Wrench

3 - Cold in the ground

Elie

So, this is where my search has led me – a cemetery. I never thought coming here would lead me to this. I didn’t realize just how heartbroken I would feel until I saw this headstone. Six years she’s been gone, and I had no clue.

But how could I when I had no clue who she was?

They say it doesn’t matter whether you knew your birth parents or not; you’ll still love them. It’s a child’s instinct to love them, just as it’s theirs to love you.

The woman who gave birth to me, the woman whom I have searched for for the past three years, was nothing but a child when she gave birth to me. Thirteen years old, to be exact. She was too young to care for me, too young to be anyone’s mother.

Do I resent her for giving me up?

No. She did the right thing for both of us. I was raised by a good family who loved me as much as they did their own children.

My parents were older than my birth mother’s parents. They had children already in their twenties and were more like grandparents. Regardless, it didn’t stop them from loving me like any parent would, even if my father wasn’t around all that much. I had a wonderful childhood with them, even if it was lonely sometimes.

My parents always told me that I was adopted and that the wonderful girl who gave me life and to them was just a child herself. They told me how much that young girl loved me and wanted nothing but the best for me. I have loved her my whole life for that fact.

I was five when they first told me they were not my birth parents. I didn’t understand it all at that age, but it helped me as I got older and asked questions about where I came from.

When I was nine, I lost my father. He was sixty-four years old and suffered a massive heart attack on the golf course. My brother always said Dad had died because of the amount of work he did for his law firm because he just never stopped.

My mother was brokenhearted, but she kept going for me, for my brothers, and for her grandchildren. I was fifteen when I lost her, too. She was sixty-nine and died in her sleep. She’d been ill for years with diabetes. Since Dad passed away, Mom hadn’t been taking care of herself as she should have.

I was sent to live with my eldest brother, Jonah, and his wife, Kate. They were good to me and had a daughter my age. It wasn’t much of an adjustment because Sally and I had always been great friends.

It was Sally who convinced me to search for my birth mother after I’d talked about her nonstop for three months. I felt this hole inside since losing my parents. Though I had always told Mom and Dad that I wanted to one day find my birth mother, and they agreed that they would help me once I turned eighteen, I felt like I was betraying them somehow.

Sally told me not to be stupid. My parents were happy for me to look for my birth mother when they were alive, and just because they had passed on, it didn’t mean they would be upset if I looked for her now.

I knew nothing about her other than what Mom and Dad had told me, which was her age and the first letter of her first name because they couldn’t remember – or so they said – her full name. No surname, no date of birth.

I hit brick walls left, right, and center. It wasn’t until Jonah found a letter in an old shoe box belonging to my mother last month that I found a little hope. He handed me the letter that my birth mother had written to me the day she gave me up. Jonah told me to read it, and I would understand why she gave me up.

The thought and love put into that letter from a thirteen-year-old to her baby girl were words most adults three times her age would’ve found hard to write. From the first line, I knew just how much she loved me. It seeped into my veins so deeply that the love I felt for her overwhelmed me.

She signed it simply, Your Mommy. There was no stamp on the envelope because the letter was given to my mother when I was handed over. A letter to be given to me on my eighteenth birthday. Only it wasn’t given to me because none of us knew it existed. I had no doubt my parents would have given me the letter on my eighteenth if they were still around.

The letter led me here to my birth mother after my brother finally gave up the location of the town she came from. Just fifty fuckin.g miles away from where I grew up!

My right to know my birth mother was snatched from me six years ago. I don’t know how she died or why, or at least, I don’t know if what I was told is true, but I know I have to find out.

The old woman who pointed me in this direction yesterday told me that she was killed, murdered, all because of the motorcycle club that guy – Wrench – is part of. They didn’t kill her themselves, but they played a huge hand in it. If it weren’t for them, she’d still be here, and I’d be getting ready to meet my mother for the first time. I’d be getting ready to tell her how much I love her. I want to know which bastard put her in danger, which motherfucke.r is responsible for her death.

I should have forced myself to do this yesterday, but I couldn’t bear the thought that it could be true. I returned to my hotel and prayed the old woman had gotten it wrong. She wasn’t wrong, though, and I’m dying inside.

No one will ever know how broken I am because of this.

I may never have known you, Mom, but I have always known deep down how much you loved me. I felt it every day. I only pray you felt my love for you in return.

“Ah, I see you found one of ours.”

I don’t turn to look at the man next to me, crouching down on his haunches. I don’t need to. I remember his voice, and I remember his scent. It’s a warm scent, the smell of a warm summer’s day. It’s a manly smell. A scent that has me tingling all over. It’s not the kind of tingle a girl gets from her high school crush. No, this is the tingle a woman gets when she lusts after a man.

