarship kids.


    It was unacceptable to just be me, I guess. It was the main reason I got the job and focused on my studies.


    I believed that if I kept my head on my goals, the time would fly. The thing is, I wasn''t paying attention to the other stuff. My mind was focused on my work. That was my first mistake.


    My mom always told me that multi-tasking was important, and looking back I should''ve listened, but I didn''t.


    Before I knew it, I was in my second year and that was when I got sidetracked.


    It was one of those days, where the wind was just wilder than the previous ones. No certainty of what the hours would bring. I always found the air much cleaner and refreshing to smell on campus than the stuffy scent of central city.


    Spending time on the grounds whilst I immersed my brain into the complexity of human anatomy was the one pleasure, I allowed myself. And that day was no different. A bit of wind didn''t deter me in the slightest.


    I had two free periods before I needed to attend a Chemistry class. I was wearing my signature Harvard outfit, comprised of chino pants and a white button-down shirt, completed with a pair of flat nude pumps.


    On my first day at Harvard, I arrived in my normal clothes, baggy black Levi jean, black t-shirt paired off with Neon green and pink D&G sneakers. Around my head were my personal styled shocking blue headphones.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    I was there for all but ten minutes before I learned that my loose jean and tank tops were not impressing any faculty members. If that wasn''t ¡®message¡¯ enough, the next day my bio professor kindly asked me to dress more ¡®conservative¡¯.


    She went as far as letting me out of class early so I could purchase some ¡®serious clothing¡¯.


    Now, a year later and I barely recognized myself.


    My maroon framed glasses were the only sign on my body that told people I liked the color, but you didn''t hear me complaining. I had a plan, goals.


    I was going to be a kick-ass Doctor. Nevermind if I lost a little bit of myself along the way. Who the hell cared if I lost weight and became a shell of the person I once was? So, fucking what, if I was god damn miserable?


    I had goals dammit.


    Let me tell you the thing about goals, they mean nothing, abso-fucking-lutely nothing if you aren''t paying attention to the obstacles because there are always obstacles.


    Mine came in a six-foot, two-hundred-pound male named Landon Bennet. He was gorgeous, perfect teeth, perfect hair and a laugh that had me making many mistakes in my life. I met him on the second day of my second year at Harvard.


    When I think about how clich¨¦ it sounds, saying he was so perfect, so gorgeous, I think of how young and na?ve I was back then.


    I recall how stupid and foolish I was. He was a junior partner at a law firm, six-years older than me. And I shit you not, he was my biology professor¡¯s brother.


    He charmed me within a week, took my virginity in a month and snatched my heart in three. I was a goner for a handsome face and a dazzling smile and in just a year I was Mrs. Hannah Bennet.


    In my third year of med-school, my days were spent on Campus and hospitals whilst my nights split into attending Galas or Charity events always ending under Landon.


    I failed my third year and Landon insisted I didn''t need to work. I should stay at home, he said. Studying wasn''t important, I was a kept woman. And like the good wife I was, agreed with him.


    That was the second mistake I made. I should''ve never left Harvard.


    My parents were devastated. And my brothers? they didn''t even talk to me. That was when I made my third mistake, I cut my family out. I forgot about them, ignored them and eventually, they forgot about me too.


    Looking back, I think it was in the third year of our marriage that Landon changed. He wanted a son; I couldn''t give it to him.


    I wasn''t sure why I couldn''t fall pregnant. The doctors insisted I was fine. Landon was fine, we were both young fertile people. We had a great sex life, we never used protection, I couldn''t understand it.


    That should''ve been my first sign but remember I said I wasn''t paying attention. At this stage in my life, I had one goal, pleasing my husband and that was having a baby.


    Unfortunately, my husband didn''t feel as pleased with me as I thought. I found this out in our fourth year of marriage when a woman walked up to our door with a baby in her arms claiming it was Landon''s son. It was Landon''s son.


    My husband was cheating on me. Of course, he blamed the entire thing on me. Accusing all of this on me. He said it was my fault because I couldn''t fall pregnant, I couldn''t give him a son.


