Page 1 of Vetting the Biker

Chase

The sounds of sizzling bacon and toast popping up from the toaster fills my kitchen. I’m hoping my teenage daughter gets the hint breakfast is ready and to get her ass down here or we’ll be late today.

When my ex-wife Amber and I found out she was pregnant, we knew this apartment wouldn’t be big enough for the three of us. Within a month of looking, she found a house she loved and wanted to show me. We both fell in love with it as soon as we saw it. I was excited about the three-car garage. It’s an entirely renovated two-story, four-bedroom, Victorian-style home, and the only thing we had to fix was the bright purple exterior. I can’t help but laugh over Amber’s cringing facial expression when we pulled up. But after a few layers of paint, it is now an eye-friendly antique white. Amber and I always wanted several children, but we only had Mallory.

I can hear movement upstairs, and for someone so tiny,I swear she makes the most noise coming down the stairs. Every time I see my daughter, I swear she reminds me of the good I have in this world.

“Good morning, princess! How did you sleep?” The smile gracing her face as she walks to me almost makes me forget I am a soul-crushing attorney. Her arms circle my waist, and I wrap my arms around her back.

“Good morning, Daddy.”

“Would you like some pancakes and bacon?” I plant a kiss on the top of her head.

“Yes, and some orange juice, please.” I know at thirteen, soon “Daddy” will turn into “Dad” and possibly “bruh” at one point, but I still see that five-year-old pigtailed kid so excited to see me when I’d come home from work. Mallory heads to the fridge to grab the orange juice while I flip the pancakes. Watching her from the corner of my eye, I’m transported into a special memory.After parking in the driveway, I turn my car off. I have to leave early in the morning, so I don’t pull into the garage. I shut the car door, grab my briefcase, and head into my house. Before I can even grab the doorknob, the front door opens, banging off the wall with a loud crash. My little girl stands there, screaming “Daddy!” as she runs to me, her pigtails swinging back and forth. I crouch down as she slams into

my chest.

“Why is your face like that?” Mallory breaks my thought.

“What do you mean? Why is my face so ridiculously good looking?” Her laugh makes me smile and it’s therapeutic.

“You are such a nerd, but no, you were staring but not actually seeing anything like you were dreaming about something. Maybe you have to fart.” Now I’m full-on belly laughing with her. This child is a carbon copy of her mom, but her personality and sense of humor are all me.

A knock at the door interrupts our laughter. I leave the kitchen and walk to the front door to find my club brother, Eagle. When most people hear I am an attorney, they would never assume I’m in an MC or motorcycle club. I’m a proud member of The Wild Jesters MC, as their Vice President. We’re not one percent, but we’re not innocent either. While we take pride in being the protectors and guardians of those who have faced abuse, no matter the age, race, religion, or gender, we provide a variety of help to all those who need us. We also have other business ventures from a dispensary just over the border in Illinois where we bring back certain “products” to help those in Kentucky who may need it, and most of the people who request help use it to help with the side effects of their cancer treatment. My ex-wife’s grandmother died from cancer, and I would never want someone to suffer like she did. We also have a couple of strip clubs which are classy and the women who chose to work for us are very well taken care of and protected.

Shaken from my thoughts by Eagle knocking again, I open the door for him. “Hey Eagle, come on in.” Eagle enters, and I sense something is off.

“Mouthpiece. I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning, but had a call come in this morning. We have an emergency intake.” I hold my finger up to Eagle and walk into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mal, Uncle Eagle is here, but we need to have an adult conversation, so we’ll be in my office.” She rolls her eyes at me. “I promise this will only take a few. There may be a new intake.” Mallory knows the MC helps those who can’t help themselves. She knows the term “intake,” but I never let her see the files or fully know the true stories of what we do. She knows we do protection detail, but nothing with drug dealers or gun running. I lost a brother to drug addiction, so I stay clear of them.

“Okay, Dad; I’ll clean up the kitchen when I’m done. I’ll call Carrie to see if I can hang with her today, but are we still on for a movie tonight?” Looking at her, I can’t help thinking how I got so lucky with this kid? Amber and I try to co-parent the best we can, but it gets hard. Mallory is the best of both of us. When we get these cases, I can’t understand who could ever hurt someone so defenseless. It makes me sick.

“You got it, kid. Let me know if you go and where you’re going to be at all times. The movie will be your choice, too.” Mallory’s smile could bring an end to conflicts.

I bring my attention back to Eagle. “Follow me to my office and we can talk more.” Walking out of the kitchen and down the hallway, we enter my office. I close the door and sit behind my desk. “Okay, let me know the details.” Eagle sits down and clears his throat.

“We have a young mom, twenty-eight years old, with two small kids. One boy is five and one little girl who’s two.” I brace myself for the rest.

“How bad is it?” The silence is deafening, and I can see Eagle struggling to control his anger.

“The mom has a black eye and has been roughed up, but from what Needles has told me, the kids had it the worst.” I slam my fist down on the desk.

“What the fuck is wrong with people?” I despise pieces of shit who put their hands on other people, especially children.

“Yeah, so they are currently with Needles waiting for the next step from you.” I stand up and Eagle does too.

“Well, let’s get to Needles and show these innocent souls know that they’re safe and will be for as long as they need us.”

Jenna

Sitting at my desk in the hotel suite I booked for Wesley and me, I’m going through emails and invoices from work on my phone. I took today off, but this weekend I’m on call. I did all of this since Wesley, my thirteen-year-old son, has been sick for the last two weeks. I have decided since he is finally feeling better, I’d take him to Ohio to watch a baseball game since he missed one with his best friend. I told my staff at the veterinary clinic to only page for emergencies because I’m taking my kid to do some school shopping and to spoil the kid rotten. The working full time single mom guilt gets me every once in a while, so I splurge more than I should. He has been such a great kid, even though being stuck in the house has driven us both a little nuts.

The divorce between Wesley’s father and me was horrible. We still can’t even do drop-offs and pickups face to face. The judge was so annoyed with us that when we testified, the other party was out in the hall, but the attorney was present. This divorce tore my son in two. He tries too hard to be the “man of the house” as he tells me all the time, but I see the sadness in his eyes when his friend’s fathers are around. I don’t understand how Robert doesn’t want to see his son more. I would go nuts without seeing Wesley every day. I haven’t seen Robert in years, but his truck has been by my house and business a lot. I’m afraid to date for fear of what he might do to him. My sister and his mother meet at a police station to do the pickup and drop off because the judge knows we can’t be near each other. How can two people who once loved each other more than life itself become so volatile?

“Mom, this hotel is so fucking outstanding!” Wesley is checking out the view from our suite.

My mother always said that she couldn’t wait for me to have my child, and now I completely understand what she meant. Well played mom, well played. “Language please.” I laugh. I could never scold him when he swears, especially when he does it in front of my ex-mother-in-law who is a devout Catholic. Call me childish, but that woman makes me madder than a bee in a bonnet. Holy hell, when did I become my mother?

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