It wasn’t real clear what had gone down, but Rock had ended up surrounded by DEA and FBI. They’d been watching the Russians for a while and had been under the impression that they’d finally hit pay dirt when an Ace rolled up.
Thankfully, Rock had had a reason for being there. One of the guys they’d sent to meet him was his wife’s cousin. Didn’t matter if he hadn’t seen the bitch in over a year—the excuse still worked.
It all went to shit, though, when they searched Rock’s bike and found a good amount of weed and the parts to an unregistered AK. The crazy fucker could build the thing in less than a minute, so he always carted it around.
Brothers went down all the fucking time for different shit. We got caught up for parole violations, possession, gun charges—you name it, they picked us up for it. And most times, we kept our mouths shut and did the time.
But Rocky had been picked up in Idaho, where he was from. Where he’d grown up. And in Idaho, the skinheads had it out for Rock because of some shit that had gone down when he was locked up the first time. He’d had the backing of the Russians that time—but that was gone since he’d aligned himself with us. We had no connections in the Idaho state pen, no way to protect him from the fuckers. If Rock went in, he wasn’t coming out.
“So, what?” I asked, meeting Dragon’s eyes. “What’s he gotta give them?”
“Just names,” Dragon answered.
“The fuck?” Cam asked.
“People at his wedding.” Dragon smiled. “That’s all they want.”
A knock at the door had us all turning that way, then Rocky was poking his head in.
“Come on in, Rock,” my dad called out. “Talkin’ about you, anyway.”
Rocky slid in the door and closed it behind him, leaning against the wall since he didn’t rank a seat at the table. I wondered how long that would last. Rocky was a good guy, I’d trust him at my back any day.
“You had to fuckin’ marry a Russian,” old Samson called from down the table, shaking his head as Rocky smirked.
“First girl to let me fuck her ass,” Rocky called out. “Thought it was love.”
The table roared with laughter.
“You good with givin’ ’em names?” Dragon asked, cutting through the laughter.
“It’s that or I’m a dead man,” Rock replied quietly.
“You know why they want to know who was at your wedding?”
“Got a good idea.”
Dragon stared at him for a minute, then nodded his head once. “Start walkin’ down memory lane, Rock. You’ve got some time to get that shit sent over—but not a lot of it. Don’t talk to anyone but Duncan—he’s your contact. Anyone from the DEA tries to chat you up, walk the fuck away.”
“Will do,” Rocky murmured, lifting his chin at the men around the table before turning toward the door and letting himself out.
“Not gonna end well,” my dad said after the door had closed.
“We’ll make it end well,” Dragon answered, something passing between him and my dad as they made eye contact.
“Now that that shit’s over, I wanna know about Moose’s new woman,” Cam joked, lightening the mood at the table.
“Shut the fuck up.” I flipped him off as he grinned.
“She’s cute—timid as a rabbit, though,” my dad said with a smile, relaxing into his chair.
“Not up for discussion,” I ground out.
“If she lets you fuck her ass, that doesn’t mean it’s love,” Samson called, making the boys chuckle.
“No way in hell is my boy getting that,” my dad choked out, laughing his ass off. “That girl is sweet as sugar.”
The muscles in my arms and back locked as I tried to calm my shit. They were just messing with me. They always fucking messed with me. If I let on that it bothered me, it would make them worse.
“I don’t know, man,” Cam said, laughing. “Homer said she seemed up for anything—”
“Enough,” I roared, flying out of my seat. My skin felt too tight for my body. I wanted to hop over the table and beat the words out of Cam’s mouth.
“Calm down, son,” my dad growled.
“You let some fuck talk about Mom like that?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Just givin’ you shit, Moose,” Dragon said calmly, looking bored with the whole thing.
His words made me even angrier. I fucking hated when they acted like I was a kid. Like I overreacted to shit. Yeah, I’d fucked up before, screwing around with steroids that made me fucking crazy. Everyone knew it. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t a brother just like the rest of them. I’d paid my dues for my fuckups. I pulled my goddamn weight. I took the fall when I had to, did the runs no one wanted, and I was a fucking genius of a mechanic.