Page 11 of Beautiful Agony

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Love,

Darcie

Four

DARCIE

It took me two days before I was ready to read the letter, and even then, it was more about making sure we had all the information to proceed, not that I was prepared to face whatever my father had to say.

I was pretty confident at this point that without Maddox, I would’ve taken my own life. I wasn’t as strong as he kept telling me. I’d smile and nod when he said beautiful words to me, but I felt anything but beautiful.

It was complete and utter agony.

Agonizer had been named aptly as he’d brought nothing but pain to my life.

I wanted to escape it. Dangerously dark thoughts circled my brain, and I contemplated what it would feel like to do them.

But then I’d see Maddox’s dark blue eyes, reminding me of the depths of the sea, and I’d calm, finding solace there.

I needed him so damn much, it terrified me.

We bounced around a few places and he’d come through with the pill. It had been uncomfortable riding around on the bike as my ovaries decided to turn themselves inside out. If sex led to that, I wasn’t sure if I wanted it. I never wished to be a virgin again so hard in my life.

Sitting on another motel bed, I held the thick envelope in my hand. The paper was heavy, and he’d used his nice fountain pen. A tiny smudge on the letter E was the only blemish against the stark whiteness.

“Are you sure? I could read it for you if you’d like?” Maddox asked. He was sitting in front of me, gently grasping my ankle. His thumb moved back and forth in a carefree gesture against my skin, sending tiny shivers through me. His face was solemn, and he watched me with an intensity I was still getting used to.

“I think I need to. Everything feels out of control, and nothing makes sense. I think I need to read it with my own eyes for it to sink in.”

“Okay. I’m here if you need me.” He squeezed my foot, relaxing the tension I had.

“Thanks, Maddox. I can never repay you for the kindness you’ve shown me.”

“You never have to; that’s the beauty of it.” He stopped, biting his tongue, and I wondered what else he wanted to say but held back. Dropping my eyes, I looked at the handwriting one last time before I flipped it over, opening the back.

Inside I found papers folded together, a picture, and a key. Setting the key and photo aside, I unfurled the papers, smoothing them out on the bed. Sucking in a deep breath, I picked it up and started reading.

Peanut,

Life doesn’t always make sense, and as I find myself writing this to you, it’s because of that statement.

I’ve failed you, and for that, I owe you an explanation.

I wasn’t always a good man, and some would say I’m still not one. But I tried to take the things I’d learned, the life I lived, and make it better for the next generation. As you know, the Mavericks haven’t always been what we are today. I hadn’t planned on running an MC, much less changing one overnight, but when I returned from my stint in the Marines, I knew I needed something.

Making the MCD program gave me a way to make us better and provide a purpose to vets returning home with nothing to hold them together. It’s why the initiation process is so long and thorough. I wanted to know the men in our ranks could handle the stress and be ready for the life we’d lead. Not everything in an MC is clean; even though I tried to get the despicable things that I knew would ruin a person far away, they’d sometimes slip through the cracks. A sweet butt would bring them to a new prospect thinking it was what we were about, or a visiting club would.

If we could’ve lived in a bubble and managed, I would’ve done it in a flash.

Part of the club business you don’t know about is that we often work with law enforcement. Again, not something an MC is known for, but since many of us were from a military background, it was an easy segue. Half of our members are undercover agents, CIs, and a few US Marshals. Not everyone, but Tiny, Red, Bullet, and Brick are a few you’re close with. It’s the perfect cover for anyone needing inside intel, but without having to go so dark where they lose themselves in the process. Again, it’s part of the weeding process the MCD program does. Everyone’s results are sent to my contacts in the alphabet agencies, and they review them, flagging the ones they think might be good candidates. You and Maddox were primed to be in their ranks, but I messed up.

I’m not thrilled to have to say this to you, but I’m not perfect. I know you’ll find that hard to believe, but it’s the truth.

I’ll give you a minute to laugh.

I’d been given a mission to get close to Stanley Driscoll years ago. It hadn’t been easy, but slowly, I’d been building a foundation with the scumbag. There were rumors he’d been dipping his toes in the sex trade business, more importantly, younger girls. Having a daughter myself, I couldn’t let it stand, so I’d eagerly agreed to the task.

But I went too far. In my zealousness to catch him, I started to step over my moral line in pursuit of victory. My contact with the FBI wanted to pull me, but I begged them to give me one more chance. I was so close to being invited into his inner circle. Stanley gave me a test, though, and I failed. I’ll spare you the details, but he didn’t trust my motives and pulled away because of that. During this time, I made a massive faux pas of my own. I fell in love with Stanley’s old lady.


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