“Is this a dream?” Mrs. Peterson asks, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“If it is, nobody’s going to pinch you and wake you from it,” Selah says, walking over to her and placing a soothing hand on her shoulder. “We’ve all experienced what life is like whenthere’s nobody around to lend a helping hand, this is our way of reaching out and offering you our assistance.”
“You aren’t alone,” Dragon professes. “Now, how about we head outside and load these toys and clothes into your new car.”
“Don’t worry about insurance, it’s been paid as well,” I explain. “We wanted to make sure you had time to catch your breath before life starts throwing you more curve balls than it already has.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Peterson chokes out. “You’ll never know what this means for my family.”
“We have an idea,” Selah tells him as she walks over to me and slips her arms around my waist. “Like I said, some of us have been in your shoes.” I squeeze her to me before letting go and helping my brothers gather their items.
“Come on,” I say once my arms are loaded down with bags. “Let’s go check out your new ride.”
FIFTEEN
Selah
“You’re all angels,”Mrs. Peterson, or Melissa as she made me promise to call her, says.
“There’s nothing angelic about these men,” I tease. “But there’s also nobody you’d rather have at your back than any one of them. They’re hard as steel on the outside, but on the inside, they’re squishy marshmallows.”
“When it comes to kids or people down on their luck, they do more than open up their wallets,” Ryleigh says as she bounces a newly awakened Aubree in her arms. “They’re good men.”
Thankfully, they have a room in the back that was set up like a daycare center and the club girls volunteered to watch them while we distributed gifts to families. We wrap our arms around Mrs. Peterson and walk her over to the car where her husband is checking out the motor.
“It’s solid,” Mr. Peterson announces. “Could you rev it one more time?” I look over and see Butcher behind the wheel, happily following directions with an amused smile on his face.
Brick walks up behind Jack, which is Mr. Peterson's given name, and asks him, “Do you ride, Jack?”
“I do, but now it’s in an enjoyable type of capacity. I prospected for a club in my younger days, before Melissa and I decided to settle down and raise a family. They called me Blackjack.”
“Why’d you step back?” Dragon asks.
“The club I was vying for weren’t leading a lifestyle that was conducive to raise children in. Not for us anyhow,” Jack admits. “They were doing some things I couldn’t get behind.”
As he reminisces, his eyes taking on a longing look, Melissa turns our way, facing us and clarifies, “On Jack’s last run with the Demented Sons, he discovered they were into human trafficking. With me pregnant at the time with our oldest, the thought of him crossing some sort of line in their eyes, and our baby paying the penance for that supposed transgression terrified him. He overlooked a lot of convoluted things, including their drug and gun pipelines, that’s sorta expected with one percenters, but selling and trading kids, women, and men, that’s something he can’t and won’t condone.”
“I’d think not,” I rush out, my breath hitching as I say the words.
I make a mental note to look into this felonious club, dig as deep as I can because they could be just as nefarious as the Fundamentalists of the Communion—the religious cult I was raised in. Whereas the communion hides behind the cloak of their zealot beliefs, the Demented Sons hide beneath a leathercut. One just as scary as the other and both of them holding power they shouldn’t be capable of.
I tune back into the men's conversation and hear Brick state, “When the weather lifts, and your arm is back to one-hundred percent, you should take a ride with us.”
“I’d like that, thank you,” Jack says, holding his hand out and shaking Brick’s before making his rounds and showing his gratitude to them all. “This is what I always thought brotherhood was about. Thank you for reminding me that not every club is rotten.”
After a few more hugs and well wishes, we stand together as a collective and wave goodbye to them as they drive out of the lot, loaded down with Christmas goodies. We also may have included a few extras for the family. Not only did they receive a full Christmas meal from us, but we also tossed in some cookies for Santa too.
Later that night, after a bout of lovemaking and construction of toys, I’m cuddled in bed with Butcher. My mind is racing, unable to forget the words Melissa spoke.
“What’s on your mind, baby girl?” Butcher asks, tugging me deeper into his chest.
Sighing, I lay out everything that was shared with me in regard to the Demented Sons. When I finish, I tell him, “I think we should invite Jack and Melissa over sometime soon. Show them that even if we aren’t completely lawful, this club is full of good men and women and we stand tall for family.”
“I can bring it to the guys, but seeing as Brick invited him along for a ride, I don’t see it being a problem. We did kinda adopt the family,” he jokes.
“I think he’d make a good brother one day if we open the right doors,” I convey as I lightly brush the tips of my fingers over his torso. “Melissa would be a good sister.”
“You may be right, Lah. But we won’t know that for certain until we spend some time with them and see if they’re a good fit. We may like them as people, but that doesn’t mean they’ll mesh well with the club.”