"I don't have to talk to those goddamn drains on society to understand what they do," he booms. "It's there, Kyra. Every day on my job sheet. They can't keep themselves out of trouble. You do remember why I have one of them in the fucking cells right now, don't you?"
I look away and steel my jaw before I say something I can't take back.
"Murder," he continues, on a roll. "I have one of your so-called friends in my cells for killing a man execution style. Tell me what peacemaker does that. Tell me what stand-up member of the community does that, Kyra. Tell me."
"Unlock the door," I murmur. "I'm ready to get out."
"Why," he taunts. "Because you're not winning this argument anymore?"
"Because I've seen the truth," I yell, spinning back to face him. "Your dislike of the club runs so damn deep that you'd jeopardize the well-being of innocent women to prove a point. That's fucked, Dad," I say. "So fucked up."
The locks click open.
I give him a few seconds to say something. To prove me wrong.
Yet all the asshole does is stare out the windshield, hands on the steering wheel, while he waits for me to get out.
"You know what?" I say. "I think the Kings of Anarchy have got the right idea, because at least they get to choose their family."
I slam the door behind me, closing quite possibly the most painful chapter of my life.
If only there were a reward for enduring this shit.
What a dream that would be.
THIRTY-SEVEN
JINX
I rodefor two and a half hours to ensure I’d find somebody nobody else would likely see. Two and a half hours to a tiny town with a population of three hundred and eighty to sit down before a man who’d probably delivered half that number in his practice before his hair had turned grey, just to be spun around and sent out the door within ten minutes with a script.
And the advice to cut the stress from my life.
As though it’s been that easy all along.
My ass aches by the time I get off the bike; the twenty-minute turnaround made the journey feel more like five hours of non-stop riding. I love my bike. Spent years getting it just the way I want. But goddamn, she’s not made for long journeys.
The paper packet in my pocket crinkles with my movement. A small box contained within, holding no more than ten little miracle pills that are supposed to solve all of my problems.
To say I’m skeptical would be an understatement.
There’s no way I’m getting into bed with a woman and leaving it up to chance, either.
Which is why there’s only one natural course of action.
Fang leans on the porch railing as I approach, hands slung before him, a cigarette pinched between his fingers.
I nod toward the burning stick. “I thought you gave that up?”
He lifts the smoke and glances at it before answering. “Still indulge from time to time when I need to get my head clear.”
“Who’ve you fucked that you shouldn’t now?”
He scoffs a small laugh as I join him on the porch. “No one. At least, nobody other than Reno in a moment of weakness or insanity. Maybe both.”
“You know, you only give her hope each time you do it.” Her days as a bunny for the Kings ended when she pushed out Fang’s daughter. But the woman keeps herself involved enough that we’re never long without seeing her enhanced rack and way too short skirts around the place.
“I know,” Fang laments. “But I can’t even quit smoking properly, so I have no hope of quitting her pussy, do I?”
