Page 91 of Riding the Edge

Chapter Twenty-eight

Cutting my engine, I glance at the Harley in the driveway before cutting my eyes to the brownstone Jack and his wife call home. After the call to Anthony and learning the dreadful news about the paramedic, Pipe and I exhausted every attempt to get in touch with our president. Falling short, we transferred our efforts into reaching out to Blackie—another dead end. At our wit's end, we turned to one another. My eyes mirrored his and dread settled deep in my gut.

It was the beginning of the end.

A four car pileup you couldn’t stand to watch, but one you couldn’t tear your eyes from either.

A fucking collision where casualties were guaranteed.

It was the end of us and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

However, that didn’t mean we wouldn’t try. If the Satan’s Knights were going to go down, we were going down swinging. Or at least Pipe and I were.

We decided to split up. He went in search of Blackie and here I am, standing in front of Jack’s house, preparing to tell the mighty king he’s about to be knocked from his throne. Hoping the fear of God still holds some merit, my plan is to spook the fuck out of him and get him to back out of this cartel deal he’s got going on. With the two dead paramedics and his failing mind, we don’t need to be selling our souls to drugs too.

Ringing the doorbell, I rap my knuckles against the door and rock back on my heels. Hand to God, I don’t need this shit right now. Not with Maria facing the battle of her life. I got five fucking kids to think about—mine and hers. I’m not supposed to be standing here, trying to find the words to get past the crazy living in Jack’s head. For once in my life, I don’t want to be the fucking clean-up guy, just once I want to be the man who worries about his family and that’s it.

God don’t give a shit about our wants though, does he?

He gives us what he knows we can handle.

He piles our plates high and force feeds everything down our throat, reminding us we live to serve him.

My thoughts are interrupted as the door opens and I’m faced with Jack’s wife. Reina Parrish has been a ray of sunshine in her husband’s dark life and has eased his suffering since the day she walked into the clubhouse carrying a freshly baked cherry pie. At first, I thought the pairing was odd. She was young, a little shy and whole lot scorned by her past. Jack was riding high on mayhem, wreaking havoc and battling the voices inside his head. They were opposites and yet Reina was just what Jack needed. She gave him her love and bore the burden of his illness. Some might argue she’s not fit to be the first lady of a motorcycle club but, if you ask me, she’s the reason we’ve stayed afloat. We may all play a small part in having helped Jack bide his time, but it is Reina who has truly kept him in the game. It’s that light of hers. Jack is addicted to it. It pulls him from the depths of darkness and forces him to function.

It’s this sweet woman standing before me with tears running down her cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, taking a step closer.

Wiping her cheeks, she lifts her chin and shakes her head.

“It’s Jack,” she cries. “Wolf, I don’t know what to do.”

Broken.

Defeated.

Fucking hopeless.

“Where is he?”

“Upstairs,” she replies, opening the door wider. “I don’t know if you should go up there,” she continues as I enter the house. “He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this.”

Tearing my eyes from the stairs, I turn to her.

“Like what…Reina, what’s going on?”

“He’s sick, Wolf,” she reveals closing the door. “The new medication doesn’t agree with him.”

“Sick how? Did you call the doctor?”

“Of course I called the doctor,” she snaps, surprisingly. In all the years she’s been with Jack, I don’t think I have ever been on the receiving end of her temper. “She says it’s normal, that his body is adjusting to the new medication.”

“Sounds like a fucking quack to me,” I growl, glancing back at the stairs.

“That’s not what I need to hear,” she shrieks, forcing my attention back to her. Staring at her balled fists, I watch the tears run down her cheeks and the need to help her pulses inside of me.

I live to serve.

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