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Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sawyer

My heart was pounding as I kissed Fitz before joining my father in the truck. As I backed out of the driveway onto East Windmill, I saw Fitz go to the toolbox in the back of his truck and grab a shotgun, which brought me a lot of relief.

Tiny and Tim were driving Tim’s old truck. Mouse was back at the clubhouse, monitoring everything, including TJ’s fitness watch that he wore around his ankle when he wasn’t working out because he didn’t like anything around his wrists. Apparently, his captors hadn’t looked for anything that gave off a signal. For that, I’d say that were fucking idiots and thank the heavens that they were.

“What the hell is going on, and don’t bullshit me.” My father’s voice was aggressive, and I wasn’t ready for that fight yet. It was coming, though.

“I told you. Someone kidnapped TJ, and they’re going to make him throw the fight. We want to bet on it to try and get some of the money back that the Scorpions stole from us, so we gotta find TJ and make sure he doesn’t take a dive.”

Dad chuckled. “Why don’t you just fucking kill him and eliminate the threat? Why haven’t you gone after those motherfuckers for stealing the money from the dispensary?”

I sighed. I knew this shit was going to come up.

This was where Keller and I parted ways in the gene pool. In my father’s day, the old-timers would have ridden out to the Scorpions’ compound and shot everyone in sight. They’d have paid off a cop to give a bullshit reason for the massacre—like infighting or something equally as lame—and the Nye County District Attorney would have looked the other way after a big donation to the reelection campaign. I’d heard the stories when the old-timers sat and bullshitted at club cookouts, and it always amazed me with how callous they sounded.

That wasn’t who we were trying to be anymore, but they wouldn’t accept it. I’d gotten away with making some changes without too much guff because the younger guys agreed with me, but under my father’s presidency, the Cowboys had earned that one-percenter patch.

“Dad, you know I’ve tried to take the club in a more legal direction. When we were able to qualify for the dispensary license, we voted to go legit and buy our weed from licensed growers. We follow the state regulations for the brothels, having our health checks weekly as prescribed. We’ve even gone into partnerships with the members in the club who have private businesses and are of the same mind to do things legally. We don’t want to do—”

My father snarled. “You’ve all gone soft, Sawyer, every one of you young guys. What happened to my son, the fiery young man who got out of the Army and was pissed at the world about the treatment he received while serving his country? He didn’t hide his bisexuality and was angry that he’d been treated like shit by many of his fellow soldiers due to their bias against him and his kind.”

His kind? That was something I’d never heard my father say before, and it left me with a bad taste in my mouth. There was no use arguing with the man, but it did ruffle my feathers. He lived by his own code, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass who agreed with him. Why wasn’t I entitled to do the same thing?

Tiny turned on the blinker, leading us out to the desert beyond Red Rock Canyon. I knew where the fuck we were going, and I was pissed.

I turned to my father. “I’d be willing to bet money you know more about this than you’re saying.”

“Look, son. You don’t understand this world. In your head, your still sixteen, riding around the compound on your minibikes, hanging out with your school friends, and chasing pussy—or dick, as seems to be the case.

“I’m not homophobic, Sawyer. I didn’t even have a problem when you brought some other gay people into the club. I thought maybe it would give these old fuckers the opportunity to experience a little personal growth. I didn’t think it would make you soft. You’ve been all about the club since you were a kid. What the fuck happened?”

Tiny turned onto the desert road as I expected. The Scorpions clubhouse was down the road and through the gate. I remembered it like it was tattooed on my brain.

I pulled the truck to the right and stopped behind Tim’s truck, turning off the ignition. I reached up and flipped the button on the dome light so it didn’t go on when I opened the door. Once we were out of the truck, I stopped my father before he came around the front of the truck.

“You know, the worst kind of bigot is the one who lies about what he really thinks. You should have told me you were pissed off because I was bi and taking the club in another direction. Did you have anything to do with the robbery? I know Boyd did, and I hope Hammer didn’t. Did you know or push Boyd to cooperate with the Scorpions? Are you behind this fucking fight?”

