Shifting Gears (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 1)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “There you are,” he says. “I’ve been texting you for the last hour.” He pauses as he looks past my shoulder at Bash. With a wave and a flirty wink, he greets him “Hi, Papi, thanks for rescuing this pain in the ass and letting me know she’s alive.”

  “Anytime,” Bash responds, taking Chaz’s appearance in. “You weren’t kidding about the stockings,” he whispers, leaning close to my ear.

  “Nope.”

  Chaz’s heels click against the pavement as he makes his way towards us. Once he reaches me, he takes hold of my shoulders and lets his eyes travel the length of me before dragging me into his arms.

  “If you ever call me like that again, you better be dead because I’m going to kill you for scaring me if you’re not. Girl, you need to junk that car.”

  “No worries,” Bash says as he walks around me. “It’s as good as toast. Give me your keys, I’ll get the door.”

  Keeping one arm around Chaz, I reach into my back pocket and pull out my key ring. Bash takes it and starts down the steps as Chaz breaks our embrace and inches back, taking another long look at me.

  “Seriously, girl, you scared the fuck out of me,” he whispers, glancing over his shoulder. “How’s it going with the cowboy? I’m assuming you got the D.”

  “She got the D alright,” Bash calls, answering for me as he pushes the door open.

  “Praise Jesus,” Chaz replies, dramatically swinging his head back and clasping his hands together.

  If you don’t have a best friend who will praise the high heavens with gratitude for your vagina, is he really even your friend?

  Rolling my eyes, I smack his shoulder playfully.

  “Quit it,” I reprimand.

  “Fine, but when I get off work, you’re going to have to tell me everything. I want all the juicy details…girth—”

  “Chaz!”

  Laughing, he leans forward and drops a noisy kiss to my cheek.

  “I’ve gotta go, girl, I’m already late. Hence why I’m walking around like a two-dollar hooker,” he stops at the top of the stairs and calls out for Bash who has already entered the apartment. As I stare at his back, I realize I have to tell him I’m not going to be here when he gets back and that worries me. Since the day I found him outside my apartment, he’s always had somewhere to go, somewhere he could be himself and feel safe. Now, I feel like I’m taking that away from him.

  “Chaz,” I call, and he turns slightly. “I won’t be here when you get home tonight.”

  His eyes light up like a Christmas tree and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Get it girl!”

  “No, it’s not like that,” I say, shaking my head as I close the distance between us. “There’s something going on with the club and Bash thinks it’s best if I stay at Kate’s with him until everything calms down.”

  “Those fuckers from the cartel making noise again?”

  “Would you lower your voice? My landlord is going to think I’m mixed up with a bunch of drug lords.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. He’ll raise your rent.”

  “Chaz, focus,” I demand, gripping his shoulders. “I don’t know how long I’ll be staying there, but you’ve got the key to my apartment. I want you to use it.”

  “Oh, you do love me,” he teases.

  His words are meant to be a joke, but they resonate with me and I realize I haven’t told anyone I love them since my gram passed. Those words also make me realize I’m not alone anymore, that I’ve got people in my life who I care deeply about and in turn care deeply for me as well.

  “I do,” I whisper, lifting my gaze to his. He winks at me and brings me back into his arms.

  “Oh, girl, you know you’re my ride or die,” he whispers, giving me another lengthy squeeze.

  After a moment, he releases me and promises to call me in the morning for all the ‘juicy details’ just as Bash exits the apartment, holding my suitcase.

  “Look what I found.”

  The two men in my life say goodbye to one another and Bash tells Chaz to call him if he needs him. Before I leave the two of them outside, I also overhear Bash tell him he’s always welcome at his apartment. While Bash is outside, I hurry into my apartment and push the dresser away from the wall. I grab the gun and shove it to the bottom of my suitcase and empty the contents of my laundry basket on top of it.

  I continue to drop whatever I find into the suitcase as Bash enters the apartment and a voice in the back of my head sounds, reminding me it’s the foundation of a relationship that matters most and any lie is a crack.