    After that day I stopped being the good wife, I stopped caring for my husband. Because you see that day, I had a secret of my own, I was pregnant.


    I filed for divorce three-weeks later. Landon didn''t contest the divorce. He was too wrapped up being a new dad. And I was glad.


    If he knew I was carrying his kid I don''t think he would''ve let me go so easy. Then again would he have cared? He let me go without a fight the first time. I don''t think adding a baby after he already had one would''ve changed his mind.


    So, there I was, a pregnant twenty-four-year-old divorced, Med-school dropout.


    There was no place for me to stay, nothing to fall back on. Not like I could''ve gone home. My parents were no longer an option for me. I burned those bridges for a man who couldn''t keep it in his pants and practically replaced me with an older woman.


    I had little to no money in my bank account because when I was getting married, I didn''t stop to think about the anti-nuptial contract I signed.


    I was too na?ve. And let''s just say Landon wasn''t feeling very generous after I destroyed his house. Technically I didn''t blame the guy, I did overdo it.


    Throwing a piano out of his window was bound to piss him off. At the time that was the goal, now I was wishing I didn''t. Especially since I was going to have to tell him in nine months that we made a baby together.


    I wasn''t a bad person.


    Any man, no matter how much of an asshole he turned out to be, deserved to know his kid. Well, at least be given the chance.


    I was hoping Landon wouldn''t want that chance.


    So pregnant, homeless, and six suitcases full of clothes, shoes, and underwear that wouldn''t fit me in five months, it was very light to say my options were limited. I didn''t know much about what I was going to do, but like always I had a plan, and this time I was finally paying attention.


    I was going to move to a small place, where nobody knew Landon Bennet, the famous Mercantile Attorney. I wanted a place where I could just live. Somewhere safe for my baby, cheap for my pocket and far from this City.


    A small town. The good thing about America is we had those in spades. There were small towns everywhere. Fewer people, quiet places, perfect for me, safe for my baby.


    Choosing a place was the easy part, but getting a job proved tricky. I traveled to Texas and stopped in town after town. I applied for different jobs and when I didn''t get a call back, I moved on.


    By the time I finally found my new home, I had sold my jewelry, and pawned five pairs of Jimmy Choo shoes. I had around three hundred dollars in my bank account from living wisely and was eighteen weeks pregnant with my daughter, Jocelyn May Evans the second.


    I was also the newest medical secretary for the Med-life hospital in a small town called Kanla. My income would be good enough to rent a small apartment on the outer part of the residential area and support my baby. It was going to be tight, but we¡¯d get by.


    That was my goal. I was paying attention and thinking about the bigger picture. I was finally multitasking because I didn''t have a choice. I, Hannah Evans was a single, pregnant woman in a new town.


    It was scary starting a life on my own and then bringing a child into the mix. But pray and behold, after fifteen hours of labor pains and an emergency c-section later, on July 15th Jocelyn May Evans the second was born.


    I was a mother and for the first time in years I didn''t feel lost, I didn''t feel unwanted, I wasn''t alone anymore. I was the mother of a healthy baby girl. It was then that I decided that the only goal I would ever have was to be the best mother I could be and lord did I try.

 The time is now

    <img>


    HANNAH


    6 years later


    ¡°Jo come on, we gonna be late,¡± I scream from inside where I''m currently standing by the small kitchen window watching my little girl chasing Kim McGerby¡¯s son around the small complex where we stay. Well used to stay.


    After five years of saving all my quarters, doing double shifts and working part-time for my friend DJ


    I¡¯ve finally managed to put a down payment on a small two-bedroom house in the center of Kanla.


    It¡¯s down the road from the diner and local church, barely a couple of miles from work and most importantly it¡¯s near my best friend DJ¡¯s house.


    It isn''t a prime location, but then again this is Kanla, there is none. But the place is mine, well as mine as it can be until I paid off the mortgage.


