“Is he going to stick around?” Trent asked as he picked at the corner of the coaster in front of him.
“Fuck if I know. We talked this morning and then he left the house to go get a part for his bike that was acting up.” I still couldn’t believe how much my life changed in such a short amount of time all over again. Hadn’t I been through enough surprises to last a damn lifetime?
“You didn’t offer to bring it to our shop?” Abel cocked his head to the side. “That ain’t like you, Holt.”
“It ain’t like me to have a kid either,” I barked. To be honest, I just didn’t know how much father-son bonding I was ready for at that point. I was already dealing with Rave’s death and planning for sweet revenge—how much more was I supposed to be piling onto my plate at once?
“Hold on, I think I have an idea. We could use him,” Trent said under his breath. “That’s it—this is how we’re going to get to the bottom of what happened to Rave.”
“What in the hell are you muttering about over there, Tre?” Abel barked.
“Who is the most likely to have done this to Rave?” Trent looked at both of us as the light bulb going off in his brain got brighter.
“The Sinners, or someone they paid off,” I responded without hesitation. Our biggest rivals’ fingerprints were all over the damn hit if any wanted my opinion on it.
“Exactly.” He pointed at me sharply. “We’ve known for a while that they have been actively recruiting new blood. We get the kid to pose as a potential prospect, and he can sniff out the dirt we need so we can make those bastards pay.”
“Fuck no.” I slammed my fist onto the counter. “I don’t know if I can even trust this kid with knowing where I live, let alone club business like this. He could get all of us killed.”
“I think I’m with Trent on this one, brother. It’s a pretty fucking brilliant idea. Kind of pissed I didn’t think of it myself.” Abel pulled a blue Fun Dip out of the inside pocket of his cut and ripped it open.
“Crickett, you’re quiet.” I looked up at her as she just stared at me.
“Just taking it all in.” She waved me off. “Pretending like I didn’t just hear the stupidest fucking idea on the planet. It isn’t any of my business.”
Abel winked at his wife. “Babe, you know you can weigh in. If this was something I didn’t want you to hear, you wouldn’t be.”
Crickett smiled sweetly. “Honey, it’s dumb. Holt is right, and I cannot for the life of me believe you’re not warier of this entire situation. It all still feels so freaky, if you ask me. The timing is either fucking fate, or something is very wrong here. Either way, y’all need to keep your guard up around this kid. We don’t know him, and we can’t trust him farther than I can throw him.”
“Yeah, but this might be our best shot. Frankly, it seems like the only true way to know the truth. If we want to outsmart them, we need an inside man.” Abel shot me a knowing stare, one that said, It’s my call and you’re going to have to go along with this. I hated that look.
I hated that he was right. Trent could go fuck himself for coming up with the asinine idea but it was the only idea we had.
I scratched under my chin, clenching my jaw. I didn’t want to give in, but I had to. “I’ll make the call.”
“Good. See you at the garage in a few.” Abel got up, kissed his wife, and headed to work with Trent.
Crickett shook her head while she counted the drawer to get ready to open the bar. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked, not looking up from the stack of five-dollar bills in her hand.
I threw my hands up. “No, but do I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice, Holt.” Her voice was callous as she glared at me.
I couldn’t take her disapproval. Out of everyone in that damn place, Crickett was always the voice of reason and never wavered on her resolve to make us better men. She was tough and smart—the perfect wife for an outlaw, the perfect matriarch for the band of hooligans we had become.
I made my way into the back office, staring at the picture on Abel’s desk from the day I patched in. Rave was in the middle of us, arms hooked around our necks. We were all grinning like it was Christmas morning.
“It’s official.” Rave beamed with pride as he watched me sew the Unacceptables rocker onto the back of my leather.
“Did you ever doubt I would make it?” I teased as I tied off the string.
He shook his head subtly. “I knew this day was coming for a while, just didn’t think you’d become the youngest member in the history of the organization.”
It was my eighteenth birthday; they’d made me wait until that milestone.
“It’s an honor.” I threw my cut onto my back.
“You’re going to do great things for this club, Holt, mark my words. You’ve really come into your own, and I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become.” The pride that puffed Rave’s chest made me even more excited for my new undertaking.
Over the years, our lives had shifted and altered so much, but one constant remained: Rave was like the father I never had. He took both Abel and me under his wing, did his best to show us what it truly meant to be part of a brotherhood. I stood up for what was right and lived by our code daily.
“You’d fucking hate this,” I muttered to Rave’s ghost as I pulled out the folded paper with Ryder’s name on it. “You’d tell me there must be another way and to find it. I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t see it, couldn’t see the alternative unless we went into the Sinners’ clubhouse with miniguns and AR 15s. Not smart.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I forcefully pressed each digit on my cell as I damned the call I was making.
“Hello?” Ryder answered right away.
“Need some help with that bike?” Reciprocity—it was going to be the hook that would lure him into doing our bidding. I’m already a terrible father.
“Actually, yeah. I can’t seem to get the engine to stop bucking.” He took the bait unknowing the string that were attached to it.
