Chapter 1 - Beast
I pull up to my mother's modest house in the center of Blackwater Falls, cutting the engine on my Harley and letting the rumble die out in the quiet neighborhood. Two weeks is too damn long without seeing her, but with the Iron Eagles breathing down our necks, I've been on constant patrol or running ops.
The winter air feels good against my face as I dismount, my boots heavy on the concrete walkway. Mom's front garden looks immaculate as always. Tulips and daffodils standing at attention like soldiers, not a weed in sight.
I don't bother knocking. Never have.
"Ma?" I call out, stepping into the entryway. The scent of cinnamon and apples strikes my nose immediately. She's been baking again.
"Derek Murphy!" Her voice rings out from the kitchen. She's the only one who still calls me by my given name. To everyone else, I'm Beast. "Two weeks without a word? I was ready to march down to that clubhouse of yours and drag you out by your ear!"
I round the corner to find her pulling an apple pie from the oven, gray-streaked dark hair pulled back in a neat bun, reading glasses perched on her nose. At sixty, Elaine Murphy still moves with the energy of someone half her age.
She sets the pie on the cooling rack and turns to me, hands on her hips. Her expression softens immediately.
"You look tired, son."
"I'm fine, Ma," I say, bending down to kiss her cheek. Even at my height, she doesn't seem small: her presence always filled any room.
"Sit," she commands, pointing to the kitchen table. "Coffee's fresh."
I obey, because no matter how many men I've put in the ground or how many battles I've fought, my mother's word is still law. She slides a mug in front of me and cuts a slice of pie that's too hot to eat, but I know better than to mention it.
"So," she says, sitting across from me. "This war with those Eagle thugs—"
"Iron Eagles," I correct.
"Whatever they call themselves. It's why you haven't visited." It's not a question.
I nod, taking a scalding sip of coffee. "We're handling it."
"Handling it," she echoes, her tone making it clear what she thinks of that explanation. "Is that why Mrs. Henderson saw you riding through town with blood on your jacket a few days ago?"
Fuck. I forgot about Mrs. Henderson and her binoculars. The nosy widow catches everything from her second-story window that overlooks Main Street.
"Wasn't mine," I say, which is true. It belonged to an Iron Eagle who thought he could set up a drug deal in our territory. He thought wrong.
"That's not reassuring, Derek." She pushes the pie closer to me. "Eat. You're losing weight."
I'm not, but I dig in anyway. The pie is still too hot, burning the roof of my mouth, but it's worth it. No one makes apple pie like my mother.
"I worry," she continues, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the table. "Ever since Noah got attacked almost two weeks ago..."
"King," I correct again. "And he's fine. Luna patched him up."
"That poor girl, getting mixed up with all this." She shakes her head. "And now Amelia and her sweet daughter, too."
I grunt in response, mouth full of pie. I shouldn't have called her and told her about everything. King and Tank both found good women, against all odds. Women who somehow see past the violence and blood to the men underneath. It's a miracle I don't expect to happen to me.
"Speaking of which," my mother says, her tone shifting in a way that immediately puts me on alert. "Janice Miller stopped by yesterday."
I freeze mid-bite. Janice Miller is my mother's best friend and the town's most notorious matchmaker.
"She mentioned her niece is moving to Blackwater next month. Pretty girl, just divorced. A kindergarten teacher." She smiles innocently. "I told her you might show her around town."
"Ma..." I set my fork down. "We've talked about this."
"And you keep telling me you're too busy. But honey, you're thirty-two. Don't you want someone special? Not just those...women I hear about."
