Page 64 of Running from Drac

“Yeah,” I say quickly, unsure of where this conversation is going. “I’m gonna see if I can bail him out.”

My dad squints at me, pinning me in place with that one good eye. The other is a foggy white mess, forever frozen in the wreckage of some forgotten feud.

“You think that’s a good idea?” he questions.

“Probably not.”

His jaw tightens. “The boy’s more trouble than he’s worth, Eddie. At least Rich is redeemable. Wesley’s always walking the edge of disaster.”

It sounds harsh, but I know it comes from love. My dad doesn’t hate Wesley. If anything, he sees him as a second son. That’s what makes it worse. He expects more from him. He sees Wesley’s potential and hates watching him burn it down.

“He’s a good guy, Dad,” I say. “You know he is. He works his ass off for you.”

“And now I’m down a worker because his dumbass got locked up,” he snaps. “And you’re about to throw money at a sinking ship.”

“I can’t just leave him in there.”

“Why not? It might do him some good. Let him sit in there for a while and let it really sink in. Maybe he’ll finally get his shit together like you and Rich.”

“Maybe,” I agree. “But he’s still my best friend. I’m not getting married without him standing next to me.”

Dad’s expression shifts. The worry shows through the cracks of age and withering features. “So wait for him to get out. Let things settle down between you and Amber and all the bullshit work itself out. Maybe Wesley will get out early for good behavior.”

Rich chuckles. “Good behavior? Have you met Wesley?”

We all laugh. Because it’s Wesley. Even locked up and covered in someone else’s blood, he still makes us laugh.

“Dad, you’re just as worried about him as I am.”

He rolls his eyes. “The cocksucker should’ve known better.”

I bark out a laugh. “I’ll tell him you called him a cocksucker. He’ll love it.”

My dad goes quiet for a moment. The wind cuts through the yard, and all you can hear are the creaks of the rusted wind chime he refuses to throw out, clamoring from his patio up the hill.

“Just be careful, Son,” he finally says. “I don’t want Wesley’s bad decisions spilling over into your future. You’ve got almost enough money saved for that property. I don’t want you wasting it on something you can’t fix.”

“I get that,” I say. “But if I don’t spend it on bail, I’m spending it on bikes.”

He blinks. “Bikes?”

“Yeah,” I answer. “I’m serious about starting a club.”

His head tilts like he didn’t quite hear me right. “A club?”

“Something’s been missing in my life, Dad. I’ve felt it for a while, but after riding your bike, after feeling the wind and the freedom it gave me… something clicked. It felt right. More right than anything I’ve felt in a long time.”

He narrows his eye at me skeptically.

“I want that feeling every day. A brotherhood. Something real. And not some shiny helmet, good-boy charity club, either. I want the real thing. I’ll rock that one percent patch with pride. I want people to know our name and know not to fuck with us.”

He just stares at me in stunned silence. You can see the disapproval shining in his good eye—the worry.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he growls. “I don’t ride with those clubs, but I’ve been around long enough to know what they’re about. You think they’re about loyalty and freedom, but they’re not. They’re about power and control, the kind of control you only get by spilling blood and breaking the law. Doyou really think you can survive in that world knowing you’ll be putting Amber at risk?”

Hearing that makes me pause. I never thought about how it would affect Amber and our future. She already hates motorcycles. She’d loathe them even more if she knew what I was planning.

“Amber will get with the program. And before you say another word, I can handle myself.”