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My mom was the best and she never made me feel bad about my need to get out of Magnolia Point. She supported me, no matter what I did. Dad was an amazing man, who gave me a deep love of music, but when I left it was harder on him.
He had this big dream of me taking over the family business—a record store. But that was never what I wanted to do with my life.
Dad didn’t lay the guilt on me, and it didn’t take him long to get over his feelings of rejection and abandonment. At the end of the day, he just wanted me to be happy.
Leaving behind my little sister was difficult, but she’s five years younger than me and we were in different stages of our lives. The fact that our relationship, especially now that our parents have died, hasn’t bounced back is one of the biggest regrets of my life.
Still, I don’t think I would do things any differently knowing what I do now. I needed to leave.
I shake off the memories of growing up and my mom as I knock on Mrs. Bisby’s desk and then walk out of the high school without looking back. I need to get moving, not that I’ll ever feel bad about taking the time out of my day to take care of Sioux. If anyone has a problem with it, they can take it up with me.
I’ll set them fucking straight really quick.
Normally, I would head out to a job site since it’s the middle of the day, and I like being hands on at Devil’s Construction. I run the business for the club alongside my brother Hammer, but being out on sites and doing the work has always been the best part of the job. Being in charge of the crews and the foremen underneath me is nice and all, but getting my hands dirty is even better.
Today, my position as enforcer has me heading to the clubhouse. There’s something going on and my Prez has called a meeting before we meet up for Church.
A knot twists tighter in my gut. If this has anything to do with those asshole Riding Rebels, they don’t even know what is coming for them.
No matter what the issue is, I’ll make fucking sure Sioux is protected. I never want to see my woman bleeding out on the fucking ground again.
Never fucking again.
CHAPTER 5
APOSTLE
I’m not surprised when I walk into the office of my Prez, Lucifer, to find the rest of the inner circle present already. I’m a little late, but I wasn’t going to ignore the kindness and leeway Mrs. Bisby has given me by ignoring her or not saying goodbye. I might be a biker, but not a fucking asshole. At least not to a nice older lady who has helped me to keep my woman safe and happy.
The room is full, almost too full. I’m sure it doesn’t help that all of the men inside the room are muscular and large. Then there are their personalities—we’re all leaders within the pack and it shows in the way we carry ourselves.
I give chin lifts to my brothers around the room. We’ve shed blood together and we’ve ridden with the wind buffeting our bodies while the sun shines on our backs. We’re family wrapped up in leather and surrounded by chrome.
Prodigal, Lucifer’s son and our VP, eyes me curiously. His woman, Wrenley, is the entire reason Sioux is in my life. The women are best friends and had Wrenley not come to the DSMC for help I would have never met the woman meant to ride on the back of my bike for the rest of our lives. Prodigal knows how hard it’s been for me to hold myself back while my firefly has been recovering, and he’s helped me as much as possible by getting tidbits of information on my woman from his old lady.
Raphael, our Road Captain, Loot, our Treasurer, Tack, our Sargant at Arms, Hack, our tech genius, and Scythe, the other enforcer for the club, have taken up spots around the room. I take up my position near the door, leaning against the wall while I take in the serious mood of our Prez.
That sliver of dread that had been churning in my gut since I left the high school grows with every second of silence in the room. This isn’t going to be good and even though I brace myself, I fear it’s not going to be enough.
“The RRMC,” Lucifer rolls his eyes as he starts to address his assembled inner circle, “have managed to rally.”
Anger fills me and I can’t help but growl, “What the fuck does that mean?”
Lucifer cuts his eyes at me but doesn’t reprimand me for speaking out of turn. Normally, I wouldn’t want to go up against my Prez. Not only is he not a man to fuck with and can hold his own when it comes to mixing it up physically and violently, but he’s earned my deepest respect over the years. Apparently, the only thing that can shake up my loyalty to my club, and my Prez, is the thought of my woman being in danger.
“As you know we’ve been keeping an eye on them. It took them a long fucking time to get their shit together after the,” he pauses and a sinister smile curls his lips, “loss of their Prez.”
The sounds coming from the men around me are deadly. We might not always follow the law, but some things are sacred to us. Women, children, and innocents are always off limits. The fact that Anarchy came after one of our own with his obsession with Prodigal’s old lady, even if she didn’t hold that title until she came to the DSMC for help, and in doing so injured Sioux, is enough to make any of us see red.
My hands clench into fists as the memory of seeing my woman sprawled out on the concrete pad near the bathroom in the park that we were using to host the Poker Run flashes in my mind. I see it just like I did that day—in slow fucking motion. Every pump of her heart causing more of her blood to seep onto the gray slab. Everything in me is screaming like a fucking banshee.
To get to her.
To save her.
To make time move backward so that she would never know the fire of a bullet sinking into her gut.
But I wasn’t there soon enough.
