Red (Hell’s Jury MC #5)

23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

Red

We’re barely home when the phone rings. It’s Meredith. She never sounds happy, but right now she’s outraged. “That fucking Trula has arranged a court hearing for tomorrow morning to talk about Sorcha.”

“A court hearing?” I choke. “Tomorrow? It’s fuckin’ Saturday. Since when does family court have sessions on the weekend?”

“It’s Judge Renault presiding. I think Trula knows him in the biblical sense.”

“This is fuckin’ bullshit!”

Stella is watching me carefully. She knows my temper, saw it in the cop parking lot, but she doesn’t seem wary, she seems concerned. “What’s wrong?”

I put the call on speaker as Meredith says, “Can’t disagree, but you can’t disregard a summons like this, Lachlan. Otherwise the judge will issue a warrant for your arrest.”

I run my hand down my face trying to wipe away the exhaustion I feel. “I’ll be there,” I say grimly.

“Bring Stella,” she says.

I glance Stella’s way and she nods. “Okay,” I say to Meredith. “I found mom and dad’s wills.”

“What do they say?”

“Everything goes to me. No mention of Sorcha because the wills predate her.”

“I need to think about how that impacts us. Meet me an hour before the hearing so I can look at them. It’ll also give us a chance to talk about how we’re going to handle the hearing.”

“Thanks, Meredith. Appreciate ya.”

After I hang up, Stella says, “I can’t believe this. It’s messed up.”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ universe.”

She looks at her watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I have a class I’ve missed two weeks in a row and a game tonight.” She hesitates. “I can call in sick if you need me.”

I do need her right now. I need to hear her voice, feel her, fuck her, but she’s turning my shit into hers and I have to get her to stop. “You’ve done enough for me today. I gotta head to the clubhouse anyway.” I’m lying. I don’t, but she needs some space from me. She needs to clear her head and decide why she’s doing this. Most women would have bailed a long time ago and god help me, I don’t want her to, but I don’t think she realizes how much she’s being cornered into supporting me.

“Are you sure?” she says. “I can go with you.”

“Stella,” I say firmly. “Go live your life, not mine. I want you here, but we both have things to do and talkin’ circles around my shit is not gonna help.”

Her face falls, but she says, “Okay.” She looks at her watch again and adds. “I better go.” Instead of approaching me, hugging or kissing me, she almost flees out the door.

I stare after her, trying to understand her. She’s sweet, sensitive, perfect for me, but she’s also compliant and insecure. She seems to have no problem standing up to others, but with me, she’s hesitant.

She’s young, I remind myself. Maybe too young for my world. Afraid that if she pisses me off, I’ll reject her. I think back to the conversation we had in the car. About me walking away from Gabby and her insight into how that might play out in the future. She’s not as young as she seems.

I put on my colors and roar out of the driveway on my bike. I need to go to the clubhouse. Talk to Hangman. Let him know where my head’s at. I wanna find out what he’s planning for Chrissy. I wanna find the sonsofbitches who killed my mom and beat them to death.

When I walk into the clubhouse, I’m greeted solemnly by the brothers but the conversations don’t stop and it feels like we’re almost back to normal.

“Is Hangman around?” I say to Hash, who’s working on the Hell’s Jury mural that’s going to take up most of the south wall. He’s fuckin’ talented and the mural is amazing.

If I leave, I’m gonna miss this place. It’s been my home for several years, Hangman’s been my mentor. Maybe I should go easier on him.

“He’s in his office, but give him a few,” Hash says. “Raven’s in there with him.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I reply. Last thing I want is to see Hangman’s dick stuffed down one of the passaround’s throat.

I grab a beer from the cooler behind the bar and take a swig. By the time Raven shows up, I’ve pretty much drank it down. “He alone?” I say to her. “Or was it a party of three?” Who knows with Hangman?

“Just me,” she says with a smug grin. I don’t get why the passarounds do what they do, but I don’t spend any amount of time thinking about it.

I put the bottle on the counter and head into Hangman’s office.

“You better?” I ask. So much has happened this past week that it feels like a month since mom died and he got shot.