I felt as if my goddamn heart was being ripped out of my chest. No way could my own father be involved in any of this.

Tiny stepped up behind me. “Everything okay?”

Dad pulled out the gun Fitz had given him, but I stopped him. “This one’s mine. Give me that one. I want Fitz nowhere near this bullshit, and if I find out you had anything to do with this, I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

My father laughed as we swapped guns before we climbed the fence and headed toward the clubhouse. There was quite a party going on inside, so we stuck to the shadows to get to the back door.

I glanced in through the window to see TJ in the middle of the large clubhouse getting the fuck beaten out of him by two guys. I’d never seen either one of them before, but I was putting a stop to it.

Just as I was about to kick in the door, TJ kipped up from the floor and gave a roundhouse to one guy in the chest, knocking the breath out of him as he stumbled back. He throat-punched the other guy, taking him to the ground and wedging his head between his thighs in a scissor hold until the man stopped moving.

I kicked open the door and walked in first. The club members turned, and guns came out, but Tiny came into the clubhouse with a fucking ax in one hand and a machete in the other. I had no fucking idea where he’d gotten either of them.

He spun around with the blades whipping in an aggressive manner, and I could only say that everyone in the room was stunned—thankfully. My dad came inside behind me with my gun drawn as he fanned across the crowd.

I had no idea why people weren’t shooting at us, and as I stared at the Scorpions, I saw something unexpected. Ricky Marlow stepped through the crowd and grinned at my father. “You motherfucker! When did you get to town?”

My father holstered the gun and rushed forward to hug Ricky. Tiny turned to me, his eyebrows in his hairline. I shook my head. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on either.

I motioned for Tiny to come closer to me, and I didn’t put my gun away… Fitz’s gun. The air was thick with energy—some fear and some hate.

Tiny stepped closer. “What’s going on, Bones?”

My father and Ricky Marlow were having a good old-fashioned reunion. I heard a noise and turned to the right to see TJ being dragged out of the ring by two Scorpions.

“I don’t have the slightest idea, Tiny.” That was a fucking understatement.

“He won’t be in any shape to fight, right?” My dad looked toward TJ, a smug smile on his face.

“Eh, maybe, but he’ll take the dive. Where’s the grandfather in case we need leverage?” Ricky turned toward me and smirked. “You thought you were going to clean us up, but your old man was always running the table, kid. Make note—you were never in charge.”

Shock settled into my core. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing or hearing, but I wasn’t about to let on. I turned to my father and laughed. “I should have known you wouldn’t trust me. So, now what? You directed them to rob the dispensary and do what with the money?”

My father laughed. “Reinvest it, son. The dispensary can file an insurance claim for the lost money. Hell, you even got a great police report as backup for the insurance claim. They’ll pay off on the loss, and we’ll get that little guy to fight with Romero and take the dive. We’ll come out ahead by a long stretch.”

My mind was spinning. What I was hearing couldn’t be true. My father had been the one who had turned on the Cowboys. How did I miss it? Who else was on his side?

Somehow, I was able to talk my father into letting me take TJ back to Fitz’s house to be with his grandfather. I’d texted Fitz and asked him to take my mother out to Silver Point to check her into the hotel, and I had Hobie go to the house on East Windmill to wait with Mr. Middleton.

My dad dropped off TJ and me at Fitz’s house before he went to join my mother. When I got out with the kid hanging off me, my father laughed as I picked up TJ to carry him inside. I had no idea how long the kid had been fighting, but the bruises on his body told the story that they’d shown him no mercy.

The truck door opened, so I turned before I climbed the porch. My dad was standing by the driver’s side with a smirk. “Sawyer, there’s nothing more important than being loyal to the club. Unfortunately, the guys in the Cowboys aren’t worth my loyalty anymore. All the old-timers are following me to the Scorpions, and if you wanna stay alive, I suggest you do the same.

