“What if I told you I wasn’t sure if that’s what I wanted anymore?” I ask, meeting his gaze.
“I’d tell you it’s too late,” he replies almost instantly. “Pete’s dead, Bishop, and he squealed like a mother fucking pig until he took his last breath. He ain’t ever going to hurt your boy or any other child for that matter.”
The minute those words leave his mouth I feel as if I’ve been knocked over by a freight train. I uncross my arms and drop my hands to my knees. Hunched over I drag in a deep breath. Air fills my lungs, but it feels like I’m suffocating. Lifting my head, my eyes meet his and to no surprise he remains impassive.
“I’m a man of my word, Bishop. Now, put your fucking kutte on and don’t forget you’re a Knight.”
“Pete’s dead,” I mutter hoarsely.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he growls. “Yes, he’s dead. There ain’t nothing left of that cocksucker but a pile of ashes.”
He takes another step closer to me and I involuntarily flinch as his hand cups my shoulder.
“I’m not the enemy, Bishop. I’ve been around the block, you ain’t the first man to question your place in this world and you sure as fuck won’t be the last. You think I don’t know what went through your head last night…why you couldn’t pull that trigger? You’re terrified of losing them. I get it, I swear, I fucking get it. But you ain’t no nine to five guy and even if you were, you’re a felon. Ain’t no one going to hire you, but Ronald McDonald and you don’t strike me as a guy who is comfortable living off his girl. The bowling alley gig is working for you now because your hands are tied, but what happens when you got the green light and Charlotte wants a baby? You gonna send her to work and play the role of Mr. Mom? How long do you think that’s going to last before you start feeling like shit? You’ll be tempted to do things, the same things that got you into this mess, but you’ll be a one man show. There won’t be any band of brothers bailing you out and making things right for your family. It’ll just be you. Think about that for a second. That kutte will change your life and there might be days when you resent it, days when you wish you never met the reaper, but those days will pass. You’ll look back and remember the men and women who rallied around you and your family, the guys who showed up with a clown and a fucking bouncy house on your son’s birthday. You’ll realize they were your family too and you’ll be proud of that. You’ll raise your head high and say you too were property of Parrish.”
He drops his hand away from my shoulder.
“It’s your call, Bishop,” he adds before stepping around me. I force myself to straighten up and turn to watch as he heads for the door. My lips part but no words come out of my mouth. What do I say to that?
Nothing.
I say fucking nothing.
He walks out the door, gently closing it behind him and I sink back onto the couch. I try to digest everything he said and weigh my options, but I still can’t get past Pete is gone and I didn’t do it.
Jack Parrish killed for my son.
My son.
The phone rings, jolting me away from my thoughts. I lift it from the coffee table and stare at Charlotte’s name. There’s no way out now, I’m bound by another man’s blood to the Satan’s Knights and Charlotte will never accept that.
Dismissing the call, I turn the phone face down on the table and close my eyes.
A million scattered pieces.
That’s me.
Never meant to be whole.
-Eighteen-
Bishop
Past
Every time a guard shows up to escort me out of my cell, I narrow my eyes and wonder if this is it…the moment I end up like Blackie. Especially now with everyone talking about how the Satan’s Knights are helping me, I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Today, isn’t the day, though, and I’m escorted to the visitor’s room where Parrish sits at a table waiting for me. Next to him is a man with a neatly trimmed beard, jacked-up arms and a lollipop hanging out of his mouth. Parrish spots me and nudges the guy, who glares at him in return. To say I’m curious would be an understatement and I quickly make my way to them.
“Parrish,” I greet. “This is a surprise.”
“Yeah, what can I say, I’m fond of this place,” he retorts, spreading his arms wide. The more I look at the man beside him, the more I try to place him. Parrish catches me staring at his buddy and slaps him on the back.
“Would you knock that shit off?” The guy grunts angrily.
“You were so much more likable when you were overweight. Have a salami sandwich and put us all out of our fucking misery. Fuck it, have two.”
Ignoring the suggestion to clog his arteries with cold cuts, the man focuses on me.
“I’m Wolf,” he supplies. “The president of the Satan’s Knights, although these days I feel more like the ring leader of a goddamn circus.”
Parrish makes no attempt to hide the lip curl as he crosses his arms against his chest. It makes me wonder if the man is bitter about the status. I don’t know the politics regarding a motorcycle club work, how one obtains a rank or how one loses it, but looking between the two men, I think it’s fair to assume Parrish isn’t all that keen on being the former anything.
“Nice to meet you,” I reply. I’m sure this guy has some kind of part in all the help that’s being bestowed upon me and my son. In fact, by the time all is said and done, there will probably be a very extensive list of names I’ll be indebted to.
“Davey fill you in on the intervention?” Parrish questions, dragging my attention away from Wolf.
I nod deciding to omit the fact it was Charlotte who actually filled me in. This guy doesn’t need any more ammo.
“I’m also aware of the birthday party,” I reply. “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, thank you.”
“That’s why you need the clown? You’re throwing a birthday party?” Wolf exasperates, shaking his head in disbelief.
