“Fine,” Uncle Val relented, though it seemed as if that was the last thing he wanted to do.
Spending the morning with his brother should’ve become a new normal for Lucas “Mortician” Banks. They both lived at the clubhouse now, almost like old times, when Digger once followed Mortician to wherever and pretended he had sense.
Back then, Mortician never considered his brother a stupid, disrespectful, ungrateful fuckhead. The years proved otherwise. He was trying like a motherfucker to forgive Digger, but he’d had to cough up a lot of fucking money for that fool.
He’d always protected Digger. Sometimes, that included spotting him financially or paying debts to get him out of jams. The rightness or wrongness never occurred to Mort. But Digger went too fucking far this time.
Mort would forgive his brother eventually. He always did. Anytime he forgave the motherfucker for almost betraying the entire clubandkidnapping CJ, everything else should be easy.
Except nothing was easy recently. Not Mortician’s relationship with his brother. Or his wife. Or his mama-in-law.
Or Meggie. He couldn’t look her in the fucking eye after Bailey’s latest bullshit.
Or Harley. Compared to what his baby girl was going through, everything elsewaseasy.
Tonight couldn’t come soon enough.
With so much on his mind, Mort didn’t go to Digger’s room after he finished breakfast. Instead, he went outside and lit a cigarette. It was chilly today, though sunbursts broke through the cloud cover. Hopefully, it cleared up completely. Maybe he’d go for a ride, just him, the wind, and his thoughts.Orhe’d take balls in hand, hit Meggie up and see if she needed help for tonight.
He walked to the corner of the building, ignoring all the empty spaces where the officers’ bikes belonged. Prez thoughtenough of him to include him in that lineup. Nostalgia for a time when there’d been loyalty and brotherhood hit him. Not long ago, they would’ve either been at the club or conducting business elsewhere. Sometimes, Mort had motherfuckers to track, enforcing to do. Still, that lineup of bikes showed everyone the strength of the Dwellers–Outlaw, Johnnie, Digger, Val, Stretch, Mortician, and Cash. Most recently, Diesel’s. At the end and out of the floodlights because he was Outlaw’s son. A lone empty space remained. For CJ. It would be interesting to see if Diesel would have to cede his spot to the kid. It wouldn’t surprise Mort. One day, Diesel would have to answer to CJ.
Diesel was fucked up on so many different levels. However, the motherfucker had a huge amount of loyalty among the younger members. It wasn’t out of fear. It was because he just didn’t give a fuck. That type of indifference inspired awe. Because the people he gave his loyalty to understood how precious it was. Motherfucker was definitely insane, but he also had charisma and good looks.
It was unfortunate he’d fallen through the fucking cracks. He had the Caldwell name and money. As much as Prez loved him, he wasn’t CJ. Diesel played high school and college football, earned good grades, set himself up as a big brother, and only wanted Outlaw’s approval. When he returned home and entered law school, which he commuted to everyday, CJ was nine. Outlaw introduced Diesel to club life witheverythingthat went with it, put the motherfucker in charge of the Bobs, and turned him loose. By the time he passed the bar, CJ was fourteen, and Diesel realized he’dneverhad a chance to be Outlaw’s heir.
His kid, but not his successor.
Sighing, Mortician glanced at the side of the building, where he remembered finding CJ and Harley alone in the dark. She’d been sitting on his lap and Mortician had been so fucking outraged. That seemed like a lifetime ago instead of just elevenmonths. Shaking his head, he smoked his cigarette, allowing the nicotine to surge along his nerve endings and calm him.
Directly in front of him was the parking garage they’d built several years ago. The club had acquired extra vehicles for different things. They’d planned to extend the building and add a mechanic’s shop to offer extra income to some of the brothers who lived on premises.
Then the Gnomes started fucking with the club and those plans were scrapped until further notice.
As infuriating as motherfuckers fucking with the club were, it couldn’t compare toanyonefucking with Harley. Probably that’s why he felt so restless. Even though he intended to shadow those motherfuckers so there wouldn’t be any fuckups when he grabbed them, surveillance wasn’t the same as gutting and castration.
All weekend he’d been prepping CJ, so he didn’t want the kid to walk into a situation where those motherfuckers resisted. Mort would never forgive himself if something happened to CJ because he wanted to avenge Harley.
Anticipation hummed through Mort along with a little concern that CJ wasn’t entirely ready to go into the meatshack, but Johnnie was a motherfucker and he’d find a way to have Mortician kicked out if he killed a kid. Even a fuckhead like Nardo Grevenberg.
Mort wasn’t really into torture, but this was a special case. He’d take his time guiding CJ on how to fuck up a motherfucker painfully. And if CJwasn’tready yet? Could Mort wait until Nardo turned eighteen because ofJohnnie?
Nope. He sure the fuck couldn’t. Fuck Johnnie and fuck Nardo. That motherfuckerwoulddie.
But, if CJ wasn’t available or couldn’t do it, and Mortician went against a Dweller rule about children, then Johnnie foundout and used that to oust Mortician, it would further dilute Prez’s power.
Undoubtedly, Outlaw would back up whatever Mortician decided. Only Harley should matter. Yet, Johnnie was a motherfucker who’d recently divided the club and gained a lot of fucking power thanks to yellow-bellied, pussy-faced fuckheads that wanted peace.
Wielding a sanction against Mortician could be anything from a monetary fine, stripping him of his patch, a beating, a maiming or targeting his sons.
Tossing his cigarette, Mort turned and saw Bunny just entering the parking lot from the forest pathway. The slight breeze lifted her hair. As he drew closer to her and saw her sad expression, he knew it would take more than a breath of wind to cheer her.
“Hey, Mort,” she greeted, forcing her lips into a smile.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Hey, girl. Coming to see Digger?”
“And feed him,” she said. “I’ll clean him up after.”
“You a good woman, baby.” It wasn’t a lie. His sister-in-law was quiet strength. “My brother so fucking lucky to have you.”
