Niro stands. “Do you have any airboats?”
Halo rolls his eyes. “Told you you could go on one when we were done.”
Cat throws her arm over Halo’s shoulder. “He’s probably not going to be able to focus until he’s been on one.”
Not sure why Halo is Niro’s babysitter, but I step toward him. “My old lady, Maren, runs an airboat tour company. Get through tomorrow night, and I’ll ask her to take you out on one.”
“Fuckin’ A,” Niro says, throwing a fist pump.
The dock erupts into noise. Boots stomp, chairs scrape, bottles knock. Someone whoops, and laughter and chatter take over. A day like today is for catching up with friends we only usually see at the massive biker meet up in Sturgis each year.
The plans start to form fast, after that. Halo coordinates with Vex back in Jersey to do an even deeper dive into Lock’s intelligence. Jackal messages with Wren. He provides detailed maps and schematics of the docks and waterways around it. Ridge takes point on routes and logistics, with help from Mallow. Havoc and Saint work through the weapons details, discussing distribution and what vehicles beyond bikes are necessary to carry the artillery we’ve curated that will at least match Alvarez’s.
And Niro, well, he’s telling anyone who’ll listen that the first airboat was called theUgly Ducklingand was built by a team, including Alexander Graham Bell, the dude who invented the telephone. Which, who the fuck knows that shit?
Lock takes an ongoing barrage of abuse as bikers grill him on his relationship with the FBI agent.
“Make sure you text your girl thank you,” Ridge says.
“She’s not my?—”
“Maybe send her flowers too,” North adds. “FBI chicks must love flowers, right?”
“Jesus Christ,” Lock mutters.
“Maybe I should call her,” Saint says, even though he barely knows Lock and has never met the girl. “I’m sure she’d take a character reference about you from me, a former FBI agent.”
Lock just walks behind the bar, grabs himself a massive glass of whiskey, and drinks the whole thing in one shot. “Fuck my life.”
But, somehow, Mallow manages to get Lock to admit that she’s his childhood best friend’s little sister.
By the time the plan is made, and the nominated member of each chapter has shared the information with their club brothers, it’s gone dark over the dock.
I look at the time on my phone. It’s midnight. And my thoughts have drunkenly shifted to going to bed without Maren in my arms.
It’s too late to change that.
And to be honest, given the club full of men, some of whom I don’t know all that well, I’m not sure how comfortable I would be with her walking around here either.
But I miss her deep in my fucking bones.
A loud and heavy bass rattles through the walls. The grill has been working overtime outside. And so have some of the club girls who are in and out of our guest quarters like they’ve got revolving doors. Laughter rises as bodies drift closer and closer.
Some of the married guys still party hard when they’re on a run. Some have open relationships; some are more don’t ask, don’t tell.
Some of the men have a moral code, keeping their dicks in their pants for their old ladies.
Once upon a time, I felt that was truly emasculated behavior. But now, I can’t imagine dipping my cock in anyone else’s pussy.How can I go from something as sacred as trying to create a life with Maren that involves making kids, then go shoot my load into a condom inside some pussy I don’t even care about?
And I realize just how unfulfilling the pre-Maren version of my life was.
“So, you and Maren Caldwell,” Jackal says in a tone that suggests he wants details.
Halo’s smile drops. “The daughter of the guy who…”
I nod. “Yeah. No one more surprised by that than I am.”
Halo strokes a hand through his beard. “And I thought the origins of some of our club relationships were fucked up. Not quite sure you beat King kidnapping Saint’s sister to keep him in line, but it’s up there.”