“Good enough to fuck,” he replies. “You?”

“Getting there.” I lean my back against a wall. No one sits in Hangman’s office. He has one bullshit chair that I figure is made of the hardest wood in the fuckin’ world. It’s hard to tell whether he’s fuckin’ around or if the chair has a purpose.

“What do ya wanna do about the funeral?” he asks as if it’s his fuckin’ business.

“I’ll figure that out later. Got enough shit goin’ on. Got a summons to go to family court tomorrow morning so they can fuckin’ decide if I’m fit enough to keep custody of Sorcha.”

I stop when I see Hangman’s expression. He’s pissed. Gonna explode.

I’m not wrong. He slams his hand down on the desk as he abruptly stands. “Goddamn, fucking cocksuckers. Over my fuckin’ dead body that’s gonna happen.”

It seems like an overreaction on his part, but I sidestep it because I don’t wanna talk about Sorcha. “I wanna be involved in the take down of the fucks that killed mom. So you gotta let me get my personal shit in order before you do anything.”

“Let’s talk in the boardroom. Private there.”

He’s right. Who the fuck knows these days who’s listening in?

Hangman closes the door behind us as we enter the boardroom, then slumps into the chair Coyote usually sits in. I can see he’s still in pain as he shifts to make himself comfortable. He waves to a chair across from him. “I can help with this shit. Make sure Sorcha stays out of the system.”

I shake my head. “That’s the fuckin’ problem. My association with this club. I need to keep this clean.”

He stares at me, then leans toward me. “I got something to tell you that you ain’t gonna like.”

Cold slides up my spine. Hangman reluctant to talk about something ain’t his style.

“What?” I say in a flat voice.

He hesitates, sounds too human when he says, “Two things.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“I killed your old man.” He spits the words out fast and wary.

I let the news sink in, can’t decide how to feel. The old man was a bastard who deserved to die. “Why would you do that?”

“The big reason was that the bastard knocked you and your mom around.”

“Sometimes,” I say. Mom’s got battered wife syndrome and I got battered kid syndrome. Findin’ excuses for dad’s behavior. Not admitting how often he was violent.

“Enough times. When he broke Sorcha’s arm that was one time too many.”

Chills hit me. “What the fuck do you mean, he broke Sorcha’s arm? Mom said she fell.”

“She didn’t fall. The sonofabitch grabbed her and threw her across the room because she was whining.”

I choke back tears. “Why didn’t mom tell me? Why would she tell you instead of me?”

“She was afraid you’d lose control and beat the cocksucker to death. You wouldn’t be careful about it and then you’d go down for murder.”

I feel the same sorrow and hollowness I felt when I heard mom was killed. “So she asked you instead.”

“She didn’t ask. She told me what happened to Sorcha and I did what you would’ve done, but I planned it.”

“You’re sayin’ you killed him to keep me out of trouble? How very fuckin’ noble.”

He narrows his eyes. “I didn’t fuckin’ do it for you, I did it for Leslie. You were out of town. Had a solid alibi. I told her what I’d done afterwards. We decided you didn’t need to know what happened to Sorcha.”

My fists curl as anger hits me so hard my head throbs. “You fuckin’ decided? Who the fuck are you, interferin’ with my life? And Sorcha’s? What the fuck were you doing with my mom?”

In a normal conversation with Hangman, he wouldn’t take the shit I’m spewing at him, and I can see him holdin’ onto his temper. “Fuckin’ shut up and listen. Then you can say all the shit you want.”

I press my lips together as I stare at him.

“Your mom and I fucked around for a while?—”

Fucked around? “Bullshit! Mom didn’t do shit like that.”

“For christ sakes, she wasn’t a saint. Don’t matter what you believe anyway. Didn’t last long, a couple of months, then she broke it off.”

I can’t decide whether to kill him or leave. Touchin’ my mother. Killin’ my father. “Guess she’s got some class after all.”

Hangman narrows his eyes. “She got pregnant, Red. With my kid. She wouldn’t leave Rob because she didn’t want anyone to know about us. I let her claim it was Rob’s kid.”

