Page 4 of Riot

I’m surprised when it isn’t Charles I see coming into the visiting room. It’s Cash. The President of the NOLA Rebels MC, in all his glory. Gray hair, sharp blue eyes and an attitude you just don’t mess with. He’s been like a father to me ever since I started with the club several years ago. He knows about what I used to do for a living, and I have no regrets.

Right after I graduated high school, I realized college was never gonna be for me. When I was kicked out of military basic training which earned me my nickname ‘Riot’, I took a journey into the land of the morally gray and corrupt underworld. I was the best shooter in my class and I thought I was destined to be a sniper, and I was, just not for the military.

I told myself I was only taking out the garbage, moving around from city to city working for the mafia and other corrupt crime organizations. The great thing about being a ghost was nobody knew who I was. My sister was protected under the legal guardianship of Charles, so none of that led back to me. Putting her, or Charles, in danger was never an option. But I made good money, and I was good at my job. It was kinda surreal, if I’m being honest, seeing shit on the national news about an assassin terrorizing the streets of Chicago. I took out a crime lord on behalf of the Russians, it wasn’t like I took out the entire organization, though it stopped the Chicago underworld fromgoing into disarray. The Bratva may be ruthless, but at least they have rules in place.

In any case, those underworld assholes all had it coming; that’s what I told myself. Killing isn’t an easy thing, but maybe I always had anger issues to begin with. I can’t think why. Funnily, it’s always been toward men. Women I have no issue with, in fact, sometimes I think it’s my mission in life to protect every damn woman I know.

I give Cash a chin lift as we clasp hands. “Thought someone sent me a conjugal visitor. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He smirks. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“You good, Prez?”

He glances around the room, then thumbs behind him toward the door. “Be better when we get you outta here. That sniffer dog experience will go down as one of the highlights of my day.”

“Those K-9s get right up in your balls.”

He snickers.

We sit facing each other at one of the tables. In this facility, it’s a lot like a high school cafeteria with chairs, tables and vending machines. I always fuckin’ forget to bring coins for the damn thing. I’ve been at other facilities that have a counter that winds around the room, the prisoners sit on one side, and visitors on the other. There are a few others in the room, but it’s not busy mid-week. I see a couple of kids at the table nearby, both are looking around a little bewildered, and shake my head. I don’t care what people say, this is no place for children.

Cash’s eyebrows knot together. “How you been?”

I lower my voice to a whisper. “Better than most. Only helped eradicate one inmate so far.”

He points at me. “Watch your back, son. I want you outta here alive. With Shadow if he can help it.”

“Oh, I renamed him Priest.”

“You’re shittin’ me?”

I shrug. “Kinda suits. He’s a good listener. I’m not sure how close to God he is right now, but he don’t take no shit in here. The man has the ability to control an entire room just by bein’ present, never seen anything like it.”

“Just the kind of man we need. The Brothers need someone to bounce off. Sick and tired of hearin’ them all bitch and moan like little schoolgirls.”

“He’s gonna be gettin’ out in a few months.” Priest got caught beating up his stepfather. The guy was a piece of shit to begin with. So in many ways, we have a lot in common. It was deemed self-defense, but they still gave him six months.

Nobody likes prison, but he’s like a trapped bird. Me? I’m used to living in confined spaces and hating everyone around me. At least here I get fed three times a day and have a decent hot shower every night. Still. It’s not like I don’t wanna get out, but I never worry about anything.

My mom always said to try and use humor to get out of any situation before using violence, and for the most part I’ve tried to do that. Then again, maybe I didn’t heed her advice since my previous occupation included killing people. Trouble is, I did also inherit my father’s temper; it’s something I’m aware of and because I never want to be anything like that asshole, I keep that anger buried deep inside. In truth, sometimes I’m afraid of what might happen if that monster is unleashed.

I do talk a lot to try and get out of shit, and Priest always tells me to shut the fuck up. Even though a lot of men inside want in the NOLA Rebels, Cash wouldn’t accept any felon that wants in just for the sake of it. He’s picky with who he lets in his club. Most of the men in here will never set foot inside the Rebels MC, but if they want to go on thinking that there’s a chance they might and it protects my back, then I’m not gonna argue with that.

“Gettin’ out and stayin’ out are two different things.” Cash tilts his head. “The only reason he’s gettin’ to try out as a prospect is because of you.”

“Aww, thanks Prez, you do like me after all.”

“If I didn’t like you, numb nuts, I wouldn’t have dragged my ass out here to visit now, would I?”

“If you liked me, you’d have brought a sweet butt instead.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Pussy is what got you in here in the first place.”

“Not entirely true; I wasn’t fuckin’ her. She’s a friend.”

“Since when are you and women friends?”

“Since I met her.”

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