Page 15 of Riding the Edge

Chapter Four

After my shift at the bowling alley, I went home and barely made it to my bed before I passed out. This morning when I woke up, I was instantly reminded of the events from the previous day and instead of hitting the coffee pot like I usually do;do I called the hospital to see if there was any change in Nico. The operator didn’t give me much information other than he was still in the intensive care unit.

Admittedly, I was tempted to call Wolf. Just because the man didn’t have my number, did not mean I didn’t have his. Not too long ago he started growing tomatoes and fresh basil. I don’t know if he dispersed it amongst the club or if he singled out Riggs, but my soon-to-be son-in-law started receiving a supply of produce and since my daughter wasn’t much of a cook, Riggs would bring it to me and I would make fresh tomato sauce. If you’ve had sauce made with fresh tomatoes than you know canned just don’t cut it afterward and I started hounding Riggs for more. That’s when the smartass told me he wasn’t in the business of dealing fruits and vegetables and supplied me with Wolf’s phone number.

I never used it though. Maybe it’s a pride thing or maybe I just have a problem asking anyone for anything. After my husband left me, I decided I would rather struggle every day of my life than give any man the power to say, ‘you wouldn’t have that if it wasn’t for me.’ Even if it was just a bag of tomatoes and a bushel of basil. Instead, I sucked it up and bought some cans of Tuttorusso.

However, if I had called this morning, I wouldn’t have asked him for anything and yet, I still couldn’t bring myself to dial his number. Mainly because I was still reeling over how much I learned about Wolf after spending six hours with him. Being around the club as often as I was, I knew the basics. I knew he was married three times and had a son with each wife. I had met all the boys before and they were always very respectful. I even remember pointing that out to him at my grandson’s first birthday and the response he gave me then surprised me. He told me that he had nothing to do with how well they turned out that he gave all the credit to their mothers. It was an honorable thing to say and very rare for a man like him to admit. Then yesterday, I saw him interact with Nico’s mother and I was blown away. Sure, they had their differences and Patty was bitter for what had happened to her son but anyone watching them could tell they had respect for one another and maybe even a little bit of love. It was refreshing to see and made me wonder more about the man beneath the leather vest and the relationships he had with his other two ex-wives.

I’m ashamed to admit, I drew my own conclusions about the man without knowing him. I let society sway my first impression of him. Yes, I was thankful for what he had done for me when Lauren was in the hospital but at the end of all of that, I only saw him as a biker. A man who chose to defy the law and take the easy way out. Someone who had a filthy mouth and drank too much. A man I assumed had questionable morals and not a lick of class. I was too jaded by my own streak of bad men to think any street guy, whether he be a mobster or a biker, was worth knowing.

When my daughter first fell in love with Riggs, she told me the Satan’s Knights were some of the best people she had met in her life. Maybe she wasn’t wrong. Nevertheless, as great as they might be, that doesn’t change the fact they left Wolf alone in his time of need. I thought it was odd when I first bumped into him and noticed he was by himself and it was reaffirmed when the detective showed up. Hearing that the entire club disappeared sparked my curiosity and, also heightened my need to protect my daughter. If Riggs was in some kind of trouble, I needed to make sure Anthony kept her and those babies safe. I suppose there are perks to your son being a former mob enforcer after all. Or at least there would be if he answered his phone.

Normally, after not being able to get in touch with him, I would’ve called his wife, Adrianna but everyone at Rab’s was talking about her cousin Rocco, who also happened to take over her late father’s criminal enterprise, and how he had gotten shot in front of Lincoln Center. Knowing my son, he was probably sniffing around the mob, lending his expertise to the fallen gangster. I wouldn’t be surprised if that gym of his is just a front. After all, there are only two ways out of the mob. The first is in a body bag. The second is cooperating with the feds, which would make my son a rat and Anthony may be a lot of things but he’s no snitch.

At least I raised him to be loyal.

Rolling my eyes, I sling my purse over my shoulder and kick my car door shut. Crossing the street, my heels click across the pavement as I make my way towards my daughter’s house. As I grow closer, I can hear my grandsons, Eric and Robert and I smile at the sound of their boisterous voices, knowing they are probably running wild around the house playing as boys usually do.

Ringing the bell, I wait for them to quiet down and for someone to answer the door. Instead, I hear Riggs shout from inside the house.

“Shit, it’s your mother!”

Have I mentioned he’s not my favorite? Like at all.

“I heard that,” I call to the door.

“What’s the secret word?” he replies.

I suppose I should feel a bit relieved that he’s home and not dead in the gutter somewhere.

“You’re an idiot,” I hiss. “Now, open the damn door or I’ll tear it down.”

Lady or not, I’m not above ditching the heels and kicking in a door. When your husband is a gambling fool and pisses away your grocery money, you learn to throw down. I may or may not have broken up my share of poker games.

“Uh, just a second Mama Leone,” he sing-songs.

Another ridiculous nickname.

Another minute or so passes before he opens the door wearing a pair of jeans and his signature shades. I never understood the fascination to cover his crystal blue eyes but then again, there isn’t much I understand about the man my daughter chose to spend her life with. To say he is a character is putting it mildly. He’s eccentric as the day is long and some of the things that come out of his mouth make me look like Mother Teresa. Still, there are a few endearing qualities to the guy who calls himself Tiger. He’s generous and has a pretty good heart. He also is a fantastic father which makes it easy to forget he’s a total tool who duct taped my mouth shut and shoved me in the back of a car.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite Italian,” Riggs greets, blocking me from entering the house.

“Save it,” I tell him, pushing a hand to his chest. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

“Grandma!” Eric calls from behind his father. With a forceful shove, I push his father out of the way and crouch down as my little guy comes charging for me. Tossing my purse onto the floor, I swoop him into my arms. “Is it Christmas?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my neck.

“No, baby, it’s summertime. Santa Claus comes in the winter,” I tell him, looking over his shoulder at his father. “Why does he think it’s Christmas?”

“Because Uncle Anthony is here too,” Eric answers.

“Shit,” Riggs mutters, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head.

“Hi Mom,” Lauren calls. Drawing my attention away from Riggs, I stare at my very pregnant daughter and my other grandson who hangs on her leg. “What brings you by?”

“What’s going on here?” I question, narrowing my eyebrows.

“Uncle Anthony is hiding from you,” Eric reveals.

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