“It’s the kid's birthday,” Parrish responds with a shrug. “It’s what we do, besides you love clowns.”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupt, leaning my elbows on top of the table. “Are you here to discuss the details of the birthday?”
“No,” Parrish scoffs. “That’s all under control.”
“Nothing you do is ever under control,” Wolf mutters, crossing his arms too.
“Ignore him,” Parrish instructs. “The old goat just found out he’s going to be a grandpa.”
“Congratulations.”
Wolf huffs a thank you and judging by the response I take the news isn’t all that welcoming.
“Get to the fucking point,” Wolf orders. “I have to go tell my ex-wife, our teenage son knocked up his girlfriend.” He turns his light eyes to me. “I might be your new cell-mate after that.”
Parrish turns to me and cocks his head.
“Right,” he begins. “So, I’ve been giving this shit some thought.”
“Never a good thing,” Wolf interjects.
“I don’t like your odds,” Parrish continues. “Davey is good, the best actually, but I don’t feel comfortable relying on his skills and the fucking law.”
Those gotta be the famous last words of every true criminal.
They’re also the words that turn my stomach.
“If everything goes in our favor and your boy testifies against that piece of shit, there is still the possibility he gets off and Connor goes back to him. On top of that, we have to be realistic here. It’s going to be a while before that boy is legally in your possession with all the black tape you’re going to have to cut through. It could be months before you’re reunited, maybe even years.”
“What are you getting at?” I question, not liking where any of this is going. I’m not naive, I know I’m facing the greatest fight of my life, but I thought I had a fair shot with Schwartz in my corner. Now, Parrish has me questioning that.
“We need to be prepared for everything.”
“Here he goes,” W
olf hisses, dropping his arms from his chest. The man actually looks fucking scared to hear whatever it is that’s about to come out of Parrish’s mouth and I gotta tell you, I’m right there with him.
Leaning forward, Parrish’s scans the room before his eyes finally meet mine.
“I’ve got a way of making things happen,” he says as he lifts his hand and snaps his fingers. “I can make people disappear just like that.”
“Fuck, Parrish, now ain’t the time for you to play Houdini,” Wolf grinds out.
“I also got a way of making things appear.”
“So, you came all this way to tell me you’re a magician?” I question hoarsely.
“I prefer God,” he says with a shrug.
There’s no humor in his tone.
Not a trace in his eyes.
He’s dead fucking serious.
“Are you willing to leave the fate of your boy to the law?”
I thought that was the point of all of this. The hot-shot lawyer and the bikers were all part of the plan to do things by the book.
“I’m confused,” I answer honestly. “Isn’t that why you hired Schwartz?”
“I hired Schwartz because Blackie told me to and he is the best, but if this was my rodeo, I’d do things differently.”
I’m probably going to regret it, but I ask the question anyway.
“How would you do them?”
“I’d let Schwartz do his thing, but I’d also put an insurance policy in place, guaranteeing that motherfucker stays the fuck away from my son.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
He leans back and shakes his head.
“You can’t do shit, you’re locked up, remember? But, we can.”
“We?” Wolf questions, lifting an eyebrow.
“We’ll see to it that there is some incriminating evidence on the district attorney’s desk the morning of the trial, something that will force a judge to revoke his bail and put that piece of shit in a cage…away from your boy. A judge can’t say Connor was lying or spin any kind of bullshit if he’s presented with solid proof this cunt is a no good fuck. His hand will be forced.”
Looking around the crowded room, I lean forward and narrow my eyes.
“So, you’re going to plant something?” I whisper the question.
“You don’t need to know the details,” he says.
“Well, I’m going to need to know them,” Wolf argues. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Schwartz can’t know about this,” Parrish continues, again not acknowledging Wolf’s concerns. “Which means neither can Charlotte. I’m crazy, kid, but I sure as fuck ain’t blind. I saw your face when I mentioned her. You want inside of that, wonderful, she’s a looker and I’m sure her legs wrapped around your neck is a great way to celebrate your freedom, but remember you’re not out yet and keep your mouth shut when you’re thinking with your dick, yeah?”
I could deny my attraction to her.
I could tell him I’ve got no plans to have Charlotte’s legs wrapped around any part of me.
I could argue my only concern is Connor.
I do none of that, though.
Paralyzed by the crazed man in front of me, all I do is stare at him.
“It will be a pleasant surprise for our legal team, and it will give them a boost of confidence when they go in front of the judge for your sentence modification hearing.”
“And what happens if you get caught?” I ask. “What if the court finds out we tampered with evidence.”
“No one is getting caught,” he replies, slapping the palm of his hand against the table. “Motherfucker, now ain’t the time to be a pussy. You got some decisions you need to make and you gotta make them now. Dear Uncle Petey is either going to jail or to a crematorium, which means Connor is going to be staying with the foster family. Schwartz says they are nice enough, but you might want to have someone apply for guardianship. When it comes time for you to fight for custody no judge is going to say, here take the boy. Best case scenario, you go back to supervised visits. If the family who has him now have a sudden change of heart, he’ll go back into the system and get bounced around. If we have someone apply for guardianship, you’ll have easy access to Connor.”