  Today has been a long day.

  We have tomorrow.

  I’ll tell him about the gun and the truth about Declan then.

  Zipping my suitcase, I turn to him.

  “Ready?” he asks

  I hope so.

  -Twenty-six-

  Bash

  “Sweetheart, how’s about a couple of beers down here,” some fuck calls from the other end of the bar. The same fuck who has been flirting with Lydia all damn night. He’s not alone, though, half the fucking bar wants to get a piece of her, little do they know I’m the lucky bastard she’ll go home with tonight and every fucking night.

  We’ve been playing house for a week now and it’s been interesting, to say the least. Aside from being a neat freak, she crochets. I’ve got like ten hats for the winter, a scarf and she’s currently working on a throw blanket for the couch. When she’s not playing with yarn or serving drinks, she likes to cook and recreate her grandma’s recipes. Between the dinner at Riggs and being Lydia’s personal taste tester all week, I think I gained ten pounds, but I’m not complaining. Having Lydia be the last thing I see when I close my eyes and the first thing when I see when I open them in the morning is pretty fucking spectacular. I think I’d enjoy it more if we had a better handle on the situation with the cartel and I was sure she was safe.

  With no actual plan, the club seems divided. Wolf has called church more than usual, but I haven’t sat at the table with them and no one has clued me in on where we go from here. Riggs beefed up security just as promised, but with football season in high gear, this place is always packed. Every night I sit in this exact spot and study every face that enters, wondering if one of them is the fuck who tampered with Lydia’s car.

  She still doesn’t know the truth about that and as guilty as I feel about lying to her, I don’t want to scare her either. Especially when she’s just starting to become comfortable in her own skin. When everything is said and done and the motherfucker responsible for fucking with her car is euthanized, I’ll tell her. Until then, I’ll sit here like the fucking guard dog I am, staking my claim, protecting what’s mine all while hoping Wolf gets his shit together and makes a move.

  There’s a lot of talk going around about Wolf not fitting the role of president and I don’t know what to make of it because I wasn’t around for the Parrish era. I overheard Riggs and a couple of the other members say Parrish would’ve had this shit handled by now, that Wolf is biding his time because he’s afraid of making a mistake. Maybe that’s true, but on the other hand, he just might be acting cautiously.. We’re not exactly playing with a bunch of boy scouts. I’ve done my own research on the Sinaloa cartel. One wrong move and we’re setting up a war with a global criminal enterprise. We might as well sign our own death certificates. I get frustrations are running high, especially after Lydia was targeted too, but I’m not sure we should nail Wolf to the cross either.

  I keep thinking about the conversation I had with our president when I first arrived and how straightforward he was with me when he told me he doesn’t rule like Parrish or Scout. He said it doesn’t make his way better than theirs, just different and change is hard to accept. These guys are used to charging into situations and asking questions later and they’ve made themselves a whole lot of enemies by doing that. Maybe Wolf leading them in a new direction is what they need not just to thrive but rather to fucking survive.

  But I’m just a pr
ospect.

  My opinion doesn’t count for shit.

  Lifting my beer to my lips, I take a long pull and watch Lydia serve the asshole at the other end. The front door to the bar opens and my gaze immediately slices towards it. Nico enters first, followed by Parrish.

  Speak of the devil and he’ll appear.

  It’s the first time I’m seeing him since I’ve returned to New York and he looks just as fucking lethal as I remember. Without a rank sewn to his kutte, one might argue he’s got as much pull as I do, but all you gotta do is look at him to know that isn’t true. He doesn’t need a patch or a title to call the shots. No one tells Jack fucking Parrish what he can and cannot do. Legend has it, it’s been that way since the creation of charter. Being a manic depressive and the man in charge of the Satan’s Knights for over two decades, he defied the odds. When the world told him he couldn’t lead, he threw his middle finger in the air and gave them one fuck of a show.

