No one but my own chapter has privileges to what’s going on inside my head until this over.
Brothers are making themselves comfortable in the bar and I settle in at my table. JJ hands me a beer and I instruct him to get rid of the club girls.
The sorrow on Grim’s face as he sits is palpable. He was closest with Shane out of all of us. I would put money on it that he has nothing to do with this business, but no one has my trust at the moment.
A few brothers laugh and joke over a beer, stretching out after their long rides. A few look like they need to sleep. It's the ones who are too quiet I focus on.
JJ returns and gives the nod we’re clear. Standing, I whistle, and brothers shut their conversations down.
“You’re all here to bury our fallen,” I begin, reminding myself that there is a time and a place for everything. “Before the funerals I want all details from each chapter on what happened the other night.”
“You know pretty much everything,” Tack calls out.
“Pretty much ain’t everything and I'm not asking, I’m telling you. I want to hear every detail, in detail, again.” I glance around and the brothers reluctance pisses me off. “If you’ve got a problem with that, I'm gonna start asking why.”
Attitudes change and I sit back down. Someone in this bar is responsible and I will find out who.
2
Zachary
Resting my forehead against the bathroom door, I sigh heavily. I’ve managed to numb the physical pain in my chest with enough weed that should’ve put me in a coma, but it doesn’t numb my mind the way I need it to. I know the pain will return and when it does, I’ll still not be ready for it. The grief of losing India still looms over me, like her ghost is desperate to reach out to me, but Dad is different. Or maybe he isn’t. Fuck knows anymore. Having to be the one who told my mom he was gone will probably be the shit that haunts me the most, and for the rest of my life.
I stand on the front door step of my parents’ house, not remembering the drive from the club. I can’t make myself move to go inside and burn my mom’s world to ashes. Once she knows, her life will never be the same again. I doubt she’ll ever smile again. If it wasn’t for my dad, knowing he would want me to be the one there for her, I’d let anyone else tell her. Or I wouldn’t. I… shit. My eyes water and I angrily swipe at them before a single tear can fall. I slide the key into the lock, knowing I can’t prolong this any longer. She deserves to know as much as I don’t want her heart to break. It’s still fracturedfrom India. Stepping into the house, I hear Dad’s voice calling for me to get my ass out of my room when I was a teenager. I stare down at my boots. Mom will kick my ass if I wear them in the house but the thought of bending down to untie the laces seems like too much effort.
“Babe?” she calls from upstairs. “The coffee’s on, can you pour me one, I’ll be down in a minute.”
My damn eyes water again and I grind my knuckles into my sockets to push them away. I’m not here to cry, I’m here to hold my mom while she cries.
“Babe?”
My mouth opens, I go to tell her it’s me but those few extra seconds of unknowing will become the most precious moments in her life. Besides, nothing will come out. The floorboards above me creak with light footsteps until she appears at the top of the stairs.
Her eyes travel from my face down to my cut and takes in the blood covering my leather and my hands and arms.
“Zach, open the door so your dad can come in,” she instructs, her voice trembling, and her chest heaving with each breath.
“Mom…”
“Zachery, I won’t tell you again.”
There’s a little more strength in her tone but it crumbles when she clings to the banister.
A tear rolls down her cheek as she pleads, “Please, open the door.”
The lump in my throat feels like a fucking boulder, but I force out, “He isn’t coming home, Mom.”
“No.”
I’m halfway up the stairs before I realise I’m moving, and I hit the top in time to save her from stumbling down them. Sheclings to me, her nails piercing into my arms. The stinging pain is a welcome relief.
“Tell me how.”
“He was shot. Four times.”
Her scream fills the house, and I hold onto her tighter. I’d do anything for my mom, and I wish I could take this pain away before it has time to bury itself in her and fester.
“Mom, open the door or…” My energy depletes but anger is quick to energise me. “Open the fuckin’ door, or I’ll kick it down.”
