Torch
I was still shaking off the last bits of sleep as I made my way up the front steps. The sun was just starting to come up. Usually, I’d still be out cold, but I couldn’t sleep, and I was craving one of Dad’s famous bacon and egg biscuits.
I knew he’d be up. Hell, he was always up at the crack-ass of dawn, so I thought nothing of it as I pushed open the back door and headed inside. I stopped dead in my tracks when I found Mom sitting on the counter with her legs wrapped around Dad’s waist and her arms around his neck. They were locking lips like a couple of teenagers, and neither of them had a clue that I’d just walked in.
I cleared my throat using all the dramatics I could muster, then grumbled, “Really?”
“Don’t you know how to knock?”
“Wouldn’t have to knock if you’d do that shit in the bedroom.” I got a kick out of giving them a hard time, but I leaned against the stove as I added, “Aren’t you guys too old for that anyway?”
“Not when you have a smokin’ hot wife like mine.”
“Aw, damn. That’s Mom you’re talking about.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.” Dad cocked his brow. “How do you think she became your mom?”
“Well, you best watch it, or you’ll end up with a broken hip or better yet, another me.”
“I’d rather have a broken hip.”
Mom swatted him on the shoulder and said, “Okay, you two. That’s enough.”
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Dad slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her over to him. “I wasn’t done with you.”
I’ve heard all the stories of when Mom and Dad met. They were an unlikely pair. Dad was a hard ass with a chip on his shoulder, and Mom was a complete goof with a knack for pulling pranks. Apparently, she gave him a hell of a time, but she got under his skin, and they have been driving each other crazy ever since.
“ Logan .” Mom looked up at him with nothing but love in her eyes and teased, “Not in front of the child.”
“Ah, come on.”
“Later.” Mom eased up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, then turned her attention to me. “So, what brings you by at this hour?”
“I was hoping to grab one of Dad’s biscuits, but it looks like that isn’t gonna happen.”
“Oh, he can still make you some.” Mom turned to Dad as she asked, “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Dad walked over to the fridge and started gathering the eggs and bacon. “Give me a minute.”
“It’s alright. You don’t gotta...”
“I was gonna make ‘em anyway.”
“How about some coffee?” Mom offered. “I just made a fresh pot.”
“Yeah, coffee would be good.” I sat down at the table as I asked, “You got any of that girlie creamer stuff you and Sis use?”
“Sure do.” Mom stepped over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle. “You want some?”
“Hell, yeah, and some sugar.”
“You got it, sweetheart.”
“Don’t know how you drink that shit,” Dad groaned. “Gives me a belly ache just looking at it.”
“Well, your bitter-assed coffee gives me a belly ache, so...”
“So, what are you boys up to today?” Mom asked, trying to derail another potential quarrel.
“Got a busy one,” Dad answered. “Probably won’t be home until late.”
“That didn’t really answer my question, but okay.”
Dad had been a member of Fury since he was old enough to patch in. Years later, he became the sergeant-at-arms and was now president. He knew the rules better than anyone, and at the top of the list was never discuss club business with anyone—and that included ol’ ladies. It wasn’t always easy, but Mom and Dad had found a way to make it work.
“You and Cass still going into the city?”
“That’s the plan.” Mom brought my coffee over and sat down next to me. “I’m thinking I might put the tree up when we get back.”
“Already?” Dad glanced over his shoulder with a scowl. “We just had Halloween.”
“Oh, please. Halloween was two weeks ago, and you know how long it takes me to get everything out.”
“It wouldn’t take so long if you didn’t have so much of it. You’d think we were outfitting Times Square or something.”
“You are so dramatic.”
“Says the woman that dresses like an elf for an entire week before Christmas.”
“The kids love it, and you do too, you ol’ Grinch.”
“Well, you can ride this ol’ Grinch later tonight and make his heart grow two sizes.”
“Well, great. Now, my appetite is shot to shit,” I groaned. “Thanks a lot.”
“Ah, hell. You’ve heard worse than that when you were still in diapers.”
“Diapers?” I shook my head. “Ah, hell. I need to get outta here.”
“You keep your ass put. Breakfast will be ready in five.”
The words had barely left his mouth when Stitch stepped into the kitchen and asked, “Did somebody say breakfast?”
“Hey, brother. I didn’t know you were coming by.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.” Stitch sat down across from me and ran his hand through his salt and pepper hair. “But I had to get out of the house before I lost it.”
“Lost it?” Dad turned and looked at him with concern. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Mia’s gonna have a baby.”
“She’s like seven months pregnant. That’s not exactly new information.”
“Actually, she’s eight months, but this is my Mia we’re talking about.” Stitch leaned back with a sigh. “How the hell did this happen?”
Unable to miss an opportunity, I chuckled and said, “We could call Wrath over and he could explain it to ya.”
“Ah, don’t get me started on his ass,” Stitch growled. “If he wasn’t so good to her and didn’t love her like he does, I’d put him six feet under.”
“Kind of hard to knock off your own son-in-law.”
