His Twisted Heart by Ellie R Hunter

Chapter Twenty-Three

Luca

Black clouds darken the sky. Rain is in the air, but all I can do is hope this shit show is over with before the heavens open up.

Lighting a cigarette, I hear my mom’s voice in my head, telling me I’ll end up like my dad, and that I should quit. Taking a deep drag and blowing out the smoke, I lean against the tree and look at the graves, all neatly lined across the cemetery, then shift my gaze over to the freshly dug grave, ready to be filled with a promise I made a long time ago. Off in the distance, the pastor walks in front of a cheap ass coffin. I know it’s cheap, because the asshole taking up eternal residence inside of it died with only a penny to his name. Seriously—one penny.

The pastor steps to the side, and a lone figure standing behind him has my body tensing. Drawing hard on my cigarette, I flick it away and head in their direction.

I’d planned on hanging back, out of sight, during the service, only wanting to see the fucker lowered into the ground and covered with six feet of dirt. But one glimpse of her, and I can’t move fast enough.

She’s back.

I struggle to breathe through my anger, realising she came back for this asshole, but not for me.

Coming to a stop across from her, the grave sitting between us, her eyes widen.

She hasn’t changed much. She’s still more skinny than slim. Her hair is still long, and more blonde than dirty blonde. She still doesn’t wear much make-up, but her clothes show she has money to buy nice things, unlike when she lived with her piece of shit father and struggled to buy secondhand clothes.

The pastor gives his eulogy, but I don’t care to listen to him calling a child abuser a son of God, and how he’ll be accepted at the pearly fucking gates. He obviously doesn’t know the man he’s sending off, because he sure as shit wouldn’t be making out the world has lost a good man.

I watch her take me in from my boots, all the way up to my eyes. She might not have changed much physically, but I have. I’m no longer the runt kid who won more fights than not, purely because I gave no fucks, and not because of my size. Kids at school steered clear of me because they knew I’d go as far as I needed to. My arms bulge against the fabric of my T-shirt, and ink creeps out from under the sleeves as I cross my arms over my chest. At six feet two inches, I’ve grown since we were last together.

Looking away from me, she watches the coffin being lowered into the ground, but I have no intention of letting my eyes stray from her.

If it was between her and the president, I’d have expected him to be here rather than her.

The pastor offers her his condolences, gives me a once-over, and heads back to the church, leaving us facing off over the grave.

“If I knew this would bring you home, I’d have killed him years ago.”

Her gasp is audible from where I stand. “They said he died from his own doing.”

The air in my lungs becomes trapped at hearing her voice. It’s no longer meek and shy. She speaks with a confidence she didn’t own before she left.

“He drank from the bottle himself, and when he was close to passing out, he lit the cigarette, but it was me pointing a gun at his head, forcing him to do so.”

The fucker passed out before he finished the cigarette, and I left it burning on the couch when it fell from between his fingers.

“You promised me you’d kill him one day.”

“Yeah. I keep my promises,” I retort.

Unlike some people.

Her eyes drop to my cut and she says, “You always said you wouldn’t join the club.”

I shrug. “Shit happened, and life changed.”

She nods like she gets it, but she has no idea.

“Well, I should go.”

She doesn’t wait for me to say another word, and it pisses me off. Unlike the last time she left, this time, she graces me with the honour of watching her leave. I don’t know what’s worse, watching her go, or waking up to her already gone.

“Yeah, leaving is what you do best. I tell you I killed your worthless father, and you go to leave like I don’t deserve fucking answers from you.”

Stopping, she turns back to me, and I can already see the walls she’s put up for everyone around her. I just never used to be on the outside.

“I can’t do this, not with you.”

Turning on her heel, she walks away. I’d chase her, but I fear I wouldn’t be able to control myself. I can’t exactly pick her up, throw her over my shoulder and keep her at the club.

Remaining at the graveside until she disappears among the trees lining the cemetery, all I feel is open, angry, and as hurt as I was the day I woke up and found her gone. Our plan was to run together, leave Willow’s Peak, and never look back. Only, she was the one who left without me.

I head for my bike, letting the gravediggers get to work on filling the hole.

On the ride back to the club, it almost feels like seeing her was a bad dream. One minute, she was there, and then she was gone again. Thrashing the throttle, I hit the road hard, regretting not chasing her. Who knows how long she’s in town for. Could she already be leaving straight from the service?

Police sirens blare behind me. Looking in the side mirror, I watch the sheriff’s car ride up on my ass with his lights flashing.

The last thing I need is this asshole on my case.

Slowing down, I pull off and come to a stop on the grass verge.

