Page 27 of Clear Your Mind

“For what?”

“Shit, man, for everything. For the shit I did or didn’t do from the get-go, the shit after I was stabbed, the shit I said when Morningstar sent me away and forced you to be my keeper. For just…everything.”

Dude gives me that fatherly look that he’s so good at. We’re the same age, but he’s wise beyond his years. “Is that how you see it? Being sent away with a keeper?”

It’s time for me to be honest. Being with Krystal makes me want to embrace life and the messy emotions that come with it. “Yeah, I mean, I did. Morningstar wanted a club that relied on each other. Members that were open and honest with their brothers, and I was the odd man out. I’ve never been the bonding type. Not in the traditional sense.”

I pause, hoping he’ll interrupt me with his thoughts so I don’t have to face mine, but he doesn’t. Dude just sits there listening.

“After the attack, I…I thought I deserved it for not opening up. I put the club at risk and rather than strip me of my colors, he sent me away as punishment and you got caught in my bullshit. I’m sorry you’re stuck here in bumfuck Texas babysitting me.”

I watch as a rare flash of anger crosses Dude’s face. The hurt, well, that’s not new. Not to me anyway. I bring it out in people.

“Is that what you truly believe?” he asks sympathetically.

“Well, yeah, I mean, I did. Krystal’s made me look at things a little differently, but I can’t rectify it all in my head yet, you know?”

“Let me tell you what I saw. I saw a brother struggling to accept that he deserved any damn thing he had. Any little fucking thing. I watched as he beat himself up day in and day out. I saw a president who was beside himself as to how to show him he deserves it all and more. I saw a man who damn near laid down his life for a woman he didn’t even know because his president asked him to.”

Dude curled his hands into fists on the tabletop. “I saw a man wake up broken in more than body and push everyone even further away. I thought you’d ride off as soon as you could shift gears and I’d never see you again. I knew if you stayed in Reno, you’d leave us.”

“You’re not wrong,” I admit. “As much as I love them, I was never a good fit there.”

“I knew that, man, neither was I. We’re different than them. They’re good men, but it just wasn’t…” Dude trails off.

“Yeah,” I agree. “It still hurt being punished for it.”

“It wasn’t punishment, Buddy. It was a new beginning. You might as well know now, it was my idea to come here with you, not Morningstar’s. No one made me do it. It was never even a question of who I wanted by my fucking side to start this chapter.”

I turn and stare at my prez in a new light. He wanted me. He wasn’t ordered to bring me, hechoseme.

This feeling is a new one for me. I’ve never been chosen, except by Krystal.

Dud refills our coffee cups and adds a shot from his flask. Raising the cup in salute, he says, “You know what they say, a good long ride can clear your mind, restore your faith—”

“And use up a hell of a lot of fuel,” I finish.

I let the absence of voices soothe me and focus on the sound of keystrokes.

“Thanks.” It was barely above a whisper.

“Don’t thank me if it didn’t work.”

“It did. I’m seeing things crystal clear now.” I smile at my own play on words, as does Dude.

Cowboy piped up. “Okay, so Jeffypoo’s last known location was a suburb of Dallas where he got pinched for a bar fight. He’s fallen off the radar since then, but I’ll put out some feelers and see if we can find a trail on him. Men like him don’t just slink off and die.”

I nod.

As much as I want to believe he’s not an issue, I know better. People like him are like cockroaches: they survive just about everything, and they wait until you’re alone in the dark to scurry out from where they’re hiding.

“Where was he between Enid and Dallas? Did he leave a trail of bread crumbs?” A ball of dread starts to form in the pit of my stomach with the direction my thoughts are taking. I wait not so patiently as Cowboy taps away. “Give me a second. Kilt, tell ’em about the rest of the bullshits holdings while I track this winner down.”

“Okay.” Kilt clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with stringing multiple words together. He’s a man of few words, accompanied by grunts and groans by way of communication.

“They’re almost defunct. There are no legitimate holdings under any of the names we know except the one at auction tomorrow. Best guess is members’ dues and their drug sales are all that’s keeping them afloat. With the exception of the rent on units one and two.”

“While Cowboy’s at the auction, Kilt and I will go charm the old lady in unit one and see what we can find out,” I suggest, knowing Krystal won’t be there to react to my presence.

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