“I know. I know. I’m telling ya, this whole thing is messing with my damn head. It was just a blink ago that she was put in my arms for the first time. I ‘bout didn’t make it through that, and now, she’s about to have a kid of her own.”
“I don’t get what you’re worried about,” Dad replied. “Way I remember it, you did damn good when Mia was born. Hell, you never skipped a beat. You just did what you needed to do, just like you always do.”
“But this is different. I’m about to be a grandfather , and that’s not something I’m ready for.”
“You’re gonna be fine,” Mom assured him.
“You aren’t getting me.” He looked between the three of us, searching for the words. “Last night, I was watching TV, and this diaper commercial came on. Just a stupid, regular commercial. And next thing I know, I was getting a knot in my fucking throat. What the hell was that?”
“It’s fatherhood part two.” Dad chuckled, crossing his arms. “But you don’t gotta worry. This is gonna be a breeze. You don’t have to worry about all the late-night feedings or changing diapers at four a.m. You get to leave all the parenting BS to Wrath and Mia and sit back and enjoy.”
“Not sure I know how to do that.”
“You just gotta lean in, brother.” Dad chuckled as he told him, “It won’t be any time before this kid has you wrapped around his finger, just like Mia did. Just wait and see.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Stitch groaned, then glanced up, eyes fierce. “So, what about that breakfast.”
“Coming right up.”
Dad walked over to the stove, and five minutes later, I had one of his biscuits in my hand and my day was made. As soon as we finished eating, we said our goodbyes to Mom and headed over to the clubhouse. Dad wasn’t exaggerating when he said we were going to have a busy one. Hell, we were all over the place.
One minute, we were making plans for the upcoming holidays, and then, there was the big meet with Maltese. He worked for Cardelli—a leader of one the most notorious Italian mafias, and he was coming to discuss a possible business opportunity. Dad called us all into church, and we’d just started to sit down when Bones turned to Stitch and asked, “Are we really considering this?”
Bones was Stitch’s son, and he’d taken Big’s place as the club’s hacker. Understanding his concern, Stitch gave him a stern look and said, “Prez wouldn’t have called a meet if we weren’t.”
“But now?” Bones narrowed. “Hell, the timing couldn’t be worse.”
“You worried you won’t get your turkey time,” Grim teased.
“That’s the least of my worries.” He turned to his father as he urged, “Do you know the kind of stuff Cardelli pulls?”
Stitch leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his expression hardening. “I know all about Cardelli and the shit he pulls, son. That’s one of the many reasons why we’re having this conversation.”
“But why waste our time?” Bones shook his head and grumbled, “Cardelli has no code. He takes out anyone who stands in his way, and that includes women and children. You really think we should trust someone like that?”
The air became thick with the weight of the decision in front of us. Prez remained silent. His gaze was calculating as he tapped his fingers lightly on the table's edge. His voice was low but commanding as he replied, “We know very well who Cardelli is and what he’s capable of, and he knows the same about us.”
“And this is just an opportunity.” Savage was Cotton’s son and the club’s new VP. He had a good head on his shoulders, so I trusted that he knew what he was talking about when he said, “It doesn’t mean we have to accept. But if we turn him away without hearing him out, we’ve put a target on our backs.”
“Exactly.” Prez sounded irritated as he continued, “We’ve met with Maltese before. He’s never crossed any lines, so we owe him the respect to at least hear him out.”
I could feel the tension in the room escalating, and I was over it. I wanted to know what we were getting into, so I leaned forward and asked, “What exactly is this ‘opportunity’ we’re talking about?”
Dad held my gaze for a long moment before answering. “Cardelli wants distribution. He’s looking for partners outside his own territory to expand into ours. Maltese is here to propose a partnership. We give him channels for his… products, and in return, we get a cut. A big one .”
Savage and Wrath shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Bones clenched his fists as he asked the question we were all thinking—"What’s he wanting us to distribute? Because if it has to do with any kind of trafficking, I’m out.”
“None of that.” Dad’s eyes darkened. “He claims it’s about rare goods—art, antiques, and shit like that. He wants to move them quietly.”
“Yeah, right.” Wrath grumbled under his breath. He was the club’s enforcer, and it was his job to be wary of anyone outside of the club. “Whatever’s in those crates, it’s worth enough for him to cross borders and risk meeting here. No way this shit isn’t dirty.”
“Which is why we decide together. Maltese arrives in an hour. We meet, we listen, and then we choose. But make no mistake—we make the choice. Not him.”
A subtle twitch of his jaw represented a warning that the discussion was over. We all exchanged looks, each of us weighing our concern, but we all remained silent.
An hour later, we were gathered in the bar when Rooster walked in with Maltese. Just like the times before, he was dressed in a jet-black business suit and exuded an aura of confidence as he scanned the room. He didn’t look the least bit rattled as he started walking over to us.
His back was straight, his chin was out, and his expression was blank as he came over to Prez and gave him a slight nod. “Maverick.”
“Maltese.”
“I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me.”
“Why don’t you tell us why you’re here.” Dad cocked his brow. “And don’t give us any bullshit about moving fucking antiques.”
“About that.” He crossed his arms. “There’s a bit more to it than that.”