  Not much has changed for him since he’s given Wolf the mallet, he comes and goes as he pleases and does whatever the fuck he wants. Like now, I’m pretty sure he’s not supposed to barge into Wolf’s chapel without a warning, but as he struts past me and makes his way down the hallway, it’s clear he doesn’t give two fucks.

  Shaking my head, I look back behind the bar and watch as Nico and Lydia exchange words. I still don’t know what his deal is or what to make of him. He’s another one who does what he wants when he wants. I wonder if he’d get away with as much as he does if he wasn’t Wolf’s son.

  Lydia rolls her eyes at him and brushes past him. Her eyes find mine as she makes her way over to me. Leaning over the bar, she gives me her smile and I forget all about Parrish and the golden boy he calls his nephew.

  She tips her chin towards the beer in my hand.

  “You want another?”

  “I’m good, darlin’,” I reply. Inching forward, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and glance over her shoulder at Nico. “He sticking around for the rest of the night?”

  “So he says but who knows with him.”

  “I’ll talk to Riggs, maybe he’ll let you off early tonight since he’s here and we can get the fuck out of here for a little while.”

  “Oh?” she questions, raising an eyebrow. “Where will we go?”

  I shrug. I don’t care where we go, so long as she’s on the back of my bike.

  “We haven’t had a proper date yet.”

  “What happened to the two you claimed were dates?”

  “Those were just practice,” I say with a wink.

  “Are you saying they don’t count?”

  Every fucking second, we’ve spent together counts.

  I don’t get a chance to tell her that though because a loud crash sounds behind me. My first instinct has me reaching inside my kutte for my gun, but I remind myself this place is packed with civilians and I stop in my tracks just as Parrish storms out of the chapel with Wolf, Pipe, and Riggs on his tail.

  “Goddamn you Parrish,” Wolf bellows.

  The former president pays him no mind and suddenly his eyes find mine.

  “Prospect,” he calls. I look over Lydia’s head to see if he’s referring to me or Nico but Nico’s still at the other end of the bar. Rising from my stool, I narrow my eyes and look towards Wolf for guidance. At the end of the day, Parrish can call all the shots he wants but I take my orders from the bearded beast behind him.

  “What the fuck you lookin’ at him for?” Parrish asks. “Let’s go, you’re riding with me.”

  Wolf glares at the back of Parrish’s head and clenches his fists. I walk towards him and Parrish mutters a curse behind me. Apparently, I’ve poked the bulldog.

  “You hard of hearing, boy?” he growls. “I said let’s go.”

  “Parrish, I don’t got time for some good Samaritan bullshit,” Wolf grunts in response and I curiously look between the two men, wondering how the fuck I got in the middle of this.

  “You’d have the fucking time if you stopped dwelling on shit, but you gotta overthink everything. It ain’t no way to live man and it ain’t no way to rule. Blackie’s still a member of this club while he’s in rehab. He gets the same respect as if he was sitting at your table. Now, he’s called in a favor and I’m gonna deliver with or without your fucking consent. These mutts may take their orders from you, but I don’t.”

  Wolf finally diverts his gaze to me.

  “Go with him,” he orders through gritted teeth.

  “What about Lydia?” I question.

  “Nico’s here,” Riggs says. “Besides, you should be back before the bar closes.”

  I don’t trust Nico to protect a goldfish much less the woman in my life.

  “Where the fuck am I even going?”

  “Parrish needs to sit down with the members of Bikers Against Child Abuse on Blackie’s behalf. It don’t look right if he goes in there alone,” Riggs explains. “You’ll be gone an hour tops.”

  Something doesn’t feel right about this, but I’m powerless. Parrish calls me again and Wolf gives me a nod. Turning back to the bar, I step behind it and grab Lydia’s hand.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve gotta get out of here for a little while. I should be back in an hour, but if for some reason I’m not, I want you to let Nico lock up and go straight upstairs, you hear me?”

  Concern etches across her features.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “It will be once you promise you’ll let him lock up and go upstairs.”