Let’s face it; this is a man. A huge, sex.y, hot man. Not that I want him to know I think of him as nothing more than biker scum. The same biker scum who helped end my mother’s life — scum with a beautiful little girl whom he so obviously adores.

I made a show of telling him earlier how ridiculous he was for chatting to me, how he’d never get me into bed. It was apparent that was what he was trying to do. Men like him are all the same. They think with their dick.s; they don’t have brains. That’s probably how he ended up with a child.

I don’t know how old this man is, and I wouldn’t want to wager a guess. He looks like he’s been in a fair few fights in his time, making him look a little older than I imagine he actually is. I’d say he’s mid-twenties. Not that he has a crooked nose or scars on his face, but a person can tell these things by how a man carries himself.

Maybe I could use my feminine charms and wrap this neanderthal around my little finger. I want to make those who caused my mother’s death pay for what they did. In order to do that, I need to infiltrate their stupid little club somehow. I can do that through this man. I know I can.

Yeah, I’ll have to sacrifice a lot, my virginity being one of them, but if it helps get payback for my mom, then I’ll do it. There’s no danger of me losing my heart to him; it’s all but dead.

“Why are you sitting here?”

“I like the quiet. This grave caught my eye. It’s so beautiful.” The winged angel statue behind my mother’s headstone was so striking that I couldn’t take my eyes off it for a full ten minutes when I arrived. Someone loved her very much. There are so many flowers in front of her headstone. Cindy. My mother.

“Cindy was a much loved Old Lady.”

Old lady?

She was in her twenties when she died.

Why would he refer to her as an Old Lady?

“Hammer, our Sergeant-At-Arms, loved her so much. They were set to get married, but she died before she ever walked down the aisle.”

The stupid boy just told me more than he should have. Hammer. That’s not a name I shall forget in a hurry. All I have to do now is find him, and when I do...

I shudder with my eyes closed as Wrench touches my cheek with the inside of his finger. His touch shot straight to my groin. I don’t want to feel this attraction to him, but I suppose it will help me get what I want.

I turn to look at him. I can do this, and it’s not like he’s bad-looking. Okay, he’s gorgeous, and my body certainly wants him.

Cupping his face, our eyes lock. I see things in his eyes, things I don’t want to acknowledge right now. So I don’t. Instead, I shake off the feeling and pull my hand away from his face.

“How’s your little girl?”

Wrench smirks at me, and I find myself smiling despite myself. “You noticed my little princess, huh?”

I nod my head. “She’s beautiful. Looks just like you.”

He laughs while scratching his chin with his thumbnail. “She does. However, she’s not my daughter; she’s my sister.”

His sister?

I would never have guessed.

“That’s some age gap between you.”

“Twenty-three years. Twenty-six between Dana and my older brother. Thirty-six between Dana and my eldest brother.”

I gawp at him with wide eyes. That is some major age gap.

Thirty-six frigging years?

Wrench laughs. “Stryker is not my brother by blood. My parents took Stryker in when he was nineteen. The age difference between my parents and Stryker isn’t big, but they’ve treated him like a son since the day they met him. So, he is my brother.”

This man is chatty; I’ll give him that. I didn’t need to know his life story, and I want him to shut the hell up. So, I press my lips against him, and as clichéd as it is, fuckin.g fireworks go off inside my head like a damn grenade.

Wrench kisses me back, and our tongues entwine in a fiery passion I have never known and probably will never know again. My hands are in his hair, his hands are around my body and the back of my head. He holds me so close, and I feel wanted for the first time in a long time.

As much as I want him right now, I’m not going to lose my virginity in a fuckin.g graveyard, next to my mother’s grave!

Reluctantly, I pull away from Wrench, pressing my forehead against his. He’s laughing, both of us out of breath. He cups my cheek and kisses me softly. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

I shift on my knees, still smiling. “Nor was I, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Naturally.”

“Not cock.y at all, are you?” I roll my eyes.

“You can always find out just how cocky I really am.” He’s crude, but he makes me laugh. I need that in my life right now. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Elie. My name is Elie.”

“Well, Elie, will you come to dinner tonight?”

I nod my head instantly. It’s not hard to play smitten when you have to. It’s not like I haven’t done it before. But then, a girl’s gotta do what a girls gotta do.

“You are legal age, right?”

“Yes,” I laugh. “I’m nineteen. Too young for you?”

“Baby, as long as you’re of age, I don’t give a shi.t. You’re mine now, Elie.” He kisses me with force, and all I can think is, That’s right, i***t. I’m all yours. Until the moment I destroy your biker buddy. Then I’ll walk away from you like you were never anything to me. Because that’s the way I am. That’s what you and your friend deserve.