Just thinking about him hurt my heart. Knowing that he was out there in this world, alone, without the two people who truly loved him and wanted him, did things to me that I couldn’t really describe.
I had heard many stories of when a child was born that the parents fell instantly in love with them, wanting to protect them. I was never given that opportunity, and I worried that when I finally did have Colin in my arms, would I feel like he was truly mine?
I really hoped so because the one thing I did know was that when I did have him, I was never letting him go.
Colin was mine.
Catarina was mine.
Mine to protect.
Twenty-Six
Player
The sun was starting to rise when I heard the familiar sound of pipes off in the distance. I don’t know what made me do it, but I slowly got up from the bed and looked out the window to watch them drive by. I wanted to see the freedom, the serene look on their faces as the riders drove off into the distance.
It still rankled me to no end that I sold my bike.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I could have had it shipped back to California.
Massacre would have taken care of it for me.
But I sold it, and there was no taking it back.
I needed to move on.
As the bikes got closer, I stood at the window of our hotel room and watched as the bikes slowed and pulled into the parking lot below. But what caught my attention was who was on the bikes.
What the fuck were they doing here?
Anger boiled deep as I rushed to throw on some clothes. Looking at Catarina sleeping, I quickly left her a note and headed downstairs as quietly as I could.
Walking briskly through the lobby, I walked outside into the morning sun, coming face to face with the three of them.
Smiling, Shadow greeted, “Hi Player.”
Growling, I replied, ignoring Shadow and looking at my cousin Luciano. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
My cousin Luciano, a man who had never ridden a fucking motorcycle a day in his fucking life, got off the bike he was on as if he was born to ride. He smiled as he took off his helmet and said, “Did you honestly think that I would let you leave without having backup? And if you ever tell Gio I rode this bike, I will kick your ass.”
Axel snickered at that as he got off his bike. Axel wasn’t the kid I remembered growing up. The club knew Axel as George Simmons. However, I knew him as Giorgio Simonetti, the half-brother of my cousins, Marko, Vittorio, and Paolo Valentinetti. The kid I remembered looked nothing like the man standing before me now. He wasn’t a skinny, pimple-faced kid anymore. In fact, he had filled out quite nicely, looking more like a Valentinetti than I realized.
Looking at Shadow, I pointed at my cousins, “I get why they are here, but not you.”
“Oh, come on, Player. The shed is empty, and I’ve got no one to interrogate or torture until Reaper catches Toxic. I wanted to come.”
“Well, you can turn around and go home. I don’t need your help.”
“Sure, about that? Because from where I’m standing at the rate you are traveling, it will take you at least three more days to get to D.C. With no backup, you will be walking into a trap. You need help, and we are here. Let us help you.”
“Luciano is a fucking artist!” I roared, pointing at my grinning cousin. “What’s he gonna do? Paint the fuckers a picture!”
“Hey!” Luc scoffed. “I do more than paint. I’ve done some sculptures too.”
“Not helping, Luc,” Axel said, shaking his head.