Page 2 of Biker's Conquest: Property of Rage

“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 livestream Taiwanese pig race , betting on a tanned pig named “Donald Trump. The stupid ass pig lost, by the way. So he wasted the 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 thatworks 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 his 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 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.”

Since I’m onlyat this club on the weekends, I keep my condo empty Monday through Thursday and then Friday night… I do something special to make up for all my hard work throughout the week. Like I said, every man has his vices. I like to do something for myself so fucking sweet that it makes coming all the way out here to run this underground gambling ring worth my time.

Ethan doesn’t question it. I was right. He’s more worried about drinking, and most likely whatever he bet on tonight.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ve got this football game to worry about.”

Yeah. The Bills are down by fourteen now which means that “sure thing” parlay from his earlier text messages is definitely out of the question. Fourth down. Fourth quarter. Two minutes left. It’s not looking good for Buffalo.

“Hey. You can stay if you lock up after Seneca and Moses.”

“Those two over there who clearly wanna fuck?” Ethan grunts, emptying more of the whiskey down his throat. Yeah, he’s staying. Perfect.

“Those two.”

“I’ll stay. Go enjoy your business. Wear a condom.”

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