Stitch: Satan's Fury MC Page 2

  As Wyatt got a little older, I became worried that he wasn’t talking like most of the children his age. When I finally took him to be tested, they informed us that he had Asperger’s Syndrome, a form of autism that causes some children to have trouble with social interactions, and they often exhibit a restricted range of interests and repetitive behaviors. It was a heartbreaking discovery, but I still managed to remain hopeful. Wyatt was a wonderful little boy, and I loved him just the way he was. Unfortunately, Michael hated that his son was different. Image was everything to Michael. He was fixated on us appearing as the perfect all-American family, especially to his parents, and he blamed me for Wyatt’s delays. Ultimately, I ended up in the hospital for five days with three cracked ribs, a broken wrist and slight head trauma, all due to his frustration with our son. That night changed everything. I was done trying to make things work with an abusive husband. I gathered up all the courage I could muster, and I pressed charges against him. It’s one of the reasons he now has supervised visitation with Wyatt and had to attend anger management classes for a year. The classes seemed to be helping him, but they didn’t make me feel any better about sending Wyatt over there. I just don’t trust Michael, but in the end, the courts left me no choice.

  When Wyatt caught me staring at him, he asked, “So, are you going to make nuggets?”

  “Yeah, I’ll make chicken nuggets, but you’re going to have to eat some vegetables, too,” I told him as I headed towards the kitchen.

  Wyatt reached for his backpack and followed me, tossing his things on the floor by the table. “Okay, but no broccoli. I hate broccoli. And I got a one hundred on my math test today,” he told me, pulling his books out and placing them on the kitchen table.

  “That’s great, buddy, but I’m not surprised. You always do well in math.”

  “It’s my favorite,” he confessed.

  “I know. It was always mine, too. Since you did so well, you can have a few extra minutes on your game after dinner.”

  As usual, I got no response. He knew he earned extra time on his game when he made good grades, so after dinner, he curled up in his favorite spot and finished creating his new world. When he was done, he headed for the shower without being told. I searched through his drawers looking for his favorite pajamas and laid them on his dresser. I sat down on the edge of his bed and waited for him to finish up in the bathroom. The shower turned off and seconds later I heard Wyatt’s wet little feet slap against the hardwood floor as he headed down the hall. He stopped at the doorway and stared at me with one towel wrapped around his waist and another around his head.

  “What’s up, Buddy?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he answered as he walked over to me and wrapped his little wet arms around my neck. When I wrapped my arms around him a mix of fruity shampoo and my favorite body wash surrounded me. I held him tight against my chest, kissing him lightly on the side of his head. I cherished those moments. Wyatt isn’t one to give affection often, but when he does, there’s no better feeling in the entire world. There was a time when he wouldn’t even talk to me much less touch me, so I held him close, enjoying the moment while it lasted.

  “Time for bed, momma,” he told me, pulling free from my embrace. He reached for his clothes and started to get dressed, letting me know that he didn’t need my help.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you,” I told him as I got up and started to leave. “Love you, Buddy.”

  “You too,” he replied while he crawled into the bed. I went back to check on him fifteen minutes later, and he was already sound asleep.

  The next morning Wyatt was already up and getting dressed by the time I had gotten out of the shower. When he finished getting ready, he stood at my bedroom door, sporting his favorite pair of red tennis shoes.

  “Ready,” he told me with a wide smile.

  “Breakfast?” I asked.

  “I got a granola bar.”

  “You know that’s really just a snack, but I’ll let it slide today,” I said, playfully rolling my eyes at him “Want some juice or something?”

  He shook his head no and headed out the front door towards the car. Overall, it was a great morning, and things continued to go well until I got to my last class of the day. I’d always wanted a career in family counseling and after my divorce, my parents encouraged me to go back to college to get my degree. They helped pay for my classes until my financial aid kicked in, and Mom helped with Wyatt when I was in class. I couldn’t have done it without them, and things were going really well until I started my Counseling Theories class.

  “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Rachel whined. “He has to be the most boring man on the planet.”

  “I feel ya, girl. I’m on my second cup of coffee, and I’m still having a hard time staying awake,” I grumbled. I was just a few classes away from graduating, but first I had to survive Professor Halliburton. Thankfully, I had Rachel there to keep things interesting. I’d met her last semester in my Crisis Management and Prevention class when she asked to borrow my notes, and we’d been friends ever since.

  “It’s his voice. Seriously, every time he opens his mouth, it’s like nails on a chalkboard,” she said, drawing out her words as she spoke.

  Several heads turned and looked in our direction when we both started laughing. “You’re a nut, Rach.”

  “Hey, you want to catch a movie after the gym tonight?”

  “I wish I could, but I can’t. Wyatt will be with his dad after school, so I’m going to try to run some errands.” I wasn’t exactly lying; I really did have lots to do. My laundry was piling up, and I had to get some studying done, but those weren’t the reasons I didn’t want to go. I knew I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself knowing that Wyatt was with Michael.

  “Wren, we both know why you don’t want to go, but I get it. I know it’s hard sending him over there.”

  “I’m sorry. I just get so anxious when he has to go over there. It’s like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop,” I explained.

