Death of Cupids (The Blood of Cupids MC) Read online

  By Sophia Kenzie

  Copyright © 2014 Hearts Collective

  All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.

  Also From The Blood of Cupids MC Series:

  Blood of Cupids (The Blood of Cupids MC #1) by Sophia Kenzie

  Betrayal of Cupids (The Blood of Cupids MC #2) by Sophia Kenzie

  Death of Cupids (The Blood of Cupids MC #3) by Sophia Kenzie

  DEDICATION

  I'd like to dedicate this book to the following readers for taking time out of their busy lives to read my novel.

  Thank you so much!

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  DEATH OF CUPIDS

  The Blood of Cupids MC #3

  by Sophia Kenzie

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  Grace and Ryan,

  Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to find you? Come back to Philadelphia, or I’ll come to you.

  ~S

  P.S. Congratulations on the baby.

  Grace

  I heard the doorbell. Time stopped.

  “Who could that be?” I whispered to Ryan. No one knew us and we weren’t expecting company. It only took six weeks, but our safe haven was no more. Blinding images flashed through my mind. I saw a mangled Sean, missing him arms from the grenades that were tossed at him. I saw a vengeful Danny, coming to exact his revenge for the man who had promised him power. I saw the entirety of the Walking Shadows Motorcycle Club standing on our porch, ready to string Ryan up for the crime they were still convinced he committed: the crime of killing my father.

  “I really have no idea. Did you meet anyone when you were at the store?” I could see it in his eyes. He was just as worried as I.

  “Ryan, I didn’t talk to anyone.” I retraced my steps. I had only gone into the small grocery store about two blocks from our little cottage. I kept my head down. I had softly whispered ‘good afternoon’ to the young man who had rung up my purchases. That was it; I was certain of it.

  “I’m sure it’s just a neighbor, welcoming us.” He tried to calm me.

  “You’re right.” Why was I getting so worked up? We had been here, undisturbed now, for a month and a half; there was nothing to be worried about. Our safe haven had done its job. Why was I questioning its security now? “Why don’t you put a shirt on, and I’ll go answer the door?”

  The doorbell rang again.

  “No, I’ll answer it.” He reached his hand out to stop me.

  “Ryan, it’s no one. If we are going to enjoy our new, easy-going lifestyle, we have to get better at not expecting the worst.” I said it out loud in hopes that I would believe it as well. We have to get better at not expecting the worst. Ryan and I had no ties left to either club. No one was after us. We were normal.

  After planting a small kiss on his lips, I left the room, ready to greet our visitor.

  I lifted to my toes to check through the tiny peephole. A middle-aged woman stood on the front stoop, her body distorted from the oddly magnified view. She was looking around, obviously distracted by something, but from what I could tell, she was harmless. “See.” I breathed to myself. “Nothing to worry about.”

  I twisted the brass knob in my hand and swung the door toward me, pasting on a smile to greet our first guest.

  She stood just a little taller than me, with full chocolate brown hair that curled around her shoulders. Her bright green eyes had a strange sort of familiarity. I swear their intensity would’ve been able to seduce me had they not been sunken in and puffy, as if she had been tired or crying, or maybe both. She was thin, but fit, especially for her age. Her black fitted tee clung to her torso and suited her shape nicely, as did her clinging blue jeans.

  “Hi. How can I help you?” I put on my best ‘new neighbor’ persona.

  “Does Ryan Cassidy live here?”

  This woman was looking for Ryan. She knew whom he was, where he lived. I felt my smile fade from my lips. I felt my face flush and then turn ghostly white. I felt… sick. Any delusions I had about the possibility of a new life, of freedom, of an escape, immediately flew out of the window. How could I ever expect us to be normal?

  “Who wants to know?” I instantly became defensive. This was my home, and I wasn’t about to step aside without a fight.

  “I just need to speak with him. Please.”

  “I would appreciate it if you would tell me who you are, so I can let him know who is standing at our door.”

  “Of course. Of course.” She was stuttering, observably extremely nervous. “My name is Anne Marie Carter. I have something for Ryan.”

  “And what would that something be?” There was no way this stranger was stepping foot in my home with a mysterious package.

  “Are you Grace?”

  Great. She knew my name too. “I am.”

  “Grace Brennan?” Her face twisted as my name escaped her lips.

