Page 2 of Roxy’s Independence (Mayhem Makers – MMM: Deviant Knights MC #3)
CHAPTER
ONE
Saber
Sitting on the grass with Roxy nestled between my legs, I watch with rapture as the technicolor of fireworks blast off in the air in a burst of rainbow flowered designs.
My entire family and MC are here surrounding us, supporting us, celebrating us.
Blood and mayhem aren’t the only reasons for us all to gather in one place lately.
These days, when we ride it isn’t into dangerous situations, it’s simply for the joy of it.
Throwing down our Reject cuts didn’t drag us down, if anything, it lifted us.
We were able to rebrand and form a stronger, more united brotherhood.
We still have future plans on going after the community fuckers who have taken several of our women and children then holding them hostage for their cause’s personal gain.
Unfortunately, we’re at a stalemate until Selah, Beast, and Hawg can dig deep and uncover the hidey hole they’ve crawled into.
We know that they have some big guns working for Uncle Sam protecting and sheltering them, but until we can crack who those fuckers are and publicize that information, we’re stuck.
Some of our guys are growing restless. Some want to go in with guns blazing and take back our property, but the rest of us, we feel at home here in Roanoke.
Roxy and I discussed this a few nights ago and we’ve agreed that this is where we want to stay.
Our children have grown up here, they have friends here and seeing as they’ve lost enough already, we don’t want to rip them away from their roots.
Prowler and Striker are the two I’m most concerned about. They’ve become more vocal about reclaiming our homestead. Dragon’s had to restrain them and give them things to do to keep them occupied and their brains busy enough that they don’t go rogue and get themselves killed.
My eyes must’ve stayed on the twins too long because Roxy nudges me and asks, “You’re worried about them?”
“I am,” I admit with a long, drawn-out sigh. “They’re pretty adamant that they want to go back to Texas and kick those letters out of our clubhouse.”
“Those letters? What’s that mean, Weston?”
“When one of us says letters, we mean the FBI and the ATF,” I explain.
“Ah. Nice pun on the alphabet,” she laughs. “I can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason they’re anxious to get back. Can you think of any reasons, perhaps of the feminine persuasion that’d have them ready to give up this peaceful existence and ride back into the fray?”
“They had many of those,” I chuckle. “Just ask Harper, she all but destroyed their black book.”
“Oh, that’s a story I definitely want to hear.” She nestles back into me, tilting her head back and asks, “What about you? Is there something back home you miss?”
“Is that your sly way of asking if I had a girl back home, Foxy Roxy?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I know there wasn’t because we already had that conversation, Weston.
However, I can’t help but wonder if there’s anything you miss.
You’ve told me about the reasons your crew decided to give up Cedar Creek and come this way.
I know about those communion assholes, but I find myself thinking that there might be something you long for in Texas. ”
“My brothers were the only thing that kept me there, Roxy. Wherever they were is where I wanted to be.”
“Were?” she probes. “Can you expand on that?”
“They were the reason I wanted to be there. They are my family, as you know, but now, my family branch has extended. Wherever you, Canyon, and Egypt are, that’s where I want to be. Even if it means turning in my cut.”
“What, no! You can’t do that Weston,” she cries out, shock vibrating in her voice. “We’d never ask you to do that, they aren’t just your brothers, Weston. They’re mine too. They’ve been damn good uncles and aunts to Canyon and Egypt.”
“It’s good to know you feel that way. It’d be a sacrifice but it’d be one I’d be willing to make for you three. I lost you once, Foxy, I’ll never survive losing you a second time. It’d destroy me.”
“It’s a good thing you won’t have to go through that again, Weston. Because I’m here, forever at your back and at your side. For better or for worse, through sickness and in health until death do us part.”
“That’s music to my ears, Foxy Roxy.”
“They’re being sappy again,” Canyon complains, shouldering his sister.
Egypt looks up at us and smiles, saying, “Yeah they are.”
“Reminding someone of their importance, whenever the opportunity arises in your life, isn’t being sappy, Canyon,” I educate him. “It’s being real. Showing emotions isn’t a bad thing, if anything, it makes a boy a man.”
“Listen to your dad, Canyon. He’s giving you good advice,” Roxy replies. “There are men out there who think sharing their feelings makes them weak, but it doesn’t. If anything, it takes strength and courage to put yourself out there.”
“Scythe says that artists do that with a pen and paper,” Egypt inserts. “He told me that everything he draws is personal and he pours all of his feelings into each line and shade.”
“Everyone expresses themselves in different ways. You do that with your painting and Canyon does it with each twist of the wrench.”
“Mechanics aren’t artists,” Canyon argues.
“They’re not? You sure about that, son?” I probe, wanting him to learn to think things through before saying things out loud. “When you’re working with the guys at the shop, and y’all are restoring an old bike or car, do you not envision the final look and work hard to get it there?”
“Yes,” he answers, his brows drawn up into his hair line as he begins to compute the lesson I’m trying to teach him.
When he hunches in on himself and begins rocking back and forth, I quickly crab walk back from Roxy and crawl in his direction. “Canyon?”
“It’s trying to take me,” Canyon grits out. “I don’t know if I can stop it.”
“Harper!” I hear Roxy shouting behind me.
“Help! Harper, help!” I can hear panic in her tone, but right now, all I can think about is keeping my boy from time traveling.
He hasn’t mastered keeping himself from being yanked away and drifting off to another place and time.
Roxy is still learning how to anchor him, but she hasn’t perfected it and isn’t confident enough to be his anchorman.
I can hear the footfalls of the mass come charging toward us.
Butcher and Wrecker land beside him on their knees, each placing a hand on his shoulders.
Harper plops down beside Wrecker, reaching across him to lay her hand on his knee.
“Roxy, hold onto me,” Harper orders and Roxy complies.
Soon, we’re a chain, linked together while holding tight to Canyon’s physical body.
“I’m coming with you, Canyon,” Butcher states. My eyes lift to his because this is one of his biggest fears. Losing control and possibly being stuck in another realm.
“I’m gonna tag along too,” Wrecker adds.
This isn’t one of his gifts, but he can latch on and travel with them as long as he’s touching the person who’s going through the vortex.
This is far beyond my expertise, but that won’t sway me from letting go.
No matter where he goes or what he sees, I’ll be right here waiting for him when he gets back.
“Love you, son,” I tell him as his being shimmers and he collapses in my arms. “I’ll help keep you here until your mind and body reconnect.” I also plan on keeping an eye on the four that have attached themselves to him. During times like this is when they’re at their most vulnerable.
I’m not a praying man, but if I believed in a higher power, I’d be holding a rosary in my hand and begging for His intervention in keeping those I care about the most in this life safe during their supernatural adventure.
Instead, I put out a beacon request to Jericho. I don’t have any personal experience in dealing with him on a spectrum level, but I happen to know he’s always aware and listening for our distress calls.
“Watch over them. I’m begging you, Jericho. Keep them safe.”
I don’t receive a spoken answer, but I wasn’t expecting one. Not one I can hear anyway. Jericho may be Harper and Wrecker’s spiritual advisor, but he’s the guardian and keeper of all of us who have been on the receiving end of spiritual, psychic, and metaphysical gifts.