I can hardly process what I’m hearing. “Are you fuckin’ telling me that you’re Sorcha’s father?”

“Yeah,” he says as he watches me through half-closed eyes. “There’s not a fuckin’ chance that kid’s goin’ into care, not while I’m breathin’ so I’m gonna help you solve this problem.”

I stand up so abruptly, my chair falls over. “You stay the fuck away from her, you goddam prick. You come near her and I’ll kill you!”

Hangman jerks to his feet. “Don’t you fuckin’ tell me what to do with my kid. I’ll take a DNA test to prove it. That’ll settle this shit because no one’s gonna fuck with me.”

We’re shoutin’ the house down now.

“You’ll have to fuckin’ go through me! You think you can be her dad? What’re you gonna do? Bring her here, put her in the fuckin’ corner, give her to Verity to look after so you can ignore her?”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want, you prick!” he bellows.

“You think so, don’t you? You and your fuckin’ god complex. It ain’t gonna happen, asshole. I’ll bury you before I let you into her life.”

“You stupid cocksucker. You want her to get lost in the system?”

“Yeah. I do. If the alternative is you.” I stab my finger at him. “You don’t come near her. You don’t tell anyone you’re her father. Do you understand?”

Hangman places his palms on the table and leans towards me. “You don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do!”

His lack of fear of me is the last straw. I slam my fist into his face. He reels back, hits the floor hard, and lays there stunned. He’s fuckin’ injured and I think of backin’ off until I remember why he’s got bullet holes in him. Why my mother’s dead. I leap over the table and straddle him, punch him in the head a couple of time. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you! That’ll solve both our problems.”

“Get the fuck off me, you prick,” Hangman snarls as he grabs my hair and uses it to yank me to the floor. But he’s too shot up to get to his feet and. I’m in a red haze, forgetting who I am. Forgetting who he is. If I kill him, my brothers will end me, but I can’t stop. I can’t find my sanity. I stand up and kick him hard in the ribs, then the stomach. I’m aiming to stomp his head when the door crashes open.

“Red, what the fuck are you doin’?” Hash says as he jumps on my back. He’s shorter than me by seven or eight inches and leaner. He’s a fly that I literally swat.

“Get the fuck out!” I snarl at him as I throw him across the room.

I look down to see Hangman on all fours trying to stand and kick him the ribs again, makin’ him collapse.

“I need some fuckin’ help in here!” Hash bellows as he scrambles to his feet and throws all his weight into me, knocking me back onto the table. When I hit him, blood gushes from his nose. He staggers back, then throws a fist that I block.

“Get the fuck out of here, you prick,” I snarl at him. “You ain’t involved in this.”

Hangman’s up now, staggering backward, blood staining his T-shirt. “Get out, Hash,” he says. “This is between me and fuckface here.”

“I ain’t gonna leave,” Hash says stubbornly.

Hangman pulls his gun, aims it at Hash. “Get out!”

“What the fuck!” Joker shouts as he and Eight stampede into the room. “Hangman, put the fuckin’ gun away!”

Hangman waves it at Joker. “This ain’t your fight, motherfucker.”

Joker thunders towards him, grabs the gun and gives Hangman a hard push into the wall behind him. “You stupid fuckin’ bastard.”

Hangman’s slides down the wall holdin’ his side. “I’m gonna fuckin’ make you regret that.”

“ You’re the stupid fucking bastard,” Eight says to Joker. “You wanna fuckin’ get shot?”

Joker ignores him as Hangman tries to climb to his feet. “Stay down Hangman.”

The adrenaline rush is over and I feel drained. I glare at Hangman as he collapses. “Stay the fuck out of my business. It ain’t yours and you’re a dead man if you get involved. You get me?”

Hangman’s face is pale, his hands shaking, but his voice is steady and aggressive. “I get you, fucker. But you solve your shit or I’ll solve it for you.”

Joker swivels his head between Hangman and me. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Hangman and I say at the same time.

As I storm out of the clubhouse, all I can think of is that I hope he bleeds to death.