Page 55 of Cactus's Prick
“Is it bad when even your kid knows your love life is shit?” I asked Roxy with a sad smile, my lips barely turning up at the corners.
“She’s not a kid. Bri understands more than you think she does.” Roxy shrugged, sympathizing with me. “All of us are excited you’re trying to fish in a new pond.”
“Should you really be giving advice when you fished in the same pond?” I teased.
“I wasn’t looking when Grant found me.” Her eyes glazed over, and I had to look away.
I wasn’t jealous. I was genuinely happy for my brother and Roxy. However, it was hard not to be bitter at Brice. We were supposed to have our happily ever after. He’d promised me the world and had run at the first hint of responsibility. We talked an hour more about nothing, but eventually I said goodnight to Roxy.
Falling asleep, I dreamed of the perfect life. Brice was in our lives because he wanted to be. He was attentive, a good father, and life wasn’t so lonely. Even in my dream, I had to keep telling myself it wasn’t real.
I didn’t like when he didn’t show up for Bri, but even I could no longer make excuses about his man-whoring. The club bunnies hung around the saloon just to talk about Brice’s dick within earshot. I wanted to tell them I knew what it looked like, what it felt like. They didn’t have to tell me.
I wasn’t sleeping well. It was so light I might as well have gotten up. It would have been better than rolling side to side, trying to find a good spot to sink into. Maybe that was why I heard the scrape at my bedroom door. I thought littleabout it. We lived in a safe neighborhood, and my affiliation with the club wasn’t well-known outside of club life. Ignoring it, I fluffed my pillow and rolled over.
A hand grasped my throat, pushing me to lie flat. My eyes flew open, but they couldn’t adjust fast enough. A biker wearing a full-face helmet had crawled on top of me. I clawed at his arms, but his grip only tightened around my throat. I couldn’t breathe.
“Mom!” I heard Bri scream. A feeling of hopelessness came over me. My baby needed me, and I was lying here, accepting an unknown fate.
Renewing my fight, I kicked, punched, anything I could do to gain the upper hand. The biker released me, only to smack his hand across my cheek. I gasped for air, trying to buck him off, but he hit me again.
As he reached for my throat, the sleeve of his black shirt rode up. He had a tattoo of a phoenix on his wrist. The bright reds, oranges, and yellows seared into my memory.
The gun.I owned a gun, and my brother had taught me how to use it. It was in my nightstand. I just had to reach out and grab it.
“Don’t touch her!” Even with the bedroom door shut, I heard Roxy clearly.
I flailed for the nightstand, yanked the drawer open, and blindly searched for the cold butt of the gun. I brought it up, hitting the biker with it. It did little, but he loosened his grip on my neck. I tried to get the gun into position, but the biker grabbed for my arm. The gun went off, the sound ringing in my ears. The biker staggered back. His phoenix tattoo flickered into view once more.
“Mom,” I heard Bri scream.
It all went silent.
***
