Page 67 of Never Wed an Outlaw

I threw my whole weight into the next jab, and it found its mark. There was a sickening crunch, a splash of blood. We both went still. Early groaned behind me, halfway knocked outta the crawlspace by the scuffle.

Took forever to catch my breath. Crawling out, I threwthe bloody knife in front of me, standing on my knees while my old man leaned into the wall, nursing the world's biggest knot on his forehead.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I screamed, starting to shake. “You knew he'd do that, and you freed him anyway, all just to make a fuckin' point?”

“Fuck you. Didn't have another way to make you understand. I'd do it all over again, too, if I still need to drill it into your head, Danny boy. You're about to set sail to help Uncle Sam with his law and order. Is it really so fuckin' hard for you to see I'm doing the same?”

I wanted to be sick. Law and order was about the last thing he'd done to this club, turning it into a violent, drug peddling slush fund for his retirement, which mostly consisted of special mods on his bikes, imported scotch, and gifts for the girls he fucked behind Ma's back.

“I've killed for this club. It's all I've known. I ain't going anywhere if that's what you're worried about.” I stopped, looking my old man dead in the face. “When I get back and sit at the table again with the brothers, let's get one thing straight. I will never,everrun this shit like you. Fuck your legacy.”

“Calm down, boy. You're really running scared if you think I'm trying to remake you in my fuckin' image. Gave up on that a long time ago.” He stood up straight, walked over, and put his dirty hands on my shoulders, squeezing so hard it hurt. “I'm trying to teach you some common fuckin' sense so you don't end up like the fucker bleeding out behind you.”

As if on cue, I turned my head for a split second, noticing the dark red blood flowing against my boot. The life I'd ended wasn't just going to disappear without a few last ugly reminders.

“It doesn't have to be this way, Prez. You don't have to run shit this way. You could –“

“Danny, shut up. When you're wearing my patch, holding my goddamned gavel, you can turn this shit into a big biker beauty pageant for all I care. Trouble is, you still don't get it.”

“What? What's so fuckin' important you dragged me down here for this?”

Sighing, he spun me around, forcing me to stare into the darkness at the man's corpse again. Early's face came close, his lips pressed against my ear, forcing me to feel his tangled grey beard against my neck.

“Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, son. That's the only law worth a damn in this life. You kill the motherfuckers who deserve it as quick, as easy, and as painful as you can, or those motherfuckers kill you worse.” Very slowly, he pulled away, making me shake from the sudden draft against my skin where his beard had been. “Congratulations, Dust. I'm gonna make sure that name gets stitched on your cut before you ship the fuck out. It'll help you remember everything that happened tonight.”

Fuck remembering. Like I could even forget.

The last memory I had that night was standing down there alone, after he'd gone upstairs, yelling after me to clean up the fuckin' mess, and make sure nobody found the dead man's skin and bones.

I busted my ass scrubbing away his blood, bagging up his body for the truck, and hauling him deep into the Smokies alone. Feral tears scorched my face while I dug his grave.

My old man wasn't just a stone cold bastard. For once in his brutish life, the fuck was right.

If I hadn't jumped on the Deads thug when I did, we both would've been toast. I'd tried to show a little mercy, a smidge of honor, and I'd nearly gotten fucked over in the worst way possible.

Never again.Early taught me something that night, and I only resented my new road name because he'd thought of it before I did.

Dust. The final form of every living thing. Meant I'd kill anybody before they fucked with my club, or the ones I loved.

Ashes to ashes wouldn't just rain down to stop it, but they fuckin'hadto. Losing brothers, lovers, or family was the only fear I had left, and I vowed that night I'd never let it conquer me.

Except I hadn't conqueredshit. I jerked awake in my bed, sprawled out, covering the empty spot where Hannah hadn't slept next to me for several evil months.

Like every morning since she'd left, I punched the emptiness, starting another fucked up day in a rage.

I rode to the clubhouse and sat down in my office, taking in the day's reports left on my desk by Joker. TheVeep fed me a lot of info. Held my breath flipping through those pages, wishing and hoping I'd find a lead to Hannah, the Sicilians, anything that would bring her home.

There were profit numbers from the latest gun runs we did for the Grizzlies and the Prairie Devils, going down to the coast. Another letter of condolence from some mafia fuck in Ireland, who'd assured us he had our backs when we finally tracked down Dom and his boys. The Sicilians wouldn't escalate their war with reinforcements, as long as they had to worry about reprisals in Europe.

Profit statements from the garages and the Ruby Heel. Our body work, dancers, and booze brought in more clean money than ever this quarter. Didn't do a damned thing to patch the black hole in my stomach.

When I got to the end of the reports, I sighed. There was nothing about Dominick Barone, and even less about Hannah.

I reached for the half full bottle of Jack in my bottom drawer. Nearly hit the ceiling when something long and wet slid across my hand.

“Fuck you, wolfie! You're gonna give a man a goddamned heart attack one of these days.” Failing to see the huge wolfhound laying in the corner when I came in told me how fuckin' blitzed I'd really been.

Bingo pulled his head away and stretched, his mouth opening wide in a yawn, tail wagging because he didn't have a care in the world. I would've given anything for a taste of that attitude, right about now.

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