by Snow, Nicole
Not the manliest shit in the world, but it brought us together.
It did something. Soothed the hurt we'd suffered over Alex getting kidnapped, dried all the tears she'd cried when I was laid up a week ago, half dead from fever.
Bingo stood by the door, watching me. When I moved a few more inches, he tilted his head up, barking several times, like he was trying to pump a brother up.
“Take him slow,” Laynie told Summer. “Dust wants to see him out back. Here, let me walk behind you.”
The old nurse grabbed Alex, carrying him along with us, while Summertime opened the door. We slowly trundled down the hall, passing the empty bar, heading for the first church session I'd had in fuckin' forever.
Halfway there, Alex yawned in Laynie's arms, and then belted out a sound that stopped us in our tracks.
“Da-da-da!” he giggled, clapping his little hands.
My shoulder burned like a complete motherfucker as I whipped my head around. Damn if it wasn't worth it.
The kid watched me like I'd just flown down from the moon and handed him a chocolate bar. He admired me. Fuck, he knew who I was, finally, his own flesh. His old man.
“Oh my God,” Summer gushed, throwing her arms around my neck, kissing me on the cheek. “It's about time! I've been waiting for him to say it forever.”
My lips quirked, sly as ever. “And we're celebrating with a peck on the cheek? Come on, girl, just because I have a walker doesn't mean I'm eighty fuckin' years old. Give it up.”
Laughing, she leaned in. I pushed my fingers through her hair, holding myself up with the one good arm. I'd crawl over rusty nails to taste these lips.
Really fuckin' taste them.
I drank her deep, kissing her like I hadn't for weeks, because I'd been too fucked up. My lips were hungry, making up for lost time. Even my dick came outta its coma, straining in my pants.
Fuck, my lust didn't know my own limits. I didn't care.
“Shit, bro, there you are!” Sixty interrupted the perfect moment a second later. “Everybody's waiting for you! Need a hand?”
“Nah. I'll take it from here,” I said, watching him approach, Lion at his side. Two scruffy bastards, the opposite of the sweet, suckable face I remembered how bad I wanted to ravage.
“Later, babe. We'll catch up later,” I promised, looking back over my shoulder.
I saw Laynie pass the kid to his ma. They stood there the whole time while the brothers helped me along, underneath the neon red beer sign, smiling like I'd just handed her the world.
If only she knew what I was planning to drop on her later, as soon as I got my full strength back, or close enough to it.
Woman didn't have a clue. She wasn't the one who should've been there, looking at me with those, loving puppy dog eyes.
She'd given me everything. Her and that kid. Family.
Soon, I'd be giving it back.
* * *
Grandpa sat in his wheelchair next to Dust, our guest of honor, who hadn't been to the clubhouse in at least a solid year. They were all gathered around the old fire pit, all the boys, full patch only.
“Christ, Joker. They really busted you up bad,” the old man said, shaking his head. “That why I'm here?”
“No, Grandpa. It's fine. You're here 'cause some other fuckers got what they deserved. Prez, show him.”
Dust nodded to Firefly, who stood up from a big rock. He'd been sitting on the torn scraps we'd pulled off Hatch in the end, right before we poured gasoline all over their clubhouse and lit it the fuck up.
“Take it,” Firefly said, nodding respectfully to Grandpa.
His old hands shook when he took the scraps. He needed about another minute to realize what the fuck he was holding, turning it over, studying it.
“Shit. No, fuck, no. You boys bullshittin' me?” He looked up, staring at me, and then moved his eyes along the brothers, one by one.
“No bullshit,” Dust said, reaching over to squeeze his hands. “These came straight off Piece's killer. Joker heard the fuckin' devil admit it himself.”
Grandpa lost it. He slumped back in his wheelchair, clutching the dead man's patches, staring through the tangled branches reaching over the clubhouse to the sky.
If he were younger, maybe he would've screamed.
Fuck. I walked over, forcing myself to through the pain, shaking my head at the brothers who were halfway off their seats, ready to help me.
Didn't fuckin' need it for this. I had the strength.