  “I can only imagine. It has to be just as hard for Wyatt,” Rachel told me.

  “It is, but at least he has Mrs. Daniels. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s really good with him.”

  During our divorce, Michael fought hard for joint custody of Wyatt. Sadly, it had nothing to do with being with Wyatt. No, it was just another way for him to try to hurt me, to exert his control over me. He thought he was being so clever, but I knew exactly what he was doing. His random calls to check in on his son were never about Wyatt. It was just Michael’s chance to interrogate Wyatt on what I was doing or where I’d been. Pushing for joint custody was just his vindictive way to get my child support reduced, knowing full well that less money would make it difficult for me to make it on my own. It was all just a ploy to make me miserable, and it was working. I didn’t feel like I was making any progress, until I found Mrs. Daniels. The judge suggested her independent service company for Michael’s supervised visitation, knowing that they had experience working with children with special needs. With Mrs. Daniels’ background, she knew what to expect with Wyatt’s Asperger’s. He was high functioning, but dealing with all of his little quirks could still be difficult.

  “He’s lucky to have her. You both are,” she said smiling. “I’ll tell you what… why don’t we hit the movies this weekend? We can take the kids with us and grab a pizza after.”

  “That sounds great. Wyatt loves Annalise, and he’s been wanting to see that new Charlie Brown movie.”

  “Great! It’s a plan then. Having something to look forward to might help me get through the next thirty minutes of Dr. Boring,” Rachel said laughing.

  After class, we both headed over to the gym for self-defense training. Rachel was a little hesitant about taking the class until she met the instructor, Brandon. Even though she spends most of the hour gawking at him, it’s nice to have her there with me.

  “Is it just me, or does Brandon look like J
oe Manganiello?” Rachel asked as we were walking out of the gym.

  “Hmmm… no. Not even close,” I told her laughing.

  “Yeah, well, he probably has a girlfriend anyway.”

  “For a guy with a girlfriend, he certainly keeps his eyes trained on you,” I told her as my phone began to vibrate in my duffle bag.

  “Really? He looks at me?” she asked like she didn’t know what I was talking about.

  “All the time,” I told her, looking down at my phone. My heart dropped when I noticed that I had three missed calls from Mrs. Daniels. “Shit. Mrs. Daniels has been trying to call me.” I dialed her number and prayed that she would answer.

  “Wren?” Mrs. Daniels asked.

  “Yes, it’s me. Is everything alright?”

  “I tried calling earlier, but I couldn’t get through to you. I knew you had your class tonight, but no one answered the phone there either. I wouldn’t have left, but I didn’t have a choice when I couldn’t get in touch with you,” she explained.

  “Left? What do you mean?” I asked, feeling the panic begin to grow in the pit of my stomach.

  “My husband was taken to the hospital, Wren. I called one of my associates, and she is on the way over to Michael’s house now to see about Wyatt. Everything should be okay, but I wanted you to know what was going on.”

  “Wyatt’s there alone with Michael?”

  “Just until Anita can get there. He was fine when I left. Michael was finishing up some work on his computer, and Wyatt was playing one of his video games.” She paused for just a second before she continued, “Wren, you know I wouldn’t have left him unless it was an emergency.”

  “I completely understand. I’m on my way over there right now to make sure everything is okay,” I told her. “Thanks for calling to let me know.”

  “Let me know if there is a problem. I will call Anita and let her know you are coming.”

  “Thanks,” I told her as I hung up the phone. “I’ve got to head over to Michael’s and make sure Wyatt’s okay!”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Mrs. Daniels had an emergency and had to leave,” my voice trembled. I fought back my tears as I started walking towards my car.

  Following close behind me, Rachel asked, “Don’t you want me to go with you? You don’t need to be driving when you’re upset like this.”

  “No. I’ll be fine. I just need to get over there,” I explained as I got in my car and started the engine. I didn’t have time to explain why having her there would only make it harder. Michael wouldn’t be happy about me showing up there early and having someone with me would only make it worse.

  My mind raced with a million awful thoughts as I pressed my foot against the accelerator. I couldn’t stop thinking that something terrible had happened. I needed to pull it together. Wyatt didn’t need to see me upset. I took a deep breath, trying to push back the agonizing panic that was spreading through my chest. I hated it. What if Wyatt had one of his meltdowns when Ms. Daniels left? What if Michael lost his temper and hurt him? Damn. I was so sick of worrying all the time. Sick of being scared.

  It was just starting to get dark when I pulled up in Michael’s driveway. Looking at Michael’s house, I found it hard to believe that I once called it home. Michael’s parents bought it for us as a wedding present. They wanted us to have the perfect place to start our new lives together, and I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. It didn’t take us long to make the place ours, and I actually loved living there. That was a long time ago. Now, it seemed so unfamiliar, haunting. The porch light was on, revealing all the leaves and dirt scattered by the front door. I shook my head as I thought about how hard I used to work to keep the place clean. I knocked on the door and tried to be patient as I waited for someone to answer. The door swung open, and Michael greeted me with an angry snarl on his face.

  When he didn’t say anything, I said, “Mrs. Daniels called, and I came to see if everything is okay with Wyatt.”

