Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits 1.50)

“Someone’s riding double.”

More rumbles of engines join the lead one, multiple headlights flash onto the trailer, and not one of those bikes belong to Dad. Fuck. I rush past Mom and jump off the steps as Mom brightens the yard with a flip of the porch light. Eli swings off his bike. “Oz! Get over here!”

I’m there before he can finish his statement, and I shoulder my father’s weight to help him off the bike. He’s able to stand, but leans into me, and that scares me more than any monster that hid under my bed as a child.

“What happened?” Mom’s voice shakes, and Eli says nothing. He supports Dad’s other side as Dad’s knees buckle.

“What happened!” she demands, and the fear in her voice vibrates against my insides. I’m wondering the same damn thing, but I’m more concerned with the blood dripping from my father’s head.

“Medical kit!” Eli bursts through the door and the two of us deposit Dad on the couch. Mom’s less than a step behind us and runs into the kitchen. Glass shatters when Mom tosses stuff aside in search of her kit. Mom’s a nurse, and I can’t remember a time she hasn’t been prepared.

More guys appear in the living room. Each man wearing a black leather biker cut. Not one of them would be the type to leave a brother behind.

“I’m fine, Izzy.” Dad touches the skin above the three-inch-long cut on his forehead. “Just a scratch.”

“Scratch, my ass.” With kit in hand, Mom kneels in front of him, and I crouch beside her, popping open her supply box as she pours antiseptic onto a rag. She glares at Eli. “Why didn’t you take him to the ER?”

Dad wraps his fingers around Mom’s wrist. Her gaze shifts to his, and when he has Mom’s attention for longer than a second, he slowly swipes his thumb against her skin. “I told him to bring me home. We didn’t want it reported to the police.”

Mom blinks away the tears pooling in her eyes. I fall back on my ass, realizing that Dad’s not dying, but somehow cracked his head hard enough that Eli wouldn’t allow him to ride home solo.

“You promised you’d wear your helmet,” Mom whispers.

“I wasn’t on my bike,” he replies simply.

Mom pales out, and I focus solely on Eli. He holds my stare as I state the obvious. “The run went bad.”

Jacking trucks for the cargo inside is a moneymaker for hustlers, and the security company is good at keeping hustlers on their toes. But sometimes the company comes up against the occasional asshole who thinks they can be badass by pulling a gun.

“Someone tried to hit us during a break at a truck stop, but we were smarter.” Eli jerks his thumb in Dad’s direction. “But some of us aren’t as fast as others.”

“Go to hell,” Dad murmurs as Mom cleans the wound.

“You should have reported it,” Mom says.

A weighted silence settles in the room, and Mom’s lips thin out. The security business is as thick as the club. Business in both areas stays private. Everyone is on a need-to-know basis, me and Mom included...that is until I patch in. I’ll likely learn more when I’m initiated as a prospect, and I’m counting down the days until I’m officially part of the larger whole.

“He okay?” Eli asks.

“You of all people should know how hardheaded he is,” Mom responds. Eli’s a few years younger than my parents, but the three of them have been a trio of trouble since elementary school. “I believe everyone has a wake to attend in the morning, so I suggest sleep.”

That’s as subtle as Mom will get before she’ll stick a pointed steel-toed boot up their asses. Everyone says some sort of goodbye to Mom and Dad, but my parents are too lost in their own world to notice.

“Walk me out, Oz?” Eli inclines his head to the door, and we head onto the front porch. The muggy night air is thick with moisture, and a few bugs swarm around the porch light.

Eli digs into his leather jacket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He cups his hand to his mouth as he lights one. “We need you out on the road.”

“They told me they’ll send my official diploma next week.” I was supposed to walk at graduation tomorrow, but Olivia’s wake is the priority. Not caps and gowns. “You tell me when to start, and I’m ready to go.”

“Good.” He cracks a rare grin. “Heard that we might be adding a new prospect this weekend.”

The answering smile spreads on my face. Becoming a prospect is the initiation period before the club votes on my membership. I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life.

Eli sucks in a long drag and the sleeve of his jacket hitches up, showing the trail of stars tattooed on his arm. “Keep an eye on your dad. He cracked the hell out of his head when he hit the pavement. Blacked out for a bit but then shot to his feet. When his bike began swerving, I made him pull over and double with me.”

“He must have loved that,” I say.

“Practically had to put a gun to his head.” Eli breaths out smoke.