“Parrish, it don’t work like that,” Wolf interrupts. “Someone first has to file for guardianship, then the court has to assess the candidate. It could take a couple of months before it goes through and he’s not going to be allowed to see the kid without restriction.”
“Yes, but the guardian can be approved as the supervisor of his visits. He’ll be able to see the kid as much as he wants so long as we know who it is and they are present at all times.”
They continue to go back and forth until I shake my head.
“It doesn’t matter,” I grunt. “There’s no one who will apply for guardianship. I’ve got no family and all my friends have records. It will never work.”
“What if I had someone?”
“Because you got friends without records?” Wolf scoffs. “Man, give it up.”
“Grace don’t have a record,” Parrish fires back. “Nikki and Mike don’t have records either.”
“Parrish, stop,” Wolf scolds. “You’re reaching.”
Parrish dismisses him with a wave and fixes me with a look.
“You’re also going to need a place to land once your sprung from this joint and having a job lined up wouldn’t be such a bad idea either. Do you ride?”
“I’m still trying to figure out who Grace, Nikki, and Mike are.”
He blows out an exasperated sigh.
“Do you ride?” he repeats.
Truth be told, I do.
Back in the day, I was the proud owner of Harley Davidson Road King that I sold to bury my parents. I promised myself I’d replace it one day when I got on my feet, but drugs took over my life and I pissed all my money away on chasing highs instead of riding the wind.
“I used to,” I tell him. “Been a long time since I balanced two wheels.”
“It doesn’t leave you,” Parrish says.
“I know where you’re going with this,” Wolf interjects. “You’re trying to vouch for this guy.”
“What if I am?” he fires back.
“Look, man, I get you’ve made it your mission in life to help every unfortunate soul you come in contact with and I admire you for it, but you’re not thinking clearly on this one,” Wolf argues, leaning closer so the whole joint doesn’t hear what he’s about to say next. “Let me break it down for you, okay? We send this guy Pete up Shit’s Creek without a paddle or tag him, whatever, the boy goes into the system and Grace applies for guardianship. Fantastic. Beautiful. Schwartz goes for the sentence modification and Bishop gets released. The good keeps coming. But he’s going to be on parole, that’s what you’re forgetting. Even with the boy in Grace’s capable hands, he’s still going to have to fight the system to be part of that kids life. I can have him fitted for a kutte and throw a prospect patch on him, give him a place to crash and put money in his pocket, but he won’t win custody of the boy if a judge catches wind he’s been hanging out with the likes of us.”
Turning to face Wolf, Parrish shakes his head in disgust.
“What the fuck happened to you? I gave you the gavel and it turned you soft,” he sneers. “You know what you used to tell me? When there’s a will there’s a way. Now, motherfucker all I got is will.” He pauses to tip his chin towards me. “Put yourself in this guy’s shoes. You got three sons and now a grandkid on the way, if someone fucked with any one of them, what would you do?”
“I’d skin them alive and feed their flesh to their fucking mothers.”
“Well, our boy, Bishop, can’t do that.”
“And you’re suggesting we do it instead?”
“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’d never take the glory from him. A man fights the fight, he deserves the victory and in this case, he deserves to make that cunt squirm. He deserves the taste of his tea
rs and the sweet sound of his cries.”
You never know how badly you want revenge until someone hands it to you on a silver platter. As Parrish speaks, I can envision everything. I can see myself standing over Pete, delivering him to Hell. He begs me for mercy, and he cries his forgiveness, but I don’t relent. He ignored my sons cries. He relished in Connor’s pain. He’s due his.
Wolf tears himself away from Parrish and fixes me with a look.
“That what you want?”
I don’t give myself a chance to think, I’m too far gone into the moment to see anything else.
“More than air,” I whisper.
“Needle’s apartment is vacant, I don’t know if that will work since Riggs is the guy with the deed, but run it by Schwartz.”
“Schwartz will never go for it,” Parrish says. “We’re gonna need to set him up with two apartments. We’ll use Needle’s apartment to meet with him, but he’ll need something legit for parole. I’ve already reached out to Grace and she offered her side apartment.”
“Okay,” Wolf says, turning back to me. “As for work, I’d normally offer to put you on the books at the garage, it would help keep Uncle Sam off our backs, but I don’t think that is going to do. My woman has a connection with a bowling alley in Staten Island. It ain’t going to make you rich, but it will put money in your pocket.” He pauses and looks at Parrish. “Or do you object to that too?”
“If he’s okay with shining bowling balls, it’s fine with me.”
“Good,” Wolf replies. “Everything else…this guardianship ordeal and planting evidence… that’s on you, Parrish. You need a hand, I’ll do what I can, but you’re the mastermind behind all that. Let’s start there. The main concern here is getting you back with the kid. When the time comes, we can revisit this conversation and if we feel like we’re a good fit for one another and your case isn’t jeopardized, we can toy with the idea of having you prospect for the club.”
I’m sure that’s a big deal in their world, but for me, it’s a means to get revenge for Connor and that’s the only way I know to help my son. The only thing I’m good at.
Breaking The Chains (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy) Page 14
