Biker Saviour: The Lost Souls MC Series (5 page)

“Why would you do that for me?” she asks.

“I’m doing it for your dad, he doesn’t deserve to go to jail for trying to save his daughter. He’s a good man and doesn’t want to outlive his daughter.”

It is in this moment I see her, not the junkie who would prefer to die than to go through withdrawal. Her father is a weakness of hers no matter how much she might hate him at the moment.

Her eyes soften and she silently agrees.

“Remember what I said, you’re living with your dad now and shortly after you got here, you fell down with the flu or some shit, okay?”

“Okay.”

I take her hand and lead her out of the room and down the stairs to the bar.

“Who’s in trouble now?” I call out jokingly when we are in the line of sight of Jake and his partner.

Pope darts off his stool and gives me his deadly eyes. Great, can’t fucking wait to talk to him after this is cleared up.

“They think we’re holding Ky prisoner here,” Cas calls back.

“Is that right darlin’, are you a prisoner?” I smile down at Kyla, still holding her hand.

She remains tight lipped and I struggle to keep the false smile on my face. I squeeze her hand and she is off.

“Prisoner?” she snorts, “Why would my father keep me locked up?” she asks, throwing Pope the weirdest look and then turns her attention back to the officers.

“Are you Kyla Flynn?” Jake asks her.

I keep a hold of her hand and walk with her closer to the cops.

“I am, what’s this all about?” she asks.

“We had a complaint that you were here against your will. I have to say you don’t look too healthy, are you sure you’re okay?” Jake asks, focusing on her.

“I’ve had the flu, and as you pointed out, I’m still not feeling too good.”

“Yeah, I brought her down for some air. Try and see if that helps her,” I add.

Jake is about to open his mouth again when Cas steps between us.

“As you can see and have heard, she is fine. I don’t know who made this complaint but it isn’t true. You can leave now.”

Jake and his sidekick deflate and back up to the door.

Not a second after they’ve left, Pope is ushering her back to the room. I find myself following them and lean against the door frame.

“Give us a minute,” Pope grunts in my direction.

“No, I want him to stay,” Kyla argues.

Pope stares her down but the girl refuses to back down. She is getting stronger by the day. He relents and sits on the bed. Kyla stays where she is by the window and briefly smiles at me.

“I know you don’t want to be here and you think I’m doing this to punish you, but thank you for doing that down there.”

With having said that, he ups and leaves the room, whispering he wants to talk to me when I’m done.

To be honest I don’t know why I’m still here. I turn to leave myself but her hand darts out and stops me.

“Tonight is the first time I haven’t hated my father since I came here, thank you for making me see I don’t want him to get into trouble because of me,” she says faintly.

I step back into the room and really look at her. The creature I first met is becoming more human again.

“I know Pope well enough to know he will get himself into trouble for you anytime, let’s not make it for nothing.”

“Why do you all call him that, Pope?” she asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“That’s not my place to say, if you want to know, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

I can’t see that going down well. She goes quiet and sits on the bed, tugging the shirt sleeves around her fingers.

“He’s helping you regardless of you wanting it or not. You should be grateful you have parents who care, I get that he isn’t the man you’ve grown up to know but he’s doing his best.”

For the first time I see pain in her eyes, not physical pain but emotional pain. They fill with tears and unable to stop them, they spill over and slide down her cheeks.

“I’m not like this because of my childhood or because I feel like I don’t know my dad,” she admits.

“Why then?”

I sit beside her and wait for her to talk.

“It’s quite pathetic really,” she says, shaking her head in embarrassment.

“Tell me,” I urge.

It doesn’t matter who she talks to about this, as long as she talks is all that matters.

She takes a deep breath and begins, “I met this guy at a party. It was a party I didn’t really want to go to but I ended up there when my friend wouldn’t take no for an answer. Anyway, I was bored and I was about to leave when this guy came up to me. He made me laugh and he showed me attention I had previously ignored from other guys. He was fun and he showed me how to lighten up. I had just finished college and I was frustrated and exhausted. He took all that away. After a couple of weeks of meeting up he took me to his friends place and what he told me was weed was in fact mixed with heroin. That feeling of euphoria was my first burst of freedom and I’ve been chasing it ever since.”

She stops talking and pinches her fingers together.

“That’s why it’s so addictive, you can never experience that first high again,” I say, remembering my sister telling me that once.

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

I shrug not wanting to answer, she doesn’t need to know about my family history.

“I don’t like what I’ve become. I thought I could always stop, that I was better than everyone else because I didn’t need to do it, I liked to do it. After so long I realised that wasn’t true and when my mother sent me to rehab and the pain of withdrawing was too much, I shied away from getting clean because I was too much of a coward.”

That is understandable, I suppose.

“There’s a good start, if the only obstacle of you getting clean was the pain of withdrawal then this time shouldn’t be a problem. Your dad isn’t going to let out until you are completely free of that shit in your system.”

“I know,” she sighs, wiping her eyes with her sleeve again.

With nothing else left to say, I stand and stretch my arms.

“Will you come and see me again?” she asks, when I get to the door.

This stops me from turning the handle.

“Why?”

“Because you’re the only one who has spoken to me here without it being forced. It’s been…nice,” she admits, shyly.

“Maybe you could do with a little nice,” I offer and leave.

