Page 56 of Rio's Release

“Aren’t you supposed to see Shelby today?” Zig asks.

“I canceled. No way in hell do I want her seeing this.” I point to my face.

He chuckles. “Guess not.”

“Last thing I want to do is give her the impression this is what the MC life is all about.” I take a sip of hot coffee.

“Isn’t it?” Zig asks with a grin.

Swiveling on my barstool, I take in the clubhouse. We’ve done a lot of remodeling, turning the big metal shed into a nice place, with build outs for bedrooms, a kitchen, chapel, and a realnice big open main area with a big screen tv, sofas, and chairs, and a pool table and bar. We even put in a second floor with two big masters for the President and the VP. Four other bedrooms are on the main floor toward the back.

It's all really coming together.

The Saints’ Garage opened, and the boys have already had some business, but it being Sunday, it’s closed.

I pop a pain pill and chase it with my coffee. “Want to take a ride with me, VP?”

“Where do you want to go?”

Shrugging, I stand. “Don’t care. Just need to get out of here for a while and get some air.”

We walk out to one of the pickups, and Zig slides behind the wheel.

“Where to?”

“Just drive,” I mutter, trying to get comfortable in the seat, adjusting the backrest.

“How ‘bout we head toward town and drive by the garage?”

“Sure.”

The early morning air is cooler than it’s been all week, and I power down the window.

Zig pulls out on the highway and looks over at me. “How’d Shelby take it when you canceled on her?”

I sigh. “She was fine. I told her some business came up I had to take care of. We’re going to try again next Sunday.”

“Your face should be healed by then.”

“Hope so.”

We head through the pecan grove and come upon Sanchez’s place. I spot him sitting on his porch, motion Zig to slow down. “Turn in here.”

Parking, we climb from the truck and close the doors.

“Morning, Eduardo,” I call. “Just passing by and thought we’d stop and say hello.”

“Come on up. Have a coffee with me. I just brewed a fresh pot.” He gets up and bangs on the screen door. “Maria, bring two more mugs.”

Zig and I each take a seat, and Eduardo returns to his chair.

His wife hurries out with our coffee, nods with a smile and retreats.

I take a sip. It’s rich and smooth. “That’s good.”

Eduardo tilts his head. “What happened to your face, my friend?”

“Pulled over with a nail in my tire. Man in a van stopped to help, then someone jumped me from behind. Hit me over the head. I woke up out in the desert, beat to shit. Luckily, my crew was able to find me.”

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