“Those guys could have killed you a few years ago, but I kept it from happening by promising them the Cowboys would relinquish their territory and leave Pahrump. It’s time to repay the debt. Let’s not make this into a war. Nobody wins that way.”

Keller sat behind the wheel and closed the door. He rolled the window down and hollered, “Meet me and your mother at the casino for breakfast in the morning. Be there at eight.” The idea of it made me sick.

I climbed the stairs with TJ in my arms, knocking with my foot. The door opened, and Fitz’s face morphed from worry to shock at the sight of the bloody young man in my arms. I handed TJ over and ran off the porch to puke in the street.

I wiped my mouth and stopped at the hose hanging off the front of the house to rinse my mouth. After I finished, I went inside to close and lock the door. Much to my surprise, Hobie was asleep in the recliner Fitz had bought, and there was a pistol resting on his chest.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I put my hand over the gun and shook him a little, holding onto it in case my father had told him to kill all of us after he was gone. I didn’t want to believe my best friend would shoot me in cold blood, but I never thought my father would turn against the club his father had started.

Wrapping my head around the night would have to wait. My brain was on autopilot. Keeping Fitz safe, along with TJ and his grandfather, was foremost on my mind.

Hobie’s eyes flashed open and he tried to pull the gun from me, but I held him down with my left hand, grabbing the gun with my right and holding it under his chin. “Why do you need this? Why are you back here? Did Keller tell you to clean this up?”

“Your man called me. His friend in New York ran across some information that Fitz couldn’t believe. He trusted me, and after what he told me, I’m glad he did, Bones.”

Hobie moved the chair into the sitting position before standing and holding up his hands. He slid off his jacket and lifted his shirt, showing me that he had no additional weapons, which was a relief. I hated the idea that he’d turn on me like my own father.

“Make us some coffee, please. Let me go check on Fitz and TJ.” I wasn’t stupid. I shoved the gun in the back of my pants on my way out of the living room.

I found Fitz in the bathroom with TJ standing under the spray of the shower. The kid was awake, washing himself as Fitz sat on the commode lid with a first aid kit spread out on the vanity. “You’ve gotta tell me where it hurts so we know what to do for you.”

“My ribs, my chest, and my junk. Those two guys fought dirty. I think the cut on my forehead stopped bleeding, finally.”

“I’ll check it and use some glue to keep it together. Head injuries bleed like a son of a bitch, but they heal quickly.” Fitz reached for an antiseptic pad and a tube of skin glue.

I opened the door the rest of the way. “Babe, what can I do?”

Fitz turned to me and sighed. “Thank fucking god you’re okay. You are okay, aren’t you ?”

He stood and walked over to me, wrapping me in his arms. “What the fuck is going on, Sawyer?”

I rested my head on his shoulder and finally let the tears come. My whole world had crashed down in front of me at the hands of my own father. How was I supposed to explain that?

I woke up the next morning at five, according to Fitz’s alarm clock. I reached over to find the bed was empty, so I hopped up and rushed into the living room and to the front door. Fitz and TJ were stretching in the front yard, which surprised me.

I went outside in just my boxers. “What the hell are you two doing?”

Fitz turned and grinned. “We’re going for a run. TJ needs to work out the soreness. He’s got a fight tomorrow night.”

“Babe, he’s taking a dive. He doesn’t need to do anything except defend himself so Garza doesn’t kill him. I don’t think it’ll be a fair fight now that they know TJ can hold his own. Those two guys he was fighting at the Scorpions clubhouse were huge and neither of them were Garza.” It was truly a wonder TJ was still alive.

Fitz laughed and sat up. “Well, we’re not going to let that fly. I gave the kid a rubdown with some analgesic balm. We’re going to jog over to Sparky’s place where the kid’s going to take a cold plunge in Monty’s tank. He’s taken some pain meds, and when you come pick us up at eight this morning, we can stop and get something to eat, then you can tell me what the fuck is going on.” He handed me the keys to his truck and kissed my cheek.