  “Right again.” Wow, this woman was testing my patience. I wanted to slap the answer out of her. I wanted to… wait. She knew my name. This woman wasn’t just here to see Ryan. This wasn’t a possible old flame that had come calling. She knew whom we were, where we lived. Normalcy was nowhere near this situation. What mess had we found ourselves into this time?

  “Then, this is for you too.”

  My hands flew up instinctually as she reached behind her. I instantly prepared myself to pull a loaded and cocked gun out of her hands, but as I stretched forward, I realized it wasn’t a gun she was grabbing. She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and slid it into my awaiting fingers.

  A piece of paper? That’s what she had showed up to deliver? What could possibly be making her so nervous? Paper is harmless, right? Right? Or was I just being naive?

  Carefully, I unfolded the note, making sure I still kept one eye on my new friend, Anne Mar
ie Carter. When I was satisfied that she was not going anywhere, I glanced fully down at the written words.

  No. There before me was my answer. Paper isn’t always harmless. Sometimes paper can stab you in the stomach.

  Grace and Ryan,

  Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to find you? Come back to Philadelphia, or I’ll come to you.

  ~S

  P.S. Congratulations on the baby.

  “Ryan, can you come here?” The words were harder to get out than I had imagined, but I was sure he heard me. He needed to have heard me. I was done talking. The room was spiraling around me; I felt claustrophobic. I needed to get out, but I had nowhere to go. I needed Ryan.

  His footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors as he approached the door from behind me. Then they stopped. His hand found my shoulder, and I could feel his presence opening up the room. It stopped spinning. It stopped closing in on me. Now I was just scared. And aware, so aware.

  “Hi. How can we…”

  The woman just stared at Ryan. She didn’t say anything. She had delivered her letter and now was choosing to keep quiet. I wanted to yell at her, I wanted to demand an explanation, but all I could reason was no.

  “No.” After thinking the word a dozen times, it finally found a voice. I must have been in a state of shock. I kept folding and unfolding the letter, hoping that it would disappear. “No. It can’t be.”

  I could feel Ryan’s eyes on me. “What is that?”

  As I looked up at him, I felt the tears fill my eyes. I pushed the letter into his hands and stumbled to the window seat.

  “What is this?”

  “Ryan, just read it.” I was becoming dizzy, nauseated, again. The shade of light blue paint on the walls ebbed in intensity. The numbers of the digital clock on the microwave seemed to stop changing. Everything was motionless.

  I watched Ryan’s eyes adjust to the small print. I watched as he took in the meaning of the words. I watched him experience all the emotions currently running through my veins. “Where did you get this?”

  I looked to Ryan, but all his attention was now focused on the chocolate haired woman who had continued to remain mute.

  “I said, ‘where did you get this?’” He threw the paper in her face. She barely flinched, her eyes still fixated on Ryan.

  After a moment, and after watching Ryan pace in front of her a good handful of times, she inhaled deeply, preparing to speak. Although deep down I knew where she had gotten the letter, nothing could have prepared me for the answer. “From your uncle.” She wasn’t lying; I knew it to be true. I knew it all along. Sean was… here.

  “Well see, that’s impossible, considering he’s dead.” His face turned as red as the door.

  “Ryan,” I jumped up, “do we know that? Did we actually see him die? No. We heard an explosion in the distance. We assumed he was dead.” I could feel my breath become labored. My focus began to blur. “We just assumed.”

  Ryan was suddenly at my side, and I felt his arms surround me. “No, no, Grace. Don’t give up on me just yet. We’ll get through this. We always do.”

  I wanted to believe him; I really did. But hadn’t we been saying the same thing for too long: just one more battle, just one more fight? “I just thought it was over.”

  “I did too, Grace. I did too.”

  “Excuse me.” We were both pulled from our intimate moment by her timid voice. “I’m supposed to bring you home.”

  Ryan’s gaze deepened. He stood, stepping closer to the woman who was now obviously in bed with his uncle, plotting to bring us back to the life we thought we had escaped. “What does he have on you?”

  She shook her head, seemingly embarrassed. I wished I could tell Ryan to ease up on her. She seemed harmless, more of a victim than we. She was hurting.

  “Answer me.” His voice threatened.

  “He… he has my children.” Of course he did. Sean couldn’t surprise me anymore. But this wasn’t this woman’s fight. It was ours. Sean dragged an innocent bystander into the picture to punish us for leaving before his game was over. What else could we do?

