We slip into a comfortable silence, and I enjoy the feel of the tires on the pavement. I can’t wait to get back to my bike. There’s nothing that matches the feeling of the wind on my face, the sun on my back, and the rumble of my lady between my legs. It was the closest thing to freedom I’ve ever found. Life has always been simple to me; freedom, family, and my bike. Three years behind bars hadn’t changed that. I study the familiar terrain, making note of the changes. Businesses have opened, closed, and expanded. It’s like waking from a dream.
As we pull up to the clubhouse, I can’t help but scan the crowd gathered. I spot the two people I care about most, and my heart begins to speed.
Bolton is standing beside Blue, her arm around his waist. He towers over his aunt by a good four or five inches.
I wish I’d been there to see my boy growing. I see more of myself in him now. He’s lost the baby fat. The angular planes give him a lean, mean look. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt he’s like a mirror into the past. This was me at that age. I can see the anger glinting in his blue eyes. It makes me want to strangle his mother.
Blue squeezes him, and his gaze softens as he peers down at her.
This is how it should’ve been from the start. The three of us. I’m a hunter by nature and trade. Once I set my sights on something, I won’t stop until I have it. Right now, Bluebell is my prey. The car comes to a halt and I exit, locking gazes with my son. I walk over to Bolton and envelop him in a massive hug. For a minute, he holds me a little too tight, and I can see the thirteen-year-old boy I left in this sixteen-year-old young man.
We separate and he smiles up at me. “Good to have you back, Dad.”
“Good to be back. You take good care of your aunt Blue?”
“Yeah.” His nervous expression melts away as he grins.
All my boy ever wanted was to feel needed and wanted, especially when it comes to women. His mother mind fucked him with her selfish behavior. I’ve done my best to curb and fulfill that desire in him, but a man can’t take the place of a mother any more than a mother can take the place of a father. It’s another reason now is the perfect time for Blue and I. Together, we could have something. I’d been dreaming this shit up for a year.
Bolton steps aside, and I smirk. “Hey, Blue.”
“Welcome home, Shadow.” She opens her arms.
I pull her body to mine, lifting her off the ground, and she squeals. Whoops and hollers went up from all around us.
Damn, it’s good to be home. I set her down on her feet and reluctantly move forward to mingle. I want to wrap an arm around her waist and keep her by my side. But I don’t have the right…yet. The King chasers are eyeballing me like I’m a free meal. It’s been three years since I dipped my wick in anything. However, I’m not about to fuck myself out of my future by detouring with them when I know Blue is my endgame.
“All right, church in ten minutes,” Stone bellows. “But first, we have something that belongs to you, brother.”
My father, Reb walks out, holding my cut, and he gives me a nod of his head.
I can’t help but feel I’m regaining a piece of my soul. I turn and ease my arms into the leather vest. Finally, I’m whole. The cut is more than a decorative article of clothing—it’s who I am.
Harold ‘Reb’ Barrett then gives me a rare smile as he takes a step back.
Stone claps me on my back. “Church. Afterward, we party.”
I grin. I need a nice long night of drinking and shooting the shit.
The meeting is short and sweet as they cram the highlights in and tell me to enjoy the weekend. Monday I’ll be back on the job, ready to do the Pres’s bidding at a moment’s notice.
“Hey, Psych, can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask as the others began to pile out.
“Yeah, man. I figured you’d want to at some point. Figured I’d let you have your fun first.”
I pat his shoulder. “I appreciate it, brother. But I like to take care of business first.”
“That’s why I like you, Shadow,” Psycho says, nodding his approval.
It means a lot coming from a lifer. I grew up wanting to be like these men, and now that I’m among them, their praise and support is necessary. It’s almost lik
e having a bunch of surrogate fathers.
“You want to do this here or does the bar work?” Psych asked.
“Here.”
“So, it’s personal,” Psycho says. He sighs and runs his hand down his face. Suddenly, his stoic and staunch face looks years older.