TJ held out his hand, so I took it and helped him up. His painful moan made me feel sorry for him. Before I could ask if they were sure they wanted to run all the way over to Sparky’s house—which wasn’t that far, but considering TJ’s current state, nobody could pay me enough to do it—they were off.

I went back inside and closed the door, heading to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. A minute later, Hobie came into the kitchen in his T-shirt and boxers, having slept in the recliner for a few hours since I filled him in on what the fuck had happened last night before we both crashed. TJ had slept on the couch in the living room.

“That kid must be made of steel. He moaned and groaned all night. Where’d he go?” Hobie got two cups from the cabinet as if he lived in the house with Fitz where I wanted to be more than anything.

“You come hang out here often?” I chuckled because Hobie knew exactly where the sugar was and grabbed the milk from the fridge.

Hobie laughed. “Fitz has a good sense of organization. His choices are intuitive. I like to think we’re of the same mind.”

I laughed. “Ah. Good for you.”

I got up and poured each of us a cup of coffee and opened the cabinet next to the stove to pull out two packages of toaster pastries, knowing my man would have bought a new box since they were his favorites. I handed a package to Hobie and returned to my seat.

“Dude, I expected you to make me breakfast.” Hobie whined at me as he ripped the foil package open and took a huge bite of cinnamon-brown-sugar goodness.

“I’m taking Fitz and TJ out for breakfast when I go pick them up at Sparky’s house. Any thoughts on what I told you last night?” I still had no idea whether Hobie was on my father’s side, and it broke my heart to consider that he might be.

“We need to have church, man, but I want to know who you think might have crossed the line aside from Ricky and your old man. How do you think Abner talked a federal agent into turning?” Hobie stared at me, waiting for an answer I didn’t have.

He cocked his eyebrow, which had a black barbell through it that I hadn’t noticed before. Since I had no idea how my father got Ricky Marlow to abandon the DEA and join the club, I decided to address his new piercing.

“Where’d you get the new hardware?” I pointed to it before I opened my pastry package.

“Oh, a couple of weeks ago, I met this guy who does tats over on Main Street in the Arts District. We were in a bar over there, and I noticed his sleeve. It’s fucking amazing. Anyway, I dropped by the other afternoon when I was uh… I was running an errand. The chick who does piercings had time, so I got it. Barely felt it at all. You should come with me to check it out next time.” He moved his hand to the piercing and turned the bar.

“Are you a traitor to the Cowboys?” There! I’d said it.

I expected Hobie to storm out of the place after he beat the fuck out of me, and I’d let him because I couldn’t imagine my best friend turning on me or the club. I’d rather take a bullet than consider it true.

Hobie exhaled and took a sip of his coffee before he adjusted himself in the chair and stared at me. “If I didn’t love you more than I love my biological brothers, I’d knock your ass out of that chair and stomp you into this linoleum. You know I have respect for Abner, but now, he’s a traitor to me. I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire.

“I patched into the Pahrump Steel Cowboys because my old man had been a Cowboy. I didn’t think there was anything better than being a Cowboy, so I prospected while you were in the Army, and when my dad… well, you know what happened. The club got me through it, or I wouldn’t have survived.”

Hobie’s childhood was fucked-up. His old man was a junkie and a son of a bitch, and he treated Hobie like shit. My friend—brother—deserved better, and I felt ashamed for questioning him, but…

“I get it, but that didn’t answer my question, Hobie. Are you still with the Cowboys, or will you be trading your cowboy-hat-wearing skeleton for an arachnid?” I stared at him, waiting for an answer.

“Arachnid? Listen to you! Did Fitz buy you a word-of-the-day calendar?” Hobie chuckled.

“You’re still not answering me. Which side are you on? Am I fighting this alone?” I hoped he had enough respect for our friendship to be honest with me. It was time for all of us to choose a side.