This was a moment for the brotherhood, for my family, written in blood. I crouched down on the empty seat next to him, threw my arm around his shoulder, squeezing him as tight as I could.
“God. Fuck. Damn.” Grandpa shook when he said each word, overwhelmed. “Finally. I can go to my fucking grave in peace, seeing this.”
“No fuckin' way, old man,” I growled, waiting 'til he looked at me, seeing the tears in his old eyes. “You've got at least a few more good years, being a great grandpa, before we let you bite the bullet.”
His wrinkled face smiled. “You're a good boy, Jackson. All you boys.”
He looked up, taking my hand for a second, before I let him go back to clutching the bloodied trophies he was holding. “Dusty, you've done right by this club. Right by me. You did what you said, even if it was a long goddamned detour.”
“No. Don't deserve none of that praise. Truth is,” Dust said, standing up, pulling his pipe from his lips. “Every man here made this happen. It should've happened sooner, if we'd been stronger, and I fuckin' lied so it didn't.”
Everybody went silent. Yeah, I'd forgiven his lying ass for holding me back on my choke chain for years. But the rest of the brothers? Who the fuck knew.
They'd gotten their shit together well enough to come storming in with the Grizzlies, kicking Deads' ass. Didn't mean the wound was closed. Half the boys around me looked like they were seething, waiting for an apology that hadn't come.
Dust cocked his head, looking around. “Everybody here, you delayed the vote on whether or not you wanted me to put down the gavel so we could deal with Hatch and his assholes. That was the right choice. Now, ain't my place to say what's right and wrong anymore. It's up to you. I owe you boys that vote.”
Grandpa looked at him slowly, and the two men locked eyes.
“You strike me down,” Dust said, a tremble in his voice. “That's your damned right by the club charter. I'll step down in peace and pass the Prez patch to Joker, 'til you decide whoever the fuck you want running this club permanently. That's the other reason you're here, Don. You've got yourself a vote as long as you're alive and breathing. You rode with my old man, Skin's old man, and all the brothers who ain't here anymore to make a choice one way or another. You weigh in with the rest of us.”
Grandpa leaned in his chair, the scrap of Hatch's cut dropping to the ground. He looked at me. “Joker votes first. It's only right.”
All eyes were on me. I stood up, grinding my teeth through the pain, steadying myself on that fucked up walker.
“Brothers, I know what Dust did. His shit cut all of us, but it cut me the fuckin' deepest. He lied, sure. Fuck, though, he kept us alive.” I paused, feeling the tension roil the air. “You demote him, I'll take his patch for ten days. No more. I don't want the fuckin' gavel. Going through the shit I did – all the beatings, the torture, watching that piece of shit taunt me with my own kid – it flung my head around 'til I came face-to-face with God. He told me exactly how I oughta live the rest of my life, and I'd be a damned fool to say no. I'm doing my duty to this club, to my brothers, but I ain't taking on any more. Soon as I'm healed up, I'm going home every second I'm not here. I'm gonna give my woman and my son the world.”
Slowly, the brothers began nodding. They understood.
No matter how much shit went flying between us, sometimes, we all had each other in our hearts.
Always. Fuckin' always.
Dust was about to start the vote, looking at Firefly first, but I stopped him i
n his tracks.
“We're not finished yet. Every brother gets to speak before this shit goes down, and I'm putting in my word. I want Dust keeping the gavel.” A couple men snorted, and others balled their fists. “He's a motherfucker for lying about my brother, but he's been a fuckin' hero every time the bullet meets the gun. He just cut us a deal with clubs a helluva a lot bigger than us, ten states away, when they wouldn't have given us a fuckin' second of their time a couple weeks ago.
I turned, staring at Firefly, his blue eyes raging the most. “Whatever the hell he did, or didn't do, that counts for something. Something big. There's nobody else I'd want at the helm when the blood flies, and we've got more coming. Sooner or later, it always comes. There's always fuckin' more, but gutting the Deads in Georgia like we just did, looks like there'll be a little less to worry about for the first time in forever.”
