Coal (Regulators MC 3)

Numb.

Black.

Without feeling, without emotion, it’s who I have to be. And it all began on a night full of regrets and mistakes.

I slide the plate away. There is no way I can finish now. The thoughts are too much.

Mine and Ice’s phones ping at the same time. The text is from Screech, our tech man, a simple one-word statement.

Mission.

We have orders. Time to finish up here and meet everyone at the club to see exactly what Uncle Sam has in store for our undercover group next.

Regulators Motorcycle Club, a brotherhood of military men with a job that is a special skillset. One that walks the line between right and wrong. We are always one second away from going too far.

I have nothing to lose. I’m more than okay with it all. Some of the other men in our club, such as Ice and Hammer, however, have everything to lose—ol’ ladies, families. That’s not me. I have nothing to tie me down, and not one fucking thing to lose.

My father died ten years ago from a heart attack. Now my mom lives alone. I help her out when it comes to making sure her bills are paid, but I can’t make myself face her in person. I’m afraid all I will see is shame in her eyes from the things in my past.

As I walk out of the restaurant behind Ice, I see a familiar face. She goes by the street name Precious and is one of the whores I use when I need to get off. I don’t do many repeats, but Precious is one of the few I have gone to more than once because she’s always clean, pretty, and I know she has a kid she’s trying to support on her own.

Sauntering over to me, she purrs, “Hey, baby, haven’t seen you in a while. Want to go get a room?”

I shake my head. “Got somewhere to be, Precious. You hittin’ on me because you want my dick or because you need to pay a bill?”

When her eyes flash in humiliation, I know it’s the latter.

Pulling out my wallet, I take out a hundred-dollar bill and put it in her hand. “Take this, and I’ll see you when I can.” Then I walk away, not wanting to hear her thanks.

I’m not the sort of man anyone should thank for anything. Seeing her desperate like that makes me wonder about my mom. It makes me worry if she needs more money. She’s stubborn and doesn’t like to take the “handouts” I give her. Instead, she would rather earn it at the little garden shop she works at. I will have to have Screech hack into her bank account and check things out for me.

My parents may have believed that I was a disappointment of a son because of what happened. I was. Since the day I left to join the Army, I still remember all the lessons my father taught me. Taking care of your family was one of them.

Whether my mom likes it or not, I’m going to check in on her soon to make sure she’s got everything she needs. If that means paying her bills for her behind her back, then that’s what I will do. It’s worked for this many years. Each time, she calls and tells me not to, I end the phone call with the reminder I am a grown man and I will do as I please.

Throwing my leg over my bike, I start her up and rev the engine. Ice is already moving, so I head out after him.

I have no idea what the mission is yet, but I’m ready for it. I feel that familiar need to fight, get my hands bloody. I need to release some of the rage I hold inside twenty-four hours a day. I’m just hoping this mission gives me the chance to make someone the mangled mess I am inside.

~Paisley~

“Girl, you’re on fire!” I tell the air around me as I dance around my loft apartment, getting ready for my day. Self-talk, it’s working wonders. “Dance, Paisley, dance. No one is here to see.” I shake my bootie and swirl around the kitchen, making my morning smoothie. The space is open and airy, so I can twirl and shimmy my ass anywhere I please, from the living room to the kitchen. For now, I stay in the kitchen as I start to drink my smoothie and bounce my hips from side to side.

In the last few years, I have changed my routine to start my day with as much pep as I can conjure. When everything is taken from you in the blink of an eye, it’s hard to rebalance.

Within thirty minutes, I’m walking through the front doors of the gym for yoga. I have my earbuds in and my music up, jamming in my mind.