Officer Prick takes his time hauling his ass out of the car. Listening to his heavy steps walking toward me, I keep my eyes forward as he steps in front of me, huffing and bracing his hands on his hips, his fingers loosely brushing against the cuffs hanging from his belt.

“How can I help you, Officer?”

I keep my voice neutral, fighting the urge to ram my fist into his arrogant face.

“Is it the patch that makes you think you can speed, or are you just stupid?”

“Considering I wasn’t speeding, I feel I should ask you, is it the badge that makes you think you can just pull me over, or are you just stupid?”

His eyes pinch and his nostrils flare. If he wants to be a pain in my ass, I can be a pain in his.

“You were doing nearly a hundred. That’s speeding.”

“That’s a lie.”

“And who will be believed? The scumbag biker or the law-abiding sheriff?”

Fucking hell.

“Look, I’m sure you have better things to do. Why don’t you tell me what you want, and we can both be on our way.”

His chest heaves with a long, drawn-out heavy breath, and I sigh with boredom.

“Let your dad know I want him to come down to the station.”

I go to throw him a sarcastic reply, but instead, I say, “It’ll be the first thing I do as soon as you let me go.”

He steps to the side, and I bring my bike to life. Keeping the speed just below the limit, I head for the club.

The only other prospect the club has, besides me at the moment, is Shane—or so I think it is—who opens the gate as I approach. Riding through, I park up by the main house.

Dad has builders out pricing up the work he wants done around the place. Bypassing them all, I walk into the bar. Since Tal snuck his way into the club, Dad’s taking measures to make sure it never happens again. He’s not spoken of much lately. The brothers are unable to withhold their rage, but his treachery will never be forgotten.

“Prospect, my bike could do with more gas,” Ricky calls over from his spot on the beat-up couch.

“Go fill it up, then.”

I may wear the prospect’s patch, but I’m no fucking lackey. If he wants his tank filled, he can find someone else or do it himself. The day I fill it is the day someone has a gun to my head, and even then, I’d prefer death. I’m stubborn like that.

“You do remember you’re the prospect?”

Ignoring him, I round the bar and grab a beer before sliding onto a stool, keeping my back to everyone. I’ve barely taken a sip when my dad sits down on the stool beside me.

“It’s a good thing no one wants a drink with you this side of the bar.” When I don’t respond, he sighs, adding, “I take it you’ve heard about Victoria?”

My pulse quickens. “I haven’t heard shit about her.”

I haven’t been near her since we thought Pope had been killed. After everything we’ve been through, I was the first one she sought out, and I was there for her. But as soon as the old fucker reappeared, she ghosted me again, and I had no interest in seeking her out.

“Why are you hitting the drink so early, then?”

I’m not hitting the drink. It’s just a beer, but I tell him, “I saw someone today I wasn’t expecting to see.”

He doesn’t need to know every detail, and usually he doesn’t take such an interest in my life, but lately, he’s all up in my shit, wanting to know every little thing.

“Sara?”

Whipping my head around to look at him, my brows nearly hit my hairline. “Why would you guess it was her?”

“Because I know she’s in town for her dad’s funeral.”

I struggle to speak, but thankfully, he has information to share.

“She came to see me at the house. She paid me back the money you, then she, took from me, as well as the gun.”

She did?

“When was this?”

“Yesterday. What I want to know is why you were seen heading into the cemetery? I’m guessing you went to that fucker’s funeral?”

I shrug. “I put him there, and I wanted to see it through right to the end.”

I’m met with silence for all of five seconds before he blurts out, “You what?” while yanking on my cut so I’m facing him.

“I made him drink until he could barely see, and then forced him to light a cigarette. He passed out halfway through and set himself on fire, so technically, I didn’t do anything. Nothing leads back to me.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and quickly turn angry.

“You should’ve come to me.”

“Why? I didn’t need your help.”

“Not why I said it, son. Who else knows?”

“No one,” I lie.

Only Sara knows what I did. As far as I was concerned, it was none of the club’s business—this was personal. And what was I going to do? Go to my dad and ask permission to kill a man over his morning coffee?

“This doesn’t get back to your mom, you hear me?”

Shrugging out of his hold, I drain half my beer and murmur, “I hear you. Oh, and Sheriff Dickface pulled me over on my way here. He wants you to go see him at the station.”

With the message passed on, I turn my attention back to my beer.

“He pulled you over? Did he have a reason?”

“Nope. He just wanted me to pass on the message.”

Sparky walks in, and I just know that Dad is going to join him in the next few moments, and most likely fill him in on my latest antics.

He doesn’t disappoint, but I reach out and grab his cut this time. “What about Tor?”

“She tried to kill herself last night.”