  “I promise,” she whispers.

  Satisfied, I pull her closer to me. I’ve made it a point not to engage in any public displays of affection while she’s working, but right now I want the whole fucking bar to know she’s mine, so I bend my head and take her mouth. Hoots and hollers break out around us as her body melts against mine and she surrenders to the kiss. I’m just about to deepen it some more when I’m yanked back.

  “This ain’t some fucking scene from Gone with the Fucking Wind, prospect. Time’s a wasting,” Parrish growls, pushing me out from behind the bar. He turns to Lydia.

  “I’ll bring him back in one piece,” he tells her before turning back to me. “Let’s roll.”

  The rumors are true folks.

  Jack Parrish is as crazy as they come.

  Following him out of the bar, I make my way to my Harley.

  “Follow me,” he instructs, throwing his leg over his bike. He doesn’t bother with a helmet and the second his engine purrs to life, his kickstand is up, and his tires are spinning. I make quick work to catch up to him and peel out of the lot. On top of everything else, Parrish doesn’t obey speed limits. The man takes to the wind like the devil is chasing him and when you ride with Parrish, you do as Parrish does and soon Satan’s on my tail too.

  We ride across the island to another bar and park our bikes next to the several others that are already lined out in front of the building. He dismounts and walks over to my bike, briefing me on the situation. Apparently, before Blackie got himself into rehab, he was sentenced to jail, and his cellmate was a guy who went by the name of Bishop. Parrish doesn’t know much about him other than the fact he has a young son who was violated by his uncle. The state took the boy away from the motherfucker and has control over him until he testifies against him in court.

  Say what you want about the man in front of me. Call him crazy, say he’s a liability, but he’s always ready and willing to help someone in need. The fact he’s going out of his way to get this boy help speaks volumes about his character and as much I want to be back at Kate’s, making sure Lydia is safe, I’m fully invested in getting this boy whatever help he needs.

  “So what’s the plan here?” I question.

  “The system is fucked. If this kid doesn’t testify against the uncle or goes on the stand and retracts what he said, the uncle can be dismissed of all charges and it’s likely the boy will go back into his care.”

  “Why would the kid do that? I mean he ca
me forward for a reason.”

  “I don’t got all the details. I’m hoping Blackie’s lawyer will shed some light on things when he pulls Bishop’s records, but from what I gather the kid told his father what happened, and he informed the social worker.”

  “Wait, so you’re saying this guy Bishop didn’t have custody of his kid?”

  “Seems that way,” he says, turning for the bar. “But we’re gonna let God be his judge and his jury. Our concern is the boy and getting these guys to help.”

  “How?”

  “Well, with any luck they’ll get in contact with the caseworker and arrange to meet with the boy. They let him know he’s not alone, that he’s safe and protected and when it comes time for him to testify, they’ll flood the courtroom with leather. Their mission is to be the support system a kid needs to find the courage to speak his or her piece.

  Reaching the door, he turns around and looks me dead in the eye.

  “Are you coming or what?”

  There haven’t been too many times in my life where I’ve been proud to do something, but right now, in this moment, I hold my head high and nod.

  “Let’s do this.”

  He opens the door and holds it for me. I barely make it inside before my phone rings. Parrish walks to the bar and talks with the bartender as I fetch my phone from my pocket. Not recognizing the number on the screen, I go to silence it, but my gut clenches and I stop myself. I swipe my thumb across the screen and lift the phone to my ear as Parrish turns to me and beckons me with a finger.

  “Hello,” I say, striding towards him. He leads me away from the bar, thru a narrow hallway and we enter a private room that resembles the chapel at Kate’s. Surrounded by bikers who have dedicated their lives to serving children, I go to lower my phone when the person on the other end speaks.

  “I’m looking for Bash.”

  “This is Bash.”

  “Hi, I’m a nurse at Staten Island University Hospital South Site. We have a patient here who was brought in earlier and he’s insisting we call you.”