Chapter Eight

Phoebe

"Enigma." King sighed, looking worn out and exhausted as he walked out of his office past me, not even realizing I was sitting at the bar.

Not that I cared.

I was only here to make sure he was okay.

He'd gone eerily quiet since Sugar's attack and John Stanley's death. I should have known King would use him to free Enigma. Maybe it was a brotherhood thing. Maybe King forgot how being around that crap affected him. I didn't know. What I did know was that he would never heal if everyone didn't let his mind rest.

"Where did Priest go?"

"Took a bottle of Hell's Breath and went to his room. Everything okay?"

"No," King groaned before adding, "Just got a call from a detective in New York City. She needs Priest."

I stiffened. King had to be joking. There was no way he could go there. Not after everything that had just happened. It was bad enough he was dealing with John Stanley's death and what he saw. He didn't need to be around anymore bodies.

That would just send him over the edge.

"Jesus, King. Priest can't go anywhere. Brother's been drunk since Stanley's death."

I smirked.

At least Enigma understood.

Priest wasn't in any condition to do anything. His mind was in chaos. He barely slept, and when he did, he suffered horrendous nightmares. Nothing was calming the raging demons in his head. Not my tea, not the meditation I taught him, not even his love of exercising.

Nothing.

To make matters worse, after Sugar killed John Stanley, King informed the club of Shaw's past.

That almost destroyed him.

Shaw was an extremely private man who rarely, if ever, talked about his past, and he sure as hell didn't enjoy having his dirty laundry aired for all to hear. He never talked about his childhood.

Ever.

It was something he'd tried for years to distance himself from, because the second people learned who his father was, they wanted nothing to do with him. They treated him like an outcast, almost like he was just as guilty or capable of the same thing. It was a stigma he could never shake, because no one wanted to be associated with the son of a serial killer.

When he learned what King had done, he took it as a bitter betrayal and stayed drunk for days afterward, refusing to be around anyone.

Not even my brother could reach him.

"Kids are involved. This detective didn't ask lightly."

Crap.

This wasn't good.

"Shit," Enigma cursed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Gonna have to send someone with him; but who? I can't go ‘cause of Sugar, not with this town shit still going on. Scribe, Pyro, Frank, and you can't go ‘cause your women are pregnant. Trip is still in the fucking hospital, and you know damn well Banks and Hawk won't leave his side. Can't ask George because we haven't patched him in yet. Plus, he's a doctor and needed here. We're spread too damn thin, King."

"I know that, Enigma." King sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Shit!"

Storming back to his office, I followed the angry man.

I got it. The club had a lot on their plate.

I knew King shouldered everything. He didn't need to, but it was his nature. If he could fix it, he would.

However, this was something he couldn't fix.

Not this time.

Closing his office door behind me, I stood and watched him pace his office. The man felt everything, and, right now, he felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"King?"

"Not now, Phoebe."

"I can help."

"How?" The man stopped pacing to look at me. "Can you make all this shit go away?"

"No, but I can help with Priest. I'll go with him," I offered. "He's going to need my help."

"Thank you, Phoebe, but I don't think you will be able to handle him," King admitted.

"It's not about handling him, King. It's about giving him the space he's going to need in the days to come. And trust me, what he's about to do will not only test his strength, but his mental capabilities. He's going to need someone who won't care if he lashes out, only that when the time comes, they understand his pain."

"Any brother can do that."

"No, we can't," Scribe said, stepping into the room to stand next to me. "Phoebe's right. Priest doesn't need a brother. He's going to need my sister. And while I'm not thrilled that Phoebe will be around that mess, she is the only one who can get Priest through what's coming. Trust me, King. Phoebe will protect Priest."

"But she's a..."

"She's a what?" Scribe smirked, challenging King to finish his sentence before he winked at me, as I lightly shook my head.

"Time's up, huh?" I whispered.

"Yeah, Sis. It is."

Sighing, I walked over to King and looked him dead in his eyes. "The reason I'm the best person to go with Priest is because I'm his wife."

"Explain," King firmly ordered, looking across his desk at me.

I knew what I said was a hard pill to swallow. Sometimes I couldn't believe it myself. We were so different. From different worlds. We believed in different things, but I spoke the truth.

Shaw Dalton was my husband.

"I've known Priest ever since the military assigned him to my unit. I read his military jacket from cover to cover, and there was no mention of a wife, Phoebe. So, I'm gonna need you to explain that statement. And why the fuck did you keep it a secret from me, Scribe?" King sneered, pointing his finger at my brother.

"Wasn't my story to tell." My brother shrugged his shoulders, taking a seat on the sofa in King's office.

"Bullshit. We're brothers. A family. We don't keep secrets from family," King shot back.

