That’s what I’m thinking about. This is Slade and Dex. I don’t know how close he was to Shane, apart from wearing the same patch. But it’s still another dead body to hold against me. Like Mom said, Slade was one of the first people he trusted and could call a friend. That shit is serious to someone like my father.
“I wouldn’t sweat it, remember who we are, we’ll get through the shit and come out the other side. The losses will always be remembered but life goes on, and so will the club. So get the fuck out of your head and be the president this club needs, and what Dad expects of his son.”
I mull over his advice and nod.
“Leo, come on,” he drawls. “Every fucker who patches in knows the downfalls, that being killed is more likely than not. Slade, Dex, even Dad knows they’ve had an epic run. Apart from Pope, who have you seen live to an old age?”
I go to answer when he adds, “I’m not saying it’s unachievable, just highly unlikely.”
“We believe we’re gonna live that long,” I point out.
“And we will, we’re not like everyone else.” His phone buzzes and he smiles when he reads the text. It doesn’t take a genius to work out the message is from Victoria. He only smiles like this with her.
“I’m gonna head back to the city. My wife needs me.”
Again, it doesn’t take a genius to work out how she needs him. If she were in danger, he wouldn’t be smiling.
“You shouldn’t ride alone.”
“I’ll be fine. Nothing will get in my way getting home to my wife.”
Rolling my eyes, I remind him, “It doesn’t quite work like that, little brother.”
He snorts. “Maybe not for you, but in my world, it fuckin’ does.”
His confidence borderlines on arrogance, but I know him, he truly believes nothing could stop him.
Rising from my chair, Luca stands and puts his phone away.
“Call if you need me, we’ll ride out before we end the call.”
“I’ll call but not till I have a plan.”
He nods and we leave my office. We head for the side door when the prospect tells me, “Your dad left, and he ain’t come back yet.”
He walks off and I push open the door. Luca follows me outside and we head over to our bikes.
“Where are you heading?”
Answering my brother, I tell him, “He’ll be at the cemetery. I’ll sort it out with him.”
“Good. You want me to ride with you, make sure you’re all safe and dandy.”
“Fuck you. Get home to Victoria and let me know when you get there.”
“Sure.”
We both bring our bikes to life and as we ride out of the gates, I turn right and he makes a left. It’s instinct to keep my eyes open, checking my mirrors for anyone coming up behind me.
If Dad isn’t at the cemetery, he could be at the lakes. He used to go there occasionally when I was younger. He said it was a good place to think shit over.
Glancing in the mirror, headlights shine in the distance. They seem to be maintaining a steady speed while I pick upspeed. Keeping my eye on them, I try not to let the paranoia fester and take root in my head.
The cemetery isn’t far, and I’ll be happier when I jump the gates and put distance between me and the road. The pastor locks up at dusk, and I wonder how Dad would get in if he is there. He’s still a force to be reckoned with, but scaling gates and jumping over is a little out of his reach. He groans swinging his leg over his bike these days.
Some of the brothers laugh but I never have. I know a day will come when age comes for me and I’ll turn into my father.
The van, out of nowhere, comes closer up behind me and I look over my shoulder. The light blocks my view to glimpse who is driving. My hold wobbles and I face forward to regain firm control as I ride. Three seconds, that’s how long I have for my brain to register that it wasn’t the van coming up behind me that was the threat. The fucker coming at me is and it’s driving on my side of the road.
