Page 105 of Praying for Thunder

He squinted at me, trying to read me. Then he decided not to bullshit. “Because of who’s giving it to you.”

Don’t feel like playing games, huh? “Did you not catch the ‘parting’ part?”

His head pulled back, studying me some more. “And that was your decision?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re my father.” I thumbed over my shoulder to Dio. “How would seeing him change any of that?”

A delighted—and dangerous—smile appeared. “It wouldn’t.” The evil head-lean I hated commenced and had him smiling at Dio. “Ahhh…” He was mighty proud. “So, he chose me.”

Dio took a step forward, but stopped when Vice suddenly emerged, cheering, “Tequila!”

Titans cheered in return, “Vice! You fucker! My head is still pounding…”

“Bunch of pussies.” The big Stallion threw his arm over Onus’ shoulder and asked, “What is going on here? Wait, your boy gets laid and now gets a tat?” He let go of Onus and reached past me, offering a hand to Dio. “Hey, I’m Vice.”

Dio grumbled, but eventually accepted his hand. “Diablo.”

Vice observed the tension under the tent. Then asked Onus, “You need some assistance here?”

Believing the Stallions would actually come to his aid, Onus’ ego had been properly stroked, he smiled again at Dio. “Nope. I think we’re all good here.”

Vice eyed me. “Ya know, you look awfully familiar.”

I’d never forget Vice and all he did for us that day. We needed time to finalize ways to communicate… and things for me to look for when trying to get intel.

Laughing, Onus backhanded his chest. “Of course, he does. He’s my boy!” When Dio’s legs bumped into my chair again, wanting to charge, Onus only laughed louder.

Suddenly, I heard a voice I was already easily recognizing. It was deep and fatherly. “We got a problem here?” Diesel was in dark sunglasses and a do-rag, hiding our uncanny similarities.

Vice turned around. “Diesel! You powerhouse!”

After the introduction between Presidents, Vice threw his hands in the air. “Wait a minute!” He told Onus, “Diesel has a tattoo shop and is a wizard with ink. Maybe he should give a helping hand to, uh—” He faced Dio. “What’s your name again?”

Dio’s nostrils flared. “Di-a-blo. But I don’t need ‘assistance’.”

Onus couldn’t be happier rubbing Dio’s exposed nerves. “Now, Vice, that idea is even better than more tequila.”

“Fuck that!” Vice demanded.

Onus laughed. “You’re right. Let’s go.” He never asked what I wanted. Just made sure he looked good with his new biker acquaintances. Then he left me under the tent.

Diesel was suddenly in front of my face. “Let it go, Pup. It’s trio time.” Observing Dio’s shitty mood, he teased, “That goes for you, too.”

Luckily, the rumbling generator covered Dio’s threat. “I’m killing him someday.”

“But not today.” Diesel rested a hand on my shoulder. “Today is his.”

Dio’s angry glare fell to me and softened, even flashed hazel for a couple of seconds. “Today belongs to Thunder.”

“So does that bruise under his left eye,” laughed Diesel. He told me, “I heard you have ‘tent’ issues.”

Anger erupting, I laid back down on the chair. “Chubs knew of the girls.”

“I’m needin’ you careful of prying ears, Pup, but what you just said isn’t exactly shocking. He’s patched.”

Not willing to bend my anger, I stared at the tent ceiling.

Removing his sunglasses, Diesel hung his head over mine. “Hey, does that kid even have a dad in the club?”