“Well, I can swing by with a flatbed and bring it to our shop. No sense in you ripping your hair out when we’re professionals.” I’m going to hell. I just sealed my fait.
“How fatherly of you,” he said with a snicker.
If he only knew.
“I guess. I just can’t sit by knowin’ I can help.” At least that was an honest answer, I did want to help him.
“It’s definitely running lean.” Abel wiped the sweat off his brow as he stood up from checking out Ryder’s Dark Horse. “I’d check the fuel injectors too, but it’s looking like you’re going to need a new regulator and fuel pump at the least.”
Ryder rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess it’s a good thing y’all are here, because that is way over my fucking head.”
“I’ll teach you. A man should be able to take apart his bike and put it back together.” I grabbed my toolbox and pulled over a couple of stools.
“I’ll leave ya to it. If you need anything, just holler.” Abel patted Ryder on the shoulder. “It’s good to meet you, son.”
“Thanks.” Ryder was staring at the engine compartment, confused as hell.
“Don’t worry, we have all the parts in stock. You’ll be back on the road in a few hours.”
Time for some father-son bonding at its finest.
I motioned to Ozzy as he walked out of the back room.
“Mornin’ Holt.” Ozzy raised his coffee mug up to us.
“It’s one in the afternoon.” I blinked at the grizzly roughneck as he narrowed his eyes at me.
“It’s mornin’ for me,” he replied defensively. “What do you need?”
I handed him the parts list I had scribbled down while Abel and I checked out the motorcycle. “It’s all here.”
Ozzy grunted. “Don’t we have prospects to do the grunt work?”
“I don’t see any, and you’re just boondoggling around here like a schmuck. This is Ryder, by the way.” I motioned to
the kid as he took Ozzy’s hand.
“Ryder, good to meet you. I’m Ozzy.”
“Likewise.”
We hadn’t told anyone else about the situation or plan. Until it could be brought to the table after Ryder said yes, I didn’t want rumors to fly or the news of new blood in the family to get back to anyone who shouldn’t know about Ryder. If we were going to make this work, the less people who knew about it, the better.
“So, Ryder…” I hated small talk, but I didn’t know what else to do while he sat there watching me take the engine of his bike apart. “Where’d you and your mom end up?”
“You don’t have to do this.” His eyes were soft as he wiped grease off his hands onto an old rag.
“Do what?”
“Do the whole getting-to-know-me thing. I mean, at the end of the day, we’re just two strangers who have a weird connection. This was probably a bad idea.” The way he looked so defeated made me want to try even harder. It was a weird situation, but I was his father, and I needed to at least try to get to know the guy.
“I’m not doing anything. Look, kid, I have no idea what I am doing here. I don’t know what to say or ask. I just know I was robbed of being your dad for nineteen years. You’re grown, and I fucking get that. You don’t need a father but I can at least be your friend, and we can try to get to know each other.”
“Okay. I grew up in Lawrence, Kansas—lived there my whole life. A little over a year ago, I moved to Atlanta for a welding apprenticeship, but the company downsized last month and I was laid off. Figured it was time for another change. I hopped on my stallion and here I am. I don’t know what the fuck to do with my life at this point. There’s nothing to go back to, and I have no idea where I’m going. That’s me in a nutshell.” By the time he was done rambling, I had the compressor and fuel pump out and ready for the replacements.
“Your mom still in Lawrence?” I asked before taking a swig of my beer.
Ryder’s lips pursed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s currently a resident of the Alpha Recovery Center out there. Here’s hoping tenth time is the charm.”
That stung. I knew what it was like to have a junkie for a mother. At least Pauline was still alive, but I hated that my kid had to grow up in a similar situation to what I had.
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.
He shrugged. “At least she’s getting help, right?”
I handed him a fresh beer from the cooler. “My mom lost the battle right before I met your mother. So, know that when I say I know what you’re going through, it ain’t me just blowing smoke up your skirt.”
“You like working here?” It was palpable how much Ryder wanted to talk about anything else in the damn world.
“Don’t know anything different. Abel’s old man had me start working here when I moved in with them in high school, and I’ve been a grease monkey ever since. I also help run our bar, the one that you stumbled into the other day.”
“Everyone seems pretty chill around here.” Ryder’s glare was locked on the top of his beer can.
“This place is a catchall for lost souls and broken spirits. We make it work the best we can. We’re all kind of a dysfunctional wreck of a family, but it has its moments.”
I was about to keep spilling my guts about the love I had for my organization and the rest of the people I thought of as family, but then Raine came into the shop with lunch for her dad.
“Hey, Holt. Is Dad in the back?” She smiled at Ryder, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
Shit.
They made goo-goo eyes at each other while I answered, “Yeah, I think Abel’s on a call in the office.”
“Thanks. I’m Raine.” She never took her eyes off of Ryder.
“Ryder.” He clambered to his feet, shaking her hand like a fumbling goober.
“It’s nice to meet you. See you later for my bartending lessons, Holt.” She smiled sweetly in pure Raine fashion.
“I’ll be there, little lady.” I looked from one to the other scared of the connection that were undoubtedly making.
