Making the Cut (Saving Dallas 2)

My house was dark when I returned, just as I expected it to be. Only one car remained besides mine and Dallas’s-a black Mustang with GET RED on the tag. This was gonna be a cluster fuck. Maybe if I was lucky, she rode home with Regg. The red cherry from a cigarette lit up the inside of my carport and I knew I had not gotten lucky. I didn’t bother pulling my bike into its sanctuary that I had created for it inside my home. I just cut it off in the drive, stepping away from it and laying my lid on the seat. The front porch light illuminated the darkness outside and I saw Red approaching, wearing that kick-ass attitude she wore so well. She walked right up to me, her face streaked in tears and mascara and slapped me hard across the left side of my face. My head spun to the side when her palm connected with my cheek.

“You son of a bitch! How dare you walk out on us!” she said, her voice full of hurt and anger. “You are what keeps us together. Those men are lost without you.” Her seething anger was something I wasn’t expecting from her. Out of everyone, I thought she would get it.

“I didn’t have a choice, Red,” I said, willing her to understand.

“You always have a choice.” Her words rang true. They were ones I had used many times myself.

“Yeah, well I chose to keep my club whole and my girl alive. I couldn’t choose between the two. Charlie demanded that I come alone and I knew the club wouldn’t go for it. Even if they did, I didn’t want them to have to live with that burden if things didn’t happen as planned. Charlie keeps his word, but that’s the only thing he does. He is unpredictable, Red. He never agreed not to hurt me or Dallas once the trade was made. He is capable of anything.” I had her by her shoulders, looking into her red rimmed, hazel eyes. I needed her to understand. Regg would need her. I couldn’t have them both against me. If I lost one, I lost the other, and I was hoping to salvage the friendships I had with them.

“We could have found another way,” she whispered, sobbing lightly in front of me. It didn’t matter to her that her makeup was smeared or her nose was running, mixing with the tears that poured down her face. This was a woman whose appearance was the last thing on her mind in a time like this. I wiped her eyes with my thumbs, fighting off tears of my own. If any woman could bring a man down to size, it was this one.

“There is no other way, babe. This is it. It’s all I have to offer. What do I do, Red? What is my main goal in life?” I asked.

“You protect your family,” she whispered.

“That’s right. You are all my family. I can’t keep everyone safe if I stay. By stepping down from the club, I am keeping it whole and keeping Dallas alive.” Red nodded. She understood. “I need you, Red. Don’t hate me, because I can’t live in a world where you do.” She looked into my eyes that were filled with tears.

“I could never hate you,” she said, throwing her arms around my neck and burying her face in my chest. I held her for a long time, letting her cry into my shirt. Sometimes I guess even the strong ones break. When she regained her composure and wiped her face, she gave me the smile that I loved so much. “Come on and I’ll fix you dinner. You have to go get our girl tomorrow.”

Red insisted that I let Frankie come up and eat dinner with us in the kitchen. Some shit about the last supper. When I told her he wasn’t Jesus and we were not his disciples, she clarified that she meant the last meal-the one death row inmates had before they were executed. I rolled my eyes, but knew she wouldn’t shut up until I brought him upstairs with us. I found Frankie, untied and alone in the safe room beneath my house. The door at the top of the stairs had not even been locked. It took a minute to control my anger. Fucking Red. He could have escaped.

“Yo Frankie,” I called, standing on the stairs looking down at him. He was lying on his side in the bed unmoving. “Frankie,” I repeated a little louder this time. My stomach flipped and I held my breath as I descended the stairs. Something in my gut told me that Frankie wasn’t answering because he was asleep, but because he was dead. By the time I hit the bottom step, I felt like I was going to faint. Just then, Frankie rolled towards me, giving me that awful fucking grin of his.