Capone: Rebel Guardians MC, #6

Bridget

"W hy do I have to do this? Why?" I cry out as my brother strikes me again.

Because I said so, bitch, he replies as his booted foot strikes my hip.

I...I don’t understand how you could do this to your own sister?

Bitches are bitches, whether they’re by blood or not, and you’ll make us some damn good money, he sneers.

I cower on the floor, blood dripping from my busted nose and lip and cry. I can’t believe he is wanting me to be his gang’s whore. I am only seventeen years old, and have dreams...dreams that are now, apparently, nothing but ashes. He ruins everything he touches. Every single thing.

Either you do this, Bridget, or I’ll get Hannah involved.

No! There is no way I will let them touch my baby sister. Maybe I can figure out a way to get us out of this mess.

Then you know what you have to do, right, bitch? he asks.

With tears flowing down my face, I nod. I have no other choice. She is too young to deal.

Huddled under my blankets, I cry. For the girl I no longer am, and for the pain my body endured earlier in the night. I’d had my first ‘date’ and he had not been gentle. I shudder thinking of the things he forced me to do. Remembering my brother’s satisfied smirk when he came and picked me up, taking the envelope that the man gave him, and putting it inside his jacket, had my tears flowing harder.

Bridget? Hannah asks, creeping closer to my bed. Are you okay? she gently asks me.

I’m fine, leave me alone! I shout. I know it’s wrong because I’m doing this so she doesn’t have to, but right now, I can’t be around her. She’s too pure, too innocence. And me? I’m nothing, nothing but filth.

I wake from the memory that follows me in my sleep, sweat dripping from my body, and my hair matted. It’s then, and there, that I remember why it is exactly that I don’t, and won’t, trust any man, ever again. I get up to hop in the shower, I’ll never be able to fall back asleep at this point anyways. Once I’m clean, twice scrubbed raw, I get out and grab a new set of sheets. There’s no way I’d ever be able to lay down in soaked, sweaty sheets after cleaning my body. I wish my mind was as easy to clean as everything else is. If there was a way to scrub my mind and soul like I can my body, I’d probably be able to move forward in life instead of looking over my shoulder every minute of every day. It’s exhausting living like this, but there’s nothing I can do about it other than put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward to the best of my ability. Once I’ve got the sheets in the washing machine, I lay back down, but my mind won’t shut down and I’m still living my nightmare...even with my eyes wide open. When will it ever end? Will I ever be normal again? Somehow, I doubt I will be. I’m thankful for one thing though, and that’s the fact that I was able to reconnect with my sister. I’m happy she was willing to listen to my story and give me another chance to be a part of her life. She’s so lucky, to have men like Smokey and Bandit who love her, faults and all. I’m envious, but I’m also relieved she has them in her life. How contradicting I am, I’m happy and jealous of and for her all in the same breath. Does this make me a good sister or a bad one? I guess only time will tell, I know I love her more than life itself, so I’m going with I’m a good sister, and hope I’m not lying to myself.

Bridget? the instructor asks.

Yes, ma’am?

I’m going to need you on the floor today to help with shampoos. One of the girls had to go home sick so this will help you with your lab sheet.

I nod my head but inside, I’m thrilled to pieces. This will give me more hands-on skills that will help me when I’m working at Cassarah’s salon. Closing my book and notepad, I put them in my backpack and head out to find an empty station on the salon floor. Our cosmetology school has a working salon and the students who have finished their classes are now doing the practical aspects of the job so they’re ready for their state board exams. Since I’m out here, I plan to observe every little thing I can.

Bridget, can you shampoo Ms. Reeves? Kelly asks.

Absolutely. This way, Ms. Reeves, I say to the client standing there. I’ll get you ready for Kelly.

My day continues like that until Ms. Allen asks if I’ve ever done a roll set before. Thankful once again for Cassarah and her showing me what to do, I reply, I have, yes. I’ve been practicing at home and have a job at a friend’s shop. She’s been showing me things that I can do without my license to help her out and roll sets are one of them.

I like to see that go-getter attitude, Ms. Allen states. Please take care of Carly, okay?

Yes, ma’am. Carly, will you follow me over to the shampoo bowl please? I’ll get you shampooed then rolled up and under the dryer before you know it.