Her hips waggled away, Ryder’s mouth salivating more and more with every swish.
“I want in,” he stated.
That was too easy. Leave it to his libido to get the better of him and make him want to stick around. What did he think? That I was born yesterday? Still, I let it go. He was barking up the wrong damn tree—Abel kept his daughter on the tightest of leashes. Over his dead body would she end up with someone like us, and Ryder was proving to be a ringer.
“No, you don’t.” Rave’s words all those years ago replayed on a loop in my head. I would never want that for any child of mine. It’s too fucked up and far too dangerous. I had held onto those words tightly and in that moment I realized how true they were.
“Well, I already ride a bike—isn’t that the whole point of the motorcycle club thing, anyway?” Ryder’s idea of our organization was so far off base to was almost comical. I could feel the idealism inspired by the media and movies emanating from deep down.
“That’s so far from the point. Yes, we’re motorcycle enthusiasts, but that is just the smallest tip of the iceberg.” I wanted to tell him about the death and heartbreak that came with wearing our skull and bones on his back but I knew that I would be failing Abel and ruining our diabolical plan.
“What else do I have going for me?” Ryder’s smoldering eyes locked with mine. “I need something, and this seems as good a place as any to stick around for a while.”
“If you want in, there’s only one way they are going to let that happen. We don’t trust outsiders. It was a stretch for me to even get your bike in here today.” There was no going back. Ryder was going to do our bidding, and he had no fucking clue what he was asking for.
“What’s that?” he asked naïvely.
“You have to prove yourself, and it ain’t going to be easy.”
“What do I have to do?”
Chapter 5
“You sure about this, kid?” Abel asked in the back office from behind his desk in the bar.
Ryder was standing in the corner, resolute in his determination to show us how much he wanted to be part of our fucked-up family. “Yeah. If this is how I’m going to prove to you guys that I have what it takes to make it here then I’m game. I’ve never backed down from a challenge before—ain’t gonna start now.”
“You’re going to have to get in good with those fuckers and make them think you’re one of them. It’s not going to be a walk in the park to say the least. They will test you. They will try to break you down. I hope you’re good in a fight and are a half-decent shot because they are going to lay into you hard.” Abel was right. I didn’t even think about how much Ryder was going to have to deal with to prove himself to the Sinners.
Ryder rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never shot a gun before.”
Abel laughed. “Fuck, if he didn’t look like your doppelgänger, I would swear he wasn’t your kid just from that statement alone.”
“Well, there ain’t any time to waste.” I took my Beretta Nano out of its ankle holster from the inside of my boot. “We’re going to start with the basics.”
“Is that a damn toy?” Ryder asked, and Abel about died from laughter.
“Kid, you’re going to have to learn how to handle something like that before you can upgrade to something you think is manly.” Abel always put in his two cents, and it was one of my favorite things about him. He was a dick so I didn’t have to be.
“Take a seat. You’re going to learn everything about this puppy.”
I pulled the chair next to me out for Ryder.
He sank while Abel watched with amusement.
“The Nano is a locked-breech, striker-fired, double-action only pistol with no manual safety,” I began, watching as Ryder tried to focus on something he knew nothing about. “First things first: field stripping.” I held the gun in my hand and went step by step on how to take the gun apart. “Remove the ma
gazine and make sure the chamber is empty.”
Ryder scooted closer to get a better look at what I was doing as I let the mag fall into my hand.
“Next you have to depress the striker deactivation button, which is over here on the right side of the grip frame, near the rear, to uncock the striker, which is this right here. Then you turn the disassembly pin on the right side of the gun, here, just above the trigger, approximately a quarter turn counterclockwise. Move the slide forward off the frame, and then lastly, you remove the recoil spring assembly and the barrel—and there you have it.”
I swiftly put the gun back together and handed the firearm to my son. “Now it’s your turn. You need to be able to take it apart and put it back together correctly and quickly before you even think about shooting the damn thing. Practice makes perfect.”
“Nice one!” I beamed with pride, checking out Ryder’s tight grouping.
It took about a week for me to be comfortable enough with Ryder’s shooting ability to send him off on his mission. I was edgy as fuck. He was calm as hell.
“Thanks.” He grinned as he took the target sheet from me to get a better look at it.
“I think you’re ready.” It was a bittersweet moment. I was proud as all get out of how hard Ryder was working to get ready for what was in store for him and the paternal side of my outlaw core was exploding with elation. At the same time, I knew I was going to have to send him off to fend for himself, and I wasn’t going to be there to protect him like a father should.
“I really am.” He puffed his check out as he beamed over at me.
“So, the Sinners hang around a bar not too far from here called Mac’s. I got you a motel room about a mile down the road from there. Here”—I handed him a duffle bag I had packed—“there are a couple of burners in there, a Beretta APX with the serial number stripped, and enough cash to get you through a little over a week. It shouldn’t take you longer than that. You’re to check in at least once a day. If you go more than 24 hours without a calling in, I’m coming to get you. No text bullshit. Always call and change out your burners often.”
Unstable: An Unacceptables MC Standalone Page 3