I wait for the prospect to lock the door after me and turn to face Pope waiting for me.

 

 

Pope

What could they possibly have to talk about? He’s got thirty seconds to leave my daughter and have the prospect lock up after him or I’m going in there and dragging him out myself.

I briefly remember a conversation in the back room about his sister overdosing on the shit but my daughter is not his sister and whatever his deal is, I want to know.

Twenty seconds left.

Kyla isn’t in there for fun, or to have cosy fucking chit chats. She’s in there because she’s a fucking disgrace to her mother and I.

Ten seconds left.

The door swings open and thank fuck Ricky walks out and orders the prospect to lock up.

I wait patiently and silently at the end of the hall and wait for him to see me. When he does, he stops dead and it’s clear as freshly cleaned glass he knows I want answers.

“Brother…”

I hold my hand up to stop him.

“What was that all about? What’s going on?” I ask, stepping closer to him.

“Nothing.”

He shifts uncomfortably and shrugs.

“Why did she want you to stay and what did she have to talk about behind closed doors?” I push on.

“Bearing in mind, I want the fucking truth,” I add.

“Brother, I thought on my toes and reacted in the best way I thought. There was no way I wanted you behind bars because of that punk. When it registered in her head you were gonna get in trouble, she wanted to help you too. As for what we talked about, she told me how she ended up on the shit.”

This shocks me. Why would she tell him that? She doesn’t know Ricky at all.

“Oh yeah, tell me why then?” I urge, not showing my shock.

I listen to him tell me about some party and a guy, something about exhaustion and freedom. Not once did I hear about a solid reason to experiment with the drug in the first place.

“I was worried something might have happened to her that she couldn’t cope with,” I admit, quietly.

“This is better,” Ricky smiles.

“The fuck it is,” I snort.

“Can’t you see Pope, you’re only fighting the addiction, not the reason behind it as well. She’s never wanted to get clean because she was afraid of the pain. You’re forcing her through it, get her through this and I reckon you’ll get your daughter back.”

I hold his stare for a full minute. He doesn’t know her at all but I can see it in his eyes that he believes what he is telling me.

I nod once and move around him in the direction of my room and then it hits me. I understand that she feels she can’t and probably, doesn’t want to talk to me right now. For one, I’ve locked her in a room for days on end and secondly, her eyes are completely open to my lifestyle and she doesn’t know how to act around me. If she’s ready to talk and not to me, I’d rather she still did to someone.

I turn back around and call out. Ricky stops at the top of the stairs and faces me.

“You got more out of her today than I probably ever have. If…” I can’t help pausing, asking for help is beyond me, but to get her back to her normal self, I will swallow my pride and ask.

“If you have time or whatever, maybe you could check on her. See if she talks some more?”

I don’t like the smile that covers his face and it makes me question myself.

“Sure.”

It’s the first time I’ve felt like I’ve taken a step in the right direction with Kyla since Sally brought her here and I hope it doesn’t come back to fuck me in the ass.

I carry on to my room and lock the door behind me. The one place that is mine and has been for thirty years. For a split second, I scan the photos I have accumulated over the years of Kyla and Sally and of them both together and with no hesitation of doubt, I know it turned out like this because of me.

I dig out my cell and hit number one on the speed dial. It rings out three times before she answers.

“Hello, Thomas.”

I can hear the smile in her voice, I can picture it as she speaks into the phone. Fleeting moments like this I lock away and keep to myself.

“Sally.”

“Are you calling to update me or because you wanted to say hi?” she asks.

“A bit of both, is that okay?”

Her soft chuckle reverberates down the phone, sounding like sunshine in the height of summer.

“You know you can call whenever you want, you have been for years.”

Calling her and speaking to her always feels like the first time, the feeling never gets old or goes away.

“Kyla spoke to one of the brothers today,” I tell her.

“You let someone in her room?”

“Things got out of hand a little, no need to worry, it’s all good now. She told him why she started using.”

The line goes quiet, I can hear shuffling and then silence. I presume she wanted to be sat down to hear this.

“And?”

“From what I’ve been told, she wanted to be free. She liked the escape and didn’t know she had a problem until she couldn’t stop.”

Sally’s shaky breath matches my own and she asks, “I thought it was us, our arrangement that messed her up,” she admits.

“Not this time, darlin’. She tried it, she liked it and it ended up controlling her. Simple as that,” I assure her.

“I feel bad for saying it, even thinking it but I’m glad it’s not because of us. I was beginning to believe it was our fault.”

I sit up straight and hold my cell closer to my ear, not that it makes a difference. I want and need her to hear and believe my words.

“This is not your fault. This is on Kyla, not you. Not for one second. It was her decision to use, you did everything you could to help her, even bring her here when I know how you feel about the place. I promised you I’d bring our daughter back and I will, and when she’s back she can tell you herself you’re not to blame. You raised her right and I’m honoured you’re the mother of my child. Always will be.”

“Oh Thomas,” she sniffles, “How can you be so far away yet make me feel like you’re right here next to me?”

“No matter where I am, I’m always with you. Always.”

Unspoken words tumble between us and it begins to piss me off.

“I should go, I’m working the night shift tonight.”

“Sure, be safe and I’ll call tomorrow.”

I wait for her to hang up first and throw the cell on the bed beside me.

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