I’m exhausted but exhilarated as I pull behind the shop and make my way to my apartment over the salon. And even better than that, my lab sheet got a lot checked off today, because I got to help with some hair color, a relaxer, and even a men’s haircut! I am so fucking grateful for what Hannah’s association with the Rebel Guardians has meant for me. I’ve got my own place, a job, and the support of my sister to hopefully help me heal. In time, that is. When I make it to my door, I notice a small vase with a tulip in it and a note. Picking the vase up, I go inside after carefully locking all the locks and put it on my tiny kitchen table. I then grab another shower so I can change into something a little more comfortable before I tackle the homework that my therapist gave me.

Once I’m done with my shower, I grab a snack and a drink and head to my table, my curiosity nearly overwhelming at this point. Sitting down, I take the note from the vase and read it, my eyes widening.

Saw this and it made me think of you. Capone

Fuck! He just won’t give up! I mean, I appreciate him hauling me to my therapist’s office when I first got here, but he’s gotta buy a clue because I will never get involved with a man again. I can shop online and get what I need to take care of any ‘personal’ urges that might eventually arise. Of course, right now, I have no urge at all so there’s that to take into consideration. Hell, I even had him come into some sessions in an attempt to show him how awful I truly was, so he’d forget this insane thought he has that I’ll be his one day. I’m not worthy of a man like Capone. Not with my fucking past. If he weren’t already dead, I think I’d hire someone to kill my bastard of a brother. Our parents are still alive and kicking as far as I know, but they’re also scared to cross people like the brothers, so I have no fear of them ever retaliating or trying to take me and Hannah against our wills. But I wish they’d try, because I’d like to see what the guys would do to them. Hopefully, make them relive some of the things that I was put through. But...my brother is no longer breathing, so I can’t take him out for my personal vengeance. I just wish the memories would go away. I sniff the flower and a wistful smile crosses my face because in another place and time, Capone is exactly the kind of man I would have fallen for. He’s taller than me, well-built, and has the most intense gray eyes I’ve ever seen. When he’s happy, they look like silver. When he’s focused on something, they darken like a storm cloud. I can only imagine how they’d look if he were in the throes of passion. Fuck, there I go again with my contradictory thoughts!

Capone

I’m a fucking stalker! I sit outside of her place every night and watch as shadows of her walk around her place. I stay long after her lights are turned off, needing to be close to her if she is ever in need. I know she still suffers from nightmares, I’ve heard her scream out at night, and wish I could slay those dragons for her, but I know this is something she needs to do and accomplish for herself. Who am I to take that away from her? I know she thinks she’s broken, but she is so fucking strong. It took a lot of guts to run from her brother and come here, not knowing what the reception would be. And hell, now she’s in school and has a job. She just needs to get it through her head that her past is just that...her past. I could give two shits if she fucked one person or ten thousand, once she’s mine, I’ll be the last one, so who gives a flying fuck? I mean, I’m not a manwhore or anything, but I’ve had my fair share of women, so I have no place to judge.

My attention is once again on her window when the lights flicker back on, a new record for her. Two hours...dammit, I was hoping for once she’d get a full night's rest. I hate to see the bags under her eyes and the wariness that she has around people, especially me. I need her to learn to trust in me, in all of us to always be there and have her back in any situation that arises. She deserves the world, and I’m going to make it my life’s mission to show her that fact. The darkness that is inside of her head needs to be replaced by light. And if I can’t accomplish that feat all on my own, I know I have a band of brothers and old ladies that will be willing to step up and help me out. I sit and wait another hour before the lights once again turn off. Feeling helpless is not something I’m used to and it’s driving me insane. I hope she liked the flower, at least. She’s so fucking pretty she takes my breath away and while I’ve been with plenty of pretty women, she’s the first one who ever made me want to settle down. She’s imprinted herself on my soul and there’s no going back from something that intense. She’s mine whether she’s ready to admit that or not. She won’t be getting away from me anytime soon. Or ever. I need her like the earth needs rain to flourish and grow. Once I see the sunrise peeking over the horizon, I take off secure that even though she got up one time, it’s daylight now and her demons will likely go back into hibernation.

You look like shit, brother, Smokey says, sitting next to me at the bar. No, I’m not drinking at fucking six thirty in the morning, I’m nursing a pot of coffee.

