Page 19 of The Sins Of The Biker

That word, my dad called me son. I will never be his son again.Fuck!My eyes burn with unshed tears.

Clearing my throat, I reply, “I gotta go, doc… my mother needs me.” And just like that, I head upstairs to the bedrooms to try and locate a spare shirt. Luckily I find a Sub Rosa one in the drawers and put it on. Rushing back downstairs, I turn to Curly and say, “I’ll take the van and the goods.” My eyes point outside, trying to tell him subliminally I’ll take care of the guns.

Curly nods. “Yeah, all good, brother. When Snake is better, we’ll ride back.”

Shaking my head, I reply, “Nah, I’ll send Stich, Stanford, and Uncle Tom to come get you. Ain’t no way Snake will be able to ride the entire way home. I'll send them back as soon as I arrive in Houston.”

Curly steps forward and gives me a man hug. “I’m sorry, brother,” and hands me the keys to the van.

“Appreciate it.”

I lean down and whisper in Snake’s ear, “You’re gonna be fine.” Storming to the front door, I turn to the doctor before I open it. “Thanks, doc. Take care of him!”

He glances at me before he continues to clean Snake’s wounds. “Don’t need to thank me. I owe your dad. He did me a favor a few years back, and I told him if there was anything I could do to repay him to just ask.”

“Well, looks like you’ve repaid him, so thanks.”

Without another word, I turn the knob on the door and head out to the van, ready to drive like hell to return home.

Chapter Eight

HARLEY

Witnessing my mother struggle to rise from her seat to place the final rose on my father’s grave nearly caused me to drop to the ground and plead with God to take me instead of him.

This wasn’t the plan.

Mom and Dad were supposed to grow old together and look after their grandkids. But no, they’ll never experience that because someone took his life and tried to take mine. I’m ready to enact revenge for what they did to my old man, and the club is growing impatient. They keep turning to me, but I haven’t been able to talk to them about anything until I bury my father. I must be there for Mom right now, and the club comes second.

When I arrived home, Mom was in bed, crying, with my father’s cut in her hands, and it tore me apart. She adored him. Mom had to put up with all the club shit over the years, and I had always wanted what they had. They were everything to each other, and now, my mother is missing the other part of her heart—the part my dad owned.

I went to the morgue to view my father for the last time. He was shot right between his eyes, execution style. I vowed right then and there that I would make whoever did this pay for their actions and that I wouldn’t rest until I did.

Wave is now President, stepping up from VP, but he doesn’t like how he earned it. I guess no one would, but he keeps saying we need to talk, and I agree we do, but after the funeral. Right now, Mom needs to come first, and I must make sure she’s okay.

A red rose slips from her fingers and lands on my dad’s coffin. His gun, cut, and a picture of him and my mom sit on the coffin as it’s lowered into the ground.

So this is how it ends?

This is where we all end up when we pass, our bodies simply turning to dust.

This is what life’s all about, ending up in a dark, cold grave.

Today is my twentieth birthday, and I want to kill the person who did this to my father.

I want to enact revenge.

I want to tear up the world.

I want heads.

Serena has offered her support, but I haven’t been in the mood to talk. I know I’m being a fuckhead to her. She doesn’t deserve my cold shoulder or not returning her calls, but right now, all I can see is red.

Red for what I will do to the bastards who took my father away.

Red for how I will ensure they pay with their damn lives.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to my left to see Serena’s tear-filled eyes. She has her hair in long waves and is wearing a black dress with minimal makeup. Her expression is uncertain, and I’m aware it’s me causing her to look at me like that. I give a quick smile before turning back to the grave.

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