Page 5 of Trick

With a glance at the house, I pull my gloves on and walk over to my bike parked behind Heidi’s car. It’s early, so none of the neighbours are moving, but I can hear traffic in the distance, telling me the rest of the city is. As I reach my bike, I scan the street, checking for enemies, before I feel safe enough to pull my helmet on. I understand why Heidi is pissed with things. I would give anything for life to return to normal, but that won’t happen until we take out Richardson and his fucking men.

CHAPTER 2

TRICK

The ride over to the clubhouse is quicker than usual, the roads dead at this time of the morning before rush hour starts. There are a few bikes parked on the street as I pull into a free space, and one of our newest recruits, a kid we’ve been calling Freedom, pops his head out the door as I climb off.

“Yo,” he says as I approach.

Fucking ‘Yo’? These kids.

I’m not gonna break his balls over it. I don’t have the authority to tell anyone shit anymore, but I give him a roll of my eyes as I pass.

I was young once, dumb and inexperienced. I thought I was invincible, that things would always go my way, but I was wrong. There were days when the agony of guilt ate me alive. Now, I’ve learned to numb myself to it. It’s the only way to survive.

As expected, the common room is empty when I step through the doors, so I busy myself cleaning the room and restocking the bar until brothers arrive at a more reasonable hour.

There is a pang in my chest when Blackjack enters with Hawk. Howler gave Hawk my road captain seat, and as much as I want to have hard feelings about that, I can’t. Hawk’s a good brother, loyal, and he didn’t go off the deep end after the Pioneers killed Jade, a girl he saw as a daughter.

The camaraderie between them all makes my chest feel heavy. I’m no longer seen as one of them. They don’t trust me, and I can’t blame them for that.

Especially Rage.

His gaze narrows on me the moment he enters the room. He doesn’t hide his hatred for me. I shouldn’t have been allowed back into the club, considering what I did.

I glance down at the glass I’m cleaning, an ugly loathing spreading through me.

You attacked a pregnant woman, you piece of shit.

I did, and at the time, I hadn’t thought about anything but destroying Skye Richardson. Her father is the reason my wife is dead and my daughter doesn’t have a mother. The blind rage I’d felt when Heidi told me Skye Richardson was in our clubhouse was indescribable. I wanted Desmond to suffer the way I had. I wanted him to lose something important to him. If Rage hadn’t been there, I would have killed Skye. There is no doubt about that in my mind. All I could think about was avenging my wife, and the red-hot anger that throbbed through me couldn’t be reasoned with.

That time of my life feels like a fever dream. I don’t recognise the man I’d become in those months I was away. Skye’s frightened eyes had peered up at me as if I was a monster. In that moment, I was.

Shame crawls over my skin. I’ve never hurt a woman in my entire fucking life until Skye, and I swear on my daughter that I’ll never do it again. Rage beating the fuck out of me paled in comparison to the disgust I felt for myself.

“Hey.” Blackjack’s voice has my head lifting.

“Morning,” I reply.

He looks tired, but everyone does lately. Although Richardson’s soldiers have been quiet, it’s only a matter of time before they strike again. Until then, all we can do is keep our wits about us and carry on as normal.

“I need a word.”

I put down the glass and towel, coming around the end of the bar to follow him into the room we use for church—the meetings held between the officers of our club’s chapter.

I ignore the looks directed at me as I pass men who once trusted me to have their backs. Now, they don’t even want me in the same room as them.

Emptying my pockets into the box outside church, I feel nervous. Until now, the only punishment I’ve received is losing my patches and my position, and as bad as that is, I deserve more, and I know there is far worse that can happen to me.

Howler could have kicked me out. I don’t know why he hasn’t, but maybe today is when that happens. My club brothers aren’t getting past what I did. They still don’t trust me, and trust is the only thing that matters in a club.

When we step into the room, Howler is already sitting at the head of the table, a stack of paperwork in front of him. He stops what he’s doing and gestures for me to take the seat Terror usually occupies.

I glance at the chair that used to be mine before I sit. Regret churns my gut, turning it inside out. In this room, my sins feel so much worse. I’d sworn vows, made promises to uphold my club’s bylaws, and I had not done that.

“How are things?” Howler asks once Blackjack is seated on the opposite side of the table from me.

It’s not what I expect Prez to ask, so I don’t have a prepared answer.

---