Kid: Cerberus MC Book 2
Kid
CERBERUS MC BOOK 2
Marie James
Copyright
Kid
Copyright © 2016 Marie James
Editing by Mr. Marie James & Hale’s Harem Betas ;)
Cover design by Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs
EBooks are not transferrable. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Cover model:
Nathan Hainline
Cover Designer:
Kari Ayasha
Special thanks to Amanda Donoho and Kristie Koste for helping me with New Mexico details!
“Do you really have to go?” I watch my best friend, fiancé, and the only man I could ever trust pack his bags.
He gives me a knowing grin. “I’m pretty sure the Army would have a problem if I didn’t report for duty, Khloe.”
I sit on the bed with my head hung low, fingers twisting in my lap. I shake my head slightly trying to stave off the tears I know will fall. I don’t want him to see me crying when he leaves. The last thing he needs along with his first deployment to Iraq, is to worry about me being upset at home.
“Khloe, oh sweetheart. It’s going to be fine,” he says wiping the tears I’ve fought so hard against from my cheek.
“I know,” I lie, even though I have a sinking feeling in my gut that once he walks out of the door, my life will never be the same.
“This tour is only supposed to last like six months. When I get back, you’ll be eighteen.” He tilts my head up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Concentrate on this.” I feel his fingers touch the engagement ring on my left hand. “I’m getting you out of this damn town, Khloe, if it’s the last thing I do. My promise stands firm. You can count on me.”
“I know, Alec. I’m just going to miss you is all. You’re all I’ve got.” I sniffle, feeling like a child when I need to be acting like the grown woman I’m expected to be in just a few short months.
“And I’m going to miss you, Sweet Girl. I’ll be back before you know it.”
A quick hug, another kiss on the forehead, and I’m watching my life and only chance at freedom walk out the door.
“You promised!” I scream in the empty room.
Sobs wrack my body even now, days after reading the news on the school’s Facebook page. Pretty fucked up that I had to hear about Alec’s death on the damn school site. His parents know I’m here. They know we were planning to get married. Once again in my life, not one damn ounce of care was wasted on me.
It’s been a week and a half since I discovered the news that has ruined my life. Forty-eight hours since we lowered Alejandro, Alec to me, Sanchez into the darkened depths of his final resting place. Even with the sorrow and pain the day had brought, it was a beautiful funeral, complete with an incredible showing of support from other local service men and women. The long motorcycle procession from the funeral home to the graveside was even a nice touch.
I was able to sneak on the bus carrying students from the high school. I got my GED months ago, but the other students were too busy pretending to mourn the loss of a boy, which not less than a year ago they tormented for being different. Anger is said to be the third stage of grief, but sitting on the bus with kids who wanted nothing more than a few hours out of school had me completely bypassing the first two stages altogether.
His family wouldn’t even acknowledge me at the funeral or the graveside. They’ve never been keen on the idea of their one and only son marrying a girl who, by their standards, isn’t even worth the money the great state of New Mexico has invested in her.
Invested. Such a kind, innocuous word for shoved into foster care with a family that couldn’t care less that she’s not stayed a night in their home in months. I’m the only person on the planet that knew Alec in and out. We’ve been friends damn near since my first day in Farmington, inseparable some would say, and I didn’t even warrant a mention in his obituary or during the funeral. His parents refused to let me sit with them, so I ended up with the group of fake kids from the bus. I’ve never felt more alone in my life, which is saying something considering my history.
I have to face all of those same people again today. I read online that there is a benefit fundraiser BBQ type thing going on at one of the parks honoring Alec’s memory; the goal being a monument in the park. He’s by no means the first, nor will he be the last this community loses, but somehow his death landed on the right radar.
Going is the last thing in this world I’d want to do, but I know Alec would want me to be there; if anything to at least see all the fake people. He despised this town as much as I do. He couldn’t wait to get us out of a place riddled with drugs, gangs, and hordes of people with simple minds. It’s the only reason he joined the Army. He didn’t want to be a soldier, but it was a means to an end.
