Page 86 of Biker's Prisoner: Property of Bucky

He looks almost straight out of a Western movie – but a little too solid around the shoulders to not be from a time period with access to protein shakes. I want to make a light joke, but one look at him and my stomach sinks. There’s something wrong. We all grew up together, we know each other like brothers. Some of us are closer than others and even if I have always been closer to Owen than Ethan, they have always sort of come as a pair. The only ones to clean up each other’s messes.

He drags a bar stool out and I know exactly what I need to do.

I pullout another shot glass. Ethan sits at the bar and slips his head into his hands before he says anything. It must have been a long ride all the way up here and judging by the look on his face, there is some serious shit on his mind. I pour him a shot. It’s the good stuff. Hollingsworth Whiskey. Ethan drains the shot within seconds. I pour him another. He takes his second shot as I take my first.

He grips the glass. I can tell he’s about to speak, but I almost don’t want him to say anything. The club has had enough bad news in the past couple years.Please let it not be another murder.

“Mom has cancer,” he says.

Shit.It’s something worse. Something dark and unexpected. Something that could destroy the Shaws and let’s be honest – all of us. We love Aunt Deb. She’s been a rock for our families for years. She always fit in with the biker lifestyle. She’s tough. Tootough for this news to be real. But I know it is. Ethan wouldn’t make light of this type of shit.

I slidethe bottle across the bar to him. Ethan grasps it. He doesn’t look at me. He can’t. There’s a part of me that really gets it. He was her first boy. I can’t imagine what that meant to a woman like her. He takes a sip and I wait for him to continue. Nothing I can do but wait, because… there are too many questions. Too many thoughts. We’ve lost too many people in this club.

We can’t afford to lose another.

“What do you need?” I ask when Ethan stays silent too long.

“She doesn’t want Wyatt to know until she tries… the treatment.”

He doesn’t want to say any of the ugly words associated with cancer. Our dads lost one of their best friends to cancer. Lots of guys in the army got exposed to crazy shit over in Afghanistan. His death was brutal. Slow. And worst of all, painful. It didn’t seem right to see a soldier in that condition. I can’t imagine seeing someone I love going through that. Even if Ethan is a degenerate, I don’t want to see anyone in my family suffering.

“Okay. Wyatt doesn’t have to know.”

“And… I need $50,000.”

If anyone but a member of the Shaw family in our club asked me for $50,000, I would give them the cash without hesitation. But I once watched Ethan Shaw stay up all night with bloodshot eyes because he put $500 on a Taiwanese pig racing livestream, betting on a tanned pig named “Donald Trump”. The stupid ass pig lost, by the way. So he wasted his whole night. And I did lose a little respect for him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he adds.

“I don’t mind helping pay for the treatment.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t try to double it.”

Ethan grunts, which isn’t exactly promising, but as long as I take the steps to cover my own ass, there’s nothing I can do to stop this man from gambling if that’s what he wants to do. I hope for my aunt’s sake – and for the sake of Ethan’s life – he doesn’t. If he did something as stupid as that – Wyatt would find out.

“I’m heading to Boston,” Ethan says. “My mostly true cover story is that I’m going there to work on a business deal with Darragh Murray. Open a new club out in Dorchester…”

“But really?”

“Mom wants to be at Mass General. I have no wife. No kids. Might as well go with her.”

“Out in Boston with the mob? Are you sure about that?”

Ethan is fierce. Determined. It’s that bull-headedness that works against him when it comes to card tables or any other game of chance. He believes that he can control the outcome of his life. Even when he’s facing this – something totally out of control. When he speaks, I want to believe him. Who wouldn’t?

“It’s my mother,” Ethan says. “I’ll do whatever I can to save her.”

I suppose I get it.I would do the same for my mother if I were in his shoes.

“I’ll wire you the money tomorrow. But… We can’t fuck around tonight. I have business.”

He twirls his shot glass impatiently. Under regular circumstances, I would have a drink with him, but I paid big money for the shit going down tonight. I’m testing something new.

“What type of business? It’s 3 a.m.” Ethan asks. I can tell he doesn’t really care. He just wants a place to drink. Fine. I can give him that.

“3 a.m. business.”

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