    Jocelyn has been so excited about the new place, having her own room and a yard but all I''ve been doing is stressing. And with barely two days to settle in before work Monday morning and that includes today there isn''t time for anything else.


    My bestie DJ owns the local club just past the mall about five miles north from the hospital where I work.


    She couldn''t close shop today and I didn''t expect her to, especially when it was the busiest day of the month. She offered to help me out tomorrow morning but I never miss church so I ended up taking my co-workers up on their standing offer to come in today and help me unpack.


    There is no way I''m going to be able to swing it on my own.


    Jocelyn¡¯s light brown locks swish down her back, looking golden under the bright Southern sun as she runs inside.


    My head shakes in amazement as I watch my little hero. Her long legs carry her closer to me, before a pair of light grey eyes so much like my own find me staring. Her small button nose scrunches up right before she blesses me with one of her goofy smiles and rolls her eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got practice in fifteen minutes. Get your shoes on missy.¡±


    She scowls, as her nose wrinkles, a telltale sign that I''m not going to like what my six-year-old kid is about to say,


    ¡°I told you I ain''t no missy momma. Missy is Jamie Coleman¡¯s sister and I ain''t her, she stinks like rotten fish, I saw her yesterday down by the field and she looked like she didn''t bathe for days, Caden said if we went close to her we might catch somethin¡¯, is it true momma?¡±


    ¡°Jocelyn May, didn''t I tell you not to bad mouth that girl.¡±


    ¡°I ain''t bad-mouthing her, I was just¡­¡± she argues back at the same time her posture straightens in defense.


    ¡°Just what Jo?¡± I interrupt in my sternest voice, my eyes firmly placed on hers.


    We stay like this, in a standoff until she relents. Her shoulders hunch and she huffs with a slight frown still marring her brows,


    ¡°Nothing momma.¡±


    ¡°That''s what I thought, that girl has enough to worry about without you and your friends adding to that.¡± I don''t like this part of parenting, and there was a time when I didn''t do it but my baby got out of hand when she pushed a kid off a swing last year.


    I was called into the pre-school and ended up taking Jocelyn out and transferring her to the local public school even though I knew she wasn''t entirely to blame. The boy she pushed played a part too, the only difference was that Jo was the first one to strike.


    At the time I didn''t know how to handle this. I wasn''t keen on spanking my kid and punishing her seemed a bit harsh. Talking to her didn''t work either because my baby even at five had a temper. So, becoming stern and strict was my go-to evil, but a necessary one at that. Lord knew that if I didn''t play the bad parent game with my kid what my baby would turn out like.


    But it doesn''t mean I like it, my mother never told me how hard it was to be a mother, she made it look easy. It''s the most difficult position a person can have.


    When you got a determined kid like Jocelyn staring at you hunched and sorrowful, it''s even worse. Because even though I''m aware that deep down she doesn''t see the error of her ways I just got to go mush.


    It''s like a curse because instead of letting Jo pass me like the strict parent I''m ought to be, I snatch her around the belly and tickle her something crazy.


    She howls, ¡°Momma, I¡¯m gonna pee my panties.¡±


    My big smile matches hers as I let her go, ¡®cause now I''m feeling lighter. Watching her rush off to our old room where I still have a few suitcases scattered on the floor that needs to be taken over to our new place, my moment of happiness is short-lived. Truth is it¡¯s hard as a parent as is, but a single one? I have no clue how I''ve done it for these past six-years.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    My hat comes off for those single parents with two or more kids just doing it on their own.


    But isn''t that what loving our kids is about? Sacrifice, selflessness, love, devotion. It''s so close to marriage vows, difference is, being a parent isn''t tied by empty promises, and repeated words.


    To be a parent is to be bound by blood, it''s a lifetime commitment.


    Because, no matter where you are, or where your kid is, the day that child sucked its first breath was the day you became bound.


    I am no perfect mother, but I have made sacrifices.


    One of them was staying in this one-bedroom complex since I stepped foot in Kanla almost six years ago.


