“Look at you two!” my uncle exclaimed. “I always thought you two made such a beautiful couple.”
“Okay, what the fuck is going on here?” Minus growled out in obvious disbelief.
Uncle Cutter simply smiled even wider and said, “Come in, come in,” as he ushered us into his smoke-filled office. I could barely make out the one other person in the room, who was seated on one end of a large leather sofa.
“Please sit down. Don’t mind Warthog there, he’s kind of like my personal assistant, but he’s mostly here for the weed,” Cutter said laughing. “He keeps me flush with the good shit and I’m always happy to share. Plus, I’ve never believed that it’s good for a man to drink, or smoke, alone. Isn’t that right, Warthog?”
Warthog, who I thought looked a bit like Cheech, or was it Chong, simply smiled through his bushy black beard. Causing his eyes to disappear behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
“We’re not sitting, because we’re not staying,” Minus said, clearly pissed. “Actually, she can sit all she wants.” He motioned to me. “What the fuck do I care, but I’m outta here,” he said, turning on his heel.
“Sit the fuck down, Minus,” my uncle’s voice boomed, his goofy smile now completely gone.
Minus turned around slowly, but did as his president asked, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. This of course left only the middle spot between him and Warthog open, which I reluctantly took.
“Don’t be rude to my beautiful niece.” Cutter turned to me and took my face in his leathery hands. “It’s so wonderful to see you, my dear. Thank you so much for coming. It’s certainly no surprise to see what a beautiful woman you’ve grown up to be. More importantly, I understand you’re doing quite well at Mann Industries.” His eyes were soft, and his words tender. This was not the man I remembered, or the one I expected to see, not that I quite knew what to expect. I was also shocked that he knew anything about me or my work.
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“Good, we’re all settled in,” my uncle continued, his grin having fully returned. “Either of you wanna hit this?” He presented to us a large black glass bong, adorned with the Burning Saint’s club logo. “Warthog here had this made special for me as a gift. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Oh, boy, Cutter, I tell ya, I’d normally join you, but I just polished off a spliff in the parking lot before coming in. How ’bout you, Cricket? It’s 4:20 somewhere, right?” Minus mocked.
“I’m good, thanks,” I shot back through clenched teeth.
“Alright, Minus, you don’t have to be an asshole, she didn’t ask you to be here, I did,” Uncle Cutter said.
“And why exactly is that, Cutter?” Minus snapped.
“Hey, shithead! I may be high, but that don’t make me some peace-lovin’ hippie. You’d better stow that fucking attitude before I start rethinking you coming back here.”
“Coming back? What the fuck are you talking about? Who said anything about coming back? In fact, who said I wanted to be here at all?” Minus stood up.
“Who said you had a fucking choice in the matter?” Cutter asked, also rising to his feet. The two men were now standing toe-to-toe, mere inches away from each other. They both stood well above six feet and were menacing in their own ways. Uncle Cutter was as ‘old school’ as they come, and had a commanding presence. Shocks of white streaked through his jet-black hair and beard, giving him a severe, yet regal look. His arms were sleeved in blurry, aged tattoos, and rings adorned his gnarled fingers. He appeared to be the kind of man that knew when to bark, and when to bite. No doubt, years of leading the untamable had earned him that.
Minus on the other hand, was more like a dormant volcano, waking up after a long sleep. He seemed calm on the outside, but I could sense molten anger bubbling inside him. Some of that anger began to flow out as he challenged my uncle. Seeing this look on his face brought back a flood of memories. His beautiful features, forming into a Viking-like scowl. His fists, balled up at his sides, caused his biceps to swell. As hurt and confused as I was, I could not stop myself from feeling an instant, and overwhelming attraction to him. I had to force myself to look away.
“So, it’s more of this shit again? You tellin’ me where to go, where to live, who I can and can’t see. Is that why you brought me here, Cutter? So you can prove to me that you can still fuck with my life? And why the hell is she here? I thought I was asked here on club business,” Minus shouted.
