Page 51 of Riding the Edge

And the knife twists again.

Feeling my eyes fill, I quickly swipe both hands down my face and swallow the lump in my throat. My eyes linger on the boy I created, the man who kneels for the Devil and I realize nothing I say will bring him back. I’ve lost my son to the same world, I lost myself. Turning around, I draw in a deep breath before quietly walking towards the door. Stepping outside, I brush past Patty in a state of oblivion. She calls upon deaf ears as I continue down the hallway, reaching into my pocket for my phone.

Bringing up my list of contacts, the phone starts to vibrate in my hand with a call from Riggs.

“What?” I grunt into the phone.

“Well, it’s nice to hear your voice too,” Riggs replies.

“I don’t got time for your shit, Riggs—”

“And you think I got time for yours? I got three fucking kids and a bar that needs to be converted into a clubhouse. I don’t need to deal with some pencil pushing creep looking for his car.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m at the garage and there’s some stiff here claiming you stole a Dodge Charger from his dealership.”

Why the fucking guy from the dealership is at Pipe’s garage, makes no sense at all but, I don’t dwell on it.

“I didn’t steal shit. Look, tell him to charge my card and I’ll bring the fucking car back when I get a chance… why the fuck didn’t he call me?”

“Says, he’s been trying to get in touch with you all morning.”

“That’s bullshit. The car wasn’t due back until a little while ago.”

“How’s about you tell me why the fuck you’re renting a car, to begin with?”

“Piss off,” I growl.

“You’re extra grumpy today, Wolf. What’s the matter? Did a field mouse get a hold of your tomatoes?”

“Fuck you, Riggs. Stop breaking my balls and handle the shit with the car,” I demand, disconnecting the call before he can argue. With the line free, I round the hallway and call Jack. The son of a bitch answers on the fourth ring.

“Parrish,” he greets.

“When were you going to tell me, my boy expressed an interest in the club?”

“Wolf, I don’t got time for this—”

“Make the fucking time,” I shout. Ignoring the stares of nurses and doctors passing me by, I clench my jaw and lower my voice. “Nico’s prospecting for the Devil’s Cross.”

“Shit.”

“That’s all you got?” I ask incredulously.

“Look, the kid came to me a couple of years back and asked me how one goes about becoming a prospect. At the time, I thought he was just curious until he asked me if I would consider him. I shut that shit down, brother. I told him he needed to talk to you first. It was never brought up again so, I assumed you either nipped it in the bud or the kid lost interest in the idea. How the fuck did he get involved with the likes of them?”

Unwilling to admit this whole fucking thing is my fault, I ignore the question.

“Who is the president of the charter here?”

“Alvarez.”

“I need you to get me a meeting with him and quickly too.”

“What are you going to do?”

Fuck that.

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