    At one time it was enough for the two of us, but my girl is tall and she needs her own space. I thought about this when Jo was a year old and was getting bigger and fast. She is one of the tallest in her class and a purebred tomboy.


    Hence why I¡¯m taking her to soccer practice on a Saturday morning and not to dance lessons like most of the girls in Kanla. But Jocelyn has never been anything but unique.


    ¡°Momma let¡¯s go I''m done.¡±


    Her grey eyes shoot up, and my heart swells with a heaviness I''ve always blamed on my past because she looks just like her father when she does that even with eyes and curly light brown hair so much like my own.


    Too bad he will never know that.


    Six-years-ago I kept my word and emailed Landon a picture of a one-week old Jocelyn and a note that it was his.


    I promised myself, I wouldn''t recall the email he sent me back unless I had to. But I will just say that he wanted nothing to do with his daughter.


    I didn''t cry as I should''ve, I guess a part of me knew that it would be a possibility even though it hurt. I did love the man once, I mean I married him, gave up Harvard for him.


    Didn''t it count for something? Apparently not.


    He didn''t even have the decency to send me a parting check or offer to pay child support.


    It would''ve been nice if he could''ve helped me pay for at least one pack of diapers or sat with me on one of those sleepless nights when she suffered from colic but whatever.


    I had no regrets because I wasn''t looking over my back waiting for him to come and take her away these past six-years. Jocelyn might be fatherless but she has me.


    She is my kid; all mine and I like not having to share her with anybody else. I''m selfish like that.


    ¡°Please put your seatbelt on, I''m not getting stopped today by Sheriff Briggs ¡®cause you can''t sit still,¡± I say as I open the back door of my small white Camry knowing I''m going to be shouting at her about the same thing until we get to soccer practice.


    Lucky, I have a safe ride.


    The car is something I bought off DJ a few years back. It was a newer model at the time and she allowed me to pay her off over the past three years, interest-free.


    Which worked out well because there was no way I could afford something so nice otherwise. But that''s the thing about Kanla, the people are either your friends and they''re all in or they aren''t.


    There''s no grey areas and no shady characters. Well, at least not anymore.


    Three-years back, a drug ring came around our small town. In the beginning, a lot of the youngsters got hooked on drugs.


    And the thrill of hanging with the gangster group was the weekend rush.


    That was until someone ended up dead and it wasn''t from an overdose.


    No, more like cold-blooded murder.


    After that, things got very bad.


    The gangsters started robbing our stores and pushing people around, there were even incidences of rape.


    I wasn''t sure who it was but somebody around here knew a biker club and next thing we knew these scary men and women were riding on motorcycles and taking residence in our town.


    They wore sleeveless jackets with lots of different color patches in the front and a logo on the back that was meant to scare everybody and called themselves The Satan Sniper¡¯s Motorcycle Club.


    The motorcycle club pushed the gangsters out and kept any riff-raff from entering Kanla since.


    The bikers never really kept to themselves. From the first day they rode into town, it was never a secret that they lived here. Some of them have since opened businesses.


    Others were building properties, hiring locals and creating more job opportunities for our residents. A few of them even volunteer around the town.


    They protect our small population and in return, we adopt a don''t ask don''t tell policy. We all know they are a group of Ex-snipers and soldiers who still work for the government.


    We aren''t sure what they do in that farmhouse all the time but I heard rumors that I¡¯m not too keen on confirming its authenticity.


    The finer details are something I am still not sure of because it isn''t my business but like all the folks in Kanla, I¡¯m just glad to have them around.


    I was so close to skipping this small place when the drug gang moved to town because as much as I love Kanla I love Jocelyn much more and if it wasn''t for The Satan Snipers, I¡¯m not sure what I would''ve done.


    I double-check to make sure my kid is buckled up in the back. No matter how many times I''m going to ¡®remind¡¯ Jo to put her seatbelt back on, there is no way I¡¯m starting this car until I know I have at least made sure she¡¯s strapped up when we leave.