Gee, thanks, I mutter, the sarcasm dripping from my words.

Watching Bridget’s place again? he asks me, and I can hear the worry in his words.

Yep. What else is there to say?

Did she get any sleep? Hannah worries about her all the fucking time. It’s the only thing we can’t fix for her and gotta say, it’s driving us crazy.

She got up once for about an hour or so. No clue if she actually went back to sleep, but probably not. She likely just laid there waiting for daylight. She can’t keep this shit up, though, because she’s going to wear herself out and get sick.

Stress can be a killer, and I personally don’t want to see her suffer any more than she already has. Hannah has had some restless nights herself worried sick for her sister. We need to come up with a plan to help her out. I can’t take much more of Hannah’s tears before I drown in them.

Smokey, a lot of what Bridget needs, she’s gotta do for herself. I know we all want her to be better and all that shit, but her therapist made it very clear that she has to do the work. I know she’s still going twice a week, so she obviously wants to move past it all, but fuck, man, her douche of a brother put her through fucking hell. It’s going to take longer than a few weeks, a new apartment and a job before she even begins to feel better about herself.

If that fucker wasn't already dead, I’d take him out again...gladly. I wish I could dig him up and make him feel half the shit these girls are, especially Bridget. But I have a question, and the only reason I’m asking is as your friend and brother. Are you prepared to wait and stand back until she’s ready and willing to give you a shot? Because if not, as your friend and her brother-in-law, I’m asking that you please step back and let her find her happiness.

As long as it takes. That’s how long I’ll wait for her. She’s it for me, I feel it down to the marrow in my bones and I’ve never felt that before with anyone. So yeah, I’ll stand back to give her space to heal, but not far enough that she thinks I’m gone. If that’s gonna be a problem for y’all, you need to get the fuck over it now.

No problem with us, brother. As long as you’re willing to put in the work and not run at the first sign of trouble, I’ve got your back, as well as Bandit and Hannah. We think you’ll be good for her, we’re behind you every step of the way.

She’s not going to believe words, not yet anyhow, so I’ll show her how I feel. And as for the rest of the stuff, well, y’all aren’t too bad so I can live with y’all being my brothers-in-law.

What the fuck? How did we go from patiently waiting to us being related? Smokey asks, confusion all over his face.

Who’s getting married? Bandit questions, coming up to where we’re sitting. We’ve moved from the bar to one of the tables and grabbed some of the breakfast that Nan had made.

No one yet. I’m simply saying that because of her past, Bridget isn’t going to accept that I’m serious unless I completely lock her up -- make her my old lady and my wife.

And...you’re at that point already? Bandit asks.

Fuck no. I am, but she’s nowhere near ready for that step. But I’m a planner, didn’t you know?

You’re a crazy motherfucker is what you are, Smokey says, ducking as I slam my fist into his shoulder. She may never want to be with another man, you ever thought about that?

Not crazy, asshole, a thinker, and I know that she will eventually give in, and give me the chance I need to prove to her she’s worth it and we’ll be good together. I know I can make her happy, as happy as you two knuckleheads make Hannah. That’s a promise that won’t be broken, you can bank on that.

I’m in, how much are we betting for? Smokey asks.

Fill me in on what the bet is exactly? I ask him.

How long it will take for you to tear those walls of hers down, Bandit states, with a smirk on his face that I’d like to slap the hell off. These two are fucked in the head, but I never knew Bridget’s well-being would be put up as a bet.

I’m not betting on something that could eventually destroy her, y’all do that shit, I’ll fucking tell Hannah what you two are up to.

You’re no fun! Smokey whines, causing me to nearly choke on my coffee in laughter.

What’s the matter, Smokey, your woman have your balls firmly gripped in her fist?

Fuck yes! he replies, causing me and Bandit to laugh at him.

I’m not getting cut off because of you, Smoke, Bandit states. No fucking way. And honestly, with all the shit she went through and I’m positive we don’t know the half of it, it would be a shitty thing to bet on.

Whatever you fuckers are up to, cut it out and come into my office...now! Axe says, passing us by. We get up like good little soldiers and follow him.

Capone

I’ve been away on a job that Axe sent me on for the last eight weeks. Since I’m the only single brother,