  “And I’m now supposed to put my family in danger to protect a stranger’s?”

  He called me his family: me and our little one, of course. It was strange. Between my father and Aunt Kathryn both dying, I felt that I lost my whole family in a matter of a few weeks. But with Ryan, I had a whole new family, a new reason to live.

  So how could we let Sean take away this woman’s family, her reason to live? We would never feel right about it. I softly placed my hand on his shoulder. “Ryan, we have to. We should have stayed. We should have finished it ourselves.” I had said it before, and I was saying it again. We had selfishly run away from a fight that we had started. It was time to finish it.

  “No, Grace. I am not putting you back in harm’s way for this woman.”

  “I know I’m asking a lot of you, but…” she stepped further into the doorway, and I could see the real pain spread across her face as she looked at my Ryan, “Ryan, they’re your family too.”

  That’s when I saw it. Of course: those eyes.

  He snapped, not truly hearing her. “What are you talking about?”

  Her voice remained calm as she tried to explain what he was missing. “Sean… he has your brother and sister.”

  I felt the energy of the room shift as Ryan figured it all out. I felt all the air around us sucked out and then put in again. I felt our story change.

  “Mom?”

  Ryan

  “Mom?”

  “Yes.” She slowly nodded in answer to my question.

  “Mom?”

  “Ryan, it’s me.”

  I had to sit. I found the couch. Nope. I had to stand. That didn’t feel right either. Maybe I needed to sit somewhere else. Or lean! I needed to lean against the wall.

  “So you’re… you’re… you’re.” I couldn’t get the words out. It was as if I had forgotten the language. I knew what I wanted to say. I had been preparing for this moment since she had walked out on me twenty years earlier. Every morning for years, I would wake up and walk down the stairs expecting to see her happily making breakfast in the kitchen. I expected to run into her arms and for her to hold me close and apologize, saying she had to go save the world, or some other lame excuse. Anything but that she had just woken up one day and decided to abandon her only son.

  But that never happened, and I stopped expecting. One morning I pulled myself out of bed, walked down the stairs, and I knew she wouldn’t be there. I truly knew it. I didn’t even need to check the kitchen. That was the first day she didn’t disappoint me.

  But now, here she was, standing in my living room, begging me to come home, but only to save her other children. It had nothing to do with me. Had she not found herself in this situation, I was sure she never would have sought me out. She would never be standing in my living room, attempting to forge a relationship that she had given up on so long ago. So what did I owe her? What loyalty did she deserve from me? Why would she ever think I would succumb to her plea?

  “Why don’t you sit?” Grace had decided to speak up; it was obvious I wasn’t going to be the welcoming one. “Ryan, can I speak with you privately for a minute?”

  Her tone was soft, soothing, exactly how one should present themself when entertaining a guest in their house. The purr of her voice calmed me down for a brief moment, until her eyes met mine. That’s when I saw it: that look. I knew that look. She wasn’t happy. But neither was I, and I deserved to live in this moment of misery.

  Grace closed the front door and led my mother to the couch. My mother. That was weird to say, to even think. I felt like I would be sick.

  “Just excuse us for a minute.” Grace was so polite, so proper. I had never seen this side of her; I guess there never was a reason to see it. I involuntarily cocked my head to the side, as I found it was very interesting how she could transform into a lady, for lack of a better term. My mother smiled, completely falling for it
. Or was she just playing along herself?

  But I knew better. Underneath that shroud of sincerity and hospitality was still my Grace; the Grace I knew, the Grace that was about to give me an earful.

  I followed her into our bedroom where she grabbed my hand and pulled me to the edge of the bed. I sat next to her, still not sure if my brain would allow me to form complete sentences.

  She rested her hands on top of mine, letting her warmth ease my body into a state of comfort. That was much better. I leaned into her, hoping to get a whiff of the lavender shampoo that she had been using since we had moved to California. She smiled, knowing exactly what I was doing, and allowed me to take in her sweet scent. I felt my heart rate begin to subside, and I took a deep breath, hoping to speed up the process.

  “Grace, I’m sorry.”

  She squeezed my hands under hers. “No. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. Do you hear me?”

  I still could not wrap my head around everything that was happening. In the last hour I had seen my mother for the first time in twenty years, I had learned that I was going to be a father, and I found out my Uncle Sean was not only alive, but also continuing his vendetta against me. It was, to say the least, one hell of an afternoon.