Chapter Ten
Jock
The sun beat down on the asphalt lot behind the IMC clubhouse, turning it into a shimmering sea of chrome and leather.Jock straddled his bike, the engine idling with a low growl that matched the buzz of excitement in the air.Silly sat behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist, her vest fitting perfectly.
Tank and Maynard were back home, safe and spoiled, but this ride was for dogs like them: the rescued, the fighters, the ones who’d clawed their way back from hell.
Twisted revved his engine, fist in the air, signaling the start, and the lot erupted in a symphony of roars.IMC patches mingled with those from the Caddo Hobos, longtimers like Ace and Wrench nodding at Jock from their spots in the column.There were Rebel Wayfarers from two different chapters, a cadre of Freed Riders, multiple Bama Bastards, and many smaller RC.Over a hundred bikes, all here for the cause.They were looking to raise cash for the local no-kill shelter so they could help many more dogs.
“Ready, baby?”Jock shouted over the noise, glancing back at Silly.
Her hair whipped in the breeze, her grin fierce and bright.“Hell yeah,” she yelled, squeezing him tighter.“Let’s ride for the pups!”
The column peeled out, a thunderous procession snaking through Hammond’s streets.Cars pulled over, kids waved from sidewalks, and Jock felt a swell of pride.This wasn’t just a ride; it was a statement.No more dogfights, no more abuse.Not on their watch.
They alternated stops along the ride between MC clubhouses, RC clubhouses, and local businesses who supported the cause.At one stop along the route, Jock saw Penny collecting donations from allies who’d lined up with supportive signs and were handing out water bottles to the bikers.
There was a tug on the back of his vest, and he wheeled to find a little girl standing beside him.She held up a hand and offered Jock a crumpled twenty, her eyes wide.“For the doggies,” she said.
He knelt, a smile stretching his cheeks.“Thanks, kid.They’ll appreciate it.”
Silly beamed beside him.It made his heart flip.
By the end, at the shelter’s parking lot turned festival grounds, the tally was in with over ten grand raised.Music blared, burgers sizzled on grills, and dogs available for adoption were walked through the crowd, tails wagging on overtime.
Kent was walking one of the dogs, whose leash proclaimed him anti-cat.Jock pulled Silly into a hug as Kent stuck out his hand.Silly grabbed it before Jock could, laughing as she tried to force the vet into some kind of complicated handshake.
“Y’all did such a good thing.This is going to help a lot of Maynards,” Kent said.
Silly gave up on the handshake and leaned into Jock, whispering, “Our family’s growing, here and there and everywhere.In so many more ways than one.”
He kissed her forehead, the day’s triumph settling like a warm blanket over the chaos of their lives.For once, the road felt smooth.
***
Weeks had blurred intoa rhythm since Calder’s arrest, and Jock felt the scumbag’s shadow had loomed too long; it was time to reclaim their space.
He planned for a simple dinner at that Italian spot downtown, the one with the candlelit booths and Silly’s favorite tiramisu.Per his instructions, that evening she had dressed up and looked stunning in a flowing dress, her hair loose, ink peeking from her sleeves like secrets.
“You clean up nice, big guy,” she teased, straightening his collar as they headed out.Tank and Maynard watched from the couch, the pit bull’s tail thumping a reluctant goodbye.Jock had set them up with toys and water, and he hadn’t crated them, figuring a couple hours wouldn’t hurt.
The restaurant was cozy, low murmurs and clinking glasses wrapping around them like a blanket.They talked over pasta about her preparation for most of her staff to be gone for a week and his garage antics with his brothers in IMC.Their laughter flowed easily.
“Maynard’s come so far,” Silly said, sipping wine, her hand finding his across the table.“Like you, Jake.Resilient as hell.”
He squeezed her fingers, the words stirring that therapy echo:Acknowledge the progress, even when scars remain.But midway through dessert, his phone buzzed with an incoming call from Wildman.
