Cross My Heart (The Devil's Riders 8.50)

No one was better with engines and metal than Jack.

He’d taught me carpentry, too. I was already a damned good woodworker, but Jack took it to a whole other level. He made things the way they used to be made, when one guy would spend a whole fucking month building an armoire.

Yeah, Jack was an artist, in metal and wood. And even if he wasn’t a bad ass in one way, let alone a thousand, he was my brother. All the Devil’s Riders were.

“Be on your best behavior, numb nuts.”

Drake gave me a look and said ‘maybe’. Tank lifted his boot to the side like a river dancer and kicked him squarely on his ass.

“Ow, fucker.”

“Mind your fucking mouth in there,” Tank said as we opened the huge metal doors and stepped inside. I sent a prayer heavenward that he was there. Drake was driving me fucking crazy, truth be told.

We all took a moment to admire the view. It was pretty much man cave heaven in the enormous workshop. MTV cribs had nothing on Jack.

Shiny chrome. Greasy steel. The smell of motor oil, cigars, and cedar.

Not that anyone smoked anywhere near the motorcycles, but like I said, it was a big fucking barn. There was a whole area with heavy leather chairs, a rug, and an old school bar. Jack didn’t drink. But he like the challenge of building the damned thing. He just didn’t keep it stocked.

But tonight, something was different. Tonight, I could smell whiskey. The good stuff, too.

Not the crappy bottom stuff swill that I’d gotten my nickname from when I’d set myself on fire during my years as a candidate. The guys had been hazing us. But I didn’t blame anyone but myself for that dumb ass shit.

I had felt self conscious as fuck about my scars. Until Becky came along and made me feel like the best looking guy in the world. Having a beautiful girl like her think I was the shit did wonders for a man’s self esteem.

Even after that disaster, I loved whiskey. I just didn’t drink the crappy stuff anymore. And tonight, I wasn’t drinking at all.

Drake shimmied right the fuck up to the bar and slid two bottles across it.

“Brought extra,” he said, nodding politely to Jack. “Just in case.”

“Good thinking,” Jack rumbled. “For once, you jackass.”

Everyone went completely silent. We stared at Jack in shock. For a man who barely spoke, he’d just strung together a whole fuckload of words.

And then the room exploded in laughter. Even Tank chuckled, and the man was nearly as humorless as Jack had been, in the ‘before Janet’ days. Drake was cackling like a hyena. And Moose was laughing in his funny, is that a fucking walrus or a bear, sort of way.

Jack slid a couple of glasses across the bar.

“None for me,” I said.

“Everybody drinks,” came the deep reply. I glanced at Tank. For a moment I wasn’t sure I had heard him right.

“Tank, with all due respect,” I started.

“Do you have a baby in the car?”

“No.”

“Are you performing brain surgery in the morning?”

“No.”

“Then have a fucking drink,” Tank finished, jerking his head towards Jack. “It means something.”

I exhaled and nodded. One drink wouldn’t cause an issue. Not for a man my size. I would just stick with one and get a cup of coffee on my way to get the girls for the hospital later.

“Any updates?” Moose asked a little later. We had all studiously avoided mentioning the elephant in the room. Especially since Jack was as big as an elephant and no one wanted to piss him off by bringing up Janet’s cancer.

Hell, none of us wanted to hurt the big guy. We fucking loved him. Every one of us would lay down in the road to help him.

Even though Moose, Tank, and I were nearly as big as Jack, none of us were second in command. And none of us were quite as scary. Though honestly, Tank was pretty damned close. Another military man, he reminded me a lot of Cain, who ran the Untouchables MC up the coast.

So, I knew instantly Moose was asking about Sally.

I checked my phone and rattled out her dilation and the time between contractions. Jack lifted a drink to toast her. The other guys were all single and looked a little green around the gills at the thought of a little tiny baby coming out of a sweet little lady like Sally.

“Dilation… that’s her, um…” Moose looked genuinely confused and a bit embarrassed to be speaking so personally about Donahue’s old lady.

“Yeah, just google it. Moving on,” I said with an eye roll. Drake started telling a dirty story about some sweet butt he’d been messing around with. I rolled my eyes even harder, and noticed that everyone was doing the same.

Drake talked a big game. To be fair, he did bag a lot of babes. More than anyone other than Dev or Callaway in their hey days. But I didn’t think it was a good thing. Cheap sex was just that. Cheap.