    Once my sunglasses are on my eyes, I take the thirty-minute drive in stride, and pass the park and then The Satan Snipers Clubhouse before finally getting to the school.


    This, however, doesn''t happen without me telling Jo a million times to put her seatbelt on because I''m driving.


    Lucky enough I don''t get stopped by that jackass Sheriff Briggs. The man still thinks I''m going to go on a date with him.


    Stepping out of the car with my black converse and shorts I lastly realize I forgot to change my black t-shirt which is full of bleach stains from the cleaning I was doing this morning. I open the door for Jo and she hops out.


    Her eyes rooted toward the field in front of us that I know is full of boys and fathers. The Sun''s bright rays have me squinting when I slip off my shades.


    ¡°Momma can I go now?¡± Jo asks me in a hurried voice, anxious as ever to see her friends.


    I look down at her outfit to make sure she''s good. Her white shorts have a bit of a stain but either than that her white t-shirt is clean, hair neat but still open and big frown plastered on her face is all normal when she''s antsy.


    ¡°You good to go, baby, no pushing today alright, can I get a kiss,¡± I say as I pinch her cheek.


    ¡°Momma, Caden¡¯s watchin¡¯.¡±


    I roll my eyes, and make a sad face,


    ¡°Okay then, maybe later?¡±


    She looks back to the field before her vision finds mine.


    ¡°Maybe a quick one.¡±


    After a very quick kiss, I watch Jo rush off onto the other side of the fence. The shiny new fence surrounding the school''s property is just one of the new things The Satan Snipers have done to improve our small town.


    The motorcycle club also bought two school buses for the local high school last year when the school¡¯s one blew up because it was so old.


    Barry Keager, the town drunk was the only one who got hurt. He sustained multiple injuries but nothing severe enough for him to put the bottle down.


    He is one lucky bastard but then I always wondered what the hell was he doing around the parked school bus in the first place.


    I stand on the outside of the fence and watch Jo from my vantage point as she dribbles the ball. I''m not going to embarrass my kid and walk down there dressed as I am, but I''m not missing a single game either.


    I can''t afford luxuries like that without it affecting my kid because I''m a single mother. I am also subsequently a father too.

 Too long is not long enough

    <img>


    The brown glass body of the beer I''ve been nursing for way longer than I¡¯d like sweats as it slowly loses its cool. The Italian fucker tied to the plastic chair that''s positioned in the middle of the lounge area with a black bed sheet acting as a floor rug sweats as he loses more blood.


    A few days ago, I was on my way to Idaho looking for a lead on my latest assignment. Today I''m in the last place that I want to be in.


    I am back home, in good ole¡¯ Kanla. I knew I had to return to it all eventually, never thought that day will be anytime soon.


    It''s an easy seven years since I''ve been back and while the people are the same the place looks different.


    I expected old feelings of guilt to return but there was nothing but anger and determination. A lot of it had to do with the reason I was even in Kanla.


    Just thinking about the whole thing almost has me laughing while watching this waste of space bleed.


    When I arrived a few hours after a clipped word from our National President, Ribs, to haul ass to Kanla, my first thoughts were the fucking cartel.


    I sent my brothers to Kanla a few years ago when the Mexican Cartel tried to take the town and use it for a dumping ground.


    I was still stationed in C.I.U in Korea and I couldn''t just come back then. Not that I wanted to either but I would''ve if I could, especially after the call from my cousin Daisy Jane.


    But now things are different because for the past year I''ve been a retired agent of the government and a full-time National Sergeant-at-arms for The Satan Snipers.


    I am also the go-to guy the club uses for intense interrogation since I''ve done it for twelve years while serving my country.


    So, there I was hauling ass to Kanla thinking about all the ways I was going to torture the Cartel for fucking with my home town again.


    Imagine my surprise when this entire full fuck fest turns out to be because of a homeless chick named Beggar, who is a wanted murderer that single-handedly took out eighteen of our men.


    I didn''t believe it at first but after I watched the footage a couple of dozen times while I ripped myself to shreds almost every one of those times, it finally sank in.