  “Of course you did,” he growled.

  “Look, I don’t want to get into an argument with you about this. Just go tell Wyatt I’m here to get him.”

  He stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a smug look on his face and said, “Can’t do that.”

  “And why’s that?” I asked, trying to hold back my anger. It was so hard for me not to cuss at him. A million profanities were sitting at the tip of my tongue, but I kept them to myself, knowing I needed to keep my cool.

  “He’s not here,” he said with his eyebrow raised in defiance.

  “What do you mean he’s not here? Ms. Daniels called ten minutes ago and said she left him here with you.” He repulsed me. I couldn’t believe that the man standing in front of me was someone that I’d actually cared about, that I had once loved. Looking at him now made my skin crawl.

  “The little shit ran off. Just like always, he can’t take it when someone tells him no. If you stopped…” Anger surged through me, and I wanted to strangle him for not giving a shit that our son had disappeared. He should be worried, scared out of his mind, but he hadn’t even tried to go and find him.

  “Damn it, Michael! Your eight-year-old son ran away, and you didn’t even go look for him?” I shouted, turning to head back for my car. “You’re unbelievable!” As soon as I got in my car, I started up the engine and headed to our secret spot, praying that Wyatt was there and that he was okay.

  Chapter 2

  Stitch

  ‡

  A twisted feeling of satisfaction washed over me as I watched Victor’s last breath of air seep from his lungs. I released the chain restraints that held him dangling from the ceiling, and his lifeless body plunged to the floor. I looked down at the bloody pile that rested at my feet. There wasn’t much left of the man Cotton had brought in a day ago, just mangled flesh and broken bones. I had to give him credit though; he fought harder and lasted longer than most. As the Sergeant of Arms of the King Python’s Syndicate, he’d tried to do what he could to protect his club, but in the end, there was nothing he could do to help them. His fate was sealed the night he put a bullet in my brother; there was no way I’d let him walk away after that. He knew I wouldn’t stop until the deed was done, knowing I had every intention of avenging my brother’s death. In the process, I did what I had to do to find out everything that motherfucker knew about his club trying to take over our territory. I spent thirty-six hours extracting every bit of information I could get on the Pythons. When I pulled out the blowtorch, that asshole started singing like a canary. In no time, I had everything Cotton would need to know to bury these motherfuckers.

  I left what remained of Victor Gomez laying on the floor and headed out to my bike, feeling relieved to finally get out of that room. The brothers called it my playroom, and even though there were times I enjoyed dishing out my revenge, today I was ready to get the hell out of there. I’d been at it for hours, and I needed a hot shower and food in my stomach. The door slammed behind me as I headed out towards my bike. Before I started the engine, I pulled out my phone and called Cotton.

  “Yeah?” he answered.

  “It’s done.”

  “Good. I’ll send the clean-up over,” he said.

  “I’m heading out.”

  “Need to discuss what you found out,” Cotton demanded.

  “Sure thing Prez, but I need to shower and get some food in me first,” I answered.

  “Understood, but hurry every chance you get.” I knew he was eager to hear what I’d found out, but I was relieved that he didn’t push.

  “Will do.” I told him as I hung up my phone and shoved it in my back pocket.

  My place was on the backside of town, a rustic log cabin out by the water and away from all the bullshit. I liked to keep to myself. I avoided the outside world whenever possible and the secluded cabin suited me perfectly. No one was around to ask questions, and with the life I lived, I needed it like that. As soon as I got home, I went straight to the back of the cabin. I stripped
my blood soaked shirt and jeans off, and threw them into the fire pit. Then, I lit a match and watched the evidence burn to nothing. As soon as I got inside, I went straight to the bathroom and jumped in the shower, letting the steaming hot water run down over my aching muscles. I dropped my head and watched the blood stained water swirl around my feet, eventually disappearing down the drain. After several minutes, the water finally began to run clear. I grabbed my scrub brush and set to work on the muck under my fingernails. My hands were almost rubbed raw before I felt that they were clean enough to move on to the rest of my body. I pressed the brush firmly against my skin, forcing it back and forth over the scars that crisscross my back, making the bristles scratch against my flesh. Never feeling like I could wash away the filth, my shower routines had become methodical over the past decade. It was just one of the idiosyncrasies I’d developed over the years.

  The steaming water trailed over the back of my neck, and the tension in my muscles slowly began to diminish. I cupped my hands in front of me, watching the water pool in my palms, thinking back over all the shit that had happened in my life. There was a time that I didn’t think I’d make it, and the only thing that kept me going was Emerson. I thought about her every day wondering if she was okay. I still vividly remember the last time I got to see her in her teens. I’d been out on the streets for over a year and didn’t have a dime to my name. Out of desperation, I went to one of the local churches and swiped forty dollars out of the offering plate – just enough money to take the bus back to Mount Vernon to check on her.

  When I got there, I spotted her on the front lawn of the schoolyard, talking with a couple of her friends. It was a relief to see that she looked happy. She was laughing about something, but stopped the minute she spotted me. Without hesitation, she raced over to me and jumped in my arms, hugging me tightly.