Page 108 of Deserter

Bikers began shouting from the side of the clubhouse at someone. I left Wolverine standing on the small patio, looking like a bomb had just gone off, and jogged toward the sounds.

Mikey sat on the ground, rocking in pain. I looked up at the open window from my room and then back down at him.

“What’s the damage, Mikey? Anything broken?” I patted his arms and legs gently; certain he’d broken a bone with his stunt. He cried out when I reached his ankle and jerked back.

“I’m fine.”

Jesus, kid was as stubborn as his old man.

“You aren’t fine,” I snapped, letting my emotions spill over into my words. “Your ass should’ve been home in bed—not out here getting indoctrinated into club life. You’re eleven, for Christ’s sake!”

He raised his shoulders up toward his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Christ, he thought I was gonna hit him.

I reached out and gripped his chin in my hand, forcing his eyes up to meet mine. “You think I’m mad at you, Mikey? You’re just a kid—this isn’t any place for a kid to be hanging around. You hit eighteen—that’s a different story. I don’t want you making any decisions on club life until you’re done with school. You hear me?”

For the love of all the saints, be better than me, son.

Any hope I had that he hadn’t seen or heard anything vanished when he asked, “You’re the bad guys, aren’t you?”

“Nothing’s ever black or white like that. I think you’ll understand what I mean when you’re older. There’s more to life than just right or wrong.”

I’d been telling myself that lie for so long that I started to believe it.

He laughed and shook his head. “That totally sounds like something a bad guy would say. For me, there’s right or wrong. You’re either with the good guys or you’re against them. When I grow up, I’m gonna be one of the good guys.”

I squeezed the back of his neck, wishing I could stop time and keep him sheltered from the world and all its shit. “I hope you are, kiddo. I hope to hell that you can do it. C’mon, let’s go find your dad and get you home.”

I had to get him out of here before he saw something I couldn’t explain away with a few pretty words. Gone were the days when I could distract him with UFOs and aliens. Kid was too damn smart.

I looped my arm around his back and helped him up, trading jokes as we made our way back around to the front of the clubhouse.

Wolverine met us, apparently having snapped out of his stupor.

“Where’s Comedian?”

He shrugged. “Off fuckin’ Beast’s Ol’ Lady the last I heard. You need me to take the kid home?”

I tightened my grip on Mikey. I wanted to go after Comedian for leaving my son to fend for himself in the clubhouse while he got laid, and Wolverine for telling him.

“I’ll take him—just keep an eye on things while I’m gone. And watch the language when the kids are around.”

He nodded, but his mouth was still set in a hard line, meaning we’d be having words when I got back. Fuck, with the way I was keyed up, maybe we’d finally come to blows over this shit.

A loud scream echoed off the canyon walls, piercing through the haze of anger and instantly putting me on alert. I grabbed a handful of Mikey’s shirt in my fist as I scanned the mesquite trees.

He tore away from me and took off running. I knew what he thought he was hearing. After all, I’d been the one to tell him about mountain lions when he was on aNational Geographickick last year.

This was no cat though.

“Mikey, get your ass in the truck and stay there!” My voice was laced with panic as I dove forward, fingertips grazing the back of his t-shirt for a brief second before he was gone again.

He scrambled up one of the large cottonwood trees and disappeared, along with any chances of me getting him out of the canyon without witnessing a murder.

* * *

I knocked over a container of yogurt as I reached into the fridge for a beer, the sound echoing through the silent house.

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