    Now here we are searching for this girl, and the guy naked on the chair I''m currently looking at is our biggest lead we had in the last three-weeks since Beggar left.


    ¡°Let''s try this one more time.¡± I shrug out of my cut and stare calmly at him.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He inspects my actions from a pair of swollen, purplish, red eyes. Well, what''s left of it. I think Killer left lasting damage to the Italians left eye socket.


    It''s starting to get black.


    ¡°Where is Beggar?¡± My question sounds nonchalant but this fucker has been sitting in that chair for the past three or so hours.


    The house is empty besides the two of us. My Kanla brothers and the women are volunteering at the local church today. I could''ve joined them and handled this guy another day but I''m not ready to be known yet without facing the reason I left Kanla in the first place.


    The woman I left behind, Lauren Cormack.


    The Italian spits out a broken tooth and blood right as my boots meet the black sheet.


    ¡°You know,¡± I tell him, ¡°you got a great pair of balls. You would''ve made an excellent brother, too bad you on the wrong side of the pavement.¡±


    I tut as he bucks, flicking open my switchblade dangling it in front of his face,


    ¡°Now, let''s try that again, only this time without the attitude. Where is Beggar?¡±


    ¡°I told you cunt, I don''t fuckin¡¯ aaaahhhh, you, aaaahhh,¡± He screams like a fuckin¡¯ porn chick on heat.


    I take pride as I stab him with my switchblade twice in the left thigh and once in the left shoulder.


    I don''t go deeper than one centimeter. I''ve been doing all kinds of creative art to this guy''s body and I know the fucker isn''t going to be singing.


    Straightening to my full height I look detached as I ask him something my National Prez wants to know.


    ¡°Is Beggar safe?¡±


    His shoulders hunch when his blood-smeared chest rises and falls rapidly as his body begins to shake with tears while his head swings from left to right.


    He knows what comes next, he has proved not worthy to me, not worthy to my club. It takes him a minute before he can control himself enough to be coherent.


    ¡°No, that girl should''ve nev¡­ah..never ga..ga¡­given herself up,¡± he coughs up blood as he continues without looking at me,


    ¡°As soon as he finds his daughter, Lucca plans to take his wife and child to his small island off New Orleans. Lucca is obsessed with her; he will never let her leave him again.¡±


    I stand still, my arms crossed over my chest, as the man finds his words,


    ¡°The last time I saw Beggar, he was putting a shock collar around her neck.¡±


    He sniffs.


    ¡°She only gave herself up to protect those girls man. He asked why did she change her mind, she told him rather a familiar¡­¡± I slice the blade across his neck, granting him a quick death.


    ¡°Rather a familiar monster than an unfamiliar friend,¡± The deep voice which finishes that sentence is the only sound the ghost makes as he enters the room.


    ¡°Got bored playing holy arth thou?¡± I ask without turning to face him as I stare at the now vacant body. I say a silent prayer and close the Italians eyes before I slide my bloody blade across my leather pants.


    ¡°It''s Sunday,¡± he points out, ¡°gotta phone my sisters.¡± With that, I feel his retreat as his dangerous aura leaves the room with him.


    I''ve known Killer since he joined the special ops program a few years back. I was the one who introduced him and Snake to the biker world.


    They were both lost, neither of them fitting in with their blood relatives. They had no specific place to call home, a place where they wouldn''t be judged, where they could be free. A place they could call their home.


    I never recruited many in The Satan Snipers although I''ve been in the club since I turned nineteen. I joined two weeks before my first tour. Never looked back since, and neither has Killer. The boys'' position in the club is under wraps for now. Very few people know his rank in the club. It was orders from my Prez, and the few who know won''t go back on their word.


    It''s for the best.


    Thing is, there''s a snitch in our club and has been for a while. If anyone could sniff him out it¡¯ll be Killer.


    You never see the ghost coming until it''s going through you, ¡®cause it always strikes from the back and it doesn''t do it ¡®cause it''s a coward it does it because it follows no fucking rules.