I sat back down. Fuck, that felt amazing, especially when the fire in my legs had been about to put me under.
“We'll start with you, Veep, because we already know your vote. All in favor of turning me out, handing over the President patch, say 'aye.'”
“Nay,” I said, without a second of hesitation.
“Nay.” Grandpa voted the same. He looked at me and bowed his head, more respect shining in his eyes than he'd shown me since the night they butchered Piece.
Two more Nays came quick. Sixty, moving onto Skin, who both voted the same way.
Club charter said it took seventy percent to elect a President or turn him out.
“Aye.” First one came from Lion, who'd taken a fuckin' beating a few months back, almost as bad as mine at the hands of the Torches MC. “We need fresh blood, somebody who'll give it to us straight.”
He stared at the Prez, anger in his eyes. Turned my damned stomach, but I respected his balls, him and Tin both for flexing nuts when they were the newest boys here.
His closest brother, Tin, followed with another Aye. If the tension was like a vice before, it felt like we'd dropped ten thousand feet beneath the ocean, the pressure caving in our skulls.
The vote moved to Crawl, staring at us through his long dark hair, a hint of Hispanic in his skin. His old man had been Brazilian or Argentinian or some shit.
“Aye.” His vote was like a fuckin' lightning bolt, the first senior brother to turn against the Prez.
My fuckin' heart sunk. I started, clenching my teeth, making the fresh pain in my jaw drown out everything else healing in my body.
A dozen eyes burned. Appreciation, anger, and respect, all of it aimed his way.
“You're a good man, Dust, and a good brother. You meant well. But you've just lost my trust,” he said, smooth and measured. Motherfucker was gonna take my place sooner or later as the eerily calm one.
Fuck. I did the tally in my head.
Three ayes. Four nays. And it was moving to Firefly, who still had an axe to grind with the Prez over the fling with his sis.
Fuck me again. My jaw got tighter, tighter, realizing I'd have a temporary gavel I never fuckin' wanted hanging over me, as real as this bum leg and all the lovin' I had for my family.
Firefly didn't say shit. He looked at the Prez, his face as angry and electric as ever.
“Firefly?” Dust said, when the staring contest lasted too long. “What's your vote?”
“Nay.”
Holy shit.
Heads dropped. Men cursed in shock and relief, sometimes both at once.
Grandpa had been holding the gavel while this shit went down. He passed it back to Dust, who took it on one hand, giving it a slow spin like he'd picked it up for the first time.
He walked down the center line, stopped at the big brick oven next to the fire pit, and slammed it down on the concrete so hard the hammer went flying off its handle. It bounced loudly on the pavement, rolling to a stop next to my walker.
Bingo jumped up, wandered over, and started sniffing away at it, his fat tongue hanging out.
“Brothers, thank you all for every vote. I fuckin' mean it. Those of you who decided to give me a second chance – won't let you down. Everybody who wanted me gone – you'll think twice in a few more months. Won't let anybody down, even the ones who hate me. I promise. This club's in my blood. I'll die before I ever fuck it over.”
He turned around, taking a good, hard look at each and every one of us. I spoke first.
“We done here, or what?”
“Yeah. We'll do church again in a few days, soon as I've got the next shipping details from Blackjack. We owe the Grizzlies more than money for sending their guys out here, having 'em move on the fly. We'll send a few kegs of the best Tennessee whiskey we can get our hands on out their way.”
Every brother nodded. I'd personally thanked that big, mean motherfucker, Roman, who'd loaded Alex and me in the truck. Said he'd been through some shit with his kid too, and everything happening was real familiar.
Slowly, the brothers filed out. I took my sweet time trailing Grandpa out to wait for his ride from the home, letting Skin and Firefly help me along.
Summertime came running up next to us, scratching Bingo while holding Alex in her arms. “Looks like we're about ready.”
I looked at her, smiled, and nodded. “Yeah, babe. Go warm up the truck. Just a few more minutes here.”
Perfect timing. The van rolled by about a minute later, and we all waved to Grandpa as they loaded him in, and took off.