I hear a key inserted into the lock of the apartment door. I know it’s only going to bring me more pain and despair. I’d anticipated this moment happening, but I figured I’d have more time.
Time.
I ask for it in some situations. More time in this apartment. More time with Alec. I’ve also begged time to speed up. Make me eighteen already. End the time I had to wait until Alec came home. Futile requests on all fronts.
I sit on the bed, standing my ground, refusing to give up my grief filled sanctuary. Cowboy boots and the clicking of the kitten heeled shoes Alec’s mother is famous for wearing echo off the wall. Seconds before their forms block the doorway, I see their looming shadows. I’ve lived in literal and perpetual darkness since reading about Alec’s death. It only seemed fitting for my now darkened heart.
Even in the low light of the room I can see the distaste on his father’s face. Brown hair and dark, almost black eyes stare through me. I see Alec in his Hispanic features, and it kills me that they hate me so much. How two people can have so much contempt for a girl who’s a victim of circumstance I’ll never understand.
“It’s time for you to go,” Maria Sanchez all but snarls as she flips on the light.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell them with more bravado than I actually feel. “Alec paid the apartment through the end of next month. I’m staying.”
“That’s correct,” Alejandro Sr. says with a heavily accented tone. “But the apartment manager has had pity on my family and our loss. They’ve refunded us this and next month’s rent, as well as the security deposit.”
Maria smirks at me even though her face is marked with pain and her eyes are swollen red from crying. The loss of a child is something I’d never wish on anyone, not even Alec’s parents. They hate me, but they loved him dearly, smotheringly so. He moved out of their house and away from their judgment of me as soon as he removed his cap at graduation last year.
My lips quiver as I try not to cry. I clear my throat. If anger, hate, and disrespect are helping them through their hard times, it can work for me as well.
“I’m not leaving,” I repeat.
“Yes you are,” Alejandro Sr. says still standing in the doorway.
“We were engaged to be married. I have rights as his fiancée.”
“You have no rights, little girl. What you have are twenty-four hours to gather your things and get out. You should be glad we’re allowing that much time. I could easily have the apartment manager up here to forcibly remove you this minute. You’re not in the rental agreement. As far as they know, you’re a squatter here,” Maria sneers.
She’s right. I’m not eighteen. Alec tried to put me on the lease agreement but couldn’t because of my age.
“I love him. We were getting married.” I hang my head in shame, knowing our pending nuptials were a thorn in their sides at a minimum.
I hear his mother huff. Looking up at her, I recognize the look in her eyes. She only gets it when things are going to turn ugly. Usually, she’s able to maintain her composure, but I’ve seen her lose her control a couple of times.
“That sham of an engagement,” she says pointing down to the tiny diamond ring I’m clasping with my right hand. “If it were real, things would be different.”
“It was real,” I argue, raising my voice. “He loved me!”
“Silly girl, we’ve known Alec was gay since we caught him wearing his mother’s makeup at eight.” I cut astonished eyes back to Alec’s dad. “That’s right; we’ve known for years. We know exactly what you were up to, pretending to be in love so he could marry you and take you with him when was stationed stateside. You may have fooled everyone else, but you can’t fool us.”
My tears return in earnest. Alec died thinking his parents had no idea about his sexuality. He lived in shame every day for how he was born. The stigma of being gay in America, although getting better as time goes on, was a heavy burden. Being gay in a Catholic, Hispanic family was almost more than he could bear most days.
“Listen,” Maria says with an uncharacteristically soothing voice. “We have no doubt you loved him. We have no doubt that he loved you, but you have to go home, Khloe.”
She pats my legs quickly and walks to the door. “We’ll be back to pack up his things tomorrow. You need to be gone before we get here,” I hear his father say before they both walk out of the room.