I wanted to be pissed at the way he said “she,” but at this point, I had some of the same thoughts. Why was I here? Why had my uncle asked Minus and me to be here at the same time, when he’d done everything in his power to separate us and keep us apart six years ago? And why had he been so recently baptized in tie dye?
My uncle said nothing for several seconds, but quietly motioned for Minus to re-take his seat, before finally breaking the silence. “I’m dying.”
“What the fuck?” The tone in Minus’s voice immediately shifted from anger to concern. I gasped, my hand reflexively covering my mouth.
“I have CRC.”
“What the hell is that?” Minus asked with a slight drawl. His time spent in Savannah, clearly evident.
“Jesus, Minus, you sound like a goddamned hillbilly,” Cutter said with a chuckle.
“Colorectal cancer,” Warthog sang out, in a mock country singer voice, to a cheery tune that did not fit the lyrics.
“Yup. Asshole Cancer, stage four,” Cutter said. “It’s bad, I’ve apparently had it for a long time, it’s spread and it’s gonna kill me pretty soon.”
I sat stunned, not knowing what quite to say. My relationship with my uncle was complicated and fractured, to say the least, so I was at a bit of a loss as to the appropriate way to act. Plus, I wasn’t quite dealing with a “normal” guy here.
“How long have you known about this?” Minus asked.
“Not long. A couple months. I’ve been keeping this real quiet. Hardly anybody knows,” he replied before adding, “And no one here tonight knows. No one outside of my old lady, Big Frank, and of course, Dr. Warthog here.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Minus asked.
“Nothin’. Not a goddamned thing I can do about it. It’s aggressive, it’s having a fucking party all over my insides, and it’s not like the club has a health plan to pay for it. Hell, before we started getting’ patched up by Doc Eldie, I hadn’t seen a doctor since I was a kid. Probably why I’m in the state I am now. She was the one that spotted somethin’ was wrong with me, but by then, it was too late.”
“Then why are you telling us?” I asked.
“Because tonight I’m announcing my retirement from the Burning Saints,” he said.
“The hell you are,” Minus replied.
“It’s true. Hell, Minus it’s not like it’s my choice, it’s the law. If you can’t ride, you can’t wear a patch, and I can barely walk around the block without passing out and pissing myself, let alone ride.”
“You wrote the law. You started this club.”
“I remember, I was there.” Cutter smiled.
“So, Big Frank takes up the staff tonight?” Minus asked.
“Nope, can’t do it. Big Frank’s even older than me, has two bum knees. In truth, he hasn’t been able to ride for six months. We’ve been letting him slide, but the staff can’t go to him. Now, with me kickin’ the fuckin’ bucket, it’s a good time for both of us to retire.”
“And not ride off into the sunset,” Warthog added, to an approving nod from Cutter.
“Okay, so Cricket and I could’ve heard about all of this along with the others when you make your big speech or whatever,” Minus said. “Or better yet, we could have heard about it through the grapevine and spared the travel expense, so why the private pow-wow?”
Cutter smiled once again before sparking his lighter and taking a huge pull from his bong. He tilted his head back, exhaling slowly, once again filling the small room with a thick, nauseating smoke. He then set his glass
y eyed stare directly at us.
“How would the two of you feel about running a motorcycle club?”
Minus
“Who the fuck are you buying his weed from, Warthog? Willie Nelson?”
Cutter bellowed with laughter and smoke continued to pour from his lungs. “I forgot how funny you are when you’re not being so damned serious, Minus.” His laughter continued, and then turned to coughing; deep and violent, causing him to stagger back a step. Warthog immediately sprang to his feet, taking Cutter by the elbow, helping to stabilize him.
“I’m fine, goddammit!” Cutter protested, waving Warthog off, sitting down on top of his large mahogany desk, before continuing. “I’m serious, Minus. I’m retiring, and I want you to be the president of the club.”
“You want me to be...” I couldn’t form the words needed to complete the sentence. This was fucking absurd.
“And,” Cutter looked at Cricket, “I want her to help you.”
Cricket let out a gasp as she shot me a look of pure disgust.
“Well... what do you think?” Cutter asked, his arms stretched out, ready to receive the glory for bestowing his brilliant master plan upon us.
If earlier today, you’d asked me to make a list of all the potential reasons Cutter may have asked me here tonight, him giving me his president’s patch, with Cricket by my side, would not have made the top one million possibilities. By comparison, him killing me would have made the top three. After a few stunned moments I finally managed to continue.
“What do I think? I think you’re out of your goddamned mind. I think those doctors examined the wrong fucking end. I think you must have brain cancer instead of colon cancer, and that it’s rotting away your ability to form logical, rational thoughts.”
“Minus!” Cricket chided.
“You stay the fuck out of this!” I snapped, causing Cricket to rise to her feet.
She jabbed her finger repeatedly into my chest like an angry woodpecker. “Don’t you ever presume that you can tell me what to do, Jase Vincent. I wasn’t about to take your shit back when we were younger, and I’m certainly not gonna start now.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, stunned. I had no idea why she was pissed at me, when Cutter was the one that stirred up all this nonsense.
“I’m not the same person I was when you left, Minus. That naïve girl is far behind me; she’s a distant memory, so I’m not about to feed into your ‘big swinging dick just came back into town’ macho, alpha male routine.
I looked straight at her and grinned. “That girl may be a distant memory, but she clearly remembers my big swingin’—”
A slap in the face I could have handled without flinching, but she hit me with a fist; a good one, and she was wearing a ring. She cut me deep across the cheek, directly under my left eye. Blood immediately began to pour from my face, as I staggered back in surprise, throwing Cutter into another fit of laughter/coughing.
“What the fuck, Cricket?” I applied pressure to the wound as blood ran down my forearm.”
“Don’t ever talk to me like that again. In fact, don’t ever talk to me again, period.” Her eyes were burning with rage, and I’d never felt such a mixture of shame and desire before. At that moment I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. I also felt wholly unworthy of her and ashamed of the way I’d been treating her all night. I had been completely off balance since the moment I saw her. She’d always had that effect on me, and her presence here tonight, of all nights, was as disorienting as ever.
“Cricket, I’m sorry—”
“Save it,” she snapped, before turning to Cutter. “And you. I don’t know what your sick game is here, or how exactly you figure I fit into all this, but let me please assure you that I want none of it. I have my own life, and my own plans, and they most certainly do not include misogynistic biker assholes or working for long lost stoner relatives.” Her face softened for a moment. “Look, I really am sorry that you’re sick, and I hope you get better, but please don’t contact me again.” With that, she walked out the door, leaving the three of us silent as I bled all over Cutter’s carpet.
* * *
Cricket
I left the Sanctuary and called an Uber to take me home, however, in a moment of what I was sure would end up being identified as “Jase Vincent induced insanity,” I instructed my driver to veer onto the freeway and head north. My hand was throbbing. It didn’t feel like I’d broken anything, but it was swelling up just enough to remind me of what a lunatic I’d been.
Arriving at my brother’s home, I stood on the porch for a few seconds, debating whether I was going to offer my life to him on a silver platter. He was going to go ballistic, and I wasn’t sure I was in the mood to suffer through a lecture.
Before I could act on any sense and leave, the front door was yanked open and Hatch stood in the foyer. “Why the fuck are you standin’ out here all alone, Cricket?” he asked with a chuckle.
I bit my lip. “Because I don’t know if I want to come in.”
He cocked his head. “Christina, get the fuck in here.”
I took a deep breath and walked inside. Hatch locked up and took my coat, and I hugged him. I think he was surprised, because it took a minute for him to hug me back. “Okay, what’s goin’ on little sister?” he asked, his arms closing around me like a vice.
“Cutter’s dying.”
Hatch took a deep breath. “Yeah, I know.”
I met his eyes in surprise. “You do?”
He nodded. “Come on, let’s talk inside.”
I followed him into the family room where his wife, Maisie, was curled up on the sofa with my niece, Poppy, watching a movie.
“Cricket!” Poppy said, jumping up. “Oh my gosh, you look so cute.”
I grinned. She always said that. It didn’t matter what I was wearing... case in point, tonight I wore jeans and a T-shirt, with my favorite Converse Hi-Tops. Nothing special at all. “Thanks, honey. What are you watching?”
“Princess Diaries.”
“Good choice.”
Poppy nodded. “It’s Mum’s favorite.”
I absolutely adored Poppy. She was, without a doubt, my favorite human being on the planet. Despite being a teenager, she didn’t have that angsty bitch thing goin’ on. She was sweet and adored our family.
“Guilty,” Maisie said, hugging me. “How are you, love? How’s work?”
“I’m good. Work’s great.” Maisie used to own Mann Industries, the company I currently worked for. She got me the job before selling it, and now I had been moved into the position of marketing manager. As happy as I was to be using the degree I went to school to earn, I can’t say I found too much satisfaction in my current day-to-day work life. Mostly, I was also trying to parlay the experience gained through my current position to launch my own business, I just wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to focus on yet. I was truly grateful for my job, but there was an itch for adventure left unscratched in my life that was becoming harder for me to ignore.
“Cricket and I are gonna talk a bit,” Hatch said. “You guys finish your movie.”
“Okay, darling,” Maisie said, kissing him. “Cricket, say goodbye before you go, okay?”
“Of course,” I said, and followed Hatch downstairs to their epic finished basement.
“How did you find out about Cutter?” Hatch asked as we flopped onto the sofa.
“He summoned me.”
“To the Saints’ compound?” he growled. “And you went? Alone?”
I raised my hand and shook my head. “Nope. Grown woman here, big brother. None of the Saints would ever lay a finger on me, and you know it.”
“Goddammit, Cricket. The compound’s off-limits. Pretty sure I made that fact clear.”
“Pretty sure you’re not my boss, nor my parole officer,” I countered.
“Cutter knows the rules, Cricket. If Crow finds out about this, he’s gonna fuckin’ lose his mind.”
Crow was the president of Hatch�
�s MC, the Dogs of Fire. I loved my brother’s club. Cutter’s... not so much. Nor did any of the Dogs of Fire. There had been a long standing “bitter peace” between the two clubs, and me and Minus’s young romance didn’t help matters at all. Ultimately, it’s why Crow and Cutter made an agreement that family members wouldn’t darken each other’s doors. If my brothers or I wanted to see Cutter, we’d meet anywhere but one of the compounds. Cutter broke the rules when he summoned me, but I’d also broken them by going.
“In fairness to our uncle, Hatch, he is dying. It’s harder for him to get around in his condition.”
“You should have talked to me first.”
“Again, brother, grown ass woman here. I don’t have to ask your permission, I’m not in your club.”
He sighed. “Fair enough.”
I bit back a smile. I loved Maisie. She’d tempered my brother, and given him a peace he’d never had before. We’d had a tough life. Our mother had died when I was really little, then my father had been sent to prison after killing a man. Hatch had raised me and my three other brothers, alone, despite being barely an adult himself. I owed him everything. But that didn’t mean he still got to act like my dad.
“So, what did Cutter say?” he asked.
“He wants me and Minus—”
“What the fuck?” he snapped.
“Can I please finish?” I ground out.
“Minus was there?”
“Yes, but chill,” I said. “Cutter wants me and Minus to take over the Club.”
“Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me?” he hissed.
“Well, he was as high as a kite, so he’s obviously not in his right mind, but I figured you’d want to know what was going on.”
He dragged his hands down his face. “What the fuck is he up to?”
“On the surface, it looks like a dying man attempting to pass on his legacy... underneath, I have no idea. He brought Minus back, so it’s obviously more than it seems.”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway, I’m out. I have no intention of ever going back to their compound, or talking with Cutter, and I’d very much appreciate it if my big brother could fix it so I never see Jase “Minus” Vincent again.”
Minus (Burning Saints MC, #1) Page 3
