Page 132 of Riding the Edge

I’m going to miss this more than anything.

More than the power.

More than the mayhem.

“Stay here,” I murmur against her lips. “I won’t be long.”

“Okay.”

Releasing her, I roll my neck and reach into my cut. Taking a toothpick from my pocket, I shove it between my lips and make my way towards the back of the bar, to the narrow hallway that leads to Satan’s chapel. As I reach the doorway, I hear my brothers and know without a doubt they are voting to remove me from office.

I’m not bitter.

I no longer can rule.

But, I’m the motherfucking Bulldog and before I get kicked off my steel horse, I’m going to take matters into my own hands. I’m going to preserve my legacy and show everyone who the fucking boss is.

“There’s been a change in plans,” I announce as I enter the room. Staring at the empty seat at the head of the table, I look at Wolf.

Respect.

He’s got it.

Passing everyone, I take my seat one final time and spit the toothpick onto the table. Spotting Blackie’s patch, I divert my attention toward him. The poor bastard can’t even look me in the eye. He thinks he failed me. Little does he know, I’m trusting him with the most valuable pieces of me.

“Why is your patch on the table?”

Finally finding the courage to look at me, he points to my vest.

“Why is yours not on your cut?”

Well played, Blackie.

Well fucking played.

I’m going to miss that too.

Breaking our stare, I glance around the table.

“I’m stepping down as president,” I declare. “I’m taking a deal and confessing to murdering the paramedic in exchange for full immunity for the club.”

“You can’t do that,” Wolf shouts. “I won’t fucking let you do that, Parrish.”

“It’s not your call to make,” I holler.

“We can fight the gun charges,” Pipe asserts.

“You can’t fight murder,” I tell him, slicing my eyes back to Blackie. “And you’re not going away. Your place is here. Not with the club but with my daughter.”

Looking down, his hair falls into his face and I watch his shoulders shake.

“Look at me,” I demand.

His eyes find mine.

“Take care of her,” I plead. “Take care of the baby.”

“Jack—”

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