We'd have a happier visit next time, when I brought the family around to see him. He hadn't even bothered to keep the torn up strips of Hatch's leather we'd offered, and who the fuck could blame him?
Enough blood. Enough bullshit. I wanted my wife, my old lady, my kid. Fuck, I wanted to start working on a little brother or sister for Alex, soon as my body let me.
“Rest up, brother,” Skin said, slapping me gently on the back. “I've got tax shit to crunch the rest of the day.”
Firefly hung with me 'til Summer came around, winding the truck against the curb. Before she parked it and stepped out to help me in, I turned to him, looking at him sideways.
“Why the fuck did you vote for Dust? You hate his ass more than the rest of us, that shit going on between him and your sis.”
“'Cause I agreed with everything you said, brother.” He stood up straight, looking me dead in the eye. “This club needs leadership. I'm still aiming to knock his shit in if he doesn't stop fuckin' around with Hannah. Still, we've got too much on our plate to get petty. I ain't letting personal grudges come between me and the club. We're family, Veep, same as Cora and my kid about to be born.”
Family. That word was starting to haunt me.
I looked at him and nodded. “Yeah, you've got a point.”
I'd only begun to figure out what it meant. Had a feeling there were a hundred meanings left to find, too.
One of them stared me right in the face as Summer opened my door and helped me in.
This was everything. All of it. In here.
Long as I had her, my son, my dog, and my brothers, I'd be fuckin' dandy.
Unraveling the mysteries of the universe could wait.
* * *
Several Weeks Later
I'd been at the chop shop all day by myself, and now I was coming home. My shoulder still ached when I worked the tools, but I was able to work again.
That meant something.
Almost as much as climbing on my bike for the fifth time since the showdown with the Deads. It hurt like hell going more than a few miles.
Damn if it wasn't worth it, though. I'd lost the walker awhile ago, and borrowed one of Grandpa's old canes about a week longer.
I'd never been happier to give anything up, when I finally kicked them both to the curb.
Never would've believed I'd take moving on my own two feet for granted, or jumping on my Harley without a second thought.
After this brutal fuckery, I never would again.
I rode, free from all the demons.
Freddy's ghost didn't haunt me no more
, except when I saw him in my dreams. His face was back. So were his eyes, and his smile.
I dreamed about the good times instead of the bad. Dreamed about us wrestling, laughing, beating up on each other in the mud and the grass with grandpa watching from the porch, just like when we were kids.
The Deads were...well, pretty fuckin' dead. And they'd stay that way.
Intel said the motherfuckers left behind in Georgia and Florida after we'd killed their Prez were fighting like headless snakes. They'd be too busy killing each other across the deep south to think about retaliation anytime soon.
Grandpa, he'd never been so fuckin' happy. Not since before they closed down Robby's place in Seddon. Not since Freddy was still breathin'.
Every Sunday, he was up early, sitting in his chair waiting for us, ready to take a summer stroll around the pond behind the home with me, Summer, Alex, and Bingo at his side.
We never let the kid outta our sight. Ever.
Today, I was free. Balmy mid-summer wind tore across my face like nobody's business, sweeping down from the Smokies; haze, humidity, and all.
Today was the day. The shit I'd been working on for the last week sat in my pocket. It was missing one more piece, the most expensive one, but I couldn't fuckin' wait.
Not since my girl got herself branded last week.
PROPERTY OF JOKER, the big, dark tattoo across her shoulder read. Firefly did the ink with the same care and attention he'd used on his own girl, Cora, her belly getting bigger by the day as her due date crept up.
Seeing that shit only made me want to fuck my girl harder. Longer. Spill my balls inside her every chance I got, and throw those fuckin' pills she popped every morning to keep from getting knocked up in the fire pit with a light.
No, goddammit.
Had to keep a lid on my lust, just a little while longer. I'd already been fuckin' her for the past week when Laynie said I shouldn't, telling me it could still do damage.
It'd been torture staying away from that pussy while I was laid up. Almost as bad as feeling what I had in my pocket, ready to burn a hole right through it, if I didn't hand it over the second she walked through the door.