"Really?" I piped up, looking at the angry man. "You really want to stick with that story, because from where I'm standing, this club and this town are perfect for each other. Secrets are what's gotten this club in trouble this time."

"Phoebe, that's not what I meant and you know it," King groaned.

I knew I'd hit below the belt, considering all the drama surrounding Sugar and this town, but I needed King to understand that our silence was never intended to hurt anyone.

It just wasn't anyone's business.

"Instead of placing blame or feigning hurt, why don't you just politely ask me? Maybe I will tell you, maybe I won't, but I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you berate my brother for keeping our secret. I do that and then I'm no better than anyone else in this messed-up town."

King's face fell.

He knew I spoke the truth.

Sighing, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Phoebe. You're right. Will you please tell me?"

Nodding, Scribe smiled. "You got this, Sis."

Taking a deep breath, I began my story.

"We met at college. Shaw was a senior, and I was an incoming freshman. It was kismet. There isn't another word to describe it. The instant attraction knocked us both for a loop. From that moment, we were inseparable. It was the shortest courtship I'd ever known. One minute we were introducing ourselves, the next we were married. We had one month together before the FBI showed up and everything changed. They needed his help and Shaw felt obligated, responsible. A copy-cat killer was on the loose, mimicking his father's kills. Because of Shaw's ability to see beyond what the eyes allowed, the FBI assigned Shaw to a special behavioral unit, looking for this murderer."

"I know this, Phoebe. I've read everything about Priest's time in the FBI, yet nothing explained why he abruptly left and joined the military," King stated cautiously.

"He left the FBI because of me," I whispered as my brother came over to stand next to me, giving me the courage to say what needed to come next. Because in that next instant, King frowned as I slowly raised my shirt, revealing several healed scars across my stomach.

"Holy shit," King muttered.

"The copy-cat killer was killing every three days like clockwork. The Bureau knew they were under a time crunch to find this person before he killed again. I was heading home from class one night when he attacked me. I only survived because a maintenance worker startled my attacker."

"Oh fuck," King groaned, hanging his head.

"What none of them expected was that the killer was one of their own. An agent who'd been assigned to the case. He knew everything the Bureau had planned, all the evidence, even the profile to identify him. When the killer learned I survived, he tried to finish the job. Shaw was waiting for him and killed him."

"Jesus Christ. He blames himself for what happened to you." King sighed, looking at me.

"Yes. He can't forgive himself for not protecting me. After the fallout, Shaw immediately resigned from the Bureau and joined the military. He just disappeared from my life. I didn't know where he was until Dimeter came home on leave after his first deployment. One night, Dimeter was showing the family pictures of his friends and I saw Shaw and I knew he was safe. Lost, but safe."

"Phoebe came to me the night before I returned to the unit and told me everything, King. She made me promise to keep an eye on Priest. I gave her my word."

"Are you two still legally married?" King asked.

"Yes. Neither of us filed for divorce. Not that I would sign anything. Shaw has been fighting demons his entire life. First with his own father, then because of me. I know deep down, the man I fell in love with and married is still there but lost."

"Phoebe." King sighed. "It's been years since his time in the FBI and in the military. Sweetheart, I don't think Priest is the man you married."

"That's where you are wrong, King. Shaw is in there. He's just buried deep under all the pain, sorrow, and regret. I knew he was still in there when my sisters and I visited the club for the first time several years ago. I saw his surprise at seeing me. The longing to return to me, but he couldn't because he wasn't ready to forgive himself. So, I gave him time. I'm a patient woman, King. Always have been. While I know most people would walk away and start over, I'm not that kind of person. Shaw is the love of my life, and if he needs time, I'm happy to give him that."

King leaned forward in his seat, pain etched across his face as he asked, "You're not telling me everything. You left something else out, didn't you?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"It's the reason Priest stays away from you."

"Yes."

"You were pregnant, weren't you?"

A lone tear slowly traveled down my cheek as I nodded. "I was four months pregnant. A boy."

The door slammed open and there he stood.

All six foot five of toned muscle and fury.

"Get away from her." A low growl rumbled from behind me.

King looked at the fuming brother, who looked ready to rip him to shreds. I'd never seen him look so angry, so volatile, so menacing. It was at that moment I knew that there was more to Shaw than he portrayed.

"You want to know anything, then you ask me. Not her. Never her."

King slowly stood. "Brother, I'm just trying to understand. With everything going on with you, I can't in good conscience send you to New York."

Shaw looked at Scribe, who sighed and told him what he wanted to know. "A detective from NYC called. She needs your help. Someone is killing kids."

Shaw bit out, "I'm going," before doing an about face, walking out of King's office.

Well shit.

It looked like we were going back to where it all started.