Page 90

“I’m not sharing the sweet potato pie…” Bear’s low whisper in my ear makes me chuckle, but I nod, silently letting him know I’m good with that.
An hour later, and the Grinch is on his tirade to ruin Christmas. Paxton is sitting in one of the armchairs and Jarrett and Ophelia are on the opposite side of the couch to me and Bear. There’s a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table with our empty hot chocolate mugs, the main lights are dimmed, and the Christmas lights are glowing bright on the Christmas tree in the corner.
Bear’s phone starts vibrating next to him and he hesitates in answering it before picking it up.
“This better be good.”
Pausing, he listens to whoever is on the other end of the call before his whole body tenses.
“Fuck.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Bear
Like Mama used to say,trouble don't last always, but when it comes, it comes in bunches.I’d like to punch these bunches in the nuts.
“What’re we gonna do about this, Hoops? I ain’t standin’ here twiddlin’ my thumbs waiting to know if Shade is gonna wake up. We need to be out there gettin’ people talkin’.” Grinder is worked up, pacing from one side to the other of the makeshift operating room where our club doc removed two bullets from Shade’s shoulder and sewed up at least three stab wounds. But that’s not the worst of it. What’s got us filled with pent up rage is the near-fatal concussion he suffered. Blunt force trauma to the head, said the good doc. It sounds like something a coroner announces when giving the cause of death on a television show.
To say we’re freaked out would be a complete understatement.
“Whoever did this wasn’t trying to kill him, it was a message. Until we understand what that message is, we ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Hoops is staring at his sergeant at arms, lying on awhite-sheeted bed with bandages all over the fucking place as he gives Grinder the low down on how we’re dealing with yet another fucking attack on our club.
Like, seriously? The fuck did we ever do to anybody except help? And maybe, at one time, dabble in the guns and drug business. Tamayto-tomahto, what the fuck ever. At least we still have a few more months before the race season drama begins. The much-needed break between October and February gives us all time to take a breather. Between the jealous clubs, Psycho’s over-inflated ego, and Grinder’s inappropriate comments, each season brings with it its own list of trigger warnings.
I get where Hoops is coming from, but I’m with Grinder; standing here wondering if Shade is gonna come out of this alive is doin’ my head in.
“That baseball bat to the temple looks a lot like a deadly home run to me, Hoops. I’m just sayin’.” Grinder stops his pacing, points an index finger to Shade, and grits his teeth. “We need to find these fuckers and put them six feet under. Like, now.”
The silence is deafening as Hoops and Grinder have a stare down. Then Grinder delivers the blow that will affect this club for months to come.
“Prez would’ve backed me up.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he takes a step back like he fuckin’ knows he went too far.
Hoops raises his head, standing to his full height, and squares his shoulders like he’s readying for a fight. This time, when they fix their gazes on each other, something breaks and my first instinct is to fix it.
“Hey! The fuck, Grinder. Go take a walk, calm down, and think before you open your fucking mouth again.” Blinking up at me, Grinder gives me a sharp nod and hightails out of the room. Turning to Hoops, I school my features, glancing first at Psycho, who was ready to jump in and have my back even though I knowfor a fact he’s a lot like Grinder in this regard. Idle minds don’t work well when you’ve got a hyper personality.
“He’s right, you know?” I shake my head at Hoops, knowing damn well he’s feeling guilty somehow about what happened to Shade.
“Maybe about Prez, but he’s not here, is he? This is your club now, Hoops. You gotta run it the best way you know how.” My words are just platitudes, they don’t mean shit when you’re responsible for the man who is walking the thin line between life and death.
“I’m gonna pair up with Grinder just in case he does something stupid.” Psycho walks to the door but stops when I call his name.
“Don’t forget you’ve got a wife and kid, brother. Be the voice of reason instead of the accomplice.” His response is a mere grunt but I know he heard me and I know his priority will always be his family. Just thought he might need reminding.
“I’ll go with ‘em, three’s company and all that shit.” Boner nods at me as he walks past and I know he’s telling me not to worry. Because I will… worry, that is. I always do when it comes to my brothers. Those idiots get into trouble without even meaning to, so when they’re looking for it, that’s when my blood pressure starts rising.
Once we’re alone, Hoops relaxes just a little, revealing the toll these last few days have taken on him. We were all taking turns looking for Shade, spreading out throughout this big town and looking in all the shitty back alleys.
Thank fuck the deputy sheriff likes us. It was her men who found him under a bridge after some kids called nine-one-one thinking they’d found a dead body. That’s the call I got last night and let’s just say, the idea of burying another brother makes me wanna throw up.
“He’s been fucking around lately, picking up random women around town. I should’ve reeled him in sooner.” This is news to me, and if the other brothers had known, I’m sure they would’ve told me.
“It’s the first I’m hearin’ about it.” I mean to mumble but it comes out more accusatory than I’d like. Then again, we’re all brothers here so if one of us is in trouble, we’re all in trouble. “Look, he’s a grown ass man, you can’t control where he gets his dick wet, Hoops. It’s not how that works.”
Hoops nods, he knows I’m right but I’m guessing it’s not helping. Guilt is a powerful force of nature we, mere mortals, can’t control. And that’s the truth.
“I was just trying to let him work through his feelings. Prez…” He looks up at me then turns to face the wall, one hand running through the mess of hair on top of his head, shoulders hunched and head weary. Prez’s death was a huge blow to our club. Vanessa will never be the same and Shade, his best friend, has